july 1
For every day of the month, we (the daily team!) will have a unique activity for you to complete. And today, it’s creative ice cream flavours day! Our first challenge is for you to introduce yourself in the main cabin comments – by describing yourself as an ice cream sundae. What flavours make up your character?

1000 word intros… something I’ve heard quite a bit about, yet never had a chance to complete- but I suppose as I'm hoping to make this session a month of exploration and creativity, I might as well start by immersing myself in this tradition!

For those of you who don’t know me, I’m Reese (she/her; EST), folklore co-leader, member of the memory book committee, and regularly chaotic person! I love talking to people and interacting with others (mostly online, as I am quite terrible and face-to-face communication), but I find myself swayed toward being an introvert and keeping things to myself more often. This being said, I’m always happy to chat if anybody needs absolutely anything, and quite honestly I’ve met some of my closest and dearest friends through this writing camp, and I shall cherish their presence in my life forever.

Onto my hobbies! Reading is something I’ve always held close to my heart- to read is to disappear inside the stories of another world and get lost in the pages of reality, in a sense, something that is so utterly fascinating to me. I’m much more of an introvert irl, like I mentioned previously, so books give me a chance to step back from all the human interaction and just take a break. My favorite books include Six of Crows (Leigh Bardugo), All the Bright Places (Jenniver Niven), Divergent (Veronica Roth), The Fault in Our Stars (John Green), and The Inheritance Games (Jennifer Lynn Barnes)! I’m also obsessed with authors like Rick Riordan (the Percy Jackson series and Daughter in the Deep are my favorites) and Marie Lu (the Legend series and The Young Elites series). While all of these books sound entirely different- and they are- there is something that binds each and every one of them together, and that’s the true thing that I love most about these books: the characters. If you look inside all these books, there are characters with flaws, with struggles, with ups and downs and sometimes deep dark corners of their mind that tear at them with iron claws; the true perfection to them is, in a sense, the fact that they aren’t perfect. They’re real. The reality of the situation is that they are broken and battered and bruised but they are still beautiful, and it makes me love them even more because I can see people I know reflected in them, and it makes them all the more endearing to read about. Kaz Brekker (six of crows), Theodore Finch (all the bright places), Augustus Waters (the fault in our stars), and Jameson Hawthorne (the inheritance games) are undoubtedly some of my favorite characters of all time because of this, and they’re all flawed and broken. It just makes me want to meet them in real life even more.

Now, after that rambled mess ahaha, writing! Writing started for me as an escape back in 2020 when the COVID-19 pandemic was going on. I don’t know exactly why I opened that first google doc and started spitting out a world of elemental magic and shadowy villains, but I did, and the thrill of crafting my own world (even if my initial characters were all super cliche and there was essentially no plot- but we don’t talk about that part xD) and bringing to life the characters in my imagination that I gravitated towards. I started novels, lots of them, but never could get to the end because something started to feel off. This was the problem for me- I couldn’t- and still can’t- get my story to be perfect, and so it started to feel like it wasn’t what I wanted to write anymore, and I’m ashamed to say I have dozens of stories that got moved to the “Retired Stories” folder of my google drive. I was looking for that perfect spark of inspiration and a way I could share just the right message with the world… but that doesn’t exist. And it never will. Perfection is but an illusion, a distant dream that no matter how close you get, you can never reach. When I started swc in November 2022, I started to realize this, and I began gravitating towards shorter stories because I could put emotion into words and ACTUALLY FINISH IT. In a sense, I could say I’ve never looked back- until more recently when I started putting some worldbuilding into play for a possible novel? Maybe? Someday? Who knows.

One of my goals for this session is to continue exploring different genres and styles of writing. I recently received some very valuable critique, telling me that my writing could consist of events and plot that were a bit flatline and it could feel a bit disjointed- this is wonderful insight, and I’m hoping to use it to better myself as a writer. I really want to try writing poetry also! I read Amanda Gorman’s Call Us What We Carry a few months ago and absolutely loved it. I’m inspired by the way she can use poetry to move people and really send a message, and since that’s something I hope to do with my writing, I’d love to explore how emotion and meaning can be expressed in a more poetic style.

Some other things I love include blueberries (and fruit in general really), rain/storms, the dark (in most cases), soccer, running (or, well, as much as one can love voluntarily torturing oneself /lh), the ocean, nature, the stars, and worldbuilding!

But I’ve gotten away from the point of this, now- ice cream. I’d say I’m probably a scoop of vanilla on top of orange ice cream in a cake cone (although, I can’t say I’ve ever had orange ice cream? But anything bright and citrusy works xD). The vanilla makes me appear quite plain and boring from the outside, a touch of sweetness, but pretty much ordinary. However, once you get to know me better and break through that outer layer, you’ll find a bright personality with the orange, all atop a cake cone, that may or may not crumble at any minute if you put too much stress on it.

Well, this has been quite fun, hasn’t it! For once I’m not procrastinating, which is a delightful feeling, and I’ve quite enjoyed introducing myself hehe. Super excited to get to know everyone, and whether or not you’re a fantastic folklorian, always feel free to stop by <33
(1075 words)

July 2
Somewhere in the deep recesses of your mind, regurgitate five random words into the comment section. Now, gobble down somebody else's five random words and write 300 words using those delicious words as a prompt to earn 200 points! Sharing the daily you wrote with those scrumptious vomitted words will allow you to slurp up an extra 50 points.

Words gobbled from @misuhk : rain, sullen, ache, daffodil, muffle

The city was rainy about 95 percent of the year. It was that kind of city where the streets were lined with more skyscrapers than leafy plants, and corners were occupied only by major corporations. Anyssa seemed to think the sky reflected the mood of these glum buildings, all hard edges and glass and steel and grey, translating it into heavy sheets of rain that seemed to hover over the town no matter how strong the winds blew.

And when the weather was gloomy, it usually put people into a sort of somber, sullen mood, as if the storms had to suck all the life out of people when the thunder started to roar. People just move through life in a foggy haze for a while, and when the rain lasts long enough, hiding the bright sun, the city shifts into a state of eternal sadness…

And so did Anyssa. It was hard to see anything worth waking up for in a town such as this one, where the only interesting thing that occurred was during town meetings, and the only thing to do was watch the lightning dance across the horizon and make bets on the shade of the clouds the next day.

Some nights she would wake up, and walk out of her little house, and look for the stars.

But she never found any.

- - -

As they lived in their smoke and rain infested town, the world spun on.

As time moved like molasses through their dull and dreary lives, the world spun round and round, as as it spun, it listened.

It listened to the strangled croaks of the birds flying away, the muffled whispers of the townspeople, the dimming light of the stars, and the cries of the wild, wishing to creep in around the edges of the town, but not daring to soak in the polluted air.

And then the Earth made a decision.

- - -

Only the crickets were awake that night, when a single seed fell from the sky, floating towards the center of town.

They watched carefully, as it seemed to descend in slow motion, like an ethereal being, before disappearing between a crack in the rock.

