July 31th 2023
—— final poem

Goodbye, Scratch Writing Camp
Goodbye, SWC
And thank you, campers, for the memories you made with me
Goodbye, new daily prompts
Goodbye, the weekly's rush
As every busy studio falls slowly to a hush
Though my first session this may be
I'm filled with a feeling of utter glee
To think of a session in just months three
And new fun to be had and my joy to be free

Goodbye, goodbye, SWC.

Summer’s Leader App
——————— september 2023
✧ Scratch Writing Camp ✧

1. About me
Summer - she/her
For many of you, leaves have begun to fall from their branches, yet for me the sun still shines as warmly as ever. Hi, I’m Summer, a Christian, writer, and avid reader! I live in the pacific (ChST), and although it’s not getting any colder here, I can feel the autumn spirit beginning to bring an air of coziness to everything. My personality type is ESFP, although I consider myself an ambivert. All my life I’ve loved finding new outlets for self expression. Languages, art, coding, music, and writing are some of them, but I think I’d have to say my passion is theater. Just a few days ago I took the final bows for Beauty and the Beast, my 8th production so far. The thrill of the stage, and the connections you can make with others regardless of age or background are something you can’t find anywhere else. I’m in my element under the limelight, and I hope to bring that enthusiasm to SWC this November.

Like many writers, I began as a reader, and I still am! My parents inspired the love of books in me through loving books themselves, and from a young age I was constantly being read to. I first began speaking at just five months old, and by the time I was four I was an independent reader. (Of course, that didn’t stop the read-alouds.) Since then I’ve come to love many books dearly, but some of my favorites, like Lord of the Rings, Harry Potter, and the Chronicles of Narnia, are still the ones my dad read to me and my siblings.

I don’t think I can write an about me and not mention fandoms. Quotations and pop culture references are an integral part of my life, and I will get into heated discussions about the Clone Wars with you if you’ll listen. As I mentioned before, I love Harry Potter (Go Ravenclaw!) and Lord of the Rings, as well as Avatar the Last Airbender, Star Wars (shows > movies), Lost in Space, and Over the Garden Wall. (And many, many more!)

2. Previous participation
July marked my first ever session of SWC, and it changed me. Here is my evidence: that June, I wrote a small piece about how I wished I would consider myself a “real” writer. Now I confidently can. The dailies helped me develop smaller aspects of writing that I’d never really thought about before. The weeklies showed me that I could write longer pieces, even if they seemed daunting. And the critique I received provided me with something that’s remarkably hard to find sometimes, a second opinion. Even though I was meeting most of these people for the first time, I felt like I fit right in. I was a camper in poetry cabin, and I enjoyed my experience beyond words.
Even before SWC began I’ve always loved to write. I still have a few copies of a series I created called “The Marshalls” when I was about 5. (Think Berenstein Bears.) When I was about 7 I started writing poetry, although I was too shy to share it with anyone but my aunt.
As for leadership experiences, I can think of several, both on scratch and in real life. A few years ago I led a group called operation inbox on scratch, which was an attempt to bring some smiles to people’s faces. Last fall I hosted my first MAP, which became a wonderful show of what teamwork can do, and even ended up being curated.

3. Cabins
I think my favorite genres to read in are fantasy and contemporary, so I would love to lead those cabins. Mythology, Sci-Fi, and Fairy Tales are also super fun genres. (I just started reading PJO, so I’d love to try out some different myths!)
Coming up with a theme sounds like a fun challenge to me, and I have several ideas! For fantasy or mythology (or even fairy tales) a theme I’d love to see is an underwater city. Campers would be underwater dollars faced with a problem: their villages are being devastated by earthquakes. Throughout the course of the month, they would investigate and try to solve this problem, which may have supernatural causes. Leading mythology seems like it would be a great opportunity to explore global myths and legends that can tend to get overlooked, such as African or Native American.
There’s one more idea I have that I might be the most excited about. The Forgotten Observatory. The storyline would revolve around an expedition of campers, led by the co-leader, searching for a fabled gateway to another realm. One day they discover an old observatory protected by a mysterious keeper (the leader) with many secrets. A cool mechanism that could be a part of this cabin is events occurring with some relation to the phases of the moon. I think a cabin that ties into the real world could be quite intriguing to campers.
I would rather not lead TCTWNW, as I enjoy some friendly competition as a motivator.

