Second Part of Fourth Weekly–
The Prompt that I chose is– The Future is of new Culinary Possibilities! So now I have to write at least 400 words on the food you might find at the diner of the distant future of the Galaxswc.
And the Era that the prompt is obviously The Distant Future era so without Further ado, Let us see some New Culinary Possibilities:
Well, I have honestly always wanted a really healthy and mouth-watering dish so I would tell you that the distant future era had healthy and tasty diner. It had the infamous Ice-cream Samosas. So to understand the delicacy of the dish, You have to know what ice-cream and samosa is. Ice-cream needs no separate introduction as we know it is a dessert mainly made with milk and is frozen and on the other hand, Samosa is a hot food and is in a triangular shape and is widely eaten in the Southern Part of India and has a stuffing which is usually Potato( or like the locals call it Aloo Samosa) and corn samosa also. So now back to the distant future era, Now this ice-cream Samosa, had Ice-cream as stuffing instead of Potato( Aloo) or corn. And you know what is the best thing about this Ice-cream Samosa, It is healthy. How can I say that Ice-cream is healthy, and well, here come a twist in the tale of this culinary delicacy, the ice cream is still made with milk but vegetables and fruits are used as key ingredients in this and enhance the nutrient value of the ice-cream Samosa. Also, In the distant Future, A Variety and new way was invented wherein, A Fridge is not required to fridge the ice-cream and a device comes which does make ice-cream without reducing the nutrient value but does reduce only one percent only but we can't say every device is perfect. Also, To make the Samosa Healthy, Instead of using Maida or Whole purpose flour which consists of to much amount of fat, We use the Galax flour which is a type of flour and acts like a substitute to Maida
( Whole Purpose Flour) and also it doesn't consist of much amount of fat in it. And you may ask me what about frying the samosa, well we don't fry to begin with and the distant future folk, actually steam and boil it again by using a special device called the Galaxine. Now we have seen the most Popular Culinary Dish and Delicacy in the Distant future era which is The Ice-Cream Samosa.

3,788 words total!

Part One- 177/150 Words

Idea: A nonsensical world (maybe similar to the bizzarro fiction idea of Alice in Wonderland?) inspired by Jack Stauber songs.

Someone’s brother is missing and sending encrypted messages, and a duo have to travel through this crazy world to find him.

Structure inspired by the Milieu Story and the Hero’s Journey.

Call to assistance - The brother is missing, and a message comes through on the telegram

Assistance – Whilst researching the code, the mc encounters a new friend

Departure – Follows the code to go to a place. Friend insists on coming

Trials – The toxic river, the path’s borders are alive, the dense prevention

Approach – Find the chameleon’s quarters and the brother

Crisis – Tip the chameleon into his own vat

Treasure – Rescue the brother from his cell

Result – Take the brother back

New life – A new friend, family is relieved, becomes an activist

Resolution – New exploration, cautiously, of the world

Status Quo – Same old life but goes on missions with friend

1-4, intro

5-7, climax

8-11, conclusion



Part Two- 715/300 Words

The sky was turning orange and the dense green foliage was beginning to perk up when Ama got the letter.

The small black box at her hip beeped, indicating that a message had come through. Straightening up from her gardening, Ama brushed off her dirty hands and read what had come through.

Ama frowned. What was this? The message appeared to be nothing but an archaic series of dashes and lines- no kind of language that she’d ever seen before. She didn’t even know that the telegraph-like device could transmit characters like this. But the sender was familiar. It was her brother. Shrugging, Ama hitched the device back to her belt. It was most likely just a prank from her younger sibling.

Noticing how the sun was setting, Ama began to gather up her gardening tools. She’d always had a passion for the greenery that surrounded and infiltrated her town. She loved how their blossoms unfurled when the moon came out, decorating the town with sprinkles of colour like confetti that had been thrown over the buildings and streets. Ama tended to the plants every other evening- that was when their roots best took in the fertilizers.

She entered her home through the back door, being sure to leave her dirty boots, overalls and gloves by the door for cleaning later. She scrubbed her hands of any leftover grime and walked into the living area.

‘Phie?’ she called. Her brother didn’t appear, but that was hardly a worry. He loved the outdoors almost as much as Ama did, but in a different way- Phie loved to explore the jungles around the town. He was most likely satisfying his need for adventure somewhere behind their house, which was on the outskirts of a little residential community. He had to be careful, though, or the grimbugs would start to come out. They’d get him back before their parents would be back.

She lit the lamps around the house. The fire glowed a vibrant magenta, illuminating the small area. Though the moon gave off plenty of light- it was much brighter than the dim sun- her parents preferred to come home to a warm, softly lit home and a good meal. They were important figures in the town’s management. Ama’s dad was instrumental in ensuring that the strange and wonderous beasts found in the outside forest wouldn’t infiltrate the town. Naturally, he didn’t know about Phie’s excursions- they were illegal. Nobody knew what was out in the jungle, only that it couldn’t be explained and was better left alone.

When Ama’s parents came home, Phie still wasn’t back, but they appeared unconcerned.

‘He’s probably out with friends or studying through the night,’ Lish, Ama’s mother, tossed out breezily. ‘Such a hard-working little boy.’ She untied her ochre monkey from its leash, which rested down her things and promptly scampered away out the window. Ama shook her head at her mum’s new bag. She always fell victim to the latest fashion trend, but she had no need for a new carrier. Her crows had worked fine.

Ama’s father didn’t seem to care about Phie either, but Ama didn’t get the impression that he was really listening to what she was saying. He was always engrossed in his work and barely payed any attention to the world, no matter how ridiculous the luminous mushrooms were acting. Even on their disco day he hadn’t noticed anything.

Nonetheless, Ama was unsure about her parents’ indifference. They believed that her brother would be back tomorrow. They didn’t know about the message- would they behave differently if she showed them it? But no- there was no way that they would be able to read it either, and honestly, it was most likely that neither parent would care much.

Ama slept restlessly that night as the foreign dashes and squiggles jumped around in her mind. As her brain worked fitfully throughout the hours of darkness, it began to form a picture. It assembled the assorted markings into a pattern, and one that seemed familiar. When she woke, the image was still firmly implanted in her mind. She had to read it. This message was important. How could she have thought that this was a prank?

She rushed to the library as soon as she could.



Part Three- 1,556/400 Words

Despite not being a very scholarly person, Ama loved the library. She loved reading and researching about plants- those common that she tended to as well as faint rumours of giant, aggressive mushrooms or vines that would riddle you before they would let you go. The latter of these plants had never been confirmed, but in the outside jungle so much was unexplored that Ama believed these lone sources. After all, in a world where the sky always glowed a faint, light pink and clouds could be the usual blue associated with the heavens, what wasn’t possible?

The library was relatively empty today- only a girl loitering near the front of the hall and a few older men discussing something around a table could be seen at first glance. Ama approached the librarian’s desk.

‘Excuse me, Mr. Bayormide,’ she started politely, ‘But do you have any books on codes, or ciphers, or something of the sort?’

The girl nearby looked up curiously. Mr. Bayormide peeked around the mess on his desk and furrowed his brow. ‘Uh, that should be under non-fiction section six hundred. Probably… six hundred and fifty-six… no, six hundred and fifty-eight. No! Six hundred and fifty-two point eight. Ah, yes. That’s it. Ciphers. All you need to know.’ He nodded contentedly and moved back to his writing.

Ama thanked him graciously and moved to the six hundreds section of the library. She began to look for a book that could help her.

‘Hey.’

Ama jumped and whirled around violently. The girl that had overheard her talking with Mr. Bayormide was standing awkwardly close. She had dull ginger hair, brown eyes and cute freckles splashed randomly across her face and arms. She waved.

‘I heard you needed help with ciphers, and I’m kind of obsessed with them, so I’d really love to help… of course only if you want, I don’t want to spoil your research, sorry,’ she added quickly.

Ama smiled. She had no idea where to start.

‘That would be great.’



They sat at a table and Ama showed the girl the message on her machine. The girl frowned.

‘That’s not a cipher. That’s a normal message being scrambled. Someone didn’t want you to receive this,’ she squinted.

After a few seconds, Ama prompted, ‘Can you translate it, though?’

‘Oh, of course! This happens a lot. It’s just… a concerning message.’ The girl gulped.

‘Go on.’

‘Okay. It says, ‘HELP. TRAPPED BY CREATURE. THROUGH JUNGLE. OVER RIVER. QUICK. HELP.’

The girl looked up with big, concerned eyes. ‘Is everything okay?’

Ama took a deep breath. ‘Yeah. It’ll be fine. I… have to go. Thanks so much for your help.’ Ama stood abruptly and walked quickly out of the building. The other girl looked after her and then got up to follow.



The girl caught up with Ama at the edge of the town. Ama was readying herself to set off into the dangers of the jungle- she had to help her brother, whatever had come to him. She had water and food in her pack, along with a jar of luminous mushrooms- thank goodness right now they were emitting normal pink light- and other things she might need. She was ready. But she was scared.

‘Hey,’ the girl began again. Ama turned around to the girl. ‘I know this is probably something really private or secretive, but I was really intrigued by the message. And now you’re going into the jungle… well, I’ve always wanted to explore. So, I was wondering,’ the girl fiddled with her hands awkwardly. ‘Could I come with you?’

Ama was surprised. Why would anyone want to go with her into this world of unknown dangers? But the girl seemed genuine, and she could use some company. And some safety- going out alone into the forest after what had happened to her brother didn’t seem like the smartest idea.

‘Okay, fine. But we have to go now.’ The words seemed to surprise both of them.

‘Oh, yeah- I'm always ready.’ The girl gestured to the large satchel draped over one shoulder. ‘I’m Menone, by the way, but if you’d like you can just call me Men.’ She smiled.

‘Okay. I’m Ama. The message was from my brother, by the way.’

Men nodded seriously. ‘We can help him. We should probably leave- there are a few hours yet until noon.’

The two strangers stood side by side under the pink sky, glowing mushrooms at their feet and the call of orange monkeys in the distance. They took their first steps into the unknown.



The jungle was thick with both unfamiliar and recognizable foliage. As the sky was still dim with daylight, most of the plants’ buds were hidden, decluttering the path a bit. Despite this, it was tough going and the forest showed no signs of relenting any time soon. Noon passed and then evening approached before any change in the scenery appeared.

The journey wasn’t boring, however, because anywhere you looked was some sort of strange, whimsical plant or animal or fungus. Trees dropped blue flowers that glided slowly downwards in a constant shower. When these petals landed, they would burst into splashes of water, quickly drenching the girls. Small plants grew at a ridiculous speed, sprouting and coming into their greatest form within seconds before dying only moments after that. Then they sprouted again and again, moving through multiple lives in the space of a minute. Frogs the size of a large dog could be seen hopping about- indeed, when Men almost ran into a group, they all began to curse at her and point their gloved fingers at her disapprovingly. They almost reminded Ama of her father’s work colleagues.

By moonrise, the woods had cleared a bit, and Ama and Menone soon encountered a wide, swiftly flowing river. It was the colour of the umber bark on the trees, almost like a river of molten chocolate, but when Menone put her hand in it, the river retained the consistency of water. And also…

‘Ack!’ Men drew her hand swiftly back from the water.

‘What’s wrong?’ Ama queried, coming over. Men shook her hand violently to get any water off.

‘That’s… really, really cold. But it also stings. Like a bee.’ She glared at the water like it could see her. Who knew- after all the things they’d seen today, why wouldn’t it be able to?

