bi-daily 18-19th july
—
A camera. A baseball hat. A pair of glasses. That's all I have to survive the jungle. How am I going to do it? I have no idea. But I have to try.
I guess I'll start by putting on the baseball hat, it'll protect me from the sun. What next? The only use I can think of for the camera is taking pictures of the wildlife, and the glasses don't exactly serve much purpose either. Yet I am lost, with no other tools to help me. I can do this. I just need to remember, this is a simulator. If I manage to get through this, it's an automatic acceptance to the Lagos Exploration Institute. I need this scholarship. The Institute's policy states that I need to keep a record of how I use my three random objects, so that's what this little diary is. I get extra points for using them in creative ways.

I can't afford a single mistake. There can only be one winner here, and it's going to be me.
I clench my fists. Time to get started.
The wilderness is tricky. One false step, and you end up being bitten by a venomous snake. You can revive as many times as you'd like, but doing so reduces your chances of being picked. The first step is getting some food. Good thing I binge-watched “You vs. Wild” on Netflix, so I know exactly what to do. I can get some termites, which are really easy to find and are full of protein. Otherwise, I could hope to be lucky and find some non-poisonous berries. I have to hurry up. I better make a mental to-do list. Search for food, make a shelter, find ways to make a signal and get the helicopter to notice and rescue me. Simple enough. Let's get to work.

I've wandered for a long time now. According to the position of the sun, it's around 6pm, and I've finally found some edible berries. The berry bush is conveniently next to a small river, so I finally get to drink fresh water. Keep going. We still have a long way to go.
I can't believe my luck. A cave. Not too big, but just enough for me to fit comfortably. There are some vines and leaves randomly laying on the floor that I can use as a pillow. Well, I guess I'm going to sleep. There's not much I can do now.

I've found food and shelter. Now I need to figure out how to catch the attention of the helicopter and get it to rescue me. That's it. Fortunately, I have a plan. I'm going to start a fire, and, hopefully, the smoke will make the helicopter notice I'm here. I can gather sticks and use the diary's empty pages for tinder, but I need something to light it.
And I have exactly what I need. Glasses. I'm gonna start the process of solar ignition. The glasses concentrate the sunlight into the tinder, which, in turn, starts a fire.

I've made it. I'm writing this as the helicopter drives into the Institute inside the simulation. I can take the headset off once we arrive, and I can't edit this journal after. Even though I didn't use the camera very creatively or effectively, I'm attaching pictures of my adventure as an extra element. I don't think they'll make a difference, but at least they'll add a fun little touch. I guess we're done. Hoping I get the scholarship.

Daily #19
7/19/2023
791 words

Picture taken

Image reference

“Bye, Mom!” Frankie yells, slamming the door behind her.
Mom shakes her head. “They didn't even clean up their dishes,” she mutters, stacking up the plates and placing them in the sink. “I'll do it after work; I just need to grab my bag from… Where is it? I must have left it upstairs.” She clamors up the steps and comes back a minute later, grabbing her eyes before heading out the door.
Once the door is shut and I hear the engine of the car getting distant, I count ten more seconds. Safe. No one's coming back for a while. “The jailers are gone for the day!” I roar. Everyone erupts into noise, no longer having to hide their true selves now that our humans are gone. The toys, appliances, and little Benny the chair.
“Donny!” a familiar voice hisses, spitting on my back. I turn around, accidentally swinging my tail too close to Gertrude.
I flash her a toothy grin. “Sorry about that, Ger. What?”
I bet she's rolling her eyes at me, but it's always so hard to tell when her head is looming over mine. The brachiosaurus and their long necks… At least I have arms. Though they are short.
“Some of us dinos are going over to the sink to get washed up. Wanna come?” she asks, tilting her head towards the bathroom sink.
“Wanna come?” I repeat, “You say that like I wouldn't want to! I'm filthy! The weekends are unhygienic.”
I climb down from the table that we're on, sliding down the thin cord that goes from the lamp to the outlet, careful to let go before the plug comes
loose. Gertrude comes barreling down from the table.
“What do you think you're doing?” I demand, glancing from the top of the table to the ground. “It's like a whole 3 feet!”
She makes quick strides closer to the bathroom, not looking down at me. “Donny, you seem to have forgotten the time when Frankie decided to see how high she could drop us from. If I can drop down from two stories, I can find a quicker way of getting down from the table than ziplining.”
I let out a small grunt. “Whatever, let's just get to the bathroom before any of the other toys take over.”
We make our way over to the bathroom as fast as our tiny feet can take us. I'm grateful that we were left on the table closer to the kitchen than on the stool that Frankie usually leaves us before she leaves. It's a far shorter walk to the bathroom.
A small crowd is standing outside of the bathroom door. “What's going on here? Fellows, this is dino time, I believe,” I exclaim, looking around at the assortment of toys around me. Dolls, stuffed animals, cars, trains, other dinosaurs. They all glare at me.
“You better take a look for yourself,” one of the dogs persuades.
I give him a nod and start making my say through the crowd. “Coming, Gertrude?” I ask, motioning to the catapult a foot away from me.
“Why not,” she answers, “I want to see what all the fuss is about.”
I get to the catapult before she does and tell the two Kens on duty that I'm going up to see what's happening at the sink. They glance at one another before what shrug they can. I get in the catapult and, after a brief countdown, am shot up to the sink.
I close my eyes, but am startled when the usual splash doesn't meet me. Gertrude comes in after me, toppling me over.
“Woah, what's this?” she asks, looking around at the colors surrounding us.
I open my eyes and glance around twice. “The Easter eggs? The Easter eggs,” I puzzle.
“But they've never come alive before,” Gertrude informs.
My footing comes loose and I slip, falling on my bottom as the egg underneath me moves away. “Come on!” I yelp, struggling to get back up. I get to the edge of the sink and pull myself up to the rim. “The Easter eggs have come alive? That's-” I stop and ponder the word I would use to describe the situation with. “A first,” I decide. I turn around to face their direction. “Welcome. EEK-”
A green egg is clamped around my face. I yell out a muffled “Off!”
“Donny,” I hear Gertrude's voice calling out, “Don't move.”
I pointedly decide to not take her advice when the egg starts clamping around my head even more. “Ow, ow, ow, OW!” I fumble around, trying to pull the egg off of me. Somewhere along the way, my footing slips and I feel nothing but the egg. On my head.
“DONNY!”

welcome to my swc sharing post! CD, they/them :D

-

daily, jul 2

five words: reality, sorcerer, ticking, sword, puzzle. given by @Minecrafter13529

Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
Alatar's long, white hair tickled the dirty ground. His hands were folded neatly behind his back, and he smiled. The young knight really didn't know what he was in for.
He had potential. Alatar had seen his courage and his truth from the moment that they'd met. But everyone has to begin ignorant and alone. Whether the knight had the perseverance to prevail through what would be vigorous and relentless training remained to be seen. And his trials began today.
As Alatar watched through the periscope screen, Damiano stepped through the threshold of the tower's door into a seemingly empty room. He looked around, shaking his lush, dark brown hair out of his eyes. Alatar saw him squint at the walls, noticing the unusual patterns on the tiles. Stepping aside from the screen, the mentor reached for his amplification tube and cleared his throat.
'Good evening, young one,' his voice boomed. Damiano jumped in surprise, letting out a shriek and flailing his long, polished sword about. It took him a second, as Alatar laughed- that never got old! - to realize that it was indeed his teacher's voice echoing, amplified frighteningly, down a long metal pipe.
As Damiano clutched at his heart dramatically, Alatar explained his situation.
'As you will have noticed, there is a door in front of you. The main door you came through is locked, and there is no point in trying to get through it.'
Damiano reached for the handle and jiggled it. It didn't move.
'The other door is the only way of getting out, and to open it, you have to solve this lock.'
At the word ‘this’, a part of the wall retracted smoothly and a rotational three-digit number lock was revealed. Though the outside face of the tower was gnarled and overgrown, all the hidden mechanisms within were well-oiled to run as best as possible.
'The only clue you will receive is this-' Alatar lowered his voice mysteriously, ‘“These three words are the key to your progress. Reality, Ignorance, Rebirth.”’ Clearing his voice and restoring it to its usual pitch, Alatar finished with informing Damiano of the sand timer that would count down the mere ten minutes that Damiano had to figure out the lock. Alatar reached for a bronzed hourglass and flipped it over.
"Begin. Best of luck with this puzzle. Many have failed only here.'
Alatar stepped away from the speaking tube. Damiano took a breath. And the sand began to fill the lower half of the hourglass.
'Tick, tock, Damiano,' Alatar murmured. ‘You don’t have long.'

430 words!

daily, jul 4

your character can read minds OR feel emotions - but only when she touches people
this is based on FNAF: Security Breach and will likely not make sense if you havent seen it sorry!


Gregory whipped his hand back in shock. He looked up at the massive animatronic twisting to stare at seemingly nothing- ‘I can see movement through the walls!’
Trying to mask his confusion, Gregory replied thoughtlessly, ‘Really? I didn’t know Roxy could see through walls.'
And there it was again. That jolt of comprehension that he'd felt seconds before. Freddy was staring him in the eyes, his hand clasped on Gregory's shoulder.
'These are Roxy's eyes?!'
Gregory wrenched himself away from Freddy, and his mind returned to normal. What was going on?
Shaking his head, Gregory responded to the accusations being placed on him.
'Well, yeah. There was an accident on the Raceway.'
'Is she okay?'
'Well, nothing seems to stop her…'
Much more preoccupied with the concerning matter of ‘what on earth is going on with my head’ than preserving Freddy's sense of friendship with his robotic counterparts, Gregory chucked out a response and then had an idea.
'Freddy, can you… touch me again?'
Confused but dutiful, Freddy reached out and took hold of Gregory's shoulder. Instantly, Gregory was flooded with a rush of thoughts that weren't his- ‘I wonder why he is having me touch him,’ and ‘I must look out for him,’ and ‘It’s been a while since I've checked up on my good friends at the Daycare, I really ought to soon'.
Gregory severed the apparent thought connection and took a second to gather himself. So apparently if he touched someone, he could hear their thoughts- or was that just Freddy? He hoped not, because a plan was beginning to form in his head. Also, apparently it worked not only on humans but on animatronics, seeing as Freddy wasn't a human. Or were those rumours about robots from Fazbear Entertainment being possessed by children true? Gregory shook his head. It was too much to handle. He was also mildly annoyed by the fact that Freddy wanted to check in with the Sun-Moon guy. Gregory's own experience with that Daycare Attendant wasn't a good one.
'Is everything okay?'
Snapping back to reality, Gregory nodded.
'Gregory, good news! It is almost six o'clock! It will be safe now if you find an exit. But hurry, the Daycare Attendant is lookse one last time!'
Speak of the devil. But Gregory shook his head.
"Nah, Freddy. I have an idea. We're going to figure out what all this Vanny business is.'
-

Maybe I'll finish this later lol
or maybe not

400 words exactly!

daily, jul 5

The TPS. It's a famous delicacy.
Highly sought after for its delicious taste and smooth texture punctuated with flaky accents, not to mention the terrific effects it has on the body. The TPS, or Toilet Paper Smoothie, is manufactured in bulk by many corporations, all of which are sub-companies of the famous Toilet Paper Limited. It was said to have come to being in an accident where a young child knocked a roll of toilet paper, cardboard roll and everything, into a blender with milk and banana. Indeed, the modern smoothie still has traces of these tastes in it, but the taste of fresh vanilla is a by-product of the toilet paper. Who knew that paper would taste like the tropical jungle? It looks like a white liquid, but in actuality there is brown mixed in, flavored mildly like milk chocolate. Very thin and flaky white chocolate slithers are known to float in the liquid. They provide a very small ‘snap’ or ‘crunch’ to the thin texture of the smoothie and they melt on the tongue.
When consumed, the TPS is known to bestow healing properties upon those who drank it. It also allows the human skin to absorb large amounts of liquid until saturated for about an hour. Unfortunately, if the skin gets too saturated it will wrinkle and you would be largely incapacitated until you've dried out enough.
The TPS, though only being trendy due to so-called ‘memes’ mocking its composition, will no doubt overtake the world of smoothies as the superior drink. After all, who doesn't want to ingest toilet paper?