4. Excerpt
Unali surrendered all her valuables, as she was told. A camera. That was it, and she had genuinely hoped they would allow her to bring it. But she would survive without it. She was required to sign a paper allowing the government's acquisition of her ID. But when she went to look for it in her satchel she had a moment of panic. Where was it? If she had forgotten it, she would be sent to the back of the line. If she had lost it, she would be fined a fortune. If it had been stolen… She sighed. If it had been stolen, then hopefully whoever had it would finally be free. Suddenly, her hand brushed a sharp card. There it was, all the way at the bottom. All that panic for nothing. Hopefully the guard had not read her emotions.
She handed it over. He ran it through the scanner, and it was matched with her face. Now came the moment of truth. Unali almost felt as if time was slowing down. She looked at Shuara, who was still taking small bites out of the bread, as he had been told. Good. He was calmer than she was, but he didn't know the truth. If all went well, then perhaps he would never need to know. He would never need to know any more of the world he had lived in.

5. Schedule
In July I spent hours each day on SWC, which is not something I think I’ll be able to do this session. I want to make sure I complete all my homework before logging on, and that I spend some time with my family each day, so altogether I’ll probably have no more than 2 hours each day to spend online. (At the very minimum, 15 minutes, but I don’t expect that to happen.) If I had a leadership role I would be sure to begin that time with adding words and connecting with campers. I’m not expecting any big events that would take away time from SWC, but if anything comes up I’ll let the hosts know immediately.

6. Time management
Strengths:
Throughout my life an enjoyment of mine has been scheduling. I feel more prepared for the day when I’ve mapped it out, whether or not I end up following those plans eventually. If I make it to the leadership team this session, I’ll make sure that any important tasks we have are prioritized. Once this list is made, I will adjust it to fit a real-life schedule. (Including reasonable breaks! No cabin planning for eight hours straight, for example.) I’m not necessarily as good at following plans as I am at making them, but a schedule definitely helps me and others stay on track.

Weaknesses:
Unfortunately, I’m bad with deadlines. When something is due in a week or more, it tends to slip out of my mind. That is, until that date is staring me in the face. Since I’m reasonably good at rushing (is that a strength or a weakness?) I usually am able to turn something in. Work done this way tends to be less than standard, even if adrenaline did add some quality. Thankfully, I am beginning to erase this habit by separating tasks into chunks and estimating the time each one will take as soon as a job is assigned to me. Writing things down in a place I regularly refer to (here’s where the scheduling skill kicks in!) helps me remember to work on a task a little each day. As I use this method with smaller things that have more lenient deadlines, it will prepare me for larger jobs. Through these tactics I have begun seen progress in this area, and I hope I will see more this session as I practice and improve.

7. Teamwork
Strengths:
Helping a team use all their talents efficiently is something that brings me a lot of joy. Teams work best when everyone is doing something they love! One of my strengths is planning, and with the right inspiration I can make one idea soar. I’m always glad to be able to help and interact with people, and if I can’t give an answer to someone’s question I will try to help them find one. When someone’s having a bad day, I’m there to talk if they need me.

Weaknesses:
My greatest struggle when it comes to teamwork is confrontation. As a perfectionist, I don’t like admitting my mistakes. This is something I need to get over in order to be a helpful (co)leader, and I realize that. Only when I acknowledge my mistakes can I build on them.

8. Quality
When a leader takes the time to get to know you, it can make all the difference. Finley and Niko were amazing leaders last session, and they made my time so magical. As I first entered the cabin, I wasn’t sure how I would be accepted. But as soon as I commented, Finley and Niko were there to greet me. They were always ready to answer my questions, and I never felt like a stranger. Hopefully I can shine such a light into the lives of others this session as well, through asking good questions, giving helpful answers, and just being a good friend whether I know the camper yet or not.

9. Cabin atmosphere
A cabin with plenty of friendly competition for those who enjoy it, but more focused on making connections and having fun.

10. Three parts
A: Check, and check!
B: I can and will fulfill my responsibilities if chosen.
C: If I am chosen and I absolutely must go inactive for any period of time, I will alert hosts and fellow (co)leaders as soon as possible. If I can, I will find a responsible camper or (co)leader who can take my place before I leave. If another (co)leader goes inactive without warning, I will make sure their responsibilities are fulfilled while I take the same course of action.

11. Final words
SWC was an experience that changed me this summer, and whether as a camper or a (co)leader I’ll be in for the ride this November. See you there!