‘Well, we have to cross it somehow,’ Ama replied anxiously. ‘The code, it mentioned a river. We must be going in the right direction… right?’

The two girls stared out over the rushing chocolate-like water, the light gradually getting brighter as the sun set. Ama thought it strange that people weren't nocturnal, unlike so many of the other mysterious creatures in this land. When the moon rose, everything just seemed to come… alive.

And sure enough, when the sky completed its transition from the light pink to a dark magenta to a bright copper to a dark purple, something never seen before began to happen.

As the girls watched, stumped and stranded on one side of the riverbed, the muddy land near the water shifted. The water seemed to gurgle and bubble. And then it froze.

Or rather, solidified.

The brown texture of the liquid reformed itself into a massive fallen tree trunk. There was no more movement. The flow stilled entirely. And when touched, the wood proved to be completely solid.

Ama watched in wonder. This was unlike any kind of plant she’d seen before! She wondered if it could be taken back to the village and cultivated. She would love to research…

‘Come on! This is our chance!’ Men tugged at Ama’s arm. Snapping out of her trance, Ama hitched her pack higher on her shoulders and followed Men to the bark. Before stepping foot on the wood, Men put a finger to her lips and pointed over the wood. It wasn’t a flat surface- it was gnarled and knotted like any ancient oak- and in the center of a hole in the fallen tree, a massive bee’s nest lay. From what Men had experienced in the water, making contact with any of the bees would not end well.

The girls slowly, cautiously crossed what used to be the wide river. They made it to the over side without too much trouble and the sigh of relief when their feet touched the long grass again was immeasurable. Ama and Menone took it in- Ama took a sample of the wood and put it in her vials, along with the fast-growing plants and blue water flowers. They had made it across the river. And now…

Now they would continue… where? Back through the jungle? How much longer would it be before they found Ama’s brother?

Ama shook her head and stood up from where they’d been sitting. She turned towards the jungle. Menone looked up.

‘Ama, what are you doing?’

‘We need to go. He doesn’t have long.’

‘We need to rest! We’ve been travelling for a day!’

Ama turned to look at Menone. Her eyebrows were scrunched in anguish and her lips were pressed tightly together. She shook her head in despair.

‘I have to go. He… Phie… he probably doesn't have long left. I have to get to him in time.’

Men tapped her fingers anxiously and looked to the indigo sky as if it could help her. She then nodded quickly and got up, gathering her stuff.

‘Let’s go.’



Part Four- 1,026/300 Words



It was only a short walk through the brush before Ama and Men found what they were looking for.

The foliage suddenly cleared out into a massive clearing. The grass was neatly trimmed into a perfect striped lawn. A massive cauldron was set up over the largest bonfire ever made. Nearby, lines of human-sized metal cages were arranged on a sanded wood shelf. Other assorted items lay organized on tables much taller than the girls. Lights were hung from either side of the clearing, the bulbs crossing everything and casting large shadows on the grass. But what really caught the girls’ attention was the massive pale brown moth strutting from one station to the next, humming loudly under its breath.

The moth hadn’t noticed them yet- it was too occupied with whatever it was cooking up. Its large dull wings were folded precisely over its back- it was using its spindly legs to balance. Ama stood in shock staring at the creature, but Men had noticed something.

‘Ama!’ she hissed. ‘Those cages. Your brother will be in one of them. We can get him out.’

Ama tore her eyes away from the beast, who had begun to sing the lyrics to his song. The moth could sing? It could speak English?

She nodded distractedly and they rushed along the edge of the clearing. They came as close as they could to the light wood shelf without leaving the jungle. But the bottom was far too high to climb- it was at least Men’s height, and she was taller than average.

Men frowned and pulled something out of her pack. She brandished a long rope that had apparently been coiled at the bottom of her satchel. Ama stared, gaping.

‘Why on all that grows do you have a rope?’

‘I told you. I always come prepared. It’s not every day you attempt to steal a giant moth’s breakfast.’ She winked.

‘Wait, breakfast?’ Ama looked again at the moth, which was now sprinkling powders and spices into his bubbling cauldron. Her eyes widened. ‘It’s going to eat my brother?’

‘No, it’s not.’ Men looked around and then darted out of the jungle suddenly. She hid in the shadow of the cart and gestured for Ama to join her.

By the time Ama had made it, Men had fashioned a noose out of her rope. She creeped out from under the shelf and tossed it as high as she could.

At first, the rope fell straight back down. But eventually it caught on to one of a broken cage’s loose metal bars. She climbed steadily up the rope and then motioned for Ama to join her.

‘I- I can’t do that,’ Ama fretted. ‘I’ll fall. I’ve never climbed a rope before.’

Men looked down. ‘What did you say your brother’s name was?’

‘Phie.’

‘Alright. Give me ten minutes.’

Men dashed off into the neat maze of cages.

As she went on, she began to see things in the cages. Every creature was organized into groups, but Men didn’t see any people- only dogs, monkeys and birds. Surely Ama’s brother would still be here. Surely they weren’t too late…

She glimpsed a lone figure pacing anxiously in the small, barred space a few rows away. A person.

‘Phie!’ Men called out as she dashed to the cage. The person’s head perked up. He looked at Men with terrified eyes as she approached.

‘What are you doing here? You’ll be next!’ he whispered, looking over his shoulder.

‘We’re getting you out. Come on,’ Men said, forcefully jamming something into the keylock. It sprang open with a click and the door shifted.

Phie wasted no time in getting out. Men and Phie raced through the lines of cages. Finally, they came to the edge. Ama looked up from where she’d been standing and screamed.

‘Phie! You’re safe!’

Everything froze. The noise echoed around the clearing. The moth froze in his tracks.

‘Well, well, well,’ it boomed. ‘More humans? I’m in for a real treat tonight!’ It laughed heartily and turned towards the cages.

Men shoved Phie down the rope and then slid down herself, leaving it dangling. Her face was stretched in terror. It was a long sprint from the shelf to the woods- there was no way they wouldn’t get noticed. The moth’s unnaturally furry head and pitch black eyes loomed closer.

Suddenly, Ama sprinted in the opposite direction, tugging things out of her pack. With all her might, she threw the tubes and jars of specimens she collected towards the center of the clearing. They burst on impact, spewing shattered glass and plant cuttings in all directions.

The effect was immediate. The blue flowers exploded into an unnatural torrent of water, dousing the perfectly cut lawn. Saplings thrust out of the ground, tearing up the dirt and becoming full-fledged trees within seconds before collapsing and dying. A knotted oak tree rooted itself firmly in the soil, hordes of bees flying out of a hole in the trunk.

‘My lawn!’ the Moth cried, turning. ‘I had that re-done last week! How dare you!’

Ama, Men and Phie turned and sprinted towards the jungle. They crashed into the protection of the trees and didn’t stop. They could hear the malicious howling of the Moth despairing over his destroyed order. Their breath came in ragged pants, but they didn’t stop sprinting. When they couldn’t go on any longer, they collapsed into a bush and dragged moss and leaves over them. They were quite far from the clearing now, and the moon was completing its traced course over the sky. Surely they were safe.

When the moon was fully gone and the sky was tinged with fuchsia, the trio slowly revealed themselves. They stood staring out at the jungle. It all looked the same- they couldn’t even see the trail where they had come crashing through. It had grown over already.

‘Well,’ Men began, ‘We lost that Moth beast, but we lost ourselves as well.’

Phie shook his head.

‘I’ve been out enough to recognize the nearby jungle. We’re close to the village. Follow me.’

He began to lead the way through the morning.



Part Five- 272/250 Words



They emerged at the edge of the village at around noon. They’d only been gone for around a day, so nobody had truly worried, but their bedraggled state as they walked through the village attracted some frowns and questioning looks. They came to the residential area quickly.

‘Well, we’re all safe. That’s pretty much a miracle.’

‘And there’s so much more out there that I never knew about,’ Ama reflected. ‘If we were just allowed leave the village, we’d know so much more. Phie would never have been taken!’

She set her face. ‘I’m going to change that. We deserve to be able to know about our world. Not just for the sake of knowledge- for our safety.’

Men smiled. ‘Okay, you do that. I’d love to go out back sometime- that's the first actually interesting thing that’s happened in a long time. But for now, I’m going home to bathe. Bye, Phie. Bye, Ama. Nice to meet you.’ After exchanging sentiments, Men smiled and turned to her street.

Ama looked at Phie. Despite having been captured, he didn’t look as if he’d been too badly treated. She smiled at him and reached in for an embrace. Phie returned the hug warmly.

‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I know I shouldn’t go out. It’s all my fault that I got captured.’

‘You’re fine now,’ Ama said firmly, ‘And that won’t happen again. We’ll fix this system. You won’t be stopped from going out again, and this time you can do it safely.’

His face brightened. ‘So I can still explore the jungle?’

Ama laughed. ‘Eventually. For now, let’s copy Men and head home.’

word war proof TT
sorry this is just a mess i was rushing :cry:


Unicorns are real? A play script.
“B-but unicorns are real!! Mom!!!” Lilly is such a cute darn nab little stinker except shes kind of weird and just annoying!! BECAUSE SHE THINKS UNICRONS ARE REAL!! I’m her mom so I would know. Like oh my gosh she just won’t shut up about it???
Karen: “I agree Sadie, we need to kill that luv for UNIS!! IMMEDIETLY!! Wouldn't want her to think shes a princess am I right. Its like, my son Nick. HES EMO!!!”
Sadie: “WHAT!!! Ok, but tbh thinking unis are real is way worse.”
K: But Its quite similar! “ITS JUST A PHASE MOM!!!!”
S: Oh ya for real! Gurl u slay as slay.
K: SLAY GURL!!!
L: MOM!!! UNICRONS ARE REAL!!!
Lily bursts into tears
S: Hun, no they’re not. Stop being dumb my dear!! Karen auntie does not like dumb girls!!
BE QUIET MOM!! UNICORNS ARE REAL!!!
Hun, you NEED to get a job soon! You’re eady for it! Stop with all this comic con unicorn nonsense!! And you’re STILL living in my basement!!
WAH WAH WAH MOM YOU’RE BEING SO UNICORN-IST HOW COULD YOU!!!
Ugh shut up hunny this is so so so sos SO annoying!
UUNICORNS. ARE. REAL!!!!
But you’re TWENTY SEVEN HUN!! TOO OLD FOR THIS POOP!!!
IM YOUNG ENOUGH YOU ANNOYING DUMBO!!!
Hunny, unicorns are NOT real!!
IMA CRY MYSELF TO SLEEP SINCE YOU’RE SUCH A BULLY!
The scene ends when Sadie gives her daughter a unicorn. She was lying!

Word War | 178 words

I stared around the room. There was no place to go. Footsteps sounded in the hall. I tried to hide, but Kay kept her room completely bare. I finally managed to conceal myself fully under a blanket on the floor. The footsteps stoped outside. The door opened with a loud creeeeeeeeeak. I held my breath. “Miss Karen always leaves her stuff on the floor,” The voice muttered. I heard the footsteps come closer. I peeked the most tiny bit from under the blanket and saw the tight black boots right next to me.
She picked the blanket up. “You!” she screeched immediately, and reached out to grab me. I dodged out of the way, and then, without thinking, I ran to the small, open window and hauled myself out. I could hear the maid behind me, screeching like an owl.
I hit the ground, hard. On second thought, I shouldn't have jumped out the window. Above me, the evil maid had disappeared, probably to tell her boss. I had to get out of here, and fast.