At that moment, a little girl walked out of her home and into the chilly night air, arms wrapped around herself. She waited, and then made her way to that same town square, searching for something in the sky, until her ankle brushed a leaf.

Startled, she looked down, and gasped.

- - -

Where there once was a bleak road, I grew. Blossoming in the nonexistent light of the moon, I let my roots sink into the gravel, my stem grow tall and steady, and my petals blossomed, until there was a spot of bright yellow in the grey.

- - -

A daffodil, she thought, bending down to run her fingers along the silky leaves, the thick leaves, so brilliant green. It was unlike anything she’d seen before, but so beautiful-

She glanced up at the sky again.

- - -

Earth watched as the girl bent down to touch the delicate flower, and then as she looked to the sky, and made one more choice.

For a second, the clouds parted, revealing a single star.

As the girl’s face broke into a grin, the Earth let herself rest once more.
(547)

hahaha yess thanks for using my wordss

THE CHANDELIER
(an excerpt from the illustrious The Ballad of Fitz and the Chandelier)

I must confess- my life is boring. I live amongst riches, bedazzled and bejeweled for eternity, radiating with an ethereal glow. However, each day is the same. I wake up. I just stay there. I sleep. Repeat. Long ago, I thought that maybe, just maybe, I would get to travel the world, maybe I would get to meet others, maybe I could find a partner. I’ve lived long enough to find out that those things definitely won’t happen anytime soon.

Most of my waking hours are consumed by the delightful views of crystal encrusted walls and pale ceilings (I’m hoping my sarcastic tone is evident through this diary; if you can’t tell, I’m rolling my eyes). Sometimes, I get the treat of seeing others below. Living, breathing people. People who actually have a life, people who aren’t restricted to the ceiling, people who get to see the world. I’ll admit, I’m a little jealous of them. They have all of this interesting drama about who’s with who and whatnot. Basically, things my kind never had to deal with. Because, well, you know, we’re chandeliers. It’s pretty self-explanatory. The most interesting thing that happens to us is when we get to tease other light fixtures about their vantage points, or the amount of people that must change their bulbs.

Ah, to have someone run their strange elven fingers over your glass is the optimal romantic achievement.

I have never known this deep connection, one that comes with the honesty and truth of physical touch. I reach out my light, my soul, but I cannot reach out my limbs- I am forever waiting for someone to reach out to me.

And I fear I will be waiting forever.

(the ballad of fitz and the chandelier was a kotlc fanfiction my friend and i were working on a while ago that ultimately was never finished ahaha)

July 5
Quick, look to your left! The first object you see will be the topic of your daily. Imagine what would happen if you put it into a smoothie—what would it look like? What strange powers would it give you? Write 200 words to earn 200 points, and share your smoothie in the comments for an additional 50 points.

Come one, come all to the annual Folklore Smoothie Fest! This August we’re whipping up thirteen new flavors, guaranteed to send you a golden rush of happiness. It’s safe to say everything has changed in terms of taste, but they remain delicious forever and always.

Let’s take a look at our brand new bestseller, projected for high sales this year: the Music Stand Smoothie!

This smoothie is a deep midnight blue in color, yet it sparkles like starlight, topped with a foaming lavender haze, and served in an extravagantly bejeweled cup. If you lean in to soak up the smell, you’ll catch a whiff of the essence of time- a combination of things old and new, blended together to create this enchanting mixture.

The timeless delicacy of music is one that inspires, calms, and grows. Music is an eternal binding between the wonderlands of imagination and reality, offering a sense of peace and tranquility to the soul, mind, and body. When things start to seem hectic, simply take a sip for a mental breath of fresh air and music. It soothes and relaxes you, sending you to a mental place where you can continue to work productively and efficiently. The sweeter than fiction taste is exactly what you need on a cold day to ease the tiredness in your bones and provide motivation and a break from stress.

If it’s a time of chaos and craziness in your life, it’s time to go to the Folklore Smoothie Fest to pick up a Music Stand Smoothie! Run on down to your local coney island to satisfy your wildest dreams- it’s sure to be the best day of your life, and ensure that your summer is not at all cruel <3
(289)

July 6
For many authors, listening to their favourite songs is an important part of the creative writing process. But have you ever tried to write your very own song? If the answer is no, then there’s never been a better time to start! And since this is a bi-daily, you’ll have two days to complete the following task.
Begin by reading this workshop on songwriting by daily team member and songwriter @-Alocasia: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6722906 . Then, in at least 300 words, write the lyrics to your very own original song (including chorus repeats). You will receive 400 points for confirming you did the bi-daily, with an extra 100 points up for grabs if you share your writing!

Listen
Do you hear your heartbeat
Pounding
As if it knows that everyone’s
Watching
Judging
Staring

It’s like people seem to think
The world needs to be perfect
That you need to be just right
So fine
Think of nothing but yourself
And what’s on the line…

But if the castle came crumbling down
If the world split in two
If the moon didn’t spin around
The only thing
I think of
Is you

So take my hand
I will take you somewhere alone
Where the sky meets the sea with the wind in the trees
So follow me
We can find somewhere no one knows
Away from prying eyes, we won’t have to hide
Who we are
We can dance with the stars
For eternity

Just you and me

(instrumental)

Silence
What if the world just became
Silent
What if the thoughts and voices
Died out
Stop now
I don’t want to hear their
Words anymore
Cut into your soul
And break apart
Your fragile heart

Cause if the castle came crumbling down
If the world split in two
If the moon didn’t spin around
The only thing
I think of
Is you

So take my hand
I will take you somewhere alone
Where the sky meets the sea with the wind in the trees
So follow me
We can find somewhere no one knows
Away from prying eyes, we won’t have to hide
Who we are
We can dance with the stars
For eternity

Just you and meee
Just you and meee
Just you and me

And so I
Hold you close
Whisper
To soften their blows
Cause words
Do more damage than knives
And the pain
Was already beneath your skin
Fighting battles hard to win
But you rose
Against all odds of the storm
You fought back as the thunder roared
And then you looked at me and

Took my hand
We will go somewhere all alone
With the sky and seas and the wind in the trees
You followed me
We will find somewhere no one knows
On our own tonight, we don’t have to hide
Who we are
We can dance in the stars
For eternity

Just you and me
(366)

Weekly 1

part one:
Image chosen- dream big ( https://www.onceuponapicture.co.uk/portfolio_page/dream-big/ )

The girl looked up at the stars, and watched silently as a giant whale swam through the sky. Its figure was overlaid in a sort of grid, making it look geometric as it moved, but there was a strange sense that came with feeling so interminably small compared to the world around you. She reached her hand towards the sky, fingers splayed as if reaching for something she couldn’t quite grasp, as if trying to touch the whale, run her fingers along it’s starry surface.

The sky… it had this brilliance to it that wasn’t quite explainable. Stars, billions of them, hung suspended overhead, overlapping and intertwining until their light seemed to be a tangible thing floating amidst the clouds and galaxies. It seemed almost as if the world were on fire– the light was so bright and vibrant and bold that if she hadn’t known better, they could’ve been flames, devouring the horizon.