1k Word Intro
——————— november 2023
✧ Summer • fantasy cabin co ✧

When I was younger, the days dragged on and seemed never to end. Now, they pass too quickly. And so summer has given way to fall, and I find myself facing my second session of Scratch Writing Camp, a month that’s sure to be full of fun and adventure. Hello everyone! I’m Summer, an ESFP, and I’m absolutely, positively, entirely thrilled to be here. Let’s get acquainted, shall we?

Why don’t we begin with the reason why I’m here? When I was seven, I became convinced that I was destined to be an animator. Not a youtube kind of animator- a pixar animator. In my mind, the only logical way to start was to learn “how to use computers.” I was sure my mom could teach me. After all, aren’t parents omniscient? It turned out that she wasn’t, although she did assist me. By buying me a book called “Coding Academy,” my mother introduced me to scratch. I began by creating simple games. Once I learned the basics, I realized that I was able to teach myself.

For the first few months of my scratch career, I hardly interacted with other users at all. My social activity slowly increased, until I finally discovered the art community. (By that time I had just started using this account.) I began to dabble in digital art, which has become a big hobby for me. At first I just entered in DMCs and the like, but recently my art was published in a kids’ submission magazine! Scratch has definitely influenced my interests and creativity. Eventually I was introduced to the writing community. At first, I wasn’t quite sure what I thought. I joined SWC one session (I believe it was November 2020?) but didn’t end up participating at all. I spent several years on and off of scratch, coding and entering contests whenever I felt like it. Then, this summer, after hearing about it a bit, I thought “Well, I have nothing else to do!” and joined SWC. Best. Decision. Ever. My scratch activity rocketed! The best part? SWC hasn’t drawn me away from my other on-scratch hobbies. Rather, it has given me new ideas and ways to use them. Making fantasy’s pfps last month was a combination drawing, coding, and swc. Truly the best of both worlds.

You know now why I’m here. But do you know about me? Let’s fix that. I have soo many hobbies and interests that it’s hard to keep track of them. I enjoy coding, writing (of course), music, art, theater, singing, baking, crafting, video games and more. I hardly have the time or patience to go into all of them, so I’ll just focus on a few of them. When I was six my mom signed me up for a kid’s nutcracker, and although it was hardly high-quality, it was my first real theater production. After that I was part of several kids choirs in different plays. (I was a mushroom and a rat xD) However, I don’t really count those experiences as the beginning of my theater craze. That began when I was nine, and I got my first speaking role: young elsa in frozen jr. Since then I’ve been in several other plays. I really love theater. Singing and dancing, putting on a show, it’s just so magical for me. It’s a hobby I never want to give up, even in adulthood.

I love music! I play clarinet and piano, and I’d love to learn guitar and ukulele. I’ve also tried writing my own songs before. Although I’m not an expert at any instrument, I love being able to make beautiful things. One way I do that is through music.

Goodness, how could I make an about me for Scratch Writing Camp without mentioning writing? This is probably one of my oldest hobbies. Even as a little kid, I loved to write and read. I was reading independently at 3, and began writing shortly after. When I was eight, I began to write poetry. This was definitely a milestone in my journey as a writer. My aunt helped to foster that passion. Even today, I’d say that some of my best work are poems I wrote for her (not at age eight though of course). Characters, plots, and believable settings are hard for me. Poetry can be whatever I want it to be. If I could pour out my soul into fifty words, they would undoubtedly be arranged as a poem. This is not to say I don’t write fiction. It’s a valuable skill and I’m still working at it. But poetry will always live close to my heart.

Last session my focus was to experience camp and have fun, and I did just that! This session I’m co-leading, which brings me a few new priorities. I want to figure out how to balance these while also having a fun time.Here are my goals for this session.

1. Write at least 50 words each day outside of school
I know I’m going to be much busier this session than I was in the summer because of school, but i want to make sure I exercise my creativity outside of school. Fifty words may not seem like a lot, but I want to make sure I don’t set too high a standard. (There are definitely busy days!)
2. Do my part in helping around my cabin
This is my first session as a co-leader, and I want to make sure that I both enjoy camp and fulfill my new duties. So if I have to sacrifice a daily to take time for word adding, that’s ok! Right now, that’s what’s more important.
3. Complete 10 dailies
Although I almost assuredly won’t be able to do as many dailies as I did last session (30/31 xD), doing dailies is a fun way to stretch my brain and earn some points <3

Well, that’s me! Summer, the coding baking drawing writing theater nerd. Whoever you are, I hope to get to know you better this session. I’m crossing my fingers that it’ll somehow be even better than the last. And of course, Fantasy for the win! Ciao!