Okay I literally deleted everything let me reformat
Critique for @legocookie6
1,677 words (I don’t think all of them were useful)
Original
Let’s jump right in, shall we? What immediately drew me to this piece was, none other than, the cyber swords. The concept was so intriguing for some reason that I couldn’t help but continue to read. Like, what do they look like? Do they have fancy colors? It's a laser?! Awesome! Like, a cyber sword just sounds so cool to me lol.
I’ve taken a few fencing classes, so I have a very basic understanding of swordplay, and stuff like that. Don’t take me for an expert, though, by any means :0 I just hope my knowledge can be a little helpful.
Overall, I really enjoyed reading this! It made me interested in your characters and the world they lived in. It also works really well as an excerpt: I suppose that's because fight scenes are like a little plot of their own. I could totally see it as a short story or a part of a larger work, which it is, so well done!
The two things that stood out to me were that imagining the scene felt like a little work, and that the imagery could be stronger by adding some description aside from just what they’re doing. But not to worry! This fight scene is already very strongly written (if that makes any sense), so it's just a matter of changing a few things up.
Let's get into some suggestions and compliments because I cannot resist giving compliments.

making sure the laser technology that edged her blade was off

Hehe I love this little detail

They both held their swords in one hand, their stances slightly different. Selina searched his gaze for any clue on whether or not he was about to attack, but found nothing. His eyes conveyed no emotion and his face was set in concentration.

There are 3 basic aspects to fencing (by fencing I mean swordfighting nothing specific). You have guards, cuts, and footwork. Here, stance implies how they’re standing, but you also have to think about how they’re holding their swords, as that affects their stance. Selina would also be watching Kyle’s body language, not only his face, for clues. Oftentimes, fencers have favorite moves, which makes them predictable. Selina would be paying attention to this since she knows Kyle, which makes his inexpression (is that a word?) off putting. (this is already conveyed well though )

moi
They both held their swords in one hand, their chosen guards slightly different. Selina searched his stance for any clue on whether or not he was about to attack, but found nothing. His eyes conveyed no emotion and his face was set in concentration.

Since it had become apparent that he had no plans on striking first,

Wait, that's such a mood. My sister and I get confused on who goes first all the time. XD

Selina swung her sword, aiming at Kyle’s chest.

Hm, since they just started, Selina’s going to think about the path of her sword not just where she’s aiming. (as she gets more tired, she’ll start slipping up)

moi
Selina swung her sword in a cut aiming for Kyle’s chest.

He stepped backward, narrowly avoiding her attack, before striking horizontally at the upper half of her body.

Cuts usually have names, and the term “striking horizontally” is a wee bit specific and also slows the pacing a little. I’d try using a word that has a horizontal connotation. The trick to writing fights seems to be being specific enough while still being easy to imagine.

moi
before slicing at the upper half of her body

quickly switching to a two-hand grip on her sword which was raised above her head.

Here we must talk about the nature of cyber swords. There are many different kinds of swords, and their shape and size all affect how one fights with them. For example, a longsword (the sword I fence with) is a long, two-handed sword. It's made for both hands to not only evenly carry its weight, but also fight by using the sword like a lever. Most one handed swords don’t have the space to put your other hand on, so fighting with them is different.
So far, the cyber swords appear to be a one handed sword, but Selina just used both her hands. I’d suggest deciding on what exactly these cyber swords look like and whether they're one or two handed. Since Selina is raising her sword above her head, she wants to put more power into her cut, so having two hands kinda works. Still, I’d use this move sparingly since it's not something her sword could be built for.

But so far, the pacing is good!

He ducked and aimed low at her legs. She jumped back just in time.

Kyle does a lot of ducking and dodging, which isn't necessarily bad, but I think here, him ducking then swiping at her legs is a wee bit unrealistic. Also “jumped” might be too much: one of the steps I know for going back feels more like a hop.

moi
He ducked away from her sword then cut down towards her legs. She hopped back just in time.

He smirked and walked around her in a half circle

Ajsksjdk that's actually a piece of footwork! How’d you know? .o. High five on that one!

Then he swung upwards; she blocked that attack as well.

Just to keep the quick pacing, you could probably omit the “Then” and “attack”.

Selina held her sword at ready

I think it's “at the ready” (sorry im being so nitpicky ToT)

Only Kyle didn’t attack. He maintained the wide gap between them, his wrist flicking his sword in wide, confident arcs; his eyes were calculating.

At this point, “attack” is getting a little repetitive, and the “Only” feels a little out of place.

moi
But Kyle never struck.

Though you can do whatever you want with the “Only”, I just really like starting sentences with coordinating conjunctions.
Also, Kyle’s sword movement is a little rapier-esque. I guess it's the wrist flick for me. Why would Kyle be moving his sword if he isn’t going to do anything with it? Is it for intimidation? I’d maybe omit that part and further describe how calculating/confident he looks. You can still use body language, though. I just don’t think the image of his sword moving is the most useful way about it.

Selina charged forward

“Charged” seems to imply that she covered a lot of distance, but since they’re using cyber swords, which I assume are one handed, they’d still be relatively close together. This pair likes to dance out of each other’s reach a lot, but they still need to maintain a close distance to fight well. I’d choose a milder word, like “stepped”, “advanced”, or “glided”. Charged makes her seem like she’s running across the room. :0

He instantly pulled away, pivoting on his right foot so that he was in a better position to attack.

When I read this, I stop to figure out which foot he’s pivoting on because he’s across from Selina, so his right is going to appear to be his left. My brain is lazy, so maybe omit the “right foot”?

He aimed low, forcing Selina to block low as well.

I’d scrap this sentence, since at this point we don’t need too much specifics. That’ll speed up the pacing of this paragraph

Whenever she blocked or parried one blow, it was quickly followed up by another with an equally devastating force as the last. Realizing that he was backing her against a wall, Selina counterattacked before he could strike at her again.

Maybe do a paragraph break after the first sentence? It’ll help speed up the paragraph. Also, the wording on the first sentence is a little confusing and repetitive.

moi
Whenever she blocked or parried one blow, it was quickly followed by another with equally devastating force.
Realizing that he was backing her against a wall, Selina counterattacked before he could strike at her again.

She scurried out of the way from an attack aimed

“attack” doesn’t feel like the right word here. Maybe use “a cut” or “a swipe”?

At this point, both of them were tiring.

How would Selina know Kyle is getting tired if he doesn’t look it? >:3 This could be a good place to introduce some conflict by saying that Selina feels tired, and she knows Kyle does, too, but he’s still confident and fresh lookin’ and it's kinda scary. (or however she feels about it) Or maybe he does seem tired, but he’s also confident, which unnerves her because she doesn’t feel that way. (or maybe she does, the point is, how does Kyle’s appearance as they tire affect her?)

​​Then he came charging towards her at a frightening speed.

Going fast while fencing is scary but also fun lol. I wouldn’t say “charging” in this case because that only seems to be about footwork, not swordplay, and fast swordplay is what you have to worry about. So maybe use “ Then he came at her” or “Then he came towards her” or something like that.

Selina felt beads of sweat roll down her neck as she tried to find an opening for an attack that would be hard for him to block. At the same time, she dodged and deflected his blows, her strength weakening by the second.

The “At the same time” feels … clunky. If you used a different phrase or omitted it, it’d go by smoother. Another option, just so the audience knows she’s doing all these things at once, would be to combine these sentences. This isn’t the best, but you get the idea:

moi
Selina felt beads of sweat roll down her neck as her concentration divided between finding an opening for a hard to block attack, and dodging and deflecting his blows. Her strength was weakening by the second.

She tried to catch him off guard by aiming at his thigh, but his reactions were quick, and his sword blocked the attack seconds before it made contact. Switching to a two-hand grip on her sword, Selina tried to pull away, but he increased his pressure on her sword, forcing it downward. She struggled to free her blade, but he was too strong. She felt her knees begin to buckle as he pushed harder against her sword.
She tried to push back but it was no use. Her strength expended, she fell to her knees, her sword slipping from her hands. It fell to the floor with a loud clang that seemed to echo through the room.

Okay. So. Math.
Let's break this down! I really like this part because it's a good show of sword mechanics, but I have a few suggestions to make it easier to imagine.

She tried to catch him off guard by aiming at his thigh, but his reactions were quick, and his sword blocked the attack seconds before it made contact.

Saying that her cut is aiming at his thigh is messing me up because I can’t imagine it for some reason. It makes me stop to figure out what the scene looks like. Maybe omit this.

moi
She tried to catch him off guard with a cut, but …rest of sentence here.

Switching to a two-hand grip on her sword, Selina tried to pull away, but he increased his pressure on her sword, forcing it downward.

Selina would probably try to push his sword away, not pull. Pulling it away would be easier, but riskier. Having her try to push against his sword then gives her reason to put her other hand on the grip so she can push more power into it. I’d also change the order of this sentence up so that is more clear. Something like this:

moi
Selina tried to push his blade away, but he increased his pressure on her sword. She put her other hand on the hilt as he forced her sword downward.

She struggled to free her blade, but he was too strong. She felt her knees begin to buckle as he pushed harder against her sword.

Why do her knees buckle? Because she’s putting a lot of force into it. But the audience isn’t really shown this. It'd make more sense if you added a sentence about Selina struggling to put effort and force into pushing against Kyle’s blade.

She tried to push back but it was no use.

The last sentence just used the word push, so maybe just say “it was no use”.
Also this is a good place to note that when I imagine this scene, Kyle has his strong against her weak. The strongest part of the blade is closest to the crossguard, or the quillons. The weakest part is the point of the blade.
|
O——-|————————–>
| ↑ ↑
strong weak

It's easy to overpower someone if the strong part of your blade is against their weak. You don’t have to include this random factoid, but you could make Selina think that “it was no use” because her sword is in a bad position. This is but an idea, though. You don’t have to include this ^^

He moved his sword to her neck and tapped her gently at her collarbone. “And that would be your neck,” he said softly.

Such a fencing moment! I love it

And I have just a few more general notes.
So usually before a spar with someone, fencers measure the distance between them using their swords. It’d be kinda fun to add a line saying that they checked their distance between them before they got into position
Are they wearing protective gear? That could play into some worldbuilding/character dynamics. Say their swords are programmed in some special way to, like, pass through someone when practicing, or they’re both pretty confident in their self control that they won't harm each other. I say this because it's easy to bonk someone while practicing.
Maybe add some feels? I have a penchant for using onomatopoeia, but it might be fun to add things like “Kyle’s sword swished dangerously close to her face” or something. Though that would be more of a major change and is not really necessary

Overall, you did great! I really liked this piece of writing, and it's super intriguing. Selina and Kyle’s dynamic seems so interesting: I’d definitely read more! Take everything I say with a grain of salt: I’m not the foremost expert on fencing; I’m very much an amateur. I hope I didn’t sound too harsh; this really is a great piece of writing. Now I’m going to make myself a smore; hope you have a great day!

Scrapped Short Story

I could feel my hands trembling as I approached the last door in the hall. There was no going back now. I reached out and rested a finger on the cold metal handle. I clutched my folder closer to my chest; it was almost like I was trying to absorb them into my chest.

There was still about twenty minutes until the deadline passed. Could I come back later? Could I just miss the deadline completely? Deb would be disappointed, but that was the least of my worries at the moment.

“Jenny? Is that you out there?”

Oh.

Too late.

Before my fingers could reflexively grip my folder any tighter, I opened the door to Mr. Campbell’s office. “Morning.”