264 words

bi-daily, 6-7

'Monotony'

Verse 1

Left, right, up and down,
Watch it as he breaks his crown,
In a hundred years I don't think he could be more still than now,
Up, down, left and right,
Can't see inches in the night,
Even though minutes ago I said hello to morning light,

Verse 2

Be alone, keep going on,
When everyone is leaving,
Not determination, it's betrayal with no reason,
I don't know the difference between cyclones and hurricanes,
Better hope I never see either of them coming my way!

Pre-chorus

I could wish for stars, I could wish for rain,
I could wish to never see the sun again
But I gotta get up, not for me, but for him,
Forever,
And ever,

Chorus

It never changes!
It never changes!

(One, two, seven, eight!)

Verse 3

Green and blue and red,
That's all the world is.
Is the sharp world real,
Or is it broken?

Verse 4

Side to side, all the time,
That's not how ankles are meant to work.
Never, forever, no-

Chorus

It never changes!
No, no, it never changes.
Forever changeless!
(Keep it going, keep it going)
When has it changed last?

Bridge

A million years is all the same,
A different king, a different reign,
A nine to five on every working day.
A two-month reprieve from the world,
Plunged back into the endless whirl,
And then no break for half a century,

If only it could end someday,
Go to the mountains, run away,
Anything for an end to the routine!
Degenerate era will shout,
More zeroes than I'll ever count,
It will, because it never, it never, ever,

Chorus

Ever changes!
Why will it never change?
Stuck in the fair's parade!
Wishing for other days,
A different phase,
But I don't see any change.

Outro

It's changed for me too many times,
But little things, like broken eyes.
A change for me interrupts nothing,
It just rewinds me right back to my start.

328 words!

cabin wars, jul 8

My brother and I are having a boat-making competition.
The last one we had was when I was years old. I remember it All Too Well.
I had a grand boat, the ‘Victorious’. It was fashioned from an orange carton with a sail. My brother ‘s boat was made out of Perrier cans and plastic cookie containers. I was convinced that I would win, but when it came down to it ’s boat made it to the other side of the Grandview pool first. I was devastated, but my brother was like, Oh Yeah, You Gonna Cry? So I decided that no, I wouldn’t cry. I would get revenge. I was a Fighter.
Today we made boats again. I can’t wait to crush him.

125 words

weekly one, ends jul 9th

Part One - 878/300 words

I chose the comic, ‘The Umbrella’.



Splish! The raindrop hits the puddle, the splash that it produces flinging itself up. It gives the impression that the raindrop has simply bounced off the puddle, as a ball might bounce on the road. Though ripples pulse through the puddle for a second, it quickly resumes its still state. City lights shine reds and blues at the reflective water.

The minor disturbance did not faze the puddle. But seconds later, when a child’s boot loomed above the face of the water, all the puddle could do was cringe away from the destruction that was sure to happen.

SPLASH! Water was flung up from the puddle in a great cascade as the red boot crashed into the road. It wasn’t truly such a tsunami of liquid, but to the child, it felt as if oceans were being displaced by her very own will.

The child ran through the steady rain, a smile on her face, hood desperately trying to fall to her shoulders and hands desperately trying to hold the hood in place. The hood’s job was to keep her head dry. Why couldn’t it succumb to its duty?

Oh well, thought the child, relinquishing her hold on the yellow, plasticky fabric. Instantly, her nose was assaulted by a torrent of fast-flying raindrops. Squealing in shock, the child clenched her eyes shut and folded her hands over her forehead in an attempt to stop the rain. Though an onlooker might have assumed she was uncomfortable with the water- and also possibly wondered where her parents were- she was in fact enjoying herself very much. She ran onwards through the rain, eyes still shut tight and mouth still open, corners curving upwards.

Bonk! The child flung her eyes open and rubbed her elbow. She had made sharp contact with a stout brick wall. A hurt expression on her face, she looked the wall up and down. There was nothing special about it. Why did it feel that it had the right to interrupt her fun?

Huffing, she turned away from it. But before she could saunter back out from its shelter, a fine, ruby red umbrella caught her eye.

Why, an umbrella! This was the solution to her hood problem. No more keeping eyes tightly locked, no more running elbow-first into walls. And what a fine one, as well- only a bit big for her diminutive frame, crafted with thick crimson plastic, handle polished to a shine. The curve of the wood felt strong and sturdy in her hand as she picked it up. Not a thought of whose umbrella it was crossed the child’s mind.

The child struggled to open the umbrella. It took a minute or two of frantic pulling and pushing- resulting in her being so wet already that an umbrella was quite unnecessary, and she may as well have walked home as she was- but finally, it opened. She held it up firmly above her head. Instantly, it was as if she were in another world. It was dry, the rain sounded far away. Light filtered through the plastic, resulting in a red glow all about her. It was perfect.

The child squealed and pranced away from the wall, holding her umbrella at full display for any sorry, damp soul that passed by. It was a glorious feeling, being the only dry one in the rain.

Until she wasn’t.

The rain pitter-pattered almost imperceptibly to a stop. The sun peeked through the clouds. A great sigh of relief echoed through the streets as it finally pushed through, and a brilliant light illuminated the world. Safe, warm and beginning to dry, people unzipped their ponchos and collapsed their umbrellas, faces to the sky, soaking in the heat. And then they went on their way, more satisfied with the sun than they could have been in the rain.

But the child remained where she stood, thick brown hair still dripping water down her back into a street puddle. She looked at the sun. Why, she thought, would you ruin my fun?

Eventually she walked away, betrayed. A small shadow in the midst of taller people, she began home, as she perhaps should have done in the first place. But the child wasn’t really to give up on her fun yet. Maybe my umbrella could help me, she wondered. A sun umbrella, rather than a rain umbrella, perhaps?

It was worth a try- anything to fix the frown on her face. So though she’d collapsed her umbrella along with everybody else, it was now that she re-opened it- with significantly less trouble this time.

And the sun was gone, and the child could focus on the puddles reflecting glimmers of light once more. Lifting her mollified face to the red plastic, the child breathed in the still-damp air-

Until a torrent of water and fish smacked her in the face.

Gasping for air, the child wiped her salty eyes and swallowed the brackish water on her tongue. A fish’s tail whacked her in the nose. She shook her head violently and looked around at the puddle of seawater and marine life at her feet. The sun was shining, her umbrella was dripping, and she was drenched to the core. But she had gotten what she’d wished for.

Water.



Part Two- 681/400 words



There was a knock on the door.

Keisha looked up in surprise, still carrying the cooking pan in her gloved hands. Who would be knocking at this hour, and in this weather? ‘Coming!’ she shouted, twirling around to reach for the heat mat.

On the other side of the door, a figure waited nervously. The door was suddenly flung open, casting light and heat into the dark, rainy night. Pulling off her gloves, Keisha glanced upwards.

‘Sophie!’ she exclaimed, smiling. But she quickly noticed her friend’s demeanor. ‘Come in, I was just about to have dinner,’ she tossed over her shoulder, already pulling Sophie inside. The door shut with a slam, sealing the night out.

‘Sit,’ Keisha instructed, gesturing to the cushioned dining table chair. ‘We’ll eat together.’

‘I’m wet,’ Sophie muttered.

‘Does it look like I mind a bit of water? Look, if I cared, I would have asked you to clean my floors by now,’ Keisha responded pointedly, gesturing to the mud tracked over the wide oak planks. Sophie blushed, embarrassed, but Keisha stopped her before she could apologise.

‘I will have you take your coat off, however, or you’re going to get a cold,’ she said as she walked over. As if to prove her point, Sophie sniffled. ‘In fact, no- you're going to need to change. You left a dress last time you came, it’s in the closet in the guest room. Use the master shower, it has the hottest water. Dinner will be ready when you’re done,’ Keisha instructed, pulling an apologetic Sophie out of the chair. Sophie looked ready to protest, but Keisha insisted. ‘You go and get warm and dry and then we’ll talk over some nice food, okay?’ It honestly sounded too nice to resist- not that Sophie was in the right frame of mind to be protesting much. She shuffled apologetically up the stairs.

Keisha watched her go worriedly. She knew that the stress of university was getting to her younger friend but didn’t know that it had gotten so bad as for Sophie to be turning up on her doorstep at eleven at night. She sighed and began to wipe the mud from the floor.

Sophie came down ten minutes later. The dining room table was set. Bright, young flowers rested in the vase. The floors had been scrubbed, as well as the soles of Sophie’s shoes, which had been rested by the door where she’d hung her coat. Delicious smells wafted over from the stove. The oven still radiated heat. Warm light lit up the small flat, illuminating the cozy living room, the thick rugs and the abundance of bookshelves. In a corner was Keisha’s latest project, laid out over a rough-edged table. Her sewing machine was threaded, and fabric rested under the needle. The flat was as it always was- welcoming, homey, comfortable. Sophie sat down lightly at the dining table.

A minute later, Keisha joined her, bringing with her the dish that she’d been cooking. She rested it down on a cork mat in the middle of the table. Untying her apron, she sat down and smiled lightly.

‘I made extra for lunch tomorrow, so take as much as you want. No, please, do. I’ll never eat it all otherwise.’

Sophie reached for the serving spoon and took a decent helping. It was shepherd’s pie- warm, familiar and comforting. It burned her mouth a little- exactly how she liked it. Sophie swallowed and took a deep breath, feeling so much calmer already. Keisha, her warm home, the comfort of food. It was like being a kid again in the comfort of your mother. The childhood food only reinforced that.

Keisha waited for her pie to cool a bit- that was how she preferred it. They ate in quiet- it couldn’t be called silence, there was some sort of background noise coming from somewhere- until Keisha asked Sophie if she wanted to talk. Half an hour ago, Sophie wouldn’t have been able to. But now she nodded, sighed, and talked.

She was glad she did. It made everything better.



Part Three- 417/400 words



The boys gathered around the pools where the conch had first been found. It was time for a serious meeting; the authority of the shell was being challenged. Ralph needed to enforce the importance of order and leadership. He sat on the highest rock shelf as the others slowly lowered themselves around him. When everyone was there, Ralph stood up. He held the conch with two hands in such a way that everybody noticed he was holding it, and everybody except the littlies recognised the importance of it. He cleared his throat importantly.

‘It has come to my attention,’ he began slowly, ‘That the power of the conch is being challenged. Does anyone have something to say to that?’

He looked around pointedly, making eye contact with everyone who was looking at him. Some people noticeably avoided his gaze.

‘Nobody?’ he prompted. He saw a big boy at the back get nudged by his neighbour.

‘You there,’ Ralph pointed, ‘What do you have about the conch?’ He handed the shell to the boy, who carried it with care.

‘Well, I-’ he cut off and looked at the boy next to him.

‘Stand up and give your name,’ Ralph instructed.

‘Joseph,’ the boy said, rising slowly. He took a breath. ‘I… well, I think… why should we have to come whenever you call? Why shouldn’t we work and rest as we like?’ he exploded.

Joseph handed the conch back to Ralph and sat down defiantly. His arms crossed over his chest. Ralph studied him carefully, and he began to squirm in his seat.

‘If we didn’t have the conch,’ he began, holding the shell out for everyone to admire, ‘We wouldn’t have order. And if we didn’t have order,’ Ralph paused again for effect. The littlies were watching him intently. Some people were attempting to appear unconcerned, but Ralph could sense their attention.

‘If we didn’t have order, we would never get a thing done. We wouldn’t get food, we wouldn’t get water, we wouldn’t have a shelter. And without those things,’ he said simply, ‘We would die.’

‘Die!’ someone exclaimed in horror.

‘Yes, die,’ Ralph said gravely. ‘So we need the conch to bring order. Otherwise we would all be dead. It’s simple.’

Around him, some boys were nodding. Others looked unconvinced but scared at the prospect of death. Was it really true that without a shell that the order of their lives would collapse? It seemed like such a fickle thing to hold so much power.





Part Four- 477/400 words



Splash! A droplet of water hits the puddle with the force of a thousand gallons. And then another. More come shooting down, slapping the surface of the water violently. Dirty water flies back upwards like the rebound from a shot. The puddle’s disturbed surface reflects what faint red and orange light makes it through the tumult. It’s a source of light and a source of rebellion against the torrential rain. It dares to stay still in the rush of movement.

A colossal crash hits its surface as a bott ploughs through the water.