November 2nd 2023
—— daily for fantasy

Dear Summer,

I get the feeling that this session will be one that you remember forever. Perhaps as you age and move on it’ll slip in and out of your mind. Perhaps you’ll continue with SWC for a while. I don’t know what the future holds. Neither do you, though you at least have more insight than me. I hope this session is just as great a memory as the last.

For one thing, last session was my first time doing SWC. Everything was new and exciting. I don’t know if I’ll still feel the same this session. But I have a different focus now that I’m a co-leader, and that’s a first too. In the end, I just have to wait and see what happens.

What will you accomplish? How will you change, how do you differ from me now? I hope your writing improves. Maybe you will have placed in the YAC at your school? Or maybe not. I just hope that there’s at least one thing you can look back on and say “That. That changed me.”

It seems odd that I’d be so eager for change when I’m usually so afraid of it. It’s not as if there hasn’t been enough of that in your world already. Maybe that’s part of it. Why should I continue as I am as everything around me changes? Animals adapt to their environment, but mine still feels unfamiliar. I’m sure that’s not a problem that will be magically solved this month. But then again, writing is magical.

For some reason I always seem to become philosophical when writing these things. I just hope you have fun. I hope you feel welcome. I hope this is a good experience for you. And, if possible, I hope you can improve your cringy writing. (Just kidding! Hehe not really.)

Dear Summer, I hope that in some aspect you are now a better writer, a better friend, or a better person. At the same time, though, I hope you can look back and remember me, as flawed as I most definitely am, fondly.

Love,

Summer, November 2 2023

November 3rd 2023
—— daily for fantasy

A faint scent of coffee mingled with the smell of new books met Hazel as she entered the bookshop. The tingling bells above the door brought back so many memories. Just a few minutes, to escape the cold, she told herself. Deep in her mind, she knew it would truly be cruel to be so close and never visit. Cruel, despite the past.

She strolled the aisles of the comfortable store, searching for the things she knew. The one cracked floorboard. The spot where she'd once banged her head on the wall. The shelf where her sister Mina had once drawn a cat. It was faint, but still there. Hazel smiled. Mother never bothered to replace old furniture. It's as if I never left. Suddenly, she heard footsteps coming down the stairs. “I'll be with you in a moment!” called a voice all too familiar, and Hazel froze. This was a bad idea. Leave, and never come back. There was a gasp, and crashing glass. Hazel pivoted. There stood her mother, face lined and careworn. Spilt tea now stained her apron. The two faced each other. One broken, one proud. Both less whole than they had yet realized. Quiet filled the room, the only sound the relentless falling of autumn rain.


Dear Diary,

When I was young, I thought books were guards for the world's deepest truths. I never realized what deception lay below the surface of everything, even in the ones I thought I knew best. As spring's bright innocence gave way to summer, so I lost my view of the world. I became a wanderer, searching cynically for a way to face this world on my own. Eventually, I came to the end of myself, the last of my resources. Summer's leaves began to fall, and I lost my vigor. Though I won't try to pretend to have had any clarity of vision, I did realize one thing then. I couldn't continue like this. And so as autumn's winds began to blow, they guided me back to the one place to which I thought I'd never return.

Home.

That day I found myself facing the past, searching for the one thing holding me back from the future.


“Mother.” came Hazel's choked cry. “It was me.”


That was the day that my world folded in upon itself, and through its own destruction transformed into something beautiful. The world around me seemed to hold more beauty as well. I realize now that I had only been too blind to see it. This is not the end of my story. Though fall has given way to winter, I will forever look back on the day that changed it all.

Love,

Hazel


note: due to power outages, I unfortunately wasn't able to get this daily in on time, but at least I got some good writing done TwT

November 4th 2023
—— daily for fantasy

Berenice’s golden hair, spread out upon the riverbank, is perhaps the most beautiful thing I will ever set eyes upon. I would’ve gazed forever at her deep green eyes, her bright smile, her shining locks, if I’d known what came next.