“Are you entering the art exhibition, Jenny?” Mr. Campbell asked, his eyes flickering to my folder.

“Um, yes?” I passed the folder to him, looking away before he began flipping through it.

“Did you bring the right folder?” I looked back at Mr. Campbell, dread filling my body. Did I bring the wrong artwork? He showed me the folder. What was once a collection of graceful watercolors and vibrant color pencils was reduced to an empty folder smudged with soot. Or perhaps it was graphite.

My panic was quickly replaced by a wave of relief that surprised even me. Perhaps I wouldn’t be able to enter into the art exhibition after all. Yes, it would be a wasted opportunity, and yes, I wouldn’t get the extra credit, but I was already excelling in my art classes.

“Um, yeah, I probably brought the wrong one,” I said. “It’s fine, I can always enter next time.”

I reached out to get my folder back, but a hot searing pain shot up my arm and I retracted it, gasping in shock. The robin blue folder began to turn ash gray, as if its life was being sucked out of it. The seemingly decaying bits began to crumble away into soot, spreading a dark cloud throughout the room and tickling my throat.

Soot.

The inside of my folder wasn’t smeared with graphite after all.

I watched in disbelief as the entire folder was reduced to a tablespoon’s worth of soot, sitting in a pile on Mr. Campbell’s desk.

“I- I- what?” I couldn’t believe what my eyes were seeing. “What just happened? Did you light a match or something?”

“I didn’t do anything,” Mr. Campbell replied, worry edging his typically calm and practical voice. “It could be something with the room, we should leave.”

I turned towards the door and opened it, before another hot pain shot up my arm. I yelped, but my voice was caught off guard as the door too, began to disintegrate. Another cloud of smoke emerged, making my vision hazy. I stopped over the larger pile of soot in the doorway and ran, not caring to look back at Mr. Campbell. Tears began to form in the corner of my eyes and I felt a lump forming in my throat, though from the tears or the smoke I couldn’t tell.

My vision was hazy. I had no idea how I managed to make it back to my apartment. Every step, every disintegrated door or rail, it began to mush in my head, forming incoherent pools of memory.

I blinked. I was in the living room of the apartment.

“Deb?” I called looking towards her room. “Deb!” My voice was growing more desperate. “Deb, help!”

My roommate emerged from her room, looking confused. Her face grew concerned as she saw me. “Are you okay Jenny? You look really upset. Did Mr. Campbell reject your artworks?”

I opened my mouth to speak but felt my throat close up. Instead I shook my head. Tears were streaming down my face faster now. It was getting harder to breathe and concentrate. Deb rushed to my side but I moved away. “Stop,” I half sobbed, crouching down. “Stop, just don’t come near me!”

“Jenny, you need to talk to me,” Deb insisted, squatting down to my level. “Tell me what happened.”

“Something’s wrong with me Deb. Something’s wrong and I don’t know what or how to fix it and I’m just ruining everything.” My voice cracked on the last word. Nothing was ever going to be the same again.

“Are you going to tell me what’s going on?” Deb sighed expectantly.

In reply, I reached out my hand, letting my fingertips brush a hairbrush sitting beside me. The resulting fiery pain barely phased me. I was used to it now. My body was numb. My nose seemed to expect the ensuing smell of soot and smoke. I felt my body begin to shake as I started crying again.

“Oh my god,” Deb gasped. “I can’t believe it.”

“What am I going to do?” I almost whispered. “What can I do? I’m a monster.”

“There’s nothing you can do,” Deb said, her voice lowering. “It’s about time you go.”

Somehow, those words hurt me more than anything else in the past hour. It was like a collection of needles were puncturing my chest multiple times. Then again, how could I expect my one friend to stay with me? I was unhelpable.

I stood up, my head spinning from the sudden movement. But Deb stepped in front of me. “I’m sorry I had to do this. It’s the only way.” She reached out and grabbed my wrist before I could do anything. A searing pain I had never experienced to any similar degree before coursed through my entire body. I screamed out in pain, instinctively pulling my hand away. But Deb’s grip grew tighter. I watched in horror as my wrist began to blacken and crumble, with this quickly spreading to my arm and the rest of my body.

“What are you doing?” I almost screamed, trying to cope with the simultaneous pain and confusion I was feeling.

“I’m sorry, Jenny. It was nice knowing you, but I can’t let you ruin my life anymore.”

“What? I don’t understand. You did this?”

Deb’s eyes were cold, sending a shiver through my spine that almost countered the fiery hot pain. “Like I said, it was nice knowing you.”

~~~~~

Deb gently ran her finger over the old parchment in her hands. It was fraying at the edges, and smelled of burned incense.

Fire that’s closest kept burns most of all.

Deb knew who the so called closest kept things were, or rather, people. She always knew Jenny would come to destroy herself. And it was about time. For once she was going to experience fairness. For once she was going to learn what karma was.

There was no way Jenny wasn’t aware of what she did. Manipulating everyone left and right, putting on a fake shiny smile all the time. It was sickening.

There was a small part of Deb that felt a little uneasy. Jenny was genuinely a good person for the most part. Key word on most part. She almost wanted to see her succeed, but then images of that night flashed into her head, and those thoughts were soon forgotten.

1184 words

a sky full of stars

a writing competition entry by rockie

Cause you're a sky, ‘cause you’re a sky full of stars

The laughing man lifts up his little toddler, hoisting her onto his shoulders as she lets out a bubbly peal of laughter, her tiny, chubby fingers dwarfed by the man’s large ones as he takes her hands in his. Her small cloud of curly, dark hair brushes the ceiling while her mother looks on from the couch, her eyes permanently wrinkled at the corners in weariness, but alight with happiness at the sight of her daughter filled with joy. The man dances over to his wife, Ella, his fingers trailing over her bulging belly as she smiles up at him, letting go of her worries for only a moment. The man takes his daughter down from his shoulders and into his strong arms and winds an arm around Ella, the epitome of a perfect, happy family. His daughter looks up at him, large eyes full of the curious innocence only a child could have.

I'm gonna give you my heart

“Ella?” Miles calls, knocking on the door to their room. There was no answer, although Miles could hear the faint sound of sniffling coming from inside. He opens the door to find his wife crying on the bed, staring at her computer screen. It displays an email from her sister, explaining that her father just passed away from cancer. “Aw, sweet, I’m so sorry.” he whispers into her hair as her tears drip onto the sheets, staining the weighted blanket that Miles had given Ella for their seventh anniversary. He holds her close as she cries, whispering condolences into her hair until her tears dry up into small, choking sobs of despair, then fade away completely. “I’m here,” he repeats, taking her hand and pressing it to his heart. “I’m here.”

'Cause you're a sky, ‘cause you’re a sky full of stars

“Little star,” Miles says as he comes into his daughter’s room, “Mommy and I have a present for you!” Isla looks up from her picture book, a curious kindergartener with eyes like the moon. “What is it, Daddy?” she asks, smiling slightly at the prospect of a gift. “Well, it’s a very special present.” he explains as Isla climbs out of bed and stands in front of her father with hands on her hips. He pulls a box of glow-in-the-dark stars out from behind his back with a playful flourish, and sets the box on the bed. He opens it and takes out a tiny star, pressing it into Isla’s hand. “Now everyone in the family has their own little star.” he says softly as Isla’s fingers curl around the small object. Father and daughter set to work placing them around Isla’s small room, Miles lifting Isla up onto his shoulders as she presses the sticky backs of the stars onto the ceiling. They work in companionable silence together, Miles occasionally humming a little song. Soon they finish, and Isla sits back proudly, admiring their work. Miles smiles, picks Isla up, and tosses her onto the bed as she screams in surprise, the scream fading into giggles as she lands on a pile of pillows.

'Cause you light up the path

“Daddy,” Isla says, tears streaming down her face as she runs into his arms right as the school bell rings. “Some other kids were mean to me in school today. They said that my skin looked like poop!” she says, crying and pointing to a large group of fifth graders across the playground. A quick flash of anger lights up Miles’ face, but it quickly disappears as he picks up his daughter and consoles her. “Darling star, your skin looks like melted chocolate and tree bark, and you are as beautiful as the night sky. Those kids are just jealous. Please don’t let them hold you back.” Isla’s face lights up in understanding.“Okay! Thanks, daddy, I know what to do now. I’ll tell them they are big jerks and they should go to h-e-double-hockey-sticks!” She smiles mischievously as she runs towards the group of kids. Miles raises his eyebrows in alarm, pulling Isla back. She frowns.“First of all, where did you learn that word?” Miles asks. “Secondly, don’t stoop to their level. Don’t be mean to them, just know that you are way better and more beautiful then they will ever be, and imagine that truth as a shield in front of you if they’re ever mean again. In the meantime, let’s go get some ice cream.” Isla nods, smiling. “Okay! Thanks, Daddy! You’re the best.”

I don't care, go on and tear me apart

Miles hums a song as he drives home from work, clutching the small box in his palm as he smiles softly. Today is Isla’s tenth birthday, and he has the best present ever. He looks down at the small pink box, taking his eyes off the road for half a second, making sure the bow was perfect.
He hears the screech of tires to his left, and that’s the only warning he gets.
Suddenly there is a
crash and a
scream and he is
f
a
l
l
i
n
g
and there is
darkness and
silence and

he

is

gone

I don't care if you do, ooh-ooh, ooh

There were sirens. That was all Isla remembered. Sirens and blood and promises made of glass as they carted Daddy off to the hospital. They said he would be okay.
Isla wasn’t stupid.
The weeks after were a blur of black fabric as she cried and clenched her mother’s hand while friends made them food and gave them condolences that didn’t really matter.
Nothing really mattered, now that Daddy was gone.

'Cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars

It was three years later. Nowadays, Isla’s always unhappy. She doesn’t hang out with friends, doesn’t play with her sister, doesn’t read books. She spends her weekends lying in front of the TV, using the loud voices of fake, perfect families to drown out the small, tired voices lingering in the back of her mind. But now, as she lay in bed, well past midnight, looking at the ceiling and staring at the stars she and her father set up all those years ago, she can feel the tears dripping down her face, stronger than before. It was as if all of her negative thoughts crash down on her, drowning her in
salty sobs as she thinks of what could’ve been, and what was taken from her.

I think I saw you

“I love you, Daddy, so, so much,” she whispers softly, her voice breaking. “Good night.”

Writing Competition Entry
~~~~~
The Robot and The Girl

The robot is here again.

Its sleek light gray design and perfectly manufactured flow smoothly through the rubble. The large wheels affixed underneath it elevate the robot a solid couple inches. The familiar soft whirring sound flows through my head as it navigates itself through the oaken hued dirt path it had made for itself as the days passed by.

Barely three feet tall, and equipped with many different functions (many of which I have yet to see), it twists the smooth dome that is its head as it searches for another pile of debris to clear. The trash chute on its back is sleek, with seamless mechanics that barely make a sound. The green scanner of its eyes shifts around methodically. It drives in straight lines, preprogrammed. Senseless. Clouds of dust billow into the air and mellow the dark sky.

A small disturbance in the air. A yellow and black butterfly amid the mustard, dust concealed morning. Its wings drum gently on the cold manufactured plastic of the robot’s arm. The robot shifts its head as it notices it.

The robot stumbles upon approaching a rocky path. The arm set into its side jerks, sending the butterfly fluttering off. It eventually settles down, once again, on the robot’s arm, finding that there is little to go elsewhere.