The ground beneath her was stacks of books; she could almost feel her feet pressing into their pages. They were stacked so high, yet they felt so stable beneath her feet, easily holding her as if she was standing on solid ground rather than mountains of inked pages and leather covers. There was a dog beside her, caramel fur nearly blending in with the books. It’s tail seemed to ribbon away from it, disappearing off into the stars– it’s normal appearance? Or did the strange starry world she was in change it?

She ran a hand through the dog’s fur, scratching it behind the ears. It’s head lifted, as if following her gaze up into the sky, and there they stood for a few moments, just breathing in the simplicity of this universe. A girl and a dog, surrounded by a land of books and stars.

One could call it picturesque.

(305)

part two:
dish - grilled cheese sandwich
(grilled cheese always seems like a bit of an american staple, i suppose?)

A knock at the door startled me out of eating my grilled cheese. Perhaps I wouldn’t have been so startled if I’d actually been eating the sandwich… I’ll admit, it was being neglected as I stared off into space, letting my thoughts run rampant in that empty cavern that was my brain.

I froze for a second, still stuck between reality and whatever was happening in my head. There’s a weird lag in a sense, when one tries to switch from thinking to doing something, especially when they’re lost in their thoughts, so it took me a moment to process.

Oh, the door.

By that time someone had rang the doorbell, and I nearly ran to get it, abandoning my plate once again. I unlocked it, and then pulled it open to see–

“Olly?” I said, confused.

Oliver, my lifelong best friend, stood in the doorway, hands in his pockets. His head was tilted down slightly, but he raised it just enough to look at me. In that second, I knew something was wrong.

He drew in a breath. “Uh, hey. Can I come in?”

“Oh, uh, sure. Yeah. Come in.” I opened the door a bit wider to let him past. “Do you want a grilled cheese? Mom’s been stress cooking all week, so we’ve got lots of sandwiches.” I laughed but it felt empty.

He smiled, but there was a light missing in his eyes. “Sure, thanks.”

We stood there awkwardly in the entry for a minute. My thoughts spiraled again, but I managed not to let myself go into full anxiety-attack mode at his sudden appearance. I was not one who enjoyed surprises, to say the least, and Olly knew that– so why his unplanned visit?

I couldn’t help but think something was terribly wrong.

Olly followed me into the kitchen, and sat down at the table across from my forgotten grilled cheese. After a few moments, I handed him one of his own and sat back down. “So…” I trailed off, not sure what exactly was going on. “What’s up?”

“The sky,” he answered automatically. I laughed slightly, but it felt too loud and too wrong for the time.

He ran his fingers through his close cropped hair. There were times I’d wondered… I internally shook my head. This wasn’t the time for fantasizing; something was clearly wrong.

Olly opened his mouth as if to start saying something, but then closed it, before finally speaking. “My mom… so… this is… I–” he stopped, letting his face fall into his hands.

I sat there for a moment, not sure what to do.

Comfort him, Avery! some hidden part of my brain yelled suddenly.

“What’s wrong? What’s going on? Olly, is everything okay?”

“I’m sorry, Avery, I’m so sorry-” he seemed to finally break down in that minute, and me being the anxiety-driven person I was, had no idea what to do. He cradled his head in his hands. “We’re moving,” he finally whispered, “across the country.”

There was silence in the kitchen.

Olly’s eyes met mine across the table and I found myself frozen, unable to move.

Inseparable. We had been inseparable for the entirety of twelve years and now he was moving?

I blinked finally, and his head fell back into his hands. “My dad…” he trailed off. Nothing else needed to be said.

I didn’t speak. My throat felt like it was constricting, blocking air from getting into my lungs, I felt like I might choke on nothing and everything all at once oh my God Olly why did you have to leave–

I wanted to say something but all I could do was sit there as a tear started to roll down my cheek. A sob choked its way out of my lips and then I was crying and he was crying and we were both letting loose a dam of emotions and pain and sadness.

He got up after a moment, after a few seconds of silent shaking sobs from my side of the table, and came around, leaning over to hug me. His arms wrapped around my shoulders but I didn’t stop crying. Couldn’t. My best friend. Would be gone.

I rose to my feet, wiping the tears off my face, and practically fell into his embrace, leaning my head against his chest.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” he kept whispering into my hair as we cried. The hardest part wasn’t even the fact that he was moving, it was the nagging in the back of my mind that maybe this was final maybe he’s going to forget about and move on and not need you anymore and and and–

I told it to shut up.

It didn’t work.

“Don’t cry, Avery,” he said, pulling away. “I’ll always be here, even if it’s not physically, okay?”

“That’s not the same,” I managed to say back. The intrusive thoughts struck again.

“I have to go, I’m sorry, Dad wants me to get ready to leave and–” he stopped. “I’ll miss you, Avery.”

His goodbye felt hollow, but maybe he just didn’t know how to do it either.

An hour later I still sat at that little kitchen table, staring off into the distance as if already imagining the space between Olly and I. For the first time that night, I picked up my sandwich, almost mechanically. I pulled the two halves apart, but watched as the cheese strung between them, binding them together despite the neglect.

And for the first time I wondered if Olly and I could be like that.

Connected even as we drift apart.
(934 – i’ll admit that was terrible writing omg)

part three:
story/motif chosen: the lion the witch and the wardrobe/lamp-post - discovery

(note: i have actually read this book but i can’t really remember exactly how everything went alsdkfasd so this isn’t entirely accurate i’m sure ahaha)

She began to walk forward, crunch-crunch over the snow and through the wood towards the other light. In about ten minutes she reached it and found it was a lamp-post. As she stood looking at it, wondering why there was a lamp-post in the middle of a wood and wondering what to do next, she heard a pitter patter of feet coming towards her.

Lucy spun around, eyes wide. Her slightly oversized coat hung loose around her shoulders, and she had to hug it close to her chest so it didn’t slip off. The cold stung her face, the bitter wind biting at her cheeks.

She glanced around frantically, trying to see where the noise had come from… it sounded close, much closer than she was comfortable with. Slowly she moved behind the lamp-post; it didn’t offer much other than a slight amount of comfort.

“Good evening, miss!” The voice came from behind her, and Lucy yelped, turning and finding herself face to face with a man of sorts.

He appeared to be half-goat, half-man, with the bare torso of a human being and the furry legs of an animal. He wore nothing but a long red scarf, which trailed almost all the way to his hooves, and had two ears that seemed to stick directly out the sides of his head a few inches.

Lucy stumbled backward, trying to put the lamp-post between her and the figure.

“No, no, wait, I’m not going to hurt you!” he stammered, staggering to try and hang on to the various packages he was carrying. “If you don’t mind me asking, are you lost?”

“I’m not sure,” Lucy replied cautiously. “But I certainly don’t know where I am.”

He nodded as if he knew exactly what she was talking about. “Being lost is subjective, I suppose.” He paused as if contemplating this. “One could be lost in a place they’ve been hundreds of times before, yet right where they’re meant to be in a place they’ve never seen. Alas, it seems to me that you did not intend to be here?” He glanced at the coat she’d grabbed from the wardrobe.