A child runs through the rain. Their yellow raincoat should be bright but is dimmed by the grey sky. Their red boots are stained with muck from the streets. Their black backpack tugs at them as they run.

Rain smacks them in the face, beating against the fragile hood of the raincoat. The child desperately tugs at the hood, but to no avail. It falls, leaving the child’s face open to the onslaught of water.

Sheilding their face with their hands, the child only falters briefly. They need to get to shelter. A brick wall comes through the rain too suddenly- without being able to see in front of you, solid objects tend to do that. The child skids to a sudden, violent stop.

The wall isn’t a perfect shelter, but it provides some protection from the rain. Letting their hands fall to their sides, the child takes a deep breath. How much longer would this go on for? How would they get home? There was no way they’d be able to walk without any protection for their face…

At that moment a flash of bright scarlet caught the child’s eye. There, lying abandoned near the wall, was a small red umbrella. The child reached for it. It was strong and sturdy, just waiting to be used. There was nobody around to claim it.

Hesitantly, the child opened the umbrella. It was the perfect size for them, the handle strong and sturdy in their hands. The child stepped back out into the rain… but suddenly it wasn’t so bad, not with a barrier between yourself and it.

Running through the downpour, the child felt unstoppable. Nothing would get in their way, not with their umbrella. They smiled. When you were beating the danger, it became more fun than frightening.

But slowly, the rain paused. The clouds parted, revealing a brilliant sunlight. All around the child, people collapsed their umbrellas, breathing sighs of relief. Eventually all that was left of the rain were the drip of tree’s branches and the puddles under the child’s feet.

The puddles, having been tormented for so long, were finally at rest. The hazy lights of the city in the dark were gone, replaced by brilliant shimmers of white sunlight. And though the puddle would soon be gone, taken by the sunlight that made it so brilliant now, it was content. Its job had been fufilled, and it could go.

2496 words!

daily, jul 11th

It’s Been So Long- SWC Version



Verse 1



I don’t know what I was thinking,

Leaving my cabin behind.

Now we suffer the curse of losing points and,

We want to climb,

The ranks so high ,

But we’ve fallen down to the bottom,

The other cabins lead,

How do I stop them?



Verse 2



It is revenge we are seeking,

Our allies they betrayed us here,

Four thousand words was just too much to go near!

But now we will,

Write and find,

A way of words to defeat them.

Through dailies and weeklies,

We’re gonna beat them!



Chorus



It’s been so long,

Since our troubles have been gone!

We are the fallen,

Stuck behind the others, all them.

But we’re not gone,

We’ll be writing until the dawn,

We’ll overcome them,

We will rise to the ranks of one, yeah!



Verse 3



Now we are here in the present,

With the gift of our past mistakes,

We’ll use our pens as swords and fend off the snakes!

Through weeklies and writing,

Wars and critiques carry our tether,

The only way to win is to do it together.



Verse 4



And on the day of the wars again,

We’ll be prepared and we’ll be ready,

The traitors will find that revenge is heavy!

As days keep going past,

We’re writing fast, our ranking is rising.

Our rapid ascent will be so surprising!



Chorus



It’s been so long,

Since our troubles have been gone!

We are the fallen,

Stuck behind the others, all them.

But we’re not gone,

We’ll be writing until the dawn,

We’ll overcome them,

We will rise to the ranks of one, yeah!

276 words

daily, jul 12th

You're walking down the streets of SWCville. All around you, you see crooked houses churning out smoke, dirty paths leading off into misty woods and great castle walls- the other cabins. They're grand and mysterious, but what catches your eye is a stout, ordinary building at the end of the street.
Its lawns and hedges are neatly trimmed. White-stained picnic benches rest under pink, green and white umbrellas. Large windows display the tastefully decorated interior of the building. A sign above the window declares, ‘The Non-Fiction Bakery’.
You open the door, curious. Bells jingle, and the scent of fresh-baked pies waft to your nose. But the scene that awaits you isn't peaceful.
People in uniforms and aprons dash around madly. Drawers are open, and the serving bar is overturned with boxes of fresh produce. It takes a while for someone to notice you.
'Oh, we need your help. We have a very important reservation in mere hours, and we've lost the recipie! We need to find it,' the person pants. They grab you by the arm.
'Come on! We can't afford to disappoint!'

183 words- this is aah but i have this concept and i need t go now :sob:

daily, jul 13th

Why did all of these moments start on a doorstep?
Lara had been trying for days to get Sophie to reply to her messages. She'd sent videos, voice recordings, texts. She'd even mailed a letter to Sophie's house despite living within cycling distance. But she'd been left on read for almost a week. Her most recent attempt at communication hadn't even been met with attention- Lara was pretty sure Sophie hadn't bothered to pick up her phone for days.
So Lara hatched a plan.
She knew that if she turned up on Sophie's doorstep, she'd be standing there until dusk waiting for the door to open. So she messaged her friend from out of town to do her a solid.
Cameron had turned up, slightly confused, at the address listed on their phone. They looked around for a second before reaching for the door.
'Wait!'
Lara burst out of her hiding spot. She hadn't been very well concealed- she was slouching on a bench behind a newspaper and sunglasses- but Cameron wasn't particularly known for being attentive. Or subtle.
'Lara! You're here!' they exclaimed loudly. Heads turned, and Lara shushed Cameron violently. She pulled them down onto the bench.
'Thanks for coming. Now will you please be quiet?' Lara reached into a deep bag and pulled out a bunch of flowers. The white, yellow and purple blossoms were of varying sizes and density, but they made for a strikingly beautiful bouquet.
'Why the flowers?' Cameron asked, taking the bunch.
'My plan is that you ring the bell and tell her that you're sorry for her loss. No explanation. Force the flowers onto her and just leave. I hope,' Lara adjusted a tag on one gilliflower's stem, ‘That she’ll figure out the message.'
Cameron reached for the tag. In almost illegible script, it read, ‘Victoria’s Flower Emporium. A Message In Every Bloom!' They frowned.
'Where did this ‘Victoria’s Flower Emporium' get such fresh blossoms?'
Lara nudged Cameron. ‘'Victoria’s Flower Emporium' doesn't exist- at least, not in this town. Soph will know that. Everyone knows everyone in this town.'
'So what…' It dawned on Cameron. ‘Ooohh. A message… Victorian flower language?’
'Yeah.' Lara nodded, pleased someone had figured out her plans. ‘Dandelion for faithfulness- I need her to know that I know she wouldn’t wrong me like that. I trust her. Solidago because she needs to get back out there. Encouragement to just do it. Gilliflower for affection. Sophie's insecure about people not liking her. Hopefully this will be enough to show how much I do.'
'And Snowdrops for…'
'Hope. I hope she'll come back out and interact with me, for once.' Lara joked.
'What's the last one, then? Is that hawksbeard?'
'Yeah,' Lara fiddled with a blossom, ‘Or bearded crepis if you want the proper name. Means protection.’
'Protection?' Cameron repeated, confused. ‘That doesn’t fit the theme. What, you're going to protect her from something?'
'No, stupid,' Lara smiled affectionately, ‘My name, ’Lara', means protection. It's my signing off.'
'Woah, smart. Will she get this without your help?'
'Yeah, Sophie's smart,' Lara stood up. ‘Can you do it?’
'Of course,' Cameron said. ‘We should hang out before I leave town.’ They started to walk to the door of the townhouse.
'I'll message when I get home!' Lara called. She mounted her bicycle smoothly. Seeing Cameron push the doorbell, she pushed out of the view of the door. Sophie would have no clue who had sent the flowers.

Two days later, Lara left for school as usual. She slung her messenger's bag over her shoulder, reaching for her bike. Wedged in the handlebars were two flowers: a sunflower and a yellow rose. Sorrow and wanting to move forwards as well as friendship. Lara smiled and took the flowers off her bike.

629 words!

daily, jul 14th. google translate daily is from ‘Vse Kar Vem’ by Joker Out!

They say time is not like us.
And it's all beautiful
I hear you want to kill the world.
I don't want you to be friends.

I know
May
I don't like anything good or bad.

I know you will go to h3ll
They will never return
I hear you want to kill the world.
I don't want you to be friends.

I know
May
Don't blame me
Because the world is disappearing.

'Gia, you can't do it.'
'I can, and I will,' she replied, wrenching her arm away from me. She ran out the door into the wind. The usually bustling streets of the city were silent, their residents scared away by the unheard-of wind speeds. It was noon, but the sun was shielded completely by thick grey clouds, giving the cold day the feeling of dusk already. I pulled my coat over my head in an attempt to reach Gia.
'Come back!' I screamed, but my voice was lost to the wind. I let out a desperate sob. She wasn't thinking straight. She was going to destroy the world. Gia ran past the corner out of my sight, but I knew where she would be headed. The coast, where the nothingness would swallow our city and everything in it.
The world had been dying for years. Suddenly switching from on the brink of overheating to a glacial period-like global cooling, plants and animals had begun to die out rapidly. They couldn't survive the cold. Humans weren't much better- diseases spread around the weakened globe faster than could be combated. It had looked dire, and nobody had a solution or even an explanation.
And then land began to crumble, and it never came back.
First the eastern globe had slowly begun to simply disappear. Reports said that the coast had collapsed, bringing continents with it. That had been months ago. Almost half the land was gone. But nothing had been seen yet in North America- until today.
Maybe I and my sister could have done something about it. We've known it was going to happen for years. We dream the future. But nobody would think to believe a teenager's dreams, certainly not when they predicted certain impending doom.
Our doomsday had come now. Maybe I could have prevented it, but you really can't blame me. I'm a kid. We're both kids.
I skidded to a stop. I'd reached the rocky coastline, having sprinted from our flat through the dirty, abandoned streets. There stood Gia on the pebbled beach, looking out over the grey water. She turned to me and smiled.
'It's coming,' she said calmly. ‘It’s finally here.'
'It can't be, ‘ I denied. How could this be our last day of life?
How could she be so calm about it?
’Why are you smiling?' I asked. The wind froze the tears on my cheeks. I didn't want to die.
'I've been waiting for this.'
'You knew it would come today?'
'I brought it closer. This world needs to end.'
I was frozen in shock. Everything was unraveling. I couldn't hear a thing, but somehow, I understood my sister. And she was
betraying her death wish.
'You're killing this world. Millions of people. This beautiful, beautiful world.'
'It's not beautiful!' she spat. ‘Or maybe it was, once- but not anymore. People will be gone for good. They will never return. And the world will be a better place.’
'The world won't be here!'
'Oh, well,' she said nonchalantly, turning back to the ocean. I could see it falling away rapidly on the horizon now. It was coming so close. It was coming so quickly.
'It would have been gone eventually. Time was never kind to anyone.'
I fell to my knees. This was it. These were my last moments. Here on a freezing beach on the last noon of my last day. With my sister- my sister that had killed everything.
I had time to say goodbye before the end reached me. That was something, at least.

594 words :0

weekly 2, ends jul 16th

Part one- 1294/500 words, idea by @legocookie

Creating and Introducing Concepts in Fantasy or Sci-Fi Writing that are Believable to the Audience

Idea courtesy of @legocookie6 | 1294 words


Many people- including myself- enjoy worldbuilding. Worldbuilding is the art of creating a world that isn’t Earth, often for your story to take place in. Often, these worlds, especially in fantasy or sci-fi stories, have elements that aren’t seen on our Earth, such as people born with magic or weapons that can talk and have feelings. These may seem like events that simply wouldn’t make sense in a story, but the author introduces them in such a way that as a reader, we can easily understand this concept and fit it in to our picture of the world. This is known as making believable concepts.

There are a few guidelines that help ensure that ideas in a fantasy/sci-fi story are believable, which I will go over briefly.


Rules And Schools are Tools for Fools


Though this piece of poetry courteously written by Constance Contraire might be the easy way out, the creation of a realistic world requires rules and guidelines. Every world has rules- our own Earth follows the rule of gravity, for instance, which yours might alter or remove altogether. But the main thing about these rules is that they are never broken. Your rules can be as wild as you like as long as you keep them consistent. For example, if you’re in a world where gods watch over the protagonist but are sworn to never directly interfere with their journey, you can’t have them swoop down just as the main character is about to be defeated in order to save the day. If you’re in a world where poisonous plants will instantly kill a character if they ingest them, your character must die if they eat the plant and have no protection.