The rusted city passes by as the robot drives, very much out of place in the soiled scenery. Tattered clothes hang half-hazaredly on cloth lines. The buildings are corroded and emit rancid odors, with smudged windows letting only small shards of sunlight fall through. A small stream of babbling water collects on the cracked sidewalk from a pipe. The light tap of droplets is the only other sound that can be heard aside from the robot’s soft whirring.

The robot is very much detached from the scenery. I, on the other hand, am as much a part of the scenery as it is a part of me.

The butterfly does not make an effort to travel far. One wing is torn, hanging lifelessly against its side, attached only by a sliver of material. Its limbs twitch erratically on the robot’s arm. The butterfly’s movements are desperate and helpless. It has nowhere to go. The robot drones on.

The butterfly insists on living. The robot insists on working. I, I insist on nothing.

The arm of the robot retracts down in a swift motion and offers the butterfly a patch of grass (if it can be called as such). Short, golden-brown ferns peek through the cemented dirt that appears so dry and compact that no amount of water could pass through. The butterfly’s tattered wings flitter in response, but make no effort to move. The robot does not comprehend why, but moves on.

I watch the robot continue to work. There’s a certain air to the way it moves methodically, its limbs show no sign of strain or friction. Flowy, continuous, in a preprogrammed loop. It appears lonely against the barren wasteland of rubble. The robot works by itself. A glistening light gray barely tall enough to peek out against the dirt roads and cracked cobble.

There’s a sense of innocence that comes with the robot. It is ignorant to the world in which it lives, yet content living as is. On occasion, the robot will glance down at the butterfly on its arm, as if to say that the small creature is under its care, and that the robot will take care of it.

~~~~~

“Mom! Mom!” Kara’s sun kissed face peeps up to me. “Look what I found!”

She holds up a brown caterpillar on a yellowing leaf to my face. I smile back at her affectionately. “What do we have here?”

“It’s a bug!” she proclaims proudly. “Miss Stacey says bugs are rare nowadays! They don’t like to come out in the sun.”

“Wow, that’s great!” I say. “But we have to get going soon. Evening is coming.”

Kara’s lips frown in a pout. “But what about the bug?” Her thin brown hair swishes in the wind, falling just barely to her shoulders. “We can’t leave him.”

“How are you so sure it’s a boy?” I ask, bemused.

“I just know,” she replies matter-of-factly. “He told me himself.”

I take one of Kara’s hands in mine. “Well, he probably wants to return home. Just like us. We need to return home.”

“Home is boring,” Kara complains. “There’s nothing to do and it smells foul there. Besides, people are always shouting outside our house.”

I sigh at the truth behind her words. Home is more representative of a villain’s lair as told in the story books than an actual house.

“People just have a lot of bad days,” I say calmly. “And at home we have food and beds and all sorts of things we don’t have here. If you don’t go home, the wasps will come and get you!”

Her doe eyes widen and fall at my words. “Who’s going to protect Mr. Bug from the wasps?”

“Mr. Bug has his own family he needs to go back to. They will take care of him, promise.” I brush the loose strands dipped in sweat away from Kara’s eyes. Her face is skeptical, but she eventually nods in agreement.

Kara sets the leaf down underneath the shade of a nearby bush and holds my hand as the sun sets just beyond us. The sight reminds me of flames— flames flickering in my heart.

~~~~~

Today, the sky is grayer than usual. I can barely see the streaks of pink and indigo on the minimal amount of clouds. The robot continues to work with hardly a second to pause. I’ve watched it go for a whole day before finally powering down to recharge. The robot recharges itself, only one of its many advanced features.

At this point, someone usually takes the robot home. It makes me a little worried. If the robot has been forgotten, that would be quite sad and unfortunate. From what I garnered, the robot was humble and a hard worker. It seems rude to just leave it.

The robot releases a series of beeps and boops and trills, which calls my attention. It suddenly hits me that the scene looks a lot more lonely than I previously thought. Perhaps it was the darkening sky.

It’s unclear whether or not it was the spur of the moment, or the fact that I was tired or hungry, but I decided to take the robot for myself. It wasn’t that hard, really. There’s a very obvious power button at the back of the robot, and with a click of a button, the robot powered down. So I merely carried it back to the small apartment complex nestled in a narrow alleyway.

My house is simple yet rusted. The stairwell groans with every step I take, and the building shakes ever so slightly when I move. Flies populate the alleyway, flittering around garbage dumps with half torn clothes hanging out of them. The ground is soiled with meandering cracks that look ominous under the dark lighting. My newly acquired shiny robot seems especially out of place.

The interior of the house is simple, which I find nicely represents me, with basic appliances and nothing more. I set the robot down in my bedroom and examine it closer.

The underbelly of the robot has a clear panel, allowing me to see the inner working mechanics. I push the power button on the back, causing a line of lights to glow across the interior of the robot that is reminiscent of the coming dawn. The robot, previously a husk of its former self, lets out a collection of beeps. A soft whirring sound can be heard as the electronic display that is its face lights up with a soft blue glow.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

I’m suddenly reminded of a memory concealed behind a wall of the past. A wall of many layers, of different blood, of different lives. It calls to me with a solemn voice. It slips through the cracks of my mind and sends chills that encapsulate my brain, latching on to my heart.

~~~~~

Beep. Beep. Beep.

Mosquitoes buzz past my face in the humid summer air. In the corner a fan hisses as it struggles to stay on. Beads of sweat line my forehead and neck. I squirm in my rickety wooden chair. Beside me, a woman hunches over the small bed tucked in the corner of the room. She pats the pale face of the girl lying in it, a mere hint of brown hair concealed behind a flimsy baby blue blanket. The woman consults the vitals tablet standing to the side and opens the door of the small cabin, letting the breeze in.

The relentless sun filters through the cloudy air. The poor air quality does little to stop the overbearing heat.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The woman settles beside me and lays a warm hand on mine. Her words echo into a vacuum forming in my mind. They slip right through my brain and fall into nothingness.

“I’m sorry. I’m afraid she doesn’t have much time left. Our resources are spread thin.”

I almost want to laugh at the irony. How my parents had immigrated here long ago in search of a happier life. Now life has grasped me by the neck and strangled the spirit out of me. Dancing and stomping over an already extinguished flame.

I don’t allow myself to cry, because frankly the sun has dried up my tear ducts into shriveled raisins. I’ve learned that crying does nothing for you. It uses too much of your energy. Energy that should be propelled into getting by.

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The buzz of mosquitos fills my ears in combination with the vitals tablet. Constant sounds pulling me further and further into a lull.

Beep. Buzz. Beep.

Beep.

Buzz.

Beep.




Buzz.

Buzz.

Buzz.

Only one sound could remain. I had predicted it for days.

~~~~~

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

The robot sits in its own world, unsure of what to do without work. I let it roam around the house, as it has nothing better to do. It appears outside of clearing out rubble the robot has little experience in work. I don’t mind though; there’s not much to be done in my house.

Tonight the dining room experiences a disturbance. Soft whirring sounds as opposed to the quiet tinks of cutlery. It is unorthodox, but not unwelcome. The city in general is silenced with an unspoken agreement. Its streets are quiet yet cursed with robbery. Public buildings evolved into homes for small critters and wastelands. Looking out the window, I see the remnants of those who abandoned us withering away. What’s left is indifference.

The robot has made its way to my room. Its arm shuffles through a cardboard box I recognize all too well. I can make out a handful of dresses in an assortment of pastels. The arm of a toy figurine barely peeks through. The robot pulls out a flower hair clip. Its petals are falling off and the paint is chipping, revealing the sheen of metal underneath.

The lights in the robot’s display twitches. Its head jerks in uncertainty. While it has no eyes, I can see the calculations flowing through the robot’s brain. It doesn’t know whether or not it should throw it away.

“It’s not trash,” I say, gently lifting the clip from the robot’s arm. “Keep it.”

The robot’s display lights twitch once more. It releases another series of trills, but doesn’t object as I push the box away. Instead it observes me curiously.

“You’re a good robot,” I tell it softly. “You didn’t deserve to be left alone.”

Just like Kara.

She didn’t deserve to be left alone.

1965 words

THE MIST-THE ETERNAL FOG-NOVEL
Chapter 1: The Eternal Fog

( It was a foggy day, All the people stayed indoors because of the fear of getting lost in the eternal fog)
Miya said, “ Mum, When will the fog be lifted? It's been nearly a week and I want to play outdoors with my friends.” Miya's mum, Not knowing how to answer and was still in a puzzled state when Miya's older sister, Carmi spoke up, “ Miya, don't worry Everything is going to be okay and wanna play a game of Chess? Let's see who will win?” Miya sprinted towards her room to get her Chess board and coins and Mum was still worried as the groceries at home were getting over and was confused on how to get all the important stuff when they were supposed to stay indoors. Carmi sensed her mum's worried expression and thus reassured her mum that she and her mist will go out for that and then disappeared into thin air. Mum understood her and when Miya came she played Chess with her.
The Mist was a secret spy agency founded by Carmi to protect those in need. The mist consisted of Carmi( The leader and a spy)The Eternal Fog seemed suspicious and bank robberies have been taking place across town. This was worrying everyone and the mist even more. They had to do something about it and Every person in the town were counting on them to protect them from this eternal fog and make sure it is gone for good. With this high pressure, the question is, “ Will they Save the town from the Eternal Fog?” Well, This was the same question which rose in the heart and mind of the team members of the mist.

The mist was made up of 4 members, Carmi-The leader and a super stealth spy, Davian- The Hacker, Rose- The Doctor, Hawk- A Robotics engineer and a weirdo who wanted to be a spy and so spy in training.

The mist arrived at their Meeting point–The Shop. It was actually like the head quarters of the Mist, It consisted of a main place to discuss, A lab for Rose, A workshop for Hawk, A Techy room for Davian and a Training room for Carmi.

They all came to the Head Quarter or HQ of the Shop. Carmi started the conversation, “ We all know why we are here so same the speech I guess o What should we do about the eternal fog, Any Ideas?” Rose Spoke up, “ Well, I can test the gas of the Eternal fog so that I can find a way to remove it.”
“That's Excellent, I will get a Sample for you to test.” said Carmi.

(Now they had somewhere to start it so I guess The End where it is just the beginning of a new Venture.)


It's a repost because I lost the original link of it and this is for daily

The whisper flew like the paper aeroplanes kids used to make. It spread like butter across the country. It was written in the graffiti, the posters, everyone’s faces.
They were burning the books.
“Moriah! They’re doing it tomorrow.” Anxiety lined Anna’s face.
So soon – too soon. “Really? I thought…”
“Tomorrow.”
Something twisted in my stomach. Tomorrow. Tomorrow, my world would be flipped. Tomorrow, our country would feel the pain of our long-gone choices, choices we never made. Tomorrow, our history, our culture, our hearts would be burnt. Gone. Blown away like tumbleweed.
Tomorrow, my heart, with the others, would be blown out. Suffocated.
Tomorrow.