“No, not exactly.” Lucy stepped out from behind the lamp-post. “What are you?” She didn’t intend for the question to be rude of any sort; she was simply a curious child.

“Many things,” he replied solemnly. “I suppose you’ve never seen the likes of me before, have you?” His voice sounded sad in a way. It occurred to her at that moment that perhaps this man was lost in his own way. Alone.

She shook her head.

“I’m a faun. Half-goat, half-man. And what are you?”

Lucy smiled. “A girl.”

“Well then, little girl, what are you doing out here in the woods?”

“I don’t exactly know.”

He nodded again. “I find I tend to wander around as well. Where did you mean to be?”

Lucy paused. “In a wardrobe… I was in a wardrobe. And then I ended up here?”

“Well isn’t that a conundrum!” the faun grinned. “You must be freezing, oh dear. Come along, child, let me make you a cup of tea.”

Lucy considered this. On one hand, he was quite the strange fellow, and Susan had told her not to follow strangers… However, it would be quite improper to turn down an offer of tea, and she really was quite cold.

He held out his hand to her, and she took it.

As the sun drifted into its bed beneath the horizon, the sparks of friendship were already blooming in the snow.
(531)

part four:

Death. By all accounts it was a curious prospect for a child to make sense of; a young girl should not need to worry herself with the complexity of what it means to die– to cease, by some degree, to exist in the mortal realm. Yet, there she was, a girl of about eight, considering a thing so far beyond her years as she lay in a bed of broken dreams and forgotten whispers.

Before you get the wrong idea, however, it’s important that I tell you she was not thinking of death in terms of herself, but rather as the product of several terrible occurrences in the past few days of her young life. It was simply a method for her to cope with the grief of great loss of life– to think it over, imagine what could’ve happened differently, how it might’ve happened in the first place. I promise you, dear reader, she was not planning on death overtaking herself.

It seemed to her that death could be a great many things, a number of complicated metaphors used to describe the indescribable notion of dying. The snip of a thread, the sinking of a ship in a storm, a bed of flowers after a terrible rain… it depended on a series of circumstances, a bit like a set of converging rivers. Many different things, coming together as one final destination– death, and whatever came after.

That was the problem in question, for the young girl: what came after death?

If you were to watch her, you would see the moonlight rising in through her bedroom window, illuminated tear-stained cheeks. She was deep in thought, lost amidst a world of memories, staring up at the ceiling as if it had the secrets to the universe etched in its plaster.

Sleep didn’t come to the child for a long time, not until the skies had grown nearly pitch black if not for the faint light of stars and the glowing orb that was the moon.

- - -

There was something ethereal about her dreams that night, she decided upon later reflection.

She was walking on a bridge of books, hopping between mile-high stacks of them, feeling the soles of her bare feet pushing into their leather covers. There was something tranquil about the sensation of skin to a book, as if the knowledge and solace found within their inked pages was creeping into her mind.

Dreams did not come naturally to a child of her intellect, and generally speaking her nightly thoughts consisted of philosophical questions and past faults, more like a lesson than an escape, in a sense. So to be at ease in a dream, though unusual, was most pleasurable, it seemed.

The best part was the sky, alight with billions of stars. They painted a picture with thousands of colors, all twinkling in whatever fading sunlight there was in a dream world. The horizon seemed to be on fire, so many colors overlapping and intertwining with such a vibrant light that it appeared the world was engulfed in flames.

She stopped, letting the silence wash over her.

There was a bark from behind her, the sound of a dog, playful and curious all at once. She turned, and some sort of emotion seemed to engulf her face. Perhaps it was nostalgia, perhaps sadness, or maybe a mixture of the two, a sort of sentimentality at seeing that little brown dog, with a tail that ribboned off into space.

What you might not know, dear reader, is that this dog was a reminder of something dear to her, something that she’d lost not long ago. Perhaps, more of a someone than a something.

A friend. A father.

She ran her fingers through its fur, and then scratched it behind the ears, bending down to let it lick her face. It barked again, and then nodded its head back toward the sky. With a sort of confused expression, our young heroine looked back to the stars.

There swam a whale. A giant creature, with geometrically outlined features of starlight. It glittered as it looked down at her from the sky, a gaze solemn and cautious, in a sense, but loving all the same.

Memories crashed through her mind, images of a little porcelain whale lying on a bedside table, where a mother used to lay.

And in this moment, she did start to cry.

- - -

There is a difference between crying of sadness and crying of peace, it appeared, and while the girl’s tears lay somewhere in the grey space between, she was crying not because of what she’d lost.

Rather, she cried because she found what came after death, where her parents’ souls flew away too when they lay in their graves.

The truth was, they never really left. They were always there, guiding her, illuminating her darknest hours.

And with that sense of peace, she finally drifted into a dreamless sleep.

(821 – this became very rambling-y (romabling-y :sparkles: ) )

FINAL WORD COUNT: 2591 words

Weekly 2

part one:
workshop idea by the marvelous moonlit ( @moonlitseas ) – “tell us about a mythology that isn't greek or roman + tips on writing with it”

so, without further ado, i bring you a workshop on writing egyptian mythology!!

I. what is mythology?
Mythology, in its essence, is a collection of stories and myths revolving around a particular shared culture or religion. Many prominent examples trace back to Greek and Roman mythology, including the stories of Hercules, Odysseus (the Epic fans out there ;D), and Orpheus and Eurydice (Hadestown)!

It really is a broad genre, with a lot of room to explore different systems of belief– it’s a great way to unlock a variety of unique perspectives and worldviews, and understand the foundation of how people see Earth’s existence.

II. an overview of writing mythology

Writing in a world of mythology is a bit like writing fanfiction – oftentimes, the stories you draw inspiration from have already been created, complete with an extensive amount of characters, worldbuilding, and lore to explore and play with. This is perhaps the most important part of writing in this genre: understanding the setting, the people, and how much you want to alter it in order to keep your writing feeling authentic, yet still interwoven with myth. The trick, it seems, is to find a balance that suits the needs of your story.

It’s important to make sure the way you incorporate the myths isn't the exact same as the original. By keeping things the same, you lose the individuality of your story; readers don’t discover anything new from re-reading the same old legends. Some strategies to set your tale apart include switching the perspective, blurring the lines of hero and villain (and in some cases switching roles entirely), and changing the setting (time and place), however one of the most effective ways to make it your own is to dive into the characters, the myth, or the world, and twist it into something special that still feels true to the original.

A good way to get a feel for the subtle ways in which you can change a myth is to delve deep into the story. Read lots of versions of the character you’re focusing on, the world you’re writing in, or the myth you’re hoping to recreate. First, focus on the “rules”: the norms of the myth; perhaps the characters’ motivation and personality, or the essential world building elements. Once you understand these “rules”, you’re better equipped to break them!

Now, use a bit of imagination and creativity to sort through these pieces. Pick out some of the underlying parts of characters, etc, and think about ways to alter them, creating new ideas out of the existing bits in a way that is special to you and your work.

Writing with mythology is a delicate balance of new and old, yet when done right, the result is something especially memorable.