Some more examples of rules in a world are these:

In Magnus Chase and the Gods of Asgard, you are immortal when you are in Hotel Valhalla.

In The Hunger Games, unless sanctified by the government, you are not to leave your district.

In Wings of Fire, it is impossible to fly across the ocean from Pyrriha to Pantala in one trip.

In Six of Crows, Grisha found in Fjerda are executed as monsters.

If these rules were broken, the story would be very different. If Magnus died on his first battle in Hotel Valhalla, the rest of the story couldn’t have taken place. The division in The Hunger Games is a rule put in place by the Capitol to prevent unity and uprising. If you could cross the ocean in one trip in Wings of Fire, an entire plotline of getting refugees from Pantala to Pyrriha would have been lost. If Nina was found as a Grisha in Fjerda but was spared with seemingly no reason, the reader would be confused and would lose belief in the reality of the world.

You should establish rules for your world. Say you’re creating a sci-fi galaxy based on travel between planets. You may have a rule of how far you can travel before your ship needs a break. You can set this rule in place by describing current technology limitations.

Rules should make sense in the context of the world, and they shouldn’t contradict each other. For example, if you could only go to planets three thousand light years away in this sci-fi world due to tech limitations, you shouldn’t have another rule saying that people can actually teleport as many times and as far as they like.

Rules may be unspoken rules of nature, such as gravity, or may be rules put in place by characters or groups in the story itself, such as not being able to leave your district in The Hunger Games- this rule is put in place by the Capitol.

Finally, if you’re going to make any exceptions to the rule, make sure you put the loophole in the rule itself. Again, the, ‘gods watch over the protagonist but are sworn to never directly interfere with his journey’ rule forbids the gods from defeating the enemy with one fell swoop, but it doesn’t prevent them from sending minions to interfere. Notice the ‘directly’ in the rule- this allows gods to send others to do their bidding for them.

Keep this in mind when you add new concepts to a world. If they directly contradict a rule, they won’t make sense! How can you alter the rule or the concept to house both?

In summary, make rules for your world and stick to them. This will prolong the reader’s immersion and suspend any disbelief in the world itself.


Relatability is Reality


If you’re putting in a concept that might be too wild for the reader to immediately comprehend, it really helps to relate it to something that they will be familiar with. Creating new monstrous creatures is a good example of this- they may not be based on any sole animal, but they will often have features not dissimilar to animals that everybody knows.

For example, if your creature is massive, compare it to the size of an elephant or two. If it has thick, long fur, compare it to that of a fluffy housecat.

This works for any concept, not just creatures. If you want the world to have lightning storms that rage for years and cleave open the world where it hits, think about the cutting of a giant cake, for example. The ground is the cake and the lightning is the knife.

An easy way to do this- and the way I’ve utilized in these examples- is through similes and metaphors. ‘The ground bent under the lightning like a cake to a knife’ could be an example of a simile, whilst ‘the toxic plant was a lion in its ferocity as it hunted’ is a metaphor.


Questions and Answers (But not from me!)


There are a few questions you might want to ask yourself when implementing a new concept to ensure that it will be easy to understand and make sense in the context of the world. Here are some examples:

• On a scale of one to ten, how bizarre is this new element?
  
  
• In its present form, would it break someone’s suspension of disbelief?
  
  
• Would this element seem too ridiculous?
  
  
• Does it break any of the rules that are set forth in my fantasy?
  
  
• Would this new element be better introduced earlier in my narrative?
  
  
• If this new element is a departure from the established rules, should I let my audience know ahead of time that this might be possible?
  
  
• If I was a reader, would I want an explanation for this new element?
  

If you’re satisfied with the answers to these questions, it’s a good bet that you’ve successfully introduced a new concept into your story which will fit in well and make sense to the reader. Congrats!

If you really want to make sure that all is well, remember that you know everything about your world, and others don’t. Get someone else to read through the passage with only the context given. Does it make sense to them? If not, how can you clear the idea up?


Conclusion

In summary, some things you should be thinking about when putting ideas into your fantasy or sci-fi world are-

• The rules of the world and how it interacts with them
  
  
• How to give the reader a picture of it in their mind my relating it to something they know
  
  
• Asking questions to yourself and giving reasonable answers
  
  
• Checking with someone who is blind to outside knowledge
  
  

I hope that this workshop was helpful in some way- this is my first time attempting a project like this, and I’m quite pleased with how it turned out!

Thank you for reading!


Part two- 500/500 words on @Caramel107's workshop about short stories, which can be found here.


CD looked around. They were in a dense forest of white birch trees. The sun was bright, and animals could be heard in the distance. It was a great place to begin a new life.

But that life was yet to come. There were trials and tribulations that any new person would have to face before settling down and becoming comfortable where they were. CD knew this. They decided to take their adventures slowly. So they walked.

The day was spent collecting wood from trees and food from unfortunate animals. By sunset, CD was happy with their collection of basic resources. It was more than adequate.

But the sun went below the horizon too soon, no matter how prepared they were. The night was dark, and the threatening growls of monsters began to accumulate throughout the night. CD didn’t stay in the open long enough to be hunted.

Instead, they found a cave. It looked safe enough- wide and comfortable, gently sloping, with only one passage to explore. No monsters could creep up on them now. So CD relaxed, lit the area with burning torches and began to cook their food in a furnace.

If only they’d known.

The fire crackled in the furnace, slowly cooking pig’s pork. A crafting table and a chest stood nearby- the chest was already half-full of junk that CD had collected. The cave was lit up until this camp, but farther down it stretched into darkness, unexplored.

Noise echoed through the cavernous chamber. The fire crackled aggressively. The sound of breaking stone could be heard as CD mined a larger area around their camp.

Perhaps it was all this noise that concealed the faint hiss of a neon green monster that slowly creeped up on CD from the darkness.

CD whirled around just in time to see it approaching rapidly. They shrieked and jumped as far away from the creature as they could, but it was too late. The monster whisked in a breath and then exploded with all the force it could muster.

CD was knocked back off their feet. They landed hard on the floor of the cave. Their head was hit hard by a boulder, and they passed out cold. But when they woke all too soon, they wished that they hadn’t.

Laying in immense pain, CD could barely make out the crater in their camp that the explosion had caused. Their things were strewn out over the ground. They didn’t want to look down at their legs. It would be too painful. They knew what had happened based on the sticky substance that they were lying in.

Closing their eyes again, CD exhaled for the last time, much like the green monster that had killed them. But apart from their body and the red stains on the floor, there was no evidence that anything had happened. The chest was full of things waiting to be used. The fire crackled in the furnace. The pork finished cooking and began to burn.


Part 3- 378/200 words of critique on @fari2's piece, which can be found here.


When Ambrosia was a little girl, her mind could never be contained.

Ever since she was so little The repeat of the word ‘little’ is a bit confusing. It may be better to say, ‘Ever since she was so small…’, late hours were her epiphany, as she always used to lose herself in the comfort of her digital devices, drawing away at the screen and waiting for her creations to become something beautiful- something she was proud of- and that was enough. This doesn’t really fit the tense. ‘…and that would be enough’ would make more sense here.

This is a very long sentence- it could be better understood by breaking it up a bit. For example, you could end the first sentence at ‘late hours were her epiphany’. A possible re-write of the paragraph could be this:

‘Ever since she was so small, late hours were her epiphany. She always used to lose herself in the comfort of her digital devices, drawing away at the screen and waiting for her creations to become something beautiful- something she was proud of. That would be enough.’

However, as This sets the sentence up for a comparison, which you never complete. It is therefore unnecessary. the years went by as fast as the neighbour who raced along the streets on her bike every morning.

Back then, Simply using ‘then’ works, but clarifying when again after the previous sentence lays out the passing of time could be helpful. ‘Back in her childhood,’ is an example of a change.’ her parents had loved her art. They were always so supportive, so cheerful, and so enthusiastic when they encouraged her to embark on her dreams Took out an unnecessary comma here and draw all the colours of the myriad which decorated her tapestry of success. As a girl, Ambrosia loved it, grateful beyond words that her parents were able to aid her art journey and self discovery, much to her unrefuted glee. Unsure about that last sentence’s structure but I don’t know exactly if it’s not grammatically right so I’m leaving it be.

This continued relentlessly. Years of bubbling childlike enthusiasm as the colours danced across every page she drew; years of excitement decorating every nook and cranny in the denouement of every school day. There was always a small joy to look forward to in all of it.

It was beautiful: everything the little girl You’ve used this a lot recently. Maybe just use ‘Ambrosia’ needed to stay positive, calm, and happy.

The ridiculous visage in that awe-stricken notion was almost hilarious to that little girl now.

She shuddered, a weak laugh decorating her face as she scribbled the next string of words into her vacant document. Ambrosia was eager to finish her job quickly, because time sifted through her hands as fast as her breathing; just thinking about her circumstances made her cackle to herself. Lovely description! Really profound

Daily 18-19th July (424 words)
TW: fruit gore?? I didn’t know if I should put this, but better safe than sorry
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/875554465/
I had a normal, relatively quiet life (for a banana). I sat each hour on the supermarket shelves, squeezed between my fellow brothers. We sat left of the apples, right of the oranges, above the pears. We had pride of place, young and green, and we waited patiently to be bought.
I had been there for two entire days before I was finally sold. I found myself sitting gleefully with my brethren in the bottom of a supermarket trolley. I had been too young to remember my life before the supermarket, and I was of the belief that it was the biggest journey of my life. Everything was so grand, I could not find the words to describe it all. I had no idea the shop was that big. The fruit and vegetables section stretched on for miles, and the freezer section was a vast icy peninsula. I was awestruck as I passed under the Great Scanning Screen, and I was free from my home, the shops. I took pride of place at the top of a bag, and was transported gracefully into the passenger seat of a large vehicle. As it began to move, I looked at the driver. She was young, probably in her early twenties. Not particularly remarkable. Little did I know…
A day later I was sitting in her fruit bowl; I was getting used to my new life here. It wasn’t different from the shops really, apart from the fact that everything was quieter. As the hours passed, I could feel my now yellow skin beginning to change. Spots?! This lady should eat me soon, or my fate would lie in a disgusting bin. But thankfully, before my spotty ailment could fully take hold, she picked me up and held me to the light, along with one of my brothers, and paced down next to a pair of trainers. This was it! My moment. I was only slightly confused when she started unthreading the shoelaces of the trainers, and only slightly more when she produced a pair of scissors. And suddenly…
The horror! She was cutting holes in my skin, up and down my body, threading the shoelaces through, doing the same to my twin, turning us into shoes! I couldn’t believe it! All this time, all my life, I had waited for the day I would be eaten, and now, now I was some kind of fruit freak, a shoe-fruit beast-hybrid to be photographed and ridiculed and put on social media and laughed at and never, ever eaten!

picture from @ForestPanther https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/875688000/

this is very rushed sorry

I lean back, the tiles of the roof cold against my back.
My briefcase lays next to me, haphazardly unpacked, the contents scattered across the rooftop - a couple of crystals, my entire harmonica collection, a single piece of paper. The sun was sinking, slowly, but there was still enough natural light for me to see things, dimly as if through a haze.
A perfect time to play for the ghosts.
I picked up the crystals – they caught the meagre sunlight, flickering and shining as I turned them over and over in my hands. They liked shiny things, the ghosts. They would come. They always did.
Next, the harmonica. It was old, rusted, slightly out of tune, but no-one cared too much. Not up here, anyway.
I began to play.
A lilting, sweeping, beautifully sad melody. A wistful lament of reflecting on lost happiness, mourning what once was; but remembering how beautiful it was when it lasted, and welcoming the future and what might come. I had composed it myself, learned it by memory.
It wasn't long until the ghosts joined in – picking up harmonicas with translucent hands, beginning to play, even though they didn't know the song, even though most didn't even know how to play the instrument in the first place.
It looked… strange, all those harmonicas floating in the slowly darkening air, playing with no-one to play them. It looked almost like they were playing themselves, like my music gave them a mind of thier own-
But, no. The ghosts, it was the ghosts.
They soon began to split away from copying my song, finding thier own, different melodies layering over and over each other.
Some would call it a mess. I found it beautiful.