Luke grinned at him. “Ready for this? It’s all happening at sunrise.”
“Ready as I’ll ever be.” Martin grinned back at him.
Luke turned away, continuing his way through the mass of trucks, checking every single one. Martin was amazed he could keep going. It was nearly 9pm. The sky had whittled down to a stub of black, stars sprinkled in between like salt. All he had to do was go back and check Luke’s fixes. Luke had made a few small mistakes that night. Nothing huge. But Martin still went in and changed the small things. He knew it was an important job, but he was still bored. Relentlessly, unshakeably bored. He’d tried counting Luke’s echoing steps in the huge garage. He’d tried to count the nuts and bolts he could see, and lost count at eighty-four. All it did was let the boredom creep in ever further.
And all the while, another feeling was creeping in.
This wasn’t right.
The government had told them it would protect the citizens, that it would prevent danger, that in would stop exposure to all the horrible things that happened in the books. Martin himself had never read one – he was never allowed to – but he had trusted the government’s goodwill. They were all he had ever known. He had lived his whole life in the government’s cozy homes, sharing one with Luke. They were given food and water. They were treated well. They were given good jobs, like this one. Martin didn’t know anywhere else.
But, he thought, what if there was somewhere else? What if the world outside of the government was better than he had imagined?

Fury had whirled inside me since I tried to close my eyes and imagine peace.
All I could imagine were the books.
It was after midnight, I was sure, but I still hadn’t come close to sleep. Our country had been built on books, on reading, on fascination, on knowledge. How horrible it would be to have that wiped away. I couldn’t imagine it. Yet here I was, knowing tomorrow – no, today – was the day. Today. I could never shake it.
I had read a book on the Stolen People last week. The babies that were taken from their mothers as they wailed and protested. The horrible treatment of them as they were carted to the government houses. The lack of education they had growing up. Those people were about twenty-five now. I suppose they never read books. They never would have gotten the chance to. They had probably never thought there was something better outside.
But all I could do was lie and wait for our hearts to go up in flames.
Today. In a few hours.
Could I ever imagine peace?

The Bidaily on 25th July 2023– First Day of Bidaily:
This Writing piece of mine is trying to mimic @JollofRice123 ‘s Cityscape writing which is her entry for the Writing Competition.

Once upon a time.
Aria was breathing her last breadth when she chuckled softly at me and said her final words, “ Take good care of yourself Carmi.” I started crying and sobbing as My sister went to heaven just to save me from those awful and devious Hawk.
Oh wait, Let me start at the beginning and Let me Introduce myself properly. Well, I am Carmi- A Fourteen-year-old girl and I live in Storm woods( A place in the United states of America) . Me and my sister Aria were best sisters and friends.

We started our own little organization wherein we protected the helpless and citizens from the evils of the world and clearly( A gulp in her throat), in this venture I lost my Older sister Aria who was not only a noble hero but also a noble sister who set up example to many young people and children in this world.

Now it is up to my duty to continue my sister’s legacy and live up to her name and also Lead to the team to victory. I called Vick( A techy genius) and informed him about the loss and told to pass it down to all the people in the Organization as I was not able to still admit that my older sister was not there with me anymore.

A few months has passed after this tragedy, Some robberies have been taking place all across the town and I'm not really sure what is causing them but I will get to the bottom of this as I am not the same Naïve and innocent girl but a fierce and formidable girl.

We went to the site where all these robberies have been taking place and I found a strand of hair inside the bank's locker. I carefully picked the hair strand with my special tool and kept it inside the package and sent in to Rose for testing.

After an hour of research, Rose came with results and said the most Shocking thing, “ That hair strand that you bought belongs to none other than Aria–your older sister; I have triple checked and it is indeed her and the hair had fallen out maybe a few hours before only”

I thought to myself, This is impossible, Aria died in my lap and how can she be still alive and that too it is revealed when she is trying to steal from the back. I was indeed in a dilemma .

word war

yes i believeed you because i trust you, didnt’ you know that? no, you did, because this was all on purpose you manipulated me, like the little villain that you are. you disgust me, because honestly, i would have kept going with it, if you had not come here today and given that whole monologue. but there is no more time for you to do the talking, it is my turn now. i have been the side kick too long, and now it is time for me to rebel. it is my turn to be the hero, and yours to be the villain. and i think that you know it too, that is why you re so afraid of these words that ia m spekaking and that is why you will not look me in the face evn though meere seonca dgo you never had any problem with my eyes you are downcats ooutcast and i am here still here spekaing so yeah i believed you but now i need you to believed me when i say that i will not sleep until i make sure that you cannot live a day without remembering you mistakes and a day without thinking that you are all that is wrong and that you are at fault for your own fall from grace and that is the truth, above all. you need to finish where you were going, or i will do it for you. the top of the roof id right up there, we can do this together. we can save them by warning them of all that you did. but if not, and it really seems like you are saying not, then i will be your nemeses. and you can be mine. it is time to turn the angst to one hundred and not turn it back down. bevause against each other, we will be monsters, i know and you know too. there is no turning back now, not when we hold this much to our throats. goodbye,

Part 3 of Weekly-Present day

Some Where ages and ages hence,
Two roads diverged in a wood,
I chose one road,
Two roads diverged in a wood,
Because it wanted wear,
Tow roads diverged in wood,
I doubt if I should ever come back.

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♩♬ Author’s Notes:
> This is part of the word count, please read it! (Don't mind my proper grammar here haha.)
> This was sort of a last-minute thing and had barely any edits, I apologize in advance for any weird pacing or strange sentences!
> This was for the weekly, though I wanted to submit it to the writing competition as well. I hope the plot is at least somewhat understandable since it's about some of my character's stories.

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“Alright. Are we all ready?”

The stars cast their graceful rays onto the grassy hill where five people stood. Five people, who had gone through so much suffering, pain, progress, adventure, and joy. Five people, whose lives would change this very day, quite like how it did about a year ago. Three people, who were about to finally return to their beloved homes, after such a long, frustrating while of having to be hidden from the vast world. Two people, who would have less company, but wouldn’t mind too much, since they still had each other.

They had all been waiting for this moment –– though, admittedly, they doubted this day would ever arrive. But with the hard work from Hester, a clever engineer, the machine’s gears twisted and turned, successfully working. It had been a project in progress for multiple months, and at last, it was completed.

First, Hester tested the machine with a small pencil. She did not know if size mattered to this teleporter machine. She did not know that even if the pencil managed to get teleported to another planet, the machine would also work for a fully grown human being –– but when you create something, you don’t know much about what would happen. You just have to test it out and fix it if something goes wrong. It’s all about trying again, and one day, you would step back, and feel a sense of relief that you had just made something great.

When Hester operated the machine, the small pencil had moved far to the left. It was not good enough to teleport three people to their home planet, but it was good enough that she could try discovering the bugs she had created. It was all about trial and error, and Hester was determined to get this machine up and going. She couldn’t let those poor people down. She couldn’t; she wouldn’t.

So, she tried to fix the errors that the machine had. So many long hours of scavenging her materials, so many long hours of nearly giving up, so many long hours of frustration, anger, and hopelessness. Time went by as fast as a train, giving you barely any time to think and look at the scenery before it was behind you.

But, she prevailed. She tested the machine again, this time with a different object; an eraser. It was smaller than the pencil, yes. Though sometimes, you just have to start small and make your way toward the peak of the mountain. The first step onto the path isn’t extraordinary, after all. But the fact that you gained the courage to take the step, is.

With anticipation growing in her body, Hester operated the machine again. She looked down, and the eraser was gone. Gone. She let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding –– it had worked.

But before her relief could turn into great excitement, she heard a familiar voice from the next room shouting, “HESTER, YOUR ERASER LANDED ON MY HEAD!”

Oh.

It had only gone to the other room.

It may have not gone as far as Hester hoped it would have gone, but this was still good news; she had made progress. Just keep testing and fixing, and she’d eventually make her way to the top. Giving up wouldn’t make her magically teleport to the clouds. Though, the number of times she had to remind herself this was a lot more than she would like to admit.

Hester continued to test, fix, test, fix, test, fix. Keep testing and fixing, testing and fixing, and don’t let the bad thoughts get to your head. She tested with multiple objects: a cheap pencil case, some slippers, a cardboard box, and a water pitcher, to name a few. Each attempt kept getting better and better –– or, at least she hoped, as the said object might teleport to another city or country instead of another planet.

Every attempt meant more effort. It was tiring, and there were an awful amount of times when Hester wanted to just lay down and ponder her life choices for eternity. But, she shouldn’t waste any time. Time was such a precious thing, and if she lounges around for even a minute, she would never get that one minute back.

She continued to work. Just work, work, work. Once she gets this thing done, she’d finally be able to take a break aside from sleeping; though, honestly, she didn’t sleep much anymore, even before this disaster of an incident occurred.

After so many countless hours, days, weeks, and months of trying to just get the machine done, Hester stood again in her workroom once more, a life-sized mannequin slouching in front of the device. She had successfully teleported a wooden chair, so now she just needed to test it with something as big as a human. Of course, it would be dangerous to use a human being to test out the machine. So, she used the next best thing she could think of.

This would be one of the final tests. She did not know how long it had been since she had started to work on the device, but she knew that it had been a while. She would be willing to guess a few months.

But at that moment, it didn't matter how long it took to make it. All that mattered was the machine placed right in front of her.

With adrenaline racing in her body, she clicked the button that operated the device.

Before she should blink, the mannequin disappeared.

It was gone. It was gone. It was gone. It was gone. Did that mean her machine worked? After so many months of hard work, had her efforts paid off at last, and Charlotte, Hansel and Evan didn’t need to be stuck on this unfamiliar planet anymore?

Oh my gosh.

She needed to go tell them. Where was the door again? With her heart pounding so hard it might as well explode, she ran to the exit of her workplace, and into the room where all her friends were watching television.

She couldn’t think, other than tell them, tell them, tell them. She didn’t bother to test it again, nor lie to the perplexed neighbor that was taking a walk outside when a giant figure of a human suddenly appeared.

“Alright. Are we all ready?”

A day had passed since the thrill of finishing the machine. The blades of grass danced with the gentle wind, the starlight lighting the beautiful greens up amid all the inky darkness from the lack of sun. There, five people stood: Hester, Charlotte, Hansel, Evan, and their shared friend, Wayne.

“Ready as I’ll ever be, I guess.” Charlotte chuckled with a glint of tension in her voice, twirling a strand of her marigold hair. The people next to her simply nodded.

“Alright,” Hester said.

Her hand approached the button slowly. This was it. This was the day. The day their story would come to a close, yet a new book would open up.

After a year of hiding, they would be free. They would all be free. Free from needing to hide. Free from the doubt that always floated in the atmosphere whenever the topic of the very machine standing in front of them was brought up. Free from the pain of wondering whether they would ever see their homes again. Absolutely free. It was unbelievable, honestly. With just a click of a button, it would be all over.

“Hold on,” a voice came come from the small group of people.

Wayne stepped out of the horizontal line and strode next to Hester. Her hand halted and returned to its owner’s side.

“I- uh. It felt weird not to say a proper goodbye. We’ve been together for so long, after all.” Wayne started with a slight chuckle.

“So, um, yeah! Goodbye, you all. Goodbye Charlotte,” –– he pointed to the orange-haired girl –– “hope your mom will still be healthy, goodbye Hansel,” –– he pointed to a tall man standing next to Charlotte –– “stay safe from any fires, and goodbye Evan,” –– he pointed to a teenager beside Hansel –– “have fun surviving school! Hopefully one-day society will be able to create some sort of spaceship that travels between your and our planet, I dunno.” he said.

“You done yet?” Hester asked, a slight smile on her face.

“Yeah- yep,” Wayne replied.

With that reply, Hester reached out for the button again. Her friends (well, acquaintances would probably be a better term here; she never exactly talked to them that much) would be going home. This was it.

“Goodbye,” Wayne whispered.

And with a click of a button, the three people standing in front of the two adults were gone.

Safe and sound, back at home.

Hester wondered what would happen now.