I was so naive then, but even I should’ve known what she meant to tell me as I saw her approach that fateful evening. I reached out for her hand, yet she drew back, as if wary. Her hair was bound in many golden plaits along her back, swinging as she walked. “Aster, why don’t we sit?” she asked, a shade in her voice that I, in my innocence and love, could not recognize. We sat together by the river with the picnic I’d prepared. We ate in silence for several minutes. Once the sun had begun to set, Berenice looked at me for a moment. Then, softly, she whispered “I’m leaving soon.”
I laughed. “Leaving, Berenice? But you’ve just arrived!”
“Leaving town, Aster!” she pleaded. “Leaving the country.”
For a moment, I was speechless. Finally, I came to a decision.
“I’ll come with you.”
Berenice was close to tears now. Her hair kept falling in her eyes. “Aster, you can’t! You have a life here!”
“So do you!”
“You’re too poor!”
“I can save money!”
“And give up everything you have?”
“I would do it!”
Berenice sobbed. “I can’t be with you anymore. My father… he… I’m sorry.”

She left me. Without another word, she left, walking off into the night. She left me sitting by the riverbank, wondering where I’d gone wrong.

That was the last night I saw her. A few months later, she sent me a letter. I was too consumed by bitterness to open it.

Though it took months, maybe years, I begun to realize that life moves on. I married, had children. The days of my youth slipped by like autumn leaves. It must’ve been at least fifty years later that I saw the announcement in the paper.

“In remembrance of Berenice A. Caine, died age seventy-one.”

Her hair was white, and her face lined with care and sorrow, but somehow in that obituary I still saw the woman I knew.

I thought deeply upon what might have been. What was. Slowly, I made my way up to the attic. Even after all those years, somehow I still knew the way. An aged wooden box sat dejected in a corner. It was nothing special, but I knew what it held. I opened it. Inside lay a single letter, still crisp to the touch. With the greatest care, I opened it, and pulled out the card inside. In a hand that I once known so well was written one thing. Remember me. Hands trembling, I unfolded the card. I gasped. A single lock of golden hair, tied by a ribbon. Its color had not faded through fifty years. My eyes filled with tears. There was only one place for this.

Back at the riverbank. I had always avoided this place, even long after its memories had faded in importance. I knelt by the water, and said one last goodbye. Then I watched as that golden lock of hair drifted away.

I don’t believe in magic. But some say that if you gaze into the sky at twilight, you’ll see a small constellation that wasn’t there before. It may not make a difference to you. I won’t demand that it does. I only ask that next time you go stargazing, you look for a lock of gold. Coma Berenices. Berenice’s hair.

November 5th 2023
—— four minute word war

The three of them stood, staring at me. “Well, what should we do with him?” the ugliest asked. “Eat him!” cried the other two. I didn't particularly like the anticipation in their voices. “Oh dearies, we can't eat him, it's Thursday.” said the old hag, and I sighed with relief. Unfortunately, she heard me. “Eh? You think you're off the hook? Well, you just wait until the weekend.” “We're off our diet on the weekend!” cackled the one who was probably the youngest, and who looked a bit deranged. Scratch that. They all looked deranged. “So, what shall we do with you today…” mused the middle one, stroking her chin as if she had a beard. “Oh yes, let's make you run the obstacle course!” “The what!?” I screamed as they began to carry me away, their grimy hands holding me up off the ground. “You know, if the others hadn't bound me you'd so be dead by now!”

November 5th 2023
—— three minute word war

I stared at the report card for five minutes. “This day really couldn't get any worse, could it?” My sister sighed. “Oh, yes it can. Just give me a few minutes.” I stared at her. “What's that supposed to mean?!” But she was already upstairs. I sighed. Sometimes that girl was just weird. And today really had been horrible. Not only had vacation been canceled because of a typhoon and I'd gotten two D's on my report card, but Angelina had just told me that she was moving away. I honestly couldn't imagine what my sister was talking about. And then she came downstairs, holding a brown cardboard box. “You don't want to know.”

November 5th 2023
—— five minute word war

It's funny, how myths are passed down through generations, each time evolving to fit the culture of the storyteller. But my story has never changed. Through ten thousand generations in this land I have been known only as one thing- The Star Bridge. What you take this to mean I will leave open to interpretation, but I know what they see me as. A monster. You would think with a name like The Star Bridge I'd be worshiped, venerated, but no. A monster is all they have ever seen me as. Why, you ask? Well, it's because of those pesky myths I mentioned. Just because they've never changed doesn't mean they were ever true. Somehow they chose to remember the worst things he ever heard about me, even if they were all LIES. Yes, I'm not the creature you'd probably take me to be if you saw me. Sure, I have fierce yellow eyes and inhuman limbs, but don't judge a book by its cover. My name comes from my ability to travel instantly through space and time. Theories arose that I must be using the ancient power of the stars. (A complete lie of course.) And so, unfortunately, that will forever be my name.