We were up there for hours, or what felt like it. It still wasn't enough.
The familair holler of “quit that racket!!” came from the apartment downstairs, and so I held one last long note before beginning to pack away, and to carefully clean my own rusty instrument. The other harmonicas drooped, almost sadly. They finished thier songs and dropped to the roof tiles, one by one.
And then it was silent.
I swept them all into the breifcase, along with the crystals, and then closed it.
I picked up the last thing left on the roof.
The piece of paper.
Fingers trembling slightly, I turned it over –
nothing.
A swallowed the wave of disappointment in my throat. Every time, I left paper here, as we played. Hoping the ghosts would write something - anything - to me. They never did.
I stayed for another moment, staring up at the stars in the now-black sky. And then I stood up, climbed back down, went back home.
Meanwhile, in the breifcase, the harmonicas sighed - if an instrument can do such a thing. Every time, they shape the writing engraved on themselves into a message for their musician - who never reads it, never occuring to them to check what was written on the harmonicas themselves.

Our ancestors were the greatest beasts to walk the earth. They were larger than life, towering over mammals. I wasn’t sure we’d ever live up to that glory again. They lived in lush vegetation with flowing streams and shady trees. There was always plenty to eat, granted the plenty to eat was other creatures. Anyway we all know how this story goes. Meteor into earth, dinosaurs dead. There, I saved you some time. Now we manifest in different ways. Plastic, rigid, unmoving body parts. We stand on a smooth tile surface. There is nothing to eat but also no need to eat. It is very chilly. We stand around as enemies but cannot fight. Below us there is something idiotic. Bright and colorful eggs in a ditch. They aren’t real eggs. Real eggs are beautiful and they give life. Young people spring out of them and are able to begin to experience the world. These eggs serve no purpose. That brings us to our real problem, humans. Giant things, they stand at only five feet tall but are so much bigger than us in our plastic forms. They put us in silly poses and make us play silly games. Their young are the main culprit. We are gifts, toys even. We play silly games like fight against the robot and dress up. Little girls are especially objectifying. Anyway, this particular human has decided to place us around what they call a sink. It is cold and slightly damp which is completely and entirely disgusting. This one more so than usual. There's a strange brown stain around what they call the faucet. Just because we're bloodthirsty monsters doesn't mean we can't be disgusted. The eggs are called easter eggs. Old humans hide them in obvious spots that they young ones can't seem to grasp. Young humans are especially dumb. Baby dinosaurs have to get old fast in order to survive in the cruel world we live in. Human children are pampered endlessly and given mindless things to do. Did I mention that this bathroom reeks. It’s not just the brown stain in the sink. THeres a similar brown stain that appears in what they call a toilet and it always smells terrible. Dinosaur poop doesnt smell like that, or maybe i just cant smell it because my neck is so long. I need to get out of here and fast it isnt dignified for a dinosaur.

July 20, 2023
I chose the constellation Monoceros, representing a unicorn!

“Mom! Mom!” The brassen haired boy hurried up to his mom, tugging on the sleeve of her pajamas. “Tell me that story you always told me as a kid!”

His mom laughed, picking the boy up and setting him on her bed. She tucked the blankets in around him and sighed. “Remind me how that story goes again?”

The boy frowned but his cheeks remained rosy. “The story about the last unicorn on earth! There’s a unicorn named Monoceros and he-”

“Ah, yes! I remember now,” his mom replied. “Well, it all started many many years ago. Back whenever mammals were just beginning to populate the earth. Unicorns roamed the land, frolicking from place to place without a care in the world. They were docile, kind creatures that were said to have incredible properties in their horns. But the apex predators were jealous of the unicorns. The unicorns were beloved by everybody, but were near the bottom of the food pyramid, as they were herbivores. The apex predators wanted to be loved more than the unicorns. So they hunted down every last one of them, until there was only one unicorn left– Monoceros. Monoceros was devastated to see his family and friends die around him, so he vowed to get revenge on the apex predators. Just as he was about to die, he used the last remaining magic in his horn to become a guardian in the sky, entrusted with the ability to watch over all species. As a guardian, he ensures that all the species are treated with respect and given happy lives. If one wants something to happen, they pray to Monoceros. If you are good enough, Monoceros will grant your wish.”

“Wow!” the boy said in awe. “I want to be like Monoceros when I grow up.”

“I’m sure you will,” his mom replied warmly. “Now, when December comes, you can see Monoceros in the sky, saying hello to all the species he is watching over.”

329 words

Canis Major.
Orion's beloved hunting dog, pride of the pack. Perfect, in every way.
Until the fox.

The fox wandered into Orion's hunting ground one night, as the sun began to set.
And the dog, Canis Major, decided to take it upon himself to hunt it, catch it, kill it. Get rid of it, and please his master.

The other dogs in the pack warned him against it.

It's a fox far too powerful for you, they told him. There are tales that it's been… enchanted, in some way. It'll lead you on and you'll never catch it. It'll lead you to your death.

Nothing is too powerful for me, declared the dog. I will catch it and bring it back by morning.

And so he set off.

It wasn't hard at first. The fox was only a little in front. The dog was sure he could catch it.

Honestly, the dog was enjoying himself. The fox was leading him all over, through rivers and over mountains and into forests. The dog decided we wouldn't try to catch the fox now. He would wait for it to tire.

It didn't tire.

The dog was beginning to tire instead. They had been running for hours – and still the fox didn't slow.

This had never happened before. The prey would always tire before the dog did.

But he dismissed it, and kept going.

For hours and hours more he chased. Even when the fox began to head into snow, into ice, the dog followed.

The night went on and on and on. The fox led him onward, onward, onward.

Eventually the dog realised this race would be endless, and that the fox was unbeatable. Even for him.

Defeated, his pride wounded, he began to turn back –

But the sun was coming up.

And they were still on the ice.

And the ice? It was crack-crack-cracking.

The dog froze, eyes wild with panic, paws scrambling on ice that was getting thinner and thinner-

The ice split in two.

And with one last growl at the still-running fox, the dog
fell.

But he didn't fall into the water.

He fell into the sky.

Word war w/ @Dawnflower29
339 words

I stared at the building going down in flames, smoke clouding the night sky. Setting things on fire usually solved all my problems- I probably should've guessed that burning down the office of the lady who had fired me wouldn't do anything except get me jail time for ars0n. I shrugged and started walking back to my house, ignoring the sirens of police cars, firetrucks, and ambulances. Ahhh, the holy trinity of destruction aftermath. People stared at me as I walked- they were probably wondering how I was 100% fine and had no injuries whatsoever. Well, the joke's on them. I had a tiny burn on my pinky from lighting the gasoline! I started to stride down the sidewalk at the thought of the burn. How brave I was to have endured that much pain! I must get ice on that when I get home, I thought. As I walked, a police officer put his arm out, stopping me. “Where do you think you're going?” he asked. “ID, please.” I sighed and pulled one of many fake IDs out of my pocket. Once I showed it to him, the officer looked at me weirdly, and I glanced at the card I had picked. “Oops.” I shrugged, and the officer grabbed my wrist and brought me back to his police car. “Sit,” he commanded, pointing to the backseat. I obliged, and he shut and locked the door. Guess he had run out of handcuffs. I pulled a bobby pin out of my hair that was holding my wig in place, and started to undo the screws that were holding the screen that separated the front and the back in place. After a few mere seconds, I had one done. Three more to go! I was rushing by the time I got to the last one because I could see the officer approaching through the window. I pushed down the screen and swung my feet into the driver's seat. Not having time to get out and run, I turned the key

Writing competition entry!
716 words (not counting the title)
Social Anxiety and a Coffee Shop

You walk quickly down the sidewalk, your head down. You see the wheels and shoes of a person pushing their baby in a stroller. You observe the tiny feet of barefoot children racing back to their apartment, and hear their mother calling out to them. You turn left, and walk into the coffee shop.

The second you enter, you're almost pushed back out the door by a crowd of people. Frowning to yourself, you pick your head up and look around at what's happening. Before you can figure anything out, you realize you're staring at the back of someone's green hair. When they turn around, probably not even looking at you, you quickly turn away, afraid that they are. You move through the mob of loud people and try to open the door to the bathroom. Locked. You take a deep breath, and lean against the wall for a minute or two. It's not much sanctuary from the noise, but it gets you away from the crowd of people in the normally quiet coffee shop. The usual peace was why you liked it.

You think about going up to the counter and asking the owner, who's your close friend, what's going on today. But, as you get closer, you realize there's someone else working today. You pause for a moment, mentally revisiting the schedule, which you had memorized. It should be his turn to work today- so why is there a girl who looks about your age, especially one whom you'd never seen here before, making drinks and food for everyone?

You try to navigate through the crowd of people and make your way to the door. The number of people in here had changed- whether it was getting bigger or smaller, you couldn't tell. You push someone aside and pull open the door, grateful for the fresh air and not even feeling bad. As you leave, you bump into someone entering the shop. You look up, not even noticing your head had fallen back down, mutter a quick sorry, and return to looking at the concrete. The person puts their arm around your shoulders and goes back outside with you. They guide you in breathing exercises, to which you absentmindedly follow. You look up again, realizing it's the owner. You give him a small smile. “Thank you.”

“Of course,” he replies. “Now, I'm going to go deal with the crowd that's somehow in my coffee shop.” He uses a joking tone on the word somehow, as if he can't believe the mob of people are in his shop.

You stand outside for a few minutes, biting almost all the dead skin off your lips. You can hear someone directing people out of the shop, yet no more than a few people have left. Taking a few deep breaths, and convincing yourself that this is the right thing to do, you walk into the café, head up. You shout at the top of your lungs, “If you have gotten what you want, please form a line by me and exit! Everyone else, please stand to the side by the counter.” No one seems to have heard you, and you start to rethink this idea. Maybe it wasn't so good after all. Still, you repeat what you said, this time even louder. Now, a few people move to their line, and within a minute or two, everyone else follows. You smile to yourself, not realizing your friend was watching you. “Please exit, and stay in a line,” you say to your half of the small building. You watch for a few moments, then turn your attention to the few people remaining. As they ordered their coffee and food, you sat down at a different table then normal. Instead of your usual spot by the window, you sit closest to the counter. You pull out your laptop and start working, not even noticing as the girl from earlier brings your usual coffee to your table. When you do notice, you mouth thank you at the owner, but he points to her instead. You smile at her, and realize that even though you had never paid attention to her, she had noticed you.

At the end of the day, you stride out of the shop, your head held high.

july 20 daily


There was a time long ago when all of the humans lived in one great big city under the rule of Eqitshqa and her husband Rajeqa’ar. They were kind and just rulers and they kept the people in their city happy, but the world was not all good. Evil existed because of horrible demons ruled by the worst demon of all: Kulutsodonva. In the day time everyone was happy and working hard and just going about their lives in the city because the great sun goddess K’anchia’aqa with her thousand flaming swords was protecting them from the demons, but the demons were cruel and clever. Kulutsodonva had once kidnapped K’anchia’aqa’s only son whom she loved with all her heart. In order to get her son back, Kulutsodona had forced K’anchia’aqa to make an everlasting oath that she could never appear at night. And therefore at night, demons terrorized the city. The humans built strong defenses and did their best, but fear and evil still crept inside their heads and made the humans do awful things. The chief and chieftess were very brave and they tried many things to defend their city from demons during the night, but even they were not immune to the utter darkness the demons brought and they too hid with their city in fear. In the city, though really more on the outskirts, there lived a young shepherd boy named Othewavoysi’iku. He tended a small flock of sheep and sold their wool in the city. He was born after humans went from being all kind to starting to be pretty wicked. He had a round face and a big smile and many birthmarks and scars on his face. If he had been born when humans were all kind, no one would have minded, but now the other people in the city were cruel and they made fun of him. In spite of this all, Otheavoysi’iku remained a kind and gentle soul and always just wanted to help people. Though he was kind and gentle, he was no coward and had plenty of experience defending his flock from wolves.
One night the demons came and they burned down the city k*lling many people, including the chief and chieftess. The shepherd boy ran into the city to save as many people as he could. Now that the city was gone the people split into many different groups to start their own cities. Even though Otheavoysi’iku had saved them, nobody would welcome him into their new city and the demons had also k*lled his flock. He was utterly alone. So he climbed a mountain and at the top of his lungs he begged for the ability to do something about the demons that terrorized them at night. Then because the climb had been very difficult, he passed out from exhaustion. When he woke up he was in the sky and he was glowing silver. A voice said to him, “You are the moon. The night’s defender against demons.”