III. egyptian mythology, an introduction and overview

Egyptian mythology is a collection of myths relating to the polytheistic religion of Ancient Egypt. It’s a religion with a heavy influence on balance– balance between humanity and gods, life and death, maat (order) and isfet (chaos).

Gods/goddesses and myths in Egyptian mythology can be varied across sources, much like religions and beliefs today. Deities were generally portrayed as human-like figures with the heads of animals, and what could be considered a principal association with a specific thing (for example, the sun or crocodiles). However, occasionally these overlapped, especially with major gods. In addition to this, there could be several forms of the same god or goddess, like Ra (more on him later) and Hathor/Sekhmet (who was switched between forms as the goddess of cows and the goddess of lions). Myths in general could be different depending on the sources, an example being the specifics of Nut’s birth to her children and Ra’s journey across the sky, as well as many others.

FUNDAMENTALS—
MA’AT & ISFET:
Ma’at was seen as the physical being or force of order and peace, while Isfet was chaos (Apophis being the embodiment of this chaos, and Set(h) being the god of it). The gods and King were supposed to maintain a balance of the two, primarily by keeping overwhelming chaos at bay.

THE DUAT:
The Duat was the Ancient Egyptian representation of an afterlife or underworld.

PARTS OF A SOUL:
Ancient Egyptians saw the soul as being divided into five parts– the ba, ren, sheut/shuyet, ib, and ka (some sources split these further, diving into 9 parts, or some lump them together into three, but the parts remain the same in essence, regardless).

BA – the soul (plural: bau)
One’s ba is seen as their soul, or more accurately, the effect, reputation, or personality in regards to the world around them. It’s anchored to one’s living form, but can be released in death, and possibly when sleeping, with the ability to travel between the world of the living, the Duat, and the heavens.

REN – the name
One’s ren is their name. The Egyptians believed in the concept of a secret, hidden name which exists only within one’s heart, as the essence of their identity and the embodiment of who they are.

SHUYET – the shadow
One’s sheut or shuyet is their shadow. The shadow requires protection, and in turn will protect the soul in the afterlife.

IB – the heart
One’s ib is their heart, which defines said person. It’s their measurement of good and evil, and is weighed against a Feather of Truth in the Hall of Judgement.

KA – the life force
One’s ka is their life force, different from their physical form. It’s the personality of a person, essentially a duplicate of their body that encompasses their essence.

The akh and khat are two other parts of a person or soul that are represented in Egyptian mythology.

AKH – the spirit
One’s akh is their spirit, the form of a merged ba and ka after a spirit passes the House of Judgement.

KHAT – the physical body
One’s khat is their physical body, the part of them that will be left in the living realm after they die, in the remains of a corpse.


DEITIES—
RA (also known as Re, Amun-Ra, Amun-Re, and various other names): the god of the sun; merges with other gods to create the morning, noon, and evening suns

SHU – the god of wind and air; tasked with keeping Nut and Geb apart for eternity; husband of Tefnut

TEFNUT – the goddess of rain; wife of Shu

NUT – the goddess of the sky; daughter of Shu and Tefnut, wife of Geb

GEB – the god of the earth; son of Shu and Tefnut, husband of Nut

OSIRIS – the god of the dead; eldest son of Nut and Geb, husband of Isis, father of Horus

ISIS – the goddess of motherhood, love, and healing; daughter of Nut and Geb, wife of Osiris, mother of Horus

SET – the god of chaos; son of Nut and Geb, husband of Nephthys

NEPHTHYS – portrayed with varying associations, including water, air, and night; protector of the dead; daughter of Nut and Geb, wife of Set

HORUS – the god of war & sky; protector of the pharaoh (pharaohs were considered human forms of Horus); son of Nut and Geb, son of Isis and Osiris

THOTH – the god of god of the moon, sacred texts, mathematics, science, magic, scribes, and knowledge; messenger and recorder of the deities; parentage is in some cases Ra and other cases is unknown

SEKHMET/HATHOR – the goddess of war and destruction (and when she becomes Hathor, of love and pleasure)

SOBEK – the lord of crocodiles; son of Set

ANUBIS – the god of death & funerals, tasked with helping those transitioning from life to death

NEITH – the goddess of creation, weaving, wisdom, and war

BES – protector of children; portrayed as a dwarf-like being

BASTET – goddess of cats, women, and children; daughter of Ra, wife of Ptah

PTAH – the god of craftspeople and architects; said to speak life to everything; husband of Bastet

KHONSU – the god of the moon

APOPHIS – the chaos snake

AMMIT – the devourer of the dead


MYTHS—
THE CREATION OF THE WORLD
It’s said that everything began with Ra (or in some versions, Atum, a deity similar to Ra with the power of creation), surrounded by nothing but an expanse of chaos and water, known as Nun. Ra was able to bring things into existence simply by speaking them, and as he was lonely, he brought forth the gods of wind and rain– Shu and Tefnut, who had two children, Nut and Geb. From there, gods were created, until the ultimate birth of humanity.

THE SUN’S JOURNEY
The solar cycle, the path and journey of the sun, was said to exist because of Ra. Every day, he traveled across the sky in his barge, and at night, he descended into the Duat, where he would sail the River of Night. Each night, he was attacked by Apophis, the chaos snake, and Ra and his companions (primarily consisting of other gods/goddesses protecting him) would fend it off.

CHILDREN OF NUT
Nut was to give birth to five children, but Ra forbade her from doing so on any day of the year. She went to Thoth for advice, and eventually from there to Khonsu, with whom she gambled for extra moonlight in order to create five days at the end of the year. Each of her children, Osiris, Isis, Nephthys, Set, and Horus, were born on one of these days.

RA’S SECRET NAME
From dust and Ra’s spittle, Isis is described as creating a snake, which she then placed in Ra’s path, where it bit him. The venom sunk into his body, and since it was created from part of him (his spittle), he was unable to purge the poison. He had no choice but to call upon Isis for help, and the only way for her to heal was for him to reveal his secret name, which would give her a somewhat dangerous level of power over him. She did cure Ra, however the knowledge of his secret name remained in her.

There are several variations of this particular myth: in many cases, Isis used this power to force him to step down from pharaoh, as he no longer was serving the people well, and they were getting restless and angry. By him stepping down, her husband, Osiris, took the throne, and the people began to flourish again. Her motive, however, depends on the retelling, whether it was her own interests or the interests of the people at heart.

BATTLES FOR PHARAOH
Osiris ruled fair and wisely for a time, bringing new knowledge to the world of man, including that of farming and agriculture. He kept harmony and ma’at, yet his brother, Set, grew envious of him.

Set hatched a plan to rid the land of Osiris, and crafted a chest to his exact size. Osiris was tricked into getting in the chest, and Set then slammed the lid and sent him down the river, getting rid of him and claiming the throne for himself.

Isis refused to believe he was dead, and went searching for him, so Set eventually collected him and cut him into 14 (some sources claim 42) pieces, which were scattered across Egypt.