November 5th 2023
—— four minute word war

“Oh, look at the birdy!” cried my younger sister as we walked though the park. “Yes, it's beautiful,” I replied, if half-heartedly. “I want to be a birdy when I grow up!” my little sister pronounced. I looked at her. “You can't just be a bird. You're already a human.” She looked disappointed. “Well, what if I learned magic?” “Magic doesn't exist.” I rolled my eyes. Honestly, why did I even bother to take her with me? It didn't take long for her to get distracted from the magic problem. “Look! Look! There's a blue birdy!” Then she was off again, running after a bird that was definitely faster than her. Not to mention it had wings. I sat down next to my mom. “When will she learn?” I asked. “You were little once too, you know.” chided my mother. “You had dreams and fantasies. I think you wanted to be a tiger at one point.” “Really?” I asked. That was surprising. My mother laughed. “The innocence of childhood.”

November 6-7th 2023
—— bidaily for fantasy

Maybe it was something about the summer breeze, or the wind in my face, but somehow today felt like a good day for telling secrets: one where they’d be blown away at last, and I would be free.
“Are you ok?”
Sighing, I brought myself back to reality. There were some things too heavy for the wind. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Penny looked at me, her eyes weary with concern. “You don’t look fine.”
“I never look fine.”
“Fair.”
We leaned against the railing. I was reminded of times past.
“You know, Charles, I’ve never understood you.”
“In what way?”
“You show up each day, and then you disappear. I thought… “
“What? What did you think?”
She looked at me, crestfallen. “Well, I thought… I thought we’d be different after last summer.”
I looked away. “A lot of things have changed since last summer.”
“Charles, I’m so confused! You risked your life for me, you almost died! And now you’re still here but you act like nothing’s any different?!” She screamed each syllable in my face. I wondered if I deserved it.
Tears welled up in her eyes. “Even if you hate me, Charles, at least let me know why.”
The clock had almost reached ten. I didn’t have much time left.
“Penny, I don’t hate you. Can’t you see? I’m doing everything I can just to be here.”
She scowled. “See, that’s another change. I used to be able to talk to you. Now you only speak to me in riddles.”
“Why won’t you just listen? I’m running out of time! Normally this wouldn’t even be allowed!”
She sighed. It was a long, pensive, frustrated sigh. It held so much of what I’d once loved her for. What do you mean, Charles? What wouldn’t be allowed? We’ve had this conversation ever evening for weeks now.”
“Last summer… oh, gosh, how do I say this…”
I knew then that this moment could make or break the world.
“I… I didn’t make it last summer.”
“Make it where?”
“Back. Alive.”
“Charles, stop,”
“Penny! Don’t you understand? I… I died.”
Penny stared at me. Then, suddenly, as if all the pieces of a horrible puzzle were falling into place, she gasped and stepped back from me.
“Penny,”
“GET AWAY!” She screamed. “GET AWAY FROM ME!”
She began to run. I ran after her.
“Penny! Wait, please!”
But it was too late. The clock struck ten, and a shadowy figure appeared next to me. I was too late.
It spoke.
“I’ve given you more chances then you deserved. You did not bring the results you promised.”
I gulped back tears. “I- I thought she…”
The figure looked disdainful. I was too lost to care. “The council has decided that this is your last day. Follow me. You’re coming back to the underworld.”
I looked over the hill, and tried to remember last summer, when life had been easy. For a moment I thought I could see all the possibilities they had once held falling away forever. Then I turned my back. “I’m coming.”

I was never seen again.

For many years a young woman was seen searching the hills each night, calling for her lost love. How she remained young throughout the ages no one knows. You may choose whether or not to believe this story, but remember it whenever you here the call of the summer wind.

November 8th 2023
—— daily for fantasy

I hadn’t written in my diary since January. For some reason I always told myself I was going to write in it, did so for a week, then left it in a corner for months. I grabbed it off my shelf. This time, maybe I could actually hit a one month streak. I flipped it open to the next clear page, and began to write.