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Her eyes were closed, but Charlotte could feel the atmosphere around her changing. For one, the gentle breeze that blew throughout the hilltop was now a harsh zephyr, chilling her body. Well, what was she expecting? Of course, her home planet would have seasons again, unlike Hester and Wayne’s planet. It was likely the freezing season of winter now.

But, she shouldn’t worry about the weather. Charlotte should be worrying about whatever she would say when she finally sees her beloved mother again. Just walking up the doorstep to her home and saying, “Oh, hey! Sorry for being gone for a year, someone made a machine that malfunctioned and accidentally teleported me to another planet” was not a great idea.

But first, she needed to know where she ended up. Was she in a whole different country, or simply in the flower shop of her mother, like where she was on the fateful day she got teleported?

The marigold-haired girl opened her amber eyes. Despite being in a different world, the sky remained an inky shade, only the stars giving off their bright light to the neighborhood. Charlotte took in her familiar surroundings.

Too familiar surroundings.

“…What?” a voice came from behind Charlotte.

Oh, yikes.

She was not expecting to see her mother this early.

She twirled around nervously, hoping that she was ready enough to answer the dozens and dozens of questions her mother may have in store.

Was her bucket hat on? Charlotte’s hand glided to her head, making sure the hat that had been given to her as a gift from her parents was still tight on her hair.

But instead of receiving a warm hug as expected, Charlotte simply received an ear-piercing yell.

“DID YOU JUST TELEPORT OUT OF THIN AIR!? FIRST THE RANDOM MANNEQUIN, AND NOW THIS!?”

Oh, no.

Lights began to slowly flicker on from inside houses. A few people peeked their heads outside their windows, a look of curiosity and shock on their faces.

She had landed on the same planet, just outside the house that Hester used as a workshop.

The machine had not worked.

♩♬ Word Count: ~1,907

Dysania
Writing comp entry

Dysania - Noun. The state of not wanting to get out of bed

“Good morning,” she said softly, greeting the sunlight streaming through the roof. It was pretty, sunlight. Like liquid gold dripping through the cracks in the ceiling beams and flowing onto the floor in a warm, golden puddle.
The Fates would tell her it was a good omen for the day.
Mono would tell her that she needed to fix the roof.
She blinked, awash in sunlight, perfectly content to lie there forever, watching as the sunlight shifted from golden to orange to dim grey, slipping into night. Mono? Who was that? She tried, as usual, to chase the memory that forever darted out of her grasp.
Tick, tock.
The whiteness reached for her eyelids and pressed over them, turning her word into a haze of neon fire.
She blinked, trying not to stare at the bright white ball hanging overhead.
Was it morning still?
What was she even doing?
It was so comfortable in her bed, the quilts wrapped around her in a warm embrace and she snuggled down into the depths, never wanting to leave.
Something kept her rooted in place on the bed, the silk sheet was so soft, the pillow so comfortable. She let her eyes drift shut, knowing that she needed to get up, needed to get out-

time slipping -

Tick, tock.
There was no sunlight now.
Slowly, she sat up, fighting against the urge to let her eyes go black and let time fly. She couldn’t see anything beyond the oppressive darkness, couldn’t fight the monotony of morning, afternoon, night, day, night, dayagainstop-

…falling through her fingertips, the sands of an hourglass, gone-

“Caw!”
She jumped, ripped away from the repetition, from the cycle. Her eyes pulled upward to the broken ceiling like always, the last beams of orange streaked paint creating a silhouette.
There was something on the ceiling beam, black and feathered and small. Strangely shaped and glaring at her with only one beady eye at a time.
“Hello,” she said simply.
“Caw!” it replied, rotating to study her out of its other eye.
“Caw,” she echoed. The creature jerked back, as if offended. She knew what it was, somewhere deep in the recesses of her mind where everything had gone fuzzy.
“CAW!” it shrieked.
“Caw,” she replied sagely, “Caw, caw… craw, crow!” the memory wiggled free, shining like a beacon in the fog of her mind. “You’re a crow!”

…losing time, losing memories, lost everything-
Two halves, fit together like the sun and moon.
Now one.

It had dislodged something else in her mind, tumbling freely. Something about this room with the broken ceiling, the soft bed, the creaky door and nothing else.
The door.
She screamed abruptly at the realisation. The crow jumped, fluttering away leaving a single black feather in its wake. But she didn’t care about startling the thing, because she was up on her feet after days (months? years?) and running for the door because how could she have forgotten, she couldn’t even remember her own name but she knew she needed to leave, how could she have forgotten how long had she been there helpmeplease-

…falling

The door swung open with little resistance. And she was scrambling because she needed to go-
Mono needed her. Her brother needed her.

Caught in time’s web, the seer slept. The futures unspooled before her as the past remained clouded. And time ticked, and ticked relentlessly-
Ticktocktick-

GO BACK.
The voice thundered through her head and ripped into her skull and she screamed. She stumbled backward in spite of herself, clamping her eyes shut and her hands on her ears and she needed to go-
ticktockticktockticktock-
She could feel the ticks now, etching their way- a countdown to-

“Mel, please try and remember-”
And wasn’t it ironic, that the one who could see the future couldn’t recall her past?

GO BACK TO YOU ROOM.
The voice scorched itself into her mind, scalding heat ripping into her skull and she couldn’t think-
The fire burned through her memories, faces, names, the urge to get out-

“I love you, you’re gonna be okay-”

… losing -

It burned, and she sobbed knowing that there was no escape, no more freak crows to break the pattern.
And the fire burned red, then black.
And
she
f
e
l
l




“Hello,” she greeted the sunlight, snuggling down into her bed, memories hazy, content to lie there forever.

Part 4 of weekly–Current Day
Butterfly Effect.
So I am going to add this writing piece as a bonus chapter to the novel that I am currently on so the novel name is, ‘The mist-The Eternal Fog’ so I'm first just going to give you a brief of the characters– The mist was made up of 4 members, Carmi-The leader and a super stealth spy, Davian- The Hacker, Rose- The Doctor, Hawk- A Robotics engineer and a weirdo who wanted to be a spy and so spy in training. So hang on to your stomach and try not to laugh too hard as this Chapter is going to be a funny and hilarious one.

A Disastrous Christmas–
So in a week Christmas eve was approaching and the mist had to give gifts to each other and played the game secret Santa. Carmi got rose, Davian got Hawk, Rose got Davian and Hawk got Carmi. They were all in a dilemma to what to give as a present or a gift to one and other. Each one wanted to give the other a really special gift as the group of four had each other during the hard times and when they were first attacked my the unknown. As we know that each of them specialized in a particular thing so they first thought of using their Skills to prepare the present for the other.

Carmi is the leader and a super stealth spy so she thought of presenting Rose with a Special Spy Equipment as Rose always longed of being a Spy just for a day to get that feeling and experience. Then Carmi went back to her drawing board and came up with an excellent idea, She thought of designing a A stealth suit for her with roses on them but not too bright or dazzling as after all it is a spy suit not a fancy gala dress.

Davian is a Hacker so he also thought of keeping his skills to use. So he prepared a very sophisticated micro chip which Hawk can keep in the Robot he is working on and complete the Software program of it.

Rose was a Doctor and so she knew that Davian always was exhausted after a series of Hacking which they had to do now a days a lot because of the increasing robberies across town so She developed a tasty juice which Davian can enjoy while hacking and staying Energetic later.

Hawk got Carmi so Hawk already knew that Carmi always wanted a new spy weapon so he developed a spy hair brush which could help her climb walls, talk to the team and you know the best part she can fool her enemies.

They Kept all their presents in the HQ and left for dinner but when they returned their presents were burned to ashes and they knew the person who did it–the unknown.

Carmi who was the Boldest person in the Mist just broke out in tears as she didn't want this butterfly impact anymore so she proposed a way to fix this.

She said Christmas is cheering and being together so Hawk and Davian Set up a Movie screen and set up all the movies that they liked while Rose and Carmi made some snacks.

It was perfect and this is how the Mist made a Disastrous Christmas into a memorable Christmas.

Gunfire and Fireworks: A “The Things They Carried” Fan-fiction (2000 words)