After a time, all the pieces except one were found by Isis and Nephthys, who managed to give him new life: the ruler and judge of the underworld. Horus, the child of Isis and Osiris, in turn, fought against Set, and defeated him, avenging his father and claiming the throne of Egypt.

THE HALL OF JUDGEMENT
One of Osiris’ duties as judge of the afterlife was to preside over the Hall of Judgement. As people died, before being admitted into the Field of Reeds, the peaceful afterlife for Egyptians, they had to pass through the Hall of Judgement, where their ib – their heart – would be weighed against the Feather of Truth. If their heart was light and pure, they would pass. However, if it was heavier than the feather, it would fall to the ground and be devoured by Ammit.

WRAP UP—
Egyptian mythology is a fluid thing, with overlapping sources and some set entirely apart, and a wide variety of myth and deities. This isn’t the entire collection of legends by any stretch, but it can provide a basic understanding of the way Ancient Egyptians saw the world, and their perspective offers clarity into a world of gods, chaos, and balance.

iv. in conclusion
There’s a whole world of mythology out for the exploring, whether it be the complex history of Egyptian legends, Greek and Roman gods, Norse concepts, or an entirely different belief system. This workshop only scratches the surface of one, but hopefully it was able to offer insight into Ancient Egyptians and their complicated system of making sense of what the Earth had to offer.

Thank you for reading <33
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v. bibliography
https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-fiction/the-new-greek-mythology-and-writing-retellings
https://www.britannica.com/topic/ancient-Egyptian-religion/The-world-of-the-dead
https://egyptianmuseum.org/deities-overview (and the subpages provided)
https://ancientegyptonline.co.uk/soul/
https://www.worldhistory.org/article/1023/the-soul-in-ancient-egypt/
https://ancientegyptonline.co.uk/isisra/
https://www.britannica.com/topic/Osiris-Egyptian-god
Kane Chronicles/Kane Chronicles Survival Guide (both of which were written using factual evidence) by Rick Riordan for providing a basis of which I understood Egyptian mythology, so I therefore could connect ideas across sources easier ahaha (i would absolutely recommend this to anyone who wants to explore egyptian mythology is a fictional sense; it's a great example of writing in a mythology genre and adding your own twist to old myths <3)

part 2:
workshop used: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7381103/ by @silvxrywaves

Aleia was used to betrayal. She was used to the hurt, the pain, the fear, the sorrow… but just because she was used to it, didn’t mean it didn’t hurt.

In truth, it still felt like her insides were being torn apart, like the very fiber of her being was being ripped and torn into shreds, as if the essence of her humanity was crumbling to dust between her pale fingers, leaving on a cavern of empty space where a shred of her decency used to lie.

I’m supposed to be the hero of this story, was all she could think, flipping the thought back and forth between her teeth. It was supposed to be her, the one who escaped the clutches of that stupid magician who’d dragged her here in the first place…

She wasn’t supposed to be crumpled on the floor of a cell, after being betrayed by her closest friend and ally.

Stupid Aleia. Stupid, stupid Aleia–

She pounded her fist on the ground, a sudden rage coursing through her veins. Blood dripped off her knuckle onto the floor, yet she did it again, over and over, until the skin of her hands was a scraped and bl00dy mess. She screamed, white hot anger flooding her senses—

Don’t lose control don’t lose control don’t lose control.

Aleia paused.

She drew in a breath.

She calmed down, for a second.

But why?

The words seemed to come from somewhere deep inside her, a tucked away little corner of her mind. It was enough to make her question everything; all the twisted lies, the scattered loyalties… was this who she was now? Someone who didn’t dare stand up for herself? What was the point of staying loyal when everyone else betrayed her anyway? She was a freak; they’d said so themselves. Maybe it was time to embrace that freak inside her.

She let out another scream, and inhuman power pulsed through her body, a deep darkness she’d left tampered down inside for so long. A power thick with the residue of anger and pain and suffering and betrayal and a desperate desire for revenge.

After only a split second of hesitation, it came loose.

The power exploded around her, bursting in what could only be described as an explosion. The door of the cell blew clear off its hinges, crashing with a bang against the opposite wall. Dust filled the room, and out of it stepped a girl entirely different than before.

No longer would she bow her head to those who’d wronged her or cower at the feet of her oppressors– no, she was stepping into herself, and that dark power that festered in the pit of her stomach gave her a strength she didn’t know she needed.

Oh, yes, the world needed to watch out. Aleia was going to take what was rightfully hers, the thirst for revenge thick on her blood stained lips.

She was used to the betrayal, but that didn’t mean she had to accept it.
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part three:
critique for sofi <33 ( @Fantastical_Words ): https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7383789/

“I’m going out for a bike ride.” Myra tugged her dirt smudged trainers onto her feet.
“Okay darling, we’ll have tea when you get home.”
“Alright. Don’t wait for me if I take too long. Bye,” and with that, she was out the door. Less than a minute later, she was getting on her bike and cycling away. Myra’s bike rides were the only time she ever got to herself, and they were precious minutes too. She and Ellen had been bickering again. This time, she had been looking for string in Ellen’s drawers, and she had come in and started almost screaming at her for looking at her private things. First of all, Myra didn’t think string was very private, and you’d have to be really stupid to hide something really secret in a desk drawer. Second of all, what’s the big deal anyway? Ellen had gotten into a bit of a rage, and there had been lots of door slamming from her. Ellen had a very hot temper, and when she was angry, Myra knew it was best not to say much, although hundreds of cutting remarks whirled through her head. Occasionally, though, one slipped out and they wouldn’t talk for days.
Myra found herself cycling instinctively to the cemetery. She didn’t know anyone there, except the fish in the pond, of course, but it was nice to be totally and utterly alone. People generally kept themselves distanced from a teenager all by herself in a cemetery; Myra despised the ‘grumpy emo teenager’ stereotype, but sometimes it worked in her favour.
She rested her bike against an iron railing, then looked into the pond to see the fish. There weren’t as many as usual, but there were a few at least. She sat down and let her thoughts spill out.
“Yeah, Ellen’s angry again. She punched me this time, I don’t think there’ll be a bruise. She gets angry too quickly these days- I think it’s her friend Isa. She’s always talking about her, and she seems to have taught Ellen to be stubborn and what she thinks is heroic.” Myra sighed. Ellen could never seem to get it right. She felt her life was a movie, and Myra was some kind of villain. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, thinking about nothing at all, then got up to cycle home. She had been out for long enough, and she didn’t want questions when she got home for taking too long.
4 hours later
At the dinner table, Ellen and Myra stared at each other coldly. Myra tried not to take too much notice of Ellen’s drama queen antics, but sometimes she would say something totally wrong and put the entire conversation askew. This time she was recounting a story about someone vomiting. Myra tried to look into the distance and pretend not to be listening, but she heard every word, and her parents trying to smile and nod, and it was all she could do not to lash out at all of them. It was all so fake. She left as soon as she finished her food, leaving the room without a word, and lay down in her bed listening to music. She could imagine mum cuddling Ellen lovingly as she recounted tearfully how horribly Myra had looked through her stuff. It made her sick. But she just lay there in silence, smiling secretly to herself.
It could be worse.