Dear Diary,

Sometimes I wonder if all the thoughts I’ve ever had about the future will turn out to be completely wrong.

Not all of them.

I stared at the page in shock, for those last words had not been written by my hand. They had simply appeared, as if someone had willed them to be. Hands shaking, I continued writing, only this time I knew I was not alone.

Who are you?

The reply came swiftly, as I had anticipated.

Many things. To you, the future.

What? Surely that couldn’t mean…

Do you mean… you’re me? In the future?

Yes, of course. You know, if I take all my time here trying to explain that to you, I won’t have time to tell you anything.

I could almost feel my future self rolling my eyes. I set my pen back on the page.

How old are you? Are you married? What college did you go to? Were you homeschooled in high school, or did you stay at your new school? Do you have a job?

Goodness, calm down! I’m not allowed to talk about me. I’m only here to give you advice.

That wasn’t quite as exciting. I was going to keep writing, but then I had a thought. I scribbled a quick “Sorry, got to go!”, and pulled out my old diary. (I imagine future me wasn’t too happy about that.) I found a blank spot inside the back cover. I had used this diary for years. If my future self appeared in my old diary…

Dear Diary,

I began to write,

Some strange things have happened today.

Just as I’d expected, a new handwriting appeared. It was sloppy, but endearing. It had been mine long ago.

Why are you writing in my diary?

It asked. I could imagine my squeaky voice.

I’m you from the future. I’ve come to talk with you.

Woah, really?! Um, actually, that’s kinda weird.

Yeah, I know it’s weird, but just hear me out. Be careful. I don’t think I’m allowed to tell you the future, but that’s the best piece of advice I can give you. It’s make or break.

You’re really boring. Am I really this boring when I grow up?

I laughed.

I’m not quite grown up yet.

November 2-9th 2023
—— weekly for fantasy

Part 1:

Don't you dare look out your window, darling, everything's on fire
Hold onto this lullaby even when the music's gone, gone
Just close your eyes, the sun is going down

There was nothing anyone could ever have done for me.

I’ve stopped holding my past against the world.

But sometimes, in the dark of night, I long for the warmth of a candle long extinguished.

Two figures cast shadows on the wall that night. “Mommy! Mommy, look! I made a doggy!” cried the younger. The mother laughed, holding her daughter tight, watching the crude shadow puppets she cast upon on the wall. “It’s beautiful, honey.” The red-haired girl continued with her puppetry. “I like blackouts. We get to use gramma’s candle, right?” The mother’s expression shifted anxiously, but only for a moment. “Yes.” she said, touching the candle fondly. “My mother used to light this candle every night as she sang me a lullaby.” “Can you sing it to me now Mommy?” “Yes dear.” said the mother, and she held her daughter, rocking back and forth in the darkness, singing a tune of wistfulness and comfort from an age long past.

Now I lean against the wall, clinging to memories. They are a cruel excuse for warmth. Suddenly, the lights go down. Another blackout. Mother used to tell me to be strong, but it was only her strength that kept me going.

In the middle of a crowded boarding home, I feel so alone. Tears stream down my cheeks.

“Mommy,” I whisper. “I’m scared of the dark.”

Part 2:

1. Name: Lark Hillary
2. Age: 13
3. Gender: Female
4. Eye color: Hazel
5. Skin color: Beige
6. Hair color: Golden Red
7. Height: 4’ 9”
8. Fashion style: She wears very plain hand-me-down clothes provided by the children’s boarding house she lives in.
9. Accessories: A small golden necklace her mother gave her. She always wears it for safekeeping.
10. Birth date: March 5
11. Place of birth: Kingsground
12. Family members: Her mother, Fia
13. Personality traits: She is shy and wistful, but bold when defending people or viewpoints from criticism. She would rather take the blame for a friend’s actions than watch them suffer, but she will hold a grudge against an enemy. She is very loyal, especially to younger children.
14. Mannerisms: She grabs her nose when she’s nervous, something her mother used to do
15. Education: She was homeschooled until her mother went off to fight in the war, now she is taught by the owners of the boarding house.
16. Hobbies: Quilting, sketching and growing potted plants.
17. Phobias/Fears: She is afraid of the dark.
18. Memories: She dwells on the best memories of her mother, and tries to avoid thinking of when she went to war and they had to be separated.
19. Strengths: She is very empathetic and good with younger kids.
20. Weaknesses: Once someone has offended her, she doesn’t really give them a chance to get back on her good side.