Critique for @PoppyWriter
(170 words)

I just edited the lines you said to; I think everything was great, but I'm not really sure if the way I edited it makes sense or not since it's about your life. It's a really good poem; great job! just warning you, I have no idea how to write a proper poem, so this may not be very good. I also left a few lines the way they were

First steps falling below

Maybe something like “First steps making her glow” ? I based it off the “Pride filled cheeks” part.

In each flower-crowned joy

As you rejoice

Bluebird eyes stay sandstone dry

Her eyes light up like a firefly

Steps into a green-lit field
A name mispoken thrice
First letter friendships not yet sealed
Then led to a later vice

Looks around at everyone else
Her name mispoken thrice
Friends and enemies not yet sealed
Like melting something forever ice

That left them all goodbyes

That left them all to cry

The bluebird eyes and rain-swept hair
Each thought released in song
Her dreams released to air
And a soul she'd known not long

The bluebird eyes and rain-swept hair
Each thought released in song
Her dreams released into the air
Along with a soul she hadn't known for long

Not saying why she's hurting
Cursing out her spun timeline

Her heart burning
Thinking, this life isn't mine

And send out hopeful pleas

Her hair moving in the breeze

Your thoughts put you behind bars

Viewing the world from behind bars

Hope this helped!

Writing Competition Rough Draft! ~ 1840 words

Slightly Different

“Students!” My math teacher, Mrs. Sanders, caught everyone’s attention. “I finished grading your chapter tests from last week. I’ll be passing out the results.”

Mrs. Sanders walked across the classroom, passing out the papers. I sat at my desk and patiently waited, but I knew it would take a while. I knew it was sorted by alphabetical order by last name, and my last name was last – ‘Ventura’. If only it would be sorted by first name, then my first name of ‘Aurora’ would be the second name. If only.

Finally, after waiting for Mrs. Sanders to walk around the classroom, she finally came to me, the one in the front row seat.

She handed out my paper and gave me a smile before walking to the front again. I got 100 percent, but that is typical. For me, even skipping up a level, math is easy. Though I was the shortest one in class.

Math class went as usual. I solved and explained a few problems, and then Mrs. Sanders explained everything else because nobody was raising their hand. After a while, the bell rang, and we packed our bags and began to leave.

I was just chilling and going to my next class, well no, going to help the math teacher of the 6th graders, when someone ‘accidentally’ bumped into me.

“Whoops, I’m ‘so sorry’ about that!” Harper, who’s been bullying me since fifth grade, laughed. “I think you dropped those nerdy glasses of yours!”

“I wear contacts, not glasses. You got that, Harper?” I shot back.

“Okay, fine. How’s the project for magic class going?” She sarcastically replied. “Oh right! I ‘forgot’ that you don’t even have any magic!”

Everybody in the world is gifted in magic, aside from me. Or so they thought. In this school, only the magic teacher and principal know my secret.
The secret is that I do have magic, but I never show it. I am a devil, but the others are sorcerers and sorceresses. Devils are the same as them, but their magic is different. It is darker and stronger.

In the near past, when my father was young, devils could go free with people knowing without causing trouble. However, one year, a fight started between a group of devils, which included my dad – a very powerful devil, and sorcerers. It started off with a brawl and escalated to a big battle between the groups. Since devils have stronger magic, they easily blew out the sorcerers, but that did leave a mark.

Not a little one. They were already slightly judged, but this fight caused a huge one impact on our reputation.

“Ugh!” I grunted, wanting to shout in her face.

“Hey, cut it out!” My friend, Cassie, popped in between us. And she had zero idea on my magic.

Harper flicked her hand in the air and a bright light appeared for a second, giving us stars in our eyes.

“Hey, no magic against others!” Cassie yelled at her.

“If you forgot, the principal is my uncle. And he won’t care if I do anything, but he sure will if you do even the slightest move.” Harper looked at her slyly.

Her uncle, actually, is really nice. He accepted me into the school even knowing I was a devil. I bet she is just saying things for the sake of saying things.

Cassie gave her a death stare, and Harper went off to her snobby friends.

“Did you hear?” Cassie turned to me, with a serious expression on her face.

“Hear what?” I asked, confused. Cassie is normally the enthusiastic and outgoing one. It isn’t normal for her to be serious.

“A magic explosion is occurring just slightly to our west, right now. And it is on the move, coming straight at us! And if I have heard correctly, it is a powerful one.” Cassie exclaimed, worried.

My gut wrenched. She knows it’s bad, but she doesn’t know how terrible this could be.

Magic explosions occur when a devil’s magic erupts, causing the explosion. They normally erupt if they are having way, and I mean completely overboard way, too high amounts of negative feelings. Their mind becomes blank, and they are fueled by those emotions, knowing nothing but the want to destroy. The stronger the devil, the stronger the explosion.

Sorcerers and sorceresses have too weak of magic to fend against the explosions, so devils are in need to fight against it. But since the incident, sorcerers and sorceresses started to try and fight the weaker explosions, though devils may still be needed. But they won’t be able to fight stronger ones.

And since I’m a devil, I’d have to stay back if everyone is evacuated for the explosion, especially since it’s a strong one.

Which may reveal my secret.

To the whole entire school.

I just stood there, my mind racing, trying to process the information. If it comes near our school during class, the truth will be out. Leaning against the wall, I take a deep breath.

“Aurora, are you okay?” Cassie looked at me, concerned.

“I’m fine. We should go to class soon.” I replied in a hurry, standing back up.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I’m good. I should get to my next class-slash-tutoring so I can review what we’re doing.”

“Okay! Bye!” And she leaves.

I take my time to go. I stop by my locker, grab my papers, put away my textbook, and take a short rest to think things through.

“I’m just going to have to hope that the explosion turns. Or it moves very, very slowly. If that happens, I don’t have a mess that I’ll have to explain to everyone.” I quietly whisper.

“But if it comes during school hours, which is a likely scenario, there’s nothing I can do. Everyone else will be evacuated, while I depart from my class, trying to avoid people, mainly teachers, from seeing I’m off from the group. And I’ll have to go to Mr. Meyers, the principal, and check with him first, and he’ll let me know what to do… right?” I think aloud, but quietly so others don’t hear me.

I checked the clock on the wall. Two minutes until class starts. I close my locker and head over to class.

I entered, saying hello to the teacher, Mr. Reed, and reviewed what we they are learning today. I tried to focus hard and ignore the thoughts in my head, but it keeps pulling me away from my thoughts that I need to think about.

I reviewed the lesson as best as I could, and the bell rang, signifying the start of class. As students get ready, Mr. Reed starts to begin the lesson, and I quietly take attendance and submit them on the computer.

About halfway done with the lesson, Mr. Reed motions to me. I nod, get the stack of papers on his desk, and start passing them out to the students.

“We’ll be working on this worksheet for the rest of class. Let’s first look at problem-” Mr. Reed begins, being interrupted by the loud alarm.

“A magic explosion is drawing dangerously nearby. This is not a drill. Please evacuate immediately. I repeat, a magic explosion is drawing dangerously nearby. This is not a drill. Please evacuate immediately.” The automated voice system spoke.

I knew it. It just had to come at this time.

“Students! We need to line up and head out! Please stay quiet so we all can hear the announcements clearly!” Mr. Reed tells the class. Turning over to me, he says, “go to the very end to keep track of the students.”

I nodded, but I knew I wouldn’t be able to do that.

We exited the classroom as I locked it. When nobody was looking, I slowly edged my way to the principal’s office, which luckily was quite nearby. I almost got caught a few times, when I hopped into another class’s line, pretending that I was a part of them.

I made my way up to the principal’s office and I entered, seeing Mr. Meyers getting ready to leave.

“Is that you, Aurora?” he asks, not even looking up.

“Yes, that’s me.” I reply.

“Okay, that’s good you’re here. From what I have heard, the explosion is from a powerful devil. A few sorcerers and sorceresses have tried to slow it down, but it isn’t working. We need devils.” He explains, motioning us to leave the office into the now-empty hallways of the school.

Mr. Meyers continues, “I wouldn’t want to you be in the battleground unless you have to. You’re still young; let the adult devils take care of it. Only join in if you really need to. Also, I would like you to report on how the explosion is going. Come to the evacuation field for a second for a second, and then you can go.”

We make our way to the evacuation field, where almost all the classes are there. Thankfully, he stops slightly to the side, so I’m not in front of the entire school, but if they were looking, they could see us.

“I’ll be over there,” Mr. Meyers points to the center of a raised area in front of the field. “Motion me over from here if you have any updates. You should start to prepare – it’s a big one.”

I nod, and I close my eyes. I take a deep breath and reopen them. They changed from their normal, hazel eyes, to a glowing, deep red. In this state, I can use a bit of my powers. But right now, I’m trying to track the explosion.

“The explosion is probably going to miss us, but barely. However, if it takes a turn, it could run almost directly into the school building. It shouldn’t hit here, though.” I told Mr. Meyers, trying to sense what is going on. “But I may not be completely accurate.”

“Okay, thanks for the update. You can go now.” And he walks to the center, looking at the students in the field.

I look at them before I leave, and I locked eyes on the one person that I didn’t want to see me – Cassie. Her look was mainly confused, but I could tell she knew what was going on but didn’t want to believe it.

I nodded my head slowly, telling her that it is what she thinks before leaving to see the explosion for myself.

I could sense that Cassie understood me, but she didn’t want to. I pushed it away and teleported to the site of the explosion.

I teleported slightly away so I didn’t get hit during the fight. I slowly walked up and realized I should level up my protection, since the fight was intense. I summoned a small shield and saw many sorcerers and sorceresses, and a few devils were battling the explosion.

I started surveying, like Mr. Meyers wanted me to, when I saw /who/ exactly was the devil that caused the magic explosion.

“F-father…?”

⤿ 316 words

↝ prompt: Well, setting it on fire may not have been the best idea, but it was always worth a try. (the only thing better than mangoes: arson /j /lh)

warning: sensitive topics(?)

“Y-you sure this is gonna be fine?” I asked, holding up my lighter, my hand shaking.
“Yeah! Just light it already!” Victoria said, pushing me playfully, “Stop being so careful! You gotta take risks sometimes!”
“Yeah, I- okay.” The lighter’s flame flickered as I pushed the button to turn it on. It made a click, and I stepped closer to the gasoline. My hands shook, and I swallowed the lump in my throat as I put the flame to the pool of liquid. It stayed quiet for a moment, then a small fire popped up. “Okay, I did it…”
“Come on! We gotta get out of here!” Victoria pulled me back, and I dropped the lighter.
“Wait, but aren’t we going to put it out?” They turned to me.
“You’re acting like you want to die here! Now follow me!” They gripped my hand tighter. “Come. On.” They hissed through gritted teeth.
“But I-“ I anxiously looked at them, then gazed at the fire, spreading quickly. “I need to call the-“
“No! They’ll find out we did it! Do you want to go to jail?” Before I could answer, Victoria did it for me, “No! No, you do not!” They sighed. “Listen, August! If you want to stay here, I’m not going to do that with you! I’m leaving!” They stomped away, leaving me and the fire alone.
“No, please…” I let out a sob, realizing that they weren’t going to help me. “They-they left me here.” I felt the flames licking at my shoe, and I did nothing to stop them. It was pointless. I was going to die. Die. It didn’t sound right. I gasped for air, the smoke clogging my lungs. I could barely breathe at this point, let alone shout for help. I looked at my hands, shaking once again. I felt myself floating away…I wasn’t (this is where it ends, I was gonna write ‘going to survive this one’ at the end, but I ran outta time :’))
{I’m not sure if this is how fires work, I didn’t think of researching how people d!e/get hurt in fires, (yeah, I was 80ish% done, so there was barely any time left) but I knew smoke was the deadly part of it }

July 20th Daily
527 words
The train’s wheels chugged along the tracks, rocking the children to sleep with their steady rhythm. They lay snug in their beds as the warm glow from the light illuminated the storyteller’s wrinkled face. She softly treaded up and down the aisle. The children had begged her for a story, so she decided to tell them one from their people. She began with a whisper.