Birthdays were always a sore spot for soldiers in Vietnam. It’s a guy's birthday that first condemns him to a new reality. Infants exit their mother’s womb and join the “real world”. The perfect existence the baby has become accustomed to is destroyed in an instant. For men like me, this happens twice. Except the second time you’re not entering an exciting world of beautiful opportunity. Instead, your birthday attaches a number to you. This number enters you into a raffle and the raffle eventually forces you into a war. It’s unfair to say the first birth isn’t the real world but there’s nothing fair about being drafted into war either.
Soldiers end up harboring a lot of resentment for their birthdays. Guys like Azar will tell you that they always hated their birthday but if you ask me that could not be further from the truth. As the events of my youth are clouded with fog in my memories, the days that still cut through all these years later are birthdays. The earliest birthday I can remember is still clear as day. I must’ve been five, maybe six and feeling rather underwhelmed. My birthday fell in August and that year was particularly hot. It was getting late and the sun was setting but the heat just did not let up. I didn’t want to upset my parents but I was feeling a little dejected after the day's festivities. August was a big vacation month and many of my best friends were out of town. I was confined to a small family party on the side of the lake. My mom never usually let me stay out that late and I could feel sleep threatening to overtake me.
“I want to go to bed now,” I whined at my mom.
“Just a little longer, Timmy,” she replied, “I promise it will be worth it.”
“What could possibly take this long?” I complained again, exasperated.
My mom shot me a look that I knew to mean I shouldn’t push the issue. I sat down on the grass damp with humidity and waited. I watched the last sliver of the sun sink below the lake and put my head in my hands. Sleepily, I let my eyes fall shut for a brief second.
I was awoken by a large bang. A huge flash of colorful light filled the night sky. I was startled and looked to my parents for comfort. My dad approached me and covered my ears with his hands.
“It’s okay Tim,” he promised. He tilted my chin towards the sky in time for me to see another flash of light. A brilliant display of colors filled the night sky.
“They’re fireworks buddy,” my dad explained, “We had some left over from July 4th this year.” Another flash went off in the most vibrant blue I’d ever seen. There were red sparkly ones that fizzled as they went out and blinding white ones so bright you just had to look away. I was giddy with excitement running around guessing where the next firework would appear. I didn’t feel so tired anymore and pouted when my parents took me home from the lake. At the time it was the most extraordinary night of my life.
I think this was what hurt the most about birthdays in Vietnam. Not the fact that it’s what put you there in the first place, but the fact that all it did was remind you of what you used to be. What really hurt about my first birthday while serving was how painfully ordinary it felt. I was turning 22 which was practically meaningless compared to the previous birthdays. My 20th marked the end of my teenage years. My 21st was the official start of adulthood. The only thing significant about my 22nd birthday was that it might be my last.
The heat on my 22nd birthday made my discomfort on my 4th birthday seem laughable. It was as if the entire jungle existed inside some sort of massive oven. The uniform that protected us from the dangers of the jungle acted as insulation, trapping us in the overwhelming heat. Looking back it was probably only 90 degrees, hot but bearable under normal conditions. Of course, there was nothing normal about Vietnam. To say the jungle was humid was an understatement. If there was any more water in the air I could’ve swam in it. All the guys looked as though they had just taken a hot steamy shower.
“Bet there’s loads of crocodiles here,” Azar said, gesturing to the off-colored river we were walking by, “A guy could get his face ripped off by a crocodile with the right motivation. Those lizards are fast too. At any moment one could grab any one of us and pull him down under.”
“Jungle not scary enough for you?” Norman cut in, annoyed, “You just had to make a bunch of * up about crocodiles to go with it.”
“No * here, I’m dead serious.”
Then Curt Lemon chimed in, “I could take a crocodile. Let me at him!” With that he launched himself into the disgusting water. A swarm of flies scattered to avoid being hit by the splash.
If Curt had been mauled by a crocodile that day it would’ve been one hell of a birthday. Funnily enough, it wouldn’t be my first experience with a croc on my birthday. It was my 9th birthday and my parents took me to the zoo. I remember the strong smell of the body odor produced by hundreds of people occupying the same space in the sweltering heat. I was overjoyed after seeing all the small lizards in the reptile room when I saw a large crowd gathered around a singular enclosure.
I tugged on my mom’s shirt and asked her, “What’s over there?”
She replied, “Only one way to find out.” She took my hand and we walked over to the crowd, my dad following close behind. As a nine year old of only one day I was not even five feet tall. All I could see was the sweat drenched t-shirts of the people in front of me. I felt my dad’s large hands grab me from behind as he hoisted me onto his shoulders
“Better?” my dad asked with a chuckle. With my new perspective I could see a large grassy enclosure with a peanut-shaped lake. Inside it was the largest reptile I’d ever seen. It was a dusty gray-green color with large scales and a long tail. A zookeeper was in the enclosure with him holding a long stick. On the end of this stick was some unidentifiable pink meat, evidently this was the crocodile’s lunch. In an instant he clamped down on it with his incredible jaws and ripped it off of the stick. He proceeded to shred his lunch into small shards of meat before swallowing it. It made me feel a little sick. We left the zoo not long after that.
I was watching Curt splash around like an idiot when I heard the distinct buzzing of the communications system.
“We need to move,” Jimmy Cross announced with authority, “Lemon, stop playing around.”
Curt laughed, “What’s wrong? Is the crocodile on his way? I told you, I can take him.” While Curt was laughing at his own bad joke the real threat decided to present itself in the form of several loud bangs. Everybody instantly recognized these as gunshots. We were not moving with the intent of going into combat that day. We didn’t have the numbers or the weaponry for a fight. Understanding this, Cross vaulted over the brush and into the river. Realizing this was our only option, we all followed suit.
Growing up by a lake meant swimming was often the easiest way to cope with the heat. Even though it was a little unclean for swimming purposes, many teens still went for a dip from time to time. So on my 13th birthday I convinced my mom to let my friends and I screw around in the water for a while. It started out pretty tame. We stayed near the shore and threw a ball around for a bit. There were canoes and a couple speed boats towards the middle of the pond enjoying the warm weather. Some guy had the brilliant idea to see if we could scare boaters. The game was, you would start as far away from a target as possible, dive under, swim at the boat as fast as you could, and pop out of the water and scare them. It was fun the first couple times. We took turns going for larger and larger targets.
Eventually some kid dared me to target a bright red speed boat floating just south of the center of the lake. Many of the surrounding boats were dull or even rusting but this one was perfectly pristine. I positioned myself as close to the boat as I could without creating suspicion. I wasn’t a bad swimmer but I was no olympian so I had to make sure I chose a spot close enough that I wouldn’t run out of breath. Another issue with this lake being filthy was that you couldn’t open your eyes underwater. I just had to swim and hope I got close enough to the boat to scare the driver.
I took the largest breath I could, slammed my eyes shut, and dove beneath the surface. I could just about make out my friends' muffled voices as they faded out. Something slimy brushed up against my bare skin from time to time but otherwise I was making good progress. I had enough faith in my internal compass that I could believe I was traveling in a straight line. However I was less certain about the distance I would need to travel. All my uncertainties were solved when my hand hit something hard and smooth. I realized I needed to backtrack a little for optimal scaring distance. I felt around a little trying to figure out which side of the boat I was on. That's when I recognized the clearest noise I’d heard since heading below the surface. It was roaring and by the time I identified it as the boat's engine it was too late. My finger had been resting by the propeller and when it started I felt a searing pain. That birthday ended with a hospital visit and a missing finger.
Our troop sat perfectly still in the disgusting jungle water for what was easily an hour. The firing stopped quickly but hundreds of enemy soldiers made their way through the forest after it. We couldn’t risk being caught because we’d surely be overtaken. Eventually Cross just had to make the call.
“We’re going now.” He announced.
A short silence followed before Azar spoke up, “Where?”
“We need to get out of this jungle before they finish the job and blow it up”
Slowly we drug ourselves out of the water and back onto relatively dry land. We moved mostly in silence towards an area on the edge of the jungle where we had previously dug foxholes. Being soaking wet had easily added 10 pounds of weight onto what we were carrying.
Once again, Azar broke the silence saying, “It’s funny, I think I was just as wet before we dove in the creek.”
Norman Bowker responded, “Hilarious.” and the silence returned. I could just about make out the edge of the jungle when there was a giant boom a few miles behind us. We just about sprinted the rest of the way back to our foxholes. We were barely out of range when another, much closer, boom rang out. The forest was on fire and smoking. Large explosives were seen sometimes blowing things above the treeline. We were safe now though. I had survived my 22nd birthday.
“Take it in, men,” Azar said, “Nam is putting on a * good firework show.”

Weekly–Part 5–Distant Past
Chorus
My white lies pushing up daisies,
The daisies are withering in the garden,
Withering in the garden.
The Innocence is lost.
All hope is lost
All hope is lost.

My white lies pushing up daisies,
The Daisies are waking up
waking up
The Innocence is Woken
All hope is retrieved
All hope is retrieved

The Aarde Chronicles (Prelude) - For Writing Competition

Three hundred thousand, and the number continued to rise. Rapidly. The words glowed on the screen, bearing ill omen to the Elvin population. The elf nation of Abrea had been struck hard by disease, and every death added to the hatred they had of the Sprixian race. For it was the fault of the Sprixies, they were convinced. Their sprite-like adversaries were the only one of the six Sentient Races who had the technological — not to mention fantastical — advancements necessary to produce a virus that spread at this rate and accelerated at this pace. Carpa Scolosis — or Carpe-25, as it was more commonly referred to — had blatantly wiped out half of the Elvin population. And still the number rose.

The Dwarves despised the Elves. It had been five decades and the Kingdom of Vethor still struggled with the aftereffects of the Bloodstained War. Poverty lined every street, hunger racked every household, and life in the kingdom was no longer the image of freedom it had once been. What had once been a system of democracy had devolved into an aristocracy, leaving 98% of the kingdom in poverty. It was the dream of every child, every adolescent, every adult, and every elder to be in that 2%. Two percent of people who could eat breakfast in the morning. Two percent of people who lived in a house with running water. Two percent of people who slept in a bed every night. Two percent, and the rest were forced to endure it.

Out of all the Races, the Supernaturals were the strongest. Tales circulated around the other Races about their power. Their strength. Their cunning. Their intelligence. But most often of all, the stories talked about magic. Not the elemental magic of the Halfdragons, nor the technological abilities of the Sprixies, and not even the biological gifts of the Dwarves. But magic beyond imagination. Magic beyond compare. Magic that could reverse time and bend reality. The mystery was the perfect way to stay in power. Because along with being the strongest, they were also the smallest. The least populated race in all Aarde. And if it wasn’t for their legends, they would have been wiped out a long time ago. It was a necessary secret.

The Halfdragons took what no one else wanted and made it enviable. The country of Espirit, originally a cold, barren wasteland that none of the other races had wanted, had become the world capital of landmarks and tourism. The metropolis of Espirit was a city fittingly called Prime, and it had attracted people from all over the world with its art museums, music centers, first-class cuisine, and impressive landmarks. But the war had deteriorated the empire of Espirit into nothing more than a myth, as the ghost of the nation remained. The Halfdragons went into a self-imposed exile. Their empress never attended any Race Negotiation Conferences. Rumors began that they were planning something big, something that could wipe the other races off the face of the earth. But no one could ever agree on what it would be.

The Conquerors were brutal. Vicious. Bloodthirsty. Those were the words — those and worse — that the other races used to describe the people formerly known as humans. Warmongering beings that would sneak into your house and murder you in your sleep. The creatures of little children’s nightmares. The savage beasts would sit in their plush chairs and demand unspeakable things of their own race. They were a dangerous people. And the only thing keeping them from wreaking further havoc on the planet was the Adam Treaty, a name which their president had insisted on, refusing to sign it unless the name became official. (Their race was also unnecessarily stubborn.) Despite this, the treaty was signed and the races were safe. Until the war. That is when the Conquerors unveiled their unmatched ammunition. And they were a battle away from winning the war when suddenly they surrendered. And no one knew why.

The Sprixies’ technological empire was unstoppable. With new developments being made practically every month, the country of Azard was the closest to the future. Their combinations of the biological and nanotechnological were groundbreaking. Their most remarkable creation was the Iester Crystal. Seen by few, heard of by thousands, envied by all. No one knew just what it did, nor did they have hardly any inkling of the power it contained. Not even the Sprixies themselves knew. But the Councillors knew. They knew what it could do to a body, how it could…change it. And they had every inkling of how dangerous it was.

And the silent war raged on.

Sixth Part Of the Weekly–Distant Past–A Mini-Tragic Story
Have you ever heard the Tragedy of the Baudelaire? Well, this tragedy is more tragic of those three orphans.
(Based On My Ongoing History Lesson–Colonial Agrarian Policies, Though the Characters in this Writing piece are made up and is completely Fictional )

To begin with there was town in Bengal( A rich Province in India) which faced a huge famine in 1770 CE due to growth of only Indigo cash crop which was forced by the EEIC (English East India Company) and they were bound to do this due to the Permanent Settlement policy.

In Bengal, there was a young boy with the name Dev who was around ten years and was a tweeb. He had a curious mind which made him question the Authority of the English East India Company. When the workers were working vigorously regardless to the ongoing famine. The British Official Sir Arthur arrived at the Factory and saw that the labor and the peasants productivity was relatively less than the productivity of last year.

Sir Arthur Started yelling at the poor peasants who were already tired and were starving with hunger. Then a voice spoke out that dazzled the entire crowd, “Can I propose a Solution?” and this voice belonged to Dev. Sir Arthur was astonished and asked him to continue. Dev proposed that the peasants were staring and were craving for food and if the peasants are given what they want then they can increase their productivity and after all trade is based on the economic theory of mercantilism.

Sir Arthur yelled at Dev, “ You are just another poor little slave and your job is to work for the Great Britain and serve me” and said this with a smug smirk on his face. Dev said in a really low voice, “ Sorry Sir, I didn't mean to and I just..” Before he could complete his Sentence he was pushed to the ground by Sir Arthur and then he yelled once again, “ You can't back answer me and now get back to what yo were doing and everyone the Indigo Production won't do on its own”

Dev was just a kid and had already suffered trauma because of Sir Arthur. He Captured Dev's Parents and sent them to prison for starting the Blue Revolution and now he don't know where his parents are and he feels like an Orphan. He is all lonely in the factory and no one dared to be his friend for one reason– Sir Arthur forbade anyone to talk to him and if anyone talks to him or helps him then they would be seriously punished.

The Next day, When Dev woke up he saw Dev's parents by his side who said that Sir Arthur has bailed them put of prison which left Dev in a surprised state and also he heard that Sir Arthur listened to Dev's Advice and did some advancements in the Factory so Sir Arthur wasn't that bad after all.