hey sofi! starting with a general critique…
this is first of all pretty well written! the dynamic between ellen and myra is very clear and easy to understand, so well done in that aspect!

one thing i would say though, is to perhaps consider the way the world around the two of them handles their constant bickering– for example, their parents! what do they think of the tension between the sisters, and how do they react to it or try and deescalate the situation?

a few more specific thoughts…

“Okay darling, we’ll have tea when you get home.”
“Alright. Don’t wait for me if I take too long. Bye,” and with that, she was out the door.

two things for this spot– in the first line, you never really specified who's saying it? maybe you could add ' called from the kitchen', or something like that to clarify :>
secondly, the formatting of the second line feels a bit off. if you alter it slightly, perhaps to something like “Alright; don't wait for me if I take too long. Bye.” it might help with the flow of the sentence? otherwise it feels a bit disjointed and broken up. with the last part of the sentence, i don't think the structure there is accurate either– ‘“bye,” and with that she was out the door’ i think should be switched up some, perhaps to ‘“bye.” the door slammed behind her as she grabbed her bike, and within moments, rode off down the street.’ this can connect it to the ideas in the next paragraph a bit better, as well!

Myra’s bike rides were … they wouldn’t talk for days.

this paragraph of description really adds an insight into ellen and maya's relationship, which is awesome! i also think it's placed well in the story, as it's able to provide a peek into maya's thoughts, and also a sense of understanding as to why the bike rides are a way for her to cope with the family struggles.

“Yeah, Ellen’s angry again. She punched me this time, I don’t think there’ll be a bruise. She gets angry too quickly these days- I think it’s her friend Isa. She’s always talking about her, and she seems to have taught Ellen to be stubborn and what she thinks is heroic.” Myra sighed. Ellen could never seem to get it right. She felt her life was a movie, and Myra was some kind of villain. She closed her eyes for a few minutes, thinking about nothing at all, then got up to cycle home. She had been out for long enough, and she didn’t want questions when she got home for taking too long.

i like this bit of monologue here! though i wonder if you could add a little something about the fish hehe ;D you brought them up a few times, so tie them in a bit, you could add in a little bit about them in, maybe something along the lines of “'…and what she thinks is heroic.' The fish said nothing in return, only staring at her with empty eyes. Myra sighed.” it adds a bit of humor hehe and ties a few things together across different parts of the story ;D

But she just lay there in silence, smiling secretly to herself.
It could be worse.

this part confuses me a bit… i think the smiling somewhat contradicts the rest of her character and the stuff she was expressing earlier? i understand the last line, but i think she should do something other than smile here. perhaps she sighs, or closes her eyes, or something like that instead.

but overall, sofi this is awesome! i loved reading your writing, thank you so much for sharing <33
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2975 WORDS TOTAL

writing comp entry <3
316 words not counting title or author's note

dear emily.

i saw you today—

for a split second
the paper chains that used to bind us
were pulled taut;
fragile links
of childhood innocence
and sweet
serendipity.


it’s been a long time—

four years.
the clock ticked
perpetually from its perch
on my gnarled nightstand.
i dreamed of you,
for a time,
until thoughts of us
floated aimlessly into the
wind.


how have you been—

do you still have
those stars in your eyes
that light up when you laugh?
the lilt in your voice
that makes it sound
like you’re always smiling?
or has life
changed you
into something tougher,
a redwood
rather than a
primrose?


i’m not sure what to say—

words,
stupid words.
scribbled over and
crossed out and
erased until all that’s left are
smudges of what could’ve
been.


do you ever think of—

the fairies.
we breathed life into them,
building a reality
out of alluring
fantasies
in the cold snap
of barren winter.


i’ll never forget—

cooking with you
toy kitchens laden with
lighthearted laughter
and magic.
dreaming with you
we were puppeteers
of our own show; writers
of our own story.
being alive with you
through the teary eyes
and the tinsel;
the soft smiles
and the sorrows;
and the times when all i could do
was hold you close
and imagine the world was just
the two of
us.


we used to be so close—

a pinky promise,
fingers interlaced
until our hands were
one and the same,
beneath willow boughs
and a moonlit sky.


i can hardly remember—

that last day
last hour
last moment.
that conclusion of a school year,
end of a friendship,
final chainlink memory,
last petal from our primrose,
crumbled walls of our castle,
forgotten ribbons and rainbows,
and the rain-soaked regrets of
all the things i never said.

i never saw the moving truck
but i imagined it.

then you were gone.

author’s note (533):
whoa. that piece was kind of a roller coaster– at the start i had no idea what i was doing, to be honest, but once i had a concept, the words just kind of… came? and then i realized about half of it made no sense, so it’s only thanks to the brilliant critique i received that the piece was polished enough to become what it is now <33

poetry is something i’ve never really explored before? but i knew at the start of the session i wanted to try something new and different, and so poetry ✨ this piece is inspired by a true story hehe, a sort of conclusion to a friendship i held dear to me in elementary school. i saw her a few weeks ago in the grocery store, and even though we didn’t say anything to each other, she saw me and i saw her and we recognized each other and it put me in enough of a mental fog for the rest of the week that i knew i’d found something personal to write about.

writing something personal has always been what i want to do– i think the stories that come straight from the heart have a different sort of weight and power, something raw and genuine about them that can be really special. needless to say, i’ve never found that thing i could take out of my soul and put in words… until this poem. it’s far from perfect, i know that much, but i am proud of how i managed to express myself in literature, and so this poem with hold a special place in my heart <3

as will poetry! through writing this i’ve really been able to find a newfound appreciation for poetry and poets– all of you poetry-writers out there slay xD it was really tough finding the right word choice and structure and flow and rhythm and making sure it sounded “right” and all of these other components ahaha, but i really did love every second of it. i was able to capture more with less, and play with a lot of different metaphors which was so much fun hehe– i’ll definitely be writing more poetry in the future.

in conclusion, this could not have been done without the help of several people:
glowsy, alia, moonsy, rea, and sofi– your critiques and help were so so appreciated ahh, thank you for the general overviews of what made sense and how everything fit together, as well as the lines that stood out to you (both in a good way and what to fix). yall are amazing <33
elfie and zai– YOU POETRY GENIUSES tysmm for the line by line sort of critique, reading through and using your epic poetry writing skills to take this apart and look at the nitpicky stuff; you both were incredibly helpful and made this piece so much better <33
the kitten/goose family for all of your support and encouragement!!
emily (a pseudonym for the actual friend hehe) for inspiring this ✨
judges for judging yall are amazing <3
and the sleeping at last albums which i listened to so much while working on this xDD

critique for @clevercomment

hi clev! here's my critique <3

Noah woke up with the sun and the city. Of course, the city didn’t wake up, as it was never asleep; it simply arose from a temporary dormancy.

okay, i love the concept of this line– the idea of the city never exactly sleeping makes perfect sense hehe. however, i feel like saying he woke with the city, immediately followed by the city never wakes up feels a bit off in a sense? maybe instead of saying “of course, the city didn't wake up” you could make it more of a question of sorts, like “well, the city didn't exactly wake up, as it never seemed to be completely asleep; it simply…” but that might just be personal preference and i tend to write with lots of “perhaps” and “seemed” xD

Every day recycled the same formula: waking, working, worrying, and wasting.

ooh i like the alliteration here!!