Centaurus was an old soul.
He remembered long forgotten days where his kin roamed about freely, and he loved the hills and plains of this good earth for the memories they carried.
See, Centaurus was the last of his kind, the last of ancient centaur stock.
Centaurs, I suppose, were a sort of shapeshifter. They had two forms in one: horse and human, and the shifter folk thought of them as one of their own.

“But we don’t have any centaurs around,” asked a sleepy little girl, “and they’re awfully hard to try and shift into.”
The storyteller laughed. “Yes, true centaurs are gone. Now would you sit tight and let me continue?”

Centaurus’ family, who had been once free to gallivant about the earth, was hunted down by humans. Centaurs traveled often and alone, without the protection of other creatures. Their herds took it upon themselves to protect each other, which meant that if they were caught unprepared, the results could be devastating.

“Why is it always humans who ruin everything?,” a little boy exclaimed. “We aren’t that bad!”
The storyteller paused. “Sometimes facing the unusual is scary. Humans had their own things to protect, too.”

Now, even though many centaurs didn’t make it, Centaurus survived. However, as time passed, he started getting lonely in this big, wide world. He felt like he didn’t fit anymore. He watched civilizations rise and fall, creatures being born and dying, and he wondered about the family that he lost.

“That's sad,” another little girl remarked.
“Yes. It is.”

He had been to some of the most beautiful parts of Earth, but his favorite place to go was wherever he could see the stars. Mind you, this was back where most places were wild and free and light almost never touched the heavens at nightime. Centaurus could see far, far beyond Earth, and he was awestruck at the unity of the night sky.
Now, Centaurus was getting old. Centaurs live long lives, and his was coming to an end. He spent every night gazing at the stars. And as his lonely life drew to a close in the twilight, the heavens gave him a gift.
It is said that that night, Centaurus disappeared and a new constellation was born. It was named after him, the last centaur. He waits among the stars until it is time for the Earth to be restored and his people to return.
I always like to think he’s happy up there, surrounded by a vast, unexplored world amongst the stars where he belongs.

The storyteller looked at the children, all falling asleep to the murmur of the train. She turned off the light and padded out.
“Rest among the stars tonight, loves” she whispered as she clicked the door shut.

Daily #20
7/20/2023
345 words

“Once upon a time, a sailor was fishing late at night. The full moon shone bright, creating a rippling reflection on the water. He threw on a sparkling stone into the water, adding onto the line of other stones, illuminating the surrounding water,” Celeste begins, motioning to the horizon line above the ocean.
The children around her stare up on awe and nudge closer to her, seeking heat from the evening breeze.
“The sailor stayed out on sea for a few more hours and went to turn his boat around. He was sure that he had thrown the stones in, but could only see a faint glow!”
A collective gasp arises from the children.
“Is he okay?” a small voice asks, frightened.
“Yep! Now, let me finish the story, Aurora,” Celeste requests and the girl nods. “He got out his rocks and started throwing them in the direction of the other rock. Each of them hit the water and sunk, leaving the sailor with fewer rocks and no luck with light. Frustrated, he threw the rest of the stones up high. They never came back down.”
A small hand clasped her own. “How come?”
“Well, Orion, you see, the fisherman just followed what light he could see and eventually got to land. He went home and went to bed,” Celeste says, smiling when the kids give her a bemused look. “The next night, he sailed off to sea, doing the same as he did the day before. As he looked back to where his stones were, he saw a bright star in the sky. It wasn’t familiar to him, but when he followed the star, he always got back home.”
“Ooh.”
“Cool!”
“Woah”
“You see that bright star up there?” Celeste asks, pointing at the North Star. “That’s the star that the man created. It always points north and it can help you when you loose your way. It’s been used for generations. Now, it’s onto you.”

7/20/23
533 words
Daily:
July 20th is International Moon Day, and to celebrate, we're bringing back the constellation daily! Choose any constellation or celestial body, then write at least 300 words about how it came to be in the form of a story or a fictional essay. Feel free to do some research into your chosen subject and incorporate that into your writing as well! This daily will earn you 200 points, but you can get an extra 50 for sharing what you write.
—
This is the story of Musca, and how a tiny goddess became a huge constellation.

Musca was a tiny little goddess with small, circular wings and big red eyes. She often felt worthless and ignored due to her small size, which resulted in her taking her feelings of anger and pity out on the Dutch people.

Musca played tricks on them- she buzzed in their ears and spread untrue rumors about others. She landed on their food and refused to leave until they offered a gift or sacrifice to her. And she'd frequently fly in their mouths when they sang, jumping up and down as to tickle their throats and choke them, some to death. The people tried many ways to rid Musca, like spraying a magic liquid on their property, swatting her away with their hands, and even locking the doors of their houses and refusing to leave, but Musca's small size prevented them from catching her.

One day, the Dutch had had enough. The king gathered all of his bravest knights down in the cellar for a secret meeting, trying to find some way they could rid Musca. One of the knights suggested stabbing her, but Musca was too fast and would just fly away. Another suggested poisoning her, but Musca was too smart to fall for foolish tricks like that. But one knight, the smallest of the bunch, had his own idea: offering Musca a temptation.

Musca was always complaining about her small status and how she wanted to be a star, so the little knight said that all the villagers should offer their greatest crops to the sun gods so they could accept Musca as one of their own and literally turn her into one, ridding the village of Musca's plight.

The other knights, while hesitant at first, agreed, and the following weeks were spent preparing the village for the big sacrifice. Farmers grew their heartiest crops, pigs were fed and fattened up, and miners spend days and nights digging for gold. Their happiness that Musca would soon be gone from them was too much to make them mad at her when she tried to pester them.

Finally, the day had come. Crowds gathered at the castle, dropping off their goods and waiting for the sun gods to respond. The king held his breath, still not sure if this would work. Just then, a lightning flash bolted out, and the villagers gasped. The sun god responded:

“Musca is not worthy to be part of our kingdom. She has caused too much havoc and does not deserve to shine. We will send her to the moon gods, where she will stay and only appear at night, when everyone is sleeping and no one is watching her.”

Another lightning flash grew, and Musca disappeared. The villagers were confused- what had happened? If Musca was denied by the sun gods, then where could she have gone?

The littlest knight sat in his bedroom that night, looking out into the stars, when he saw a new constellation out. He could notice it twinkling quite brightly. He pulled out his notepad and scribbled down the name, knowing what the constellation must be called.

Musca.

A red balloon, vibrant and shining like a single drop of blood, drifted up to the cold iron sky.

——— could not get the image out of her head. It was stuck there as if by glue.

What unnerved her more, though, was that she had no idea where the memory had come from.

It had assailed her suddenly, with persistent vengeance since its appearance. Pounding behind her eyes, a headache holding a picture from someone else’s life.

——— tried to ignore it, walking from work to the living quarters across the street. A black car whipped by, probably carrying some important member of government, as they were the only ones who bothered with such transportation. ——— hurried across the street, making it in front of the steel structure where she slept before any other vehicles got too close.

With a sigh, ——— searched for her keys, trying not to focus too much on the cool metal that made her picture a lone spark of color flying steadily away.

A high voice exclaimed something beyond her, and footsteps pounded down the street. ——— whirled around, searching for the source of the noise. But it was just a group of children, wearing those odd grimaces unique to their kind. Shaking her head, ——— turned back to her task and stuck the key in the lock.

Something shivered at the base of her skull, a ticklish memory creeping out.

——— hissed, rubbing her neck. What was wrong with her? She glared at the children who continued shouting, making her headache throb more acutely. They just smiled back, ducking around the corner.

Wait . . . . Smiled?

——— shook her head, sure that was the first time she’d heard the word. And yet . . . it was right, irrevocably so. She knew they were smiling and couldn’t be angry at them. Why was that?

Just get to bed. Keep your head down. Stop thinking about it. Go to sleep, and tomorrow it will all be fine. You won’t remember what it is like to smile or watch a balloon drift away.

She did so, rushing through the rows of bunks towards her own.

By the time she collapsed and pulled the sheet over her head, her thoughts were racing along with her heart. Memories that had once fallen softly and alone like snow had turned to heavy rain, coming fast and urgent.

——— thought she remembered, better than smiling, watching another smile. He had a gap-toothed grin, much like the child had outside.

They were in a huge warehouse, cold and utilitarian. And yet there was warmth there, laughter, as alien as a smile, echoing around the steel walls.

And there was the iron sky. ——— looked up, feeling an intense sadness, as if all the times she’d been alone were compressed into one painful moment.

It was a distant feeling though, like an echo of emotion. What she should be feeling, perhaps. Just above her hovered the string of a red balloon, but even when she jumped she could not reach it. Soon, it grew small against the height of the metal heavens. ——— cried, which was odd. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d cried. Yet, with the emotion coursing through her, it almost seemed . . . natural.

Footsteps sounded on concrete behind her.

“We can share,” a boy said, reaching out his fisted hand to hers. He gripped the cord of a blue balloon. They were old, dusty, worn by time, but some of the older kids had found them in this old warehouse, and there were enough to go around. How did she know that?

——— sniffled, but instinctively smiled through her fading tears as she grabbed the balloon, so they both clutched its bobbing string.

Something warm bubbled up within ——— as she watched the boy smile. It was a powerful feeling, something she didn’t know if she’d ever felt before. Much like the feeling you got after a good day’s work, but somehow more intense, without the expectation that you would have to work again.

Then the vision was gone.

No.

——— reached out, as though to grasp the fading threads of memory. It was no use. The occurrence had happened years ago. So long ago, there was no way she should remember it.

She had been a child in the vision.

——— sat up, heart thumping as though to escape her ribcage. She clutched her chest, trying to focus. It—it hadn’t been real. Surely it had just been a dream. A…a waking dream.

But where did she learn what a smile was, then? How could she still feel the lingering warmth left by that boy’s smile? It felt much too vivid to be anything but reality.

How, then, did ——— remember?

It was supposed to be impossible. Once your childhood was erased, you became efficient, hardworking, intelligent. A true member of society. And you never, never remembered.

As her breaths began to slow, ——— shook her head. Despite the impossibility of it, despite the fact that she would likely be imprisoned if her recollection was discovered, she could not shake the feeling of warmth. She felt she was, in some way as impossible as the memory itself, better for remembering.

So she lay back down, resolving to, someday, find that boy and share with him another smile.

Closing her eyes, she let herself drift again into memory and dream.

Very glad she knew what it was to smile.

John Laurens: The Biggest “What If?” of the American Revolution
(opinion essay – Aqua's writing comp entry)


The hit musical Hamilton made American history appealing to young people through its witty usage of hip hop, rap, and blend of musical genres. It packed a lot of history in two and a half hours, but there were still inaccuracies and information left out. One of Alexander Hamilton’s best friends, John Laurens, was well-portrayed as a reckless abolitionist, yet as an underrepresented hero from the American Revolution, his portrayal in the musical wasn't thorough. The musical is about Hamilton and not Laurens, but it sparked interest in many Hamilfans to learn more about such an interesting person, including myself. His dream of freeing slaves was the biggest “what if?” of the American Revolution. But what makes him and his dreams so important?

It’s interesting: Laurens was an abolitionist, and his father was quite the opposite. Henry Laurens was a rich plantation owner and slaveholder from South Carolina and was the 5th President of the Continental Congress from 1777 to 1778. He had over 200 slaves throughout his whole life and never released a single one, despite Laurens standing up to him. In a letter to his father, he stated that he would rather have his father free his slaves instead of his family inheritance, which would include his father’s slaves. Their opposing opinions on slavery made them have a bad father-son relationship. His bravery standing up to his father is important to note: though he was unsuccessful in getting his father to free slaves, he always stood his ground for what he fought for. This proved useful later on when he wanted to recruit the first all-Black battalion.

While a Lieutenant Colonel in the Continental Army, Laurens verbally fought for the freedom of slaves by having them join the army. Out of context, this could possibly be seen as him just wanting the Revolution to be successful and not caring about slaves’ freedom. To understand that Laurens actually believed in the freedom of slaves, it is important to know that he befriended some of his father’s slaves, and that his continuous and consistent fight for ending slavery throughout his unfortunately short life proved that he really cared. In the end, both sides of the war promised slaves freedom if they joined. However, Black soldiers did not fight as much in battles as white soldiers. But Laurens wanted to take it a step further. He believed that there should be all-Black battalions, commanded by white abolitionists like himself. It took him three tries before the Congress agreed for him to have his Black battalion, showing his determination in his cause. However, he needed approval from the South Carolina legislature first, which he was denied multiple times. It was mostly because South Carolina’s capital, Charleston, was the largest port of incoming slaves to North America, and so they were fearful of losing their main economy by freeing slaves. Despite his efforts throughout his five years in the Revolution, Laurens was unsuccessful in recruiting an all-Black battalion. Nonetheless, his continuous fight for the freedom of slaves proved how determined he was in achieving his dreams.

My most important point is that slavery was officially abolished 83 years after Laurens’ death in 1782, before the war had ended. Despite everything Laurens did, not enough people listened to him, and no significant laws changed about slavery until almost 100 years after he passed away. I consider this part the greatest “what if?” If more people listened to him, and slavery ended just a bit sooner, maybe we’d be farther along in social justice fights today. I find it devastating that after all he did, barely anything changed in the US at that time, and that it took almost a whole century for slavery to be officially abolished. I understand that at a time like the American Revolution, in which slavery was common not only in the south but also the north, there weren’t many abolitionists. This made Laurens’ fight harder, and for this reason, he is one of the underrepresented heroes of the American Revolution.

For John Laurens to fight so much for freedom—more than just freedom from the British—he must surely be honoured as a hero, though his battle for equal rights was not yet won. But even if one does not win a fight, then why should their fight be forgotten? If anything, it should still be honoured. We need to commemorate Laurens for his bravery, determination and perseverance through his allyship with Black people during the American Revolution. He is an incredible and unique unsung hero.

(755 words)

Credits: Stingray (my longest Scratch friend <33 go follow her, she is aboslutely amazing) for providing feedback and critique! I suppose Lin-Manuel Miranda for creating Hamilon because otherwise I would have never known about John Laurens, who is, yes, my favourite of favourite Hamilton characters I guess lol. John Laurens also made me fall in love with turtles (if you know, then you know B))

Weekly 3
Part 1
Introduction

Setting- west London, large Victorian mansion amongst beggars and orphans. Lots of trees and undergrowth, separating the house from the noise outside of it.
Main characters- Emily, a rich Victorian girl, who is quite sad, and makes friends with the beggars, no siblings and quite lonely.
Tom- Poor beggar who was abandoned by his parents when he was five and makes friends with Emily.
Ellie- Emily’s maid, she accompanies her on her adventure and becomes very close to Emily.
Events- Emily’s parents go missing and the beggars whisper information to her.
Conflict
Kidnappers arrive in the night, watched by Emily, Tom and Ellie, and steal rich children and lots of treasure. Emily and her friends sneak onto a boat with the kidnappers, heading for India.
Climax
Ellie gets stolen and they find out that the people have guns. They just escape, almost being killed by the kidnappers and sneak to where they think Ellie is being taken. They discover their parents with Ellie and have to break out of the building, followed by the kidnappers.

Conclusion
They call the police and inform them of the kidnappers, when they are arrested. Tom gets to live with them and they let the beggars as well.


Part 2
Emily was a girl of eleven years old, who lived in Victorian London. Her parents were rich and she had a governess. Her mansion was well known around her part of the town. She loved her life, but sometimes felt bored or lonely. She had no siblings and her parents were always at parties with friends. When she was younger, she had made friends with the poor boys who lived on the streets, begging, their eyes wide in sadness and desperation. But her parents had found out, and now she wasn’t allowed to go anywhere near them.

Recently, something had happened that changed all of this. Her parents had gone missing. Before this happened, they had been acting weirdly, like they were keeping something from her. She would play in the empty garden of soft, lush grass and bright, vibrant flowers, rain dripping down her long eyelashes or the glowing sun radiating down on her back. But her parents would never be there. Then one clear, dark summer’s evening, they had kissed her goodnight and when she woke up to the sunlight pouring into her room, gently touching the brown-green leaves, her maid came rushing up to her room, crying and sobbing, telling her the news.

To her surprise, Emily hadn’t felt much sadness or shock. They had been acting strangely and things like this often happened to rich people like her parents. Still, they were nice, kind people, who maybe just didn’t think that much about their daughter, but still cared deeply about her and would probably be very worried about her. She stroked her dog’s silky fur and wondered about what to do. Then she remembered a very important clue that had been bugging her for a long time. The boys on the street! They had been visiting her secretly, occasionally, warning her of what might happen, about how she must be careful. Especially that boy, what was his name? Tom! He seemed very anxious and was telling her about how it would happen, but never telling her what.

Tom was, as explained earlier, a street urchin. His mother was in France, living a rich life, with Tom’s stepfather. They had had one child since then, and loved her with all their hearts, but had abandoned him, at five years old, on the streets and told him that they no longer loved him. Tom’s heart had been broken since, and his loneliness and sorrow, made Emily’s heart ache with sadness for him. She had known him since she was three, and they used to play together, but not anymore. Tom had an unfortunate and unlucky life.

Part 3
She went to the hedge where she met the beggars, and found Tom there, as usual.
“Meet me here, 10:00. I think we need to talk…” Emily whispered urgently.
She went back to her house and waited for the day to pass. It seemed so long, the time trundled by reluctantly and Emily waited for bedtime. At last, it was 9:45, her bedtime, and Ellie (her maid) was taking her to bed. She waited for her to snap off the light and go off to her own bed, and then she tiptoed across the floor, got changed quickly and slipped downstairs. Her watch beeped at her, echoing strangely in the darkness of night.

Tom was waiting there, his brown, straggly hair waving in the light breeze and his dull blue eyes glinting in excitement. Emily self-consciously fiddled with her own dark plaits and thought that she must look a mess.
“Well, hello Tom. I need to ask you about what you know.”
“Good evening to you too, Emily. Why? Why do you want to know from me?” Tom whispered indignantly.
Emily replied, “You seem so anxious and afraid, more than the others and I don’t know what’s going on.
“All I know is that something terrible is going to happen tonight, and you need to be here…” his voice trailed off.
“We’ll have to lie in wait then!”
“What?”
A new voice piped in, “Emily’s right, we need to find out what’s going to happen.”
Ellie!
Emily asked, “How?”
“I’ll tell you later, but for now, we need to watch whatever’s going to happen.”
“Tom, where is this going to happen?”
“Everywhere, but they are going to come here, and that is where we will watch them. Here.”

So they lay in wait, under the scratchy canopy of bushes, spreading their legs out behind them. Time passed, and they grew close to giving up hope, when they heard a twig snap. They all looked at each other in adrenalin. Leaves crackled loudly and leather boots came into view.
“C’mon, we gotta go Roger. These kids won’t kidnap themselves!”
“Fine…”
Emily craned her neck and saw two men, both short, with light hair and long, unkempt beards. So they were kidnappers! That’s what must have happened to her parents. They were kidnapped!
“You go to the boat, Roger, with the valuables, whilst I will go to those children. We’re gonna be rich!”
“All right, Al.” said Roger.
They walked off, and the three looked at each other in astonishment. What a night it had been!

They snuck after the one called Al. He crept through the uneven streets, lit dimly by his torch until he reached the richest area. He climbed up the wall nimbly, with only the click of his torch being turned in the clear night, and slid indoors. He came out again with a protesting sack. It jumped and shouted and wobbled, but nothing would let it out. He did this several times, and then snuck off to the docks, where the moon reflected off the water eerily. He scrambled into a boat with the wriggling sacks and nodded at his colleague.
Emily sprinted towards the boat on impossibly quiet feet and went in.
“Em-”
“Shhhh! You’ll give us away!”
Ellie gave him a determined look and ran towards the boat too, swiftly followed by Tom, who was not so quiet. His footsteps echoed loudly across the tree-lined avenues.
“What!”
They looked up.
“Must have just been a fox or something,” Roger said, not noticing Tom behind a bushy tree.
Tom clambered in and they all waited with their knuckles clenched. A gentle rocking began, tipping them back and forth. They all held onto each other to keep upright and eventually heard the sound of waves slapping the side of the boat, blowing its sails wildly around. They were on their way.


Part 4
“C’mon, let’s go get some food.”
The rough voice cleared the air, sharp and clear. They looked at one another in horror. The tins of food were just at the bottom of their little section, clanging against one another in the choppy environment, as if they were scared. They tip-toed to a barrel next to them and hid behind it. Emily didn’t get there.
“Hey! You, what do you think you’re doin’?”
“Errr, sorry, I, um…”
“Look at her clothes, she be one of those rich ones. Take ‘er!”
They bundled Emily into a sack and she mumbled in terror. Tom and Ellie looked at one another in despair.
“Get me out!”
“Feisty, isn’t she!”
“Get me out!”
“Do you want to be shot?”
Emily went quiet. The two men left the room with hideous smiles plastered across their faces.
“We’ve got to get Emily back!” Tom whispered anxiously.
Ellie replied,” I know, but if we go out now, we won’t be helping her, we’ll just be with her too. We’ll follow them to wherever they’re taking her and then free her!”

A day later, the boat suddenly came to a halt.
“We’ve stopped!”
They heard the men get out and peeked around the cloth that was keeping them hidden. One of them had dusty brown hair which fell in thick strands across his forehead and the other had dark, oily hair, short and slick. They walked off into the bustling town, and Tom and Ellie climbed out.
For the rest of the day, they shadowed them, through dark alleyways and cheerful avenues. They stopped at a brassy gate, surrounded by electric wire. One of them pulled out a small phone and after a minute, the gates opened and the wire folded back.
“How are we gonna get past that?” Tom asked.
“We climb!” Ellie answered enthusiastically.
“How are we gonna climb that?”
“OK, maybe we'll go round the back and see if we can get in there.”
They went around the back, and found a hole in the ground, underneath a fence. They climbed through and heard voices yelling.
“We’re in France!”Tom said in astonishment.
“Yes, yes, that doesn’t matter right now.”
“The sound’s coming from over there.”
They headed for the grey block where the sound was coming from and tugged at the door.
“This is easy!” Tom said.
A siren wailed in their ears.
“Oh no…” Ellie sighed.
“Emily!”
“Tom!”
“Come with us!”
“My parents can come, they were put in here with me!”
“Well, come on!”
They sprinted outdoors towards the fence and heard gunshots behind them. The ground vibrated underneath their feet and an explosion ripped through the ground.
“They’re shooting!” gasped Emily.
A bullet tore through the ground in front of her. She screamed.
“Emily, come on!”
After what seemed an age, they reached the fence and ducked underneath it.
“Those people are lunatics!”
Part 5
“Let’s go to the police.”
So they wandered off blindly, without a clue where on earth they were.
At last, they saw someone, and Emily’s mother talked to them in French.
“Merci.”
“It’s over there.” she pointed to a small huddle of buildings next to a playpark.
They soon found themselves in a modern building, talking to one of the officers who spoke English.
“Thank you for telling me. I shall look further into this, and you can be assured that they will be arrested.”
“Thank you officer.”
They stayed in a cramped flat and got the ferry back to England.
The water sprayed onto the windows as they drank hot chocolates and ate biscuits. An awkward silence hung over them for the journey and it stayed until they got to the house.
“Where will I go now?” asked Tom.
“Live with us! The other beggars can too. I can’t believe that we brushed you away like that!” Emily’s mother exclaimed.
Soon all of the other children were crowding in their big living room by the fire, eating marshmallows and crumpets. Emily smiled. She was surprised that she felt like this, but she kind of was glad that this had happened. The beggars had a home, her parents took notice of her and everyone was happy.

The next day, they saw the newspapers, headlined with ‘The Kidnappers of London’.
Tom and Emily played on the small rope swing in the garden, laughing smiles on their faces as they played, happier than any child in the world.

More Extra Writing

An unearthly silence hung over London and everything was dark and silent. Fog drifted and a light drizzle soaked the soily ground beneath it. Leaves swirled in the autumn breeze and the few faint stars twinkled weakly.
The fog gradually faded away into nothing and the silence was broken by the snapping of the white, ugly lights. The sound of lorries on the bridge far in the distance buzzed slowly into hearing and a few cars trundled by. The sun had just started to peek through its blanket of hazy clouds and a faint glow lay over the cobbles.