Snow’s snores from across the room reminded him of his not-quite loneliness. At least someone was resting - waking up Snow was about as easy as falling asleep.

two things in this spot! i wonder if here you could reference his relationship with snow, which i don't think you ever really clarify? like saying “waking up (his sister/friend/etc) was about as easy as…” to give a feel for how the pair is related and secondly, the simile in the second sentence feels a little funky… i'm not exactly sure what you're trying to portray there, so maybe give a different comparison?

As he got ready, he thought about his day to come. Noah took a deep breath. I can do this. What does one more day have on me?

just a presentation note– i'd distinguish his thoughts somehow, perhaps italicize them?

He was out of the apartment (if you could call it one) by six.

i'd take out the “(if you could call it one)” but something about this sentence is really nice xD it kind of gives a finality that leads you into the next moment if that makes sense?

Stepping out into the street, Noah was engulfed by the bustle of the city. The sound of traffic magnified by tenfold. Cars zoomed by, their tires rolling on the uneven pavement. The polluted air was full of a dozen conversations. It was an incessant hubbub. You either got used to it after a few weeks, or never.

ooh i'm loving this imagery and description!! and that last line is epic :star_struck:

He breathed in the cool morning air, and started coughing. Oh my gosh. I can’t take this anymore. He could barely see through the smog that had settled over the city.

italicize the part i bolded hehe :sparkles: and hmmm i wonder if here you could use figurative language to make the idea of the smog come to life more? well not literally come to life, but paint a clearer mental picture of the scale of it, etc

Noah was early. His watch read 6:40, its hands forming a symbol.

hmmm okay i think i would take out the “its hands forming a symbol” out? idk if that exactly makes a whole lot of sense to define just a “symbol” ahaha– i do get what you're trying to go for hehe <3 and then from there, to fix the structure aspect, i think maybe you could say something like “Noah was early, 20 minutes early to be precise.” or something like that?

Ahead of him, there was a coffee shop. There was something about it that made him open the door and walk in. The bubbling sound of bells indicated his presence. The aura was ethereal; it was cozy and (for some reason) sentimental. Time slowed down in this enchanted place.

aww i love this description!! though i would remove the “(for some reason)” <3

The moment was nice; it didn’t last, but that’s what moments are.

omg i love this quote ahhh <33

Noah made it to work just on time. Out-of-breath, he sat down in his chair. Breathe. Relax.

i'd italicize the bolded parts again hehe to distinguish thoughts <3

Rain sprinkled the windows in a million tiny rivulets, and the city became nothing more than blurs. The sky wept, and the earth rejoiced.

THIS DESCRIPTION AND FIG LANG OMG I LOVE IT

“Noah, are you able to have a word with me?” Standing in front of him was a tall black-haired woman, aka his boss.

i'd alter this a bit… i think the end of this sentence feels a bit off? maybe instead say something like “… with me?” His boss stood before it, her tall frame topped with a bob of dark hair." perhaps?

She was gone before he could react. Okay, what? Wow. That’s new. Interesting.

But he smiled inside.

hmmm this is more of a personal preference, but i think you could combine these two lines and take out the thoughts– they feel a bit clunky if that makes sense? maybe something like “She was gone before he could react, but he smiled inside.”

Noah looked around at the purple-blue twilight approaching the city as he left work. He strolled with the streetlights. The rain had ended hours ago. Cool, crisp evening wind brushed by him. The city radiated a different feeling at night.

ahhh i love your descriptions of the city! though earlier you mention a thick smog… just make sure everything is consistent <3

The air was teeming with energy. The city wasn’t settling down; it was awakening for the second time.

ooh this is awesome!! i love how it connects back to the start of the piece

Then the thought hit him - he knew the perfect thing to make her. Noah rushed into the kitchen and started collecting ingredients. He loved the process of cooking and the familiarity of it. Soon, the sound of simmering water and knife chopping reached the apartment. Noah worked in a comfortable rhythm, conducting the symphony of the kitchen.

loving this description and imagery <3

She couldn’t believe it. The sudden influx of memories left her dumb. She struggled to find the right words, blinking in surprise the whole time. It had been so long, so impossibly long. Yet it was a bowl of pho sitting in front of her.

aww this is so beautiful <3 the only thing i'd say about this bit is that it seems to switch to her perspective in this paragraph? in the rest of the piece, you signified switching povs through breaks and lines, so i'd maybe find a way to switch into her pov for this bit so it feels like it flows better!

one thing you could do, and this is just an idea, but you might be able to alter some of these lines a bit… here's an example of what i mean–

Then the thought hit him - he knew the perfect thing to make her. Noah rushed into the kitchen and started collecting ingredients. He loved the process of cooking and the familiarity of it. Soon, the sound of simmering water and knife chopping reached the apartment. Noah worked in a comfortable rhythm, conducting the symphony of the kitchen.

~

“What are you making? It smells delicious,” Snow said, glancing up from her computer screen.

Noah appeared at her side with a bowl of steaming broth and noodles.

She clapped her hands to her mouth. “Is that-”

He nodded, and set the pho down beside her.

She couldn’t believe it. The sudden influx of memories left her dumb. She struggled to find the right words, blinking in surprise the whole time. It had been so long, so impossibly long. Yet it was a bowl of pho sitting in front of her.

She blinked away her tears, and hugged him.

It was perfect.

~

Noah gave Snow a small smile. The thought that he had brightened someone’s day was all that was needed to brighten his own.

Sometimes all that we need to brighten our lives is a bowl of soup.

just an concept, created from a bit of switching things around xD feel free to chop it up, twist it, mess it up however you'd like or honestly not even use it at all xD up to you <33

i love the idea of making that last sentence into something deep and introspective in a sense, but i wonder if instead of soup, you could say something like “Sometimes it's the little things that matter most.” or that kind of thing? to make it a bit more general hehe

Noah slept with the city and the stars. Sweet, blissful sleep.

another day had gone by.



and so life goes on.

LOVING THE ENDING

general thoughts

OKAY WHOA first of all, this is such a cool piece! i love the concept you incorporated at the beginning, of a repetitive life ahhh and you had some really awesome figurative language and description!! the only thing is that i kind of feel like i'm missing a theme overall– there kind of feels like a lot of separate scenes that don't quite fit together, if that makes sense? it feels a little disjointed. at the beginning, you have that repetitive life idea, and then there's the ethereal coffee shop, the boss's talk, making pho, the idea that simple things matter… it all seems a bit un-repetitive if that makes sense? like each thing is different from that waking, working, worrying, wasting formula you mentioned at the start. i wish there was an overarching theme to the whole thing that tied it all together <3

but overall, your writing is amazing!! i love your style and you have some really epic ideas– can't wait to see the finished product <333