Part 3:

Senario 1:

Lark walked into her dormitory, shivering. The boarding home was stiflingly hot in summer and freezing in winter. She was sick of it. Turning past the first row of bunk beds, she was surprised to find little Daniel sitting on hers. “Daniel, what are you doing here?” She asked kindly. “This is a girls dormitory.” He sniffed. “The other kids were teasing me. They said my mommy was… was..” Lark climbed up onto the bunk and gave him a hug. “It’s ok, I’m here now.” Daniel started to cry. “I just want to go home to my mommy!” “Shh,” Lark comforted him, rocking back and forth. The little one reminded her of her young cousin. She had no idea where he was now. “It’ll all be ok. Everything will be alright.” The dinner bell rang. Lark climbed down and reached for Daniel’s hand. Trying to put on a brave face, she smiled. “Come on, let’s go. We don’t want to be late for dinner!” Daniel rubbed his eyes and nodded. He climbed down of the bunk, and they headed downstairs.

Senario 2:

No. Goodbye was not a word she needed to say again. Why was this happening? Lark could hardly hear a thing but her own thoughts. According to the headmistress, she was being moved to a larger boarding home nearby. “But why?” she had asked. “My mother’s coming back! It’s only a matter of time!” The headmistress shook her head. “It’s for your own good, child.” But what about the others, Lark wanted to scream. Yes, her mother was her family, but these children had become her family too. Some of them had no one else. Her mother wouldn’t abandon them, and Lark was not about to. “Come along,” chided the headmistress. “We haven’t got all day.” Lark stood her ground, refusing to move. The other children cowered by the door, watching raptly the battle of words. The headmistress sighed, as if to say the things I do for you. “Since you insist on being so stubborn, we will postpone your relocation until next month. I will speak with the board.” Lark sighed. Perhaps she had only evaded the inevitable, but she would continue to evade it until the time truly came for her to leave this place. Until her mother came to bring her home.

Part 4:

Scenario 3 (expanded):
Details included: clothes, mannerisms, phobia, memories

“Everything will be ok, Lark. I love you.”

Those were the last words Lark’s mother had ever spoken to her, and they were replaying endlessly in her mind.

No. Please don’t let our story end this way.

Lark massaged the bridge of her nose. Her mother used to rub it to put her to sleep each night. The carriage moved ever onward, the horses carrying her unfailingly somewhere she did not want to go.

A haunting melody filled her ears. To Lark it had always been the sound of comfort and home. Now it echoed off the walls of her empty heart.

“Go to sleep, little one.” crooned the mother, humming softly to the little girl. “Mommy, when you leave, it’ll be dark.” cried the little one, tired eyes full of tears. “I’ll stay right here with you, baby.” the woman assured her, and remained by the child’s side, singing, long after she had fallen asleep.

Lark rocked herself back and forth, longing to feel the warmth of her mother’s arms. The carriage was dark, and she had not a candle to light it with as they travel across the countryside. The horses feet clopped against cobblestone as Lark sunk ever deeper into misery. Although she did not notice it, she must’ve fallen asleep. It didn’t matter. Her waking hours were just as tumultuous as her dreams.

When she awoke, they had entered a town lit by an occasional streetlight. They turned the corner, and stopped. Lark stepped out, rubbing her eyes. Before her was a townhouse, dilapidated and out of repair. The driver tossed her her bag. “Well,” he said with his thick accent. “Home sweet home. Bye now! And he sped away, Leaving Lark entirely clueless as to what she should do. She could run away. There must be another town not far from here, one where no one would have to know who she was. One where she could start again and wait for her mother’s return. But she remembered her mother’s chiding final words to her. “Lark, I know you may not like it there. But you have to promise me that you’ll keep a brave face and wait for me. Won’t you sweetie?” Lark began to cry. Sobbing, she collapsed on the doorstep. Memories flooded her like crashing waves, so heavy she could drown in them. It was there on that doorstep that she made a decision. It consisted of two promises.

1. She would not leave this place until her mother returned.
2. She would never remember this journey again.

Face set and stubborn, she knocked on the door. The woman who greeted her was plump and would’ve looked kind and welcoming if not for her entirely unpleasant face. She looked as if she’d swallowed a quart of lemon juice. “Ah. New girl. Well then, come in.” She said curtly. “I am Mrs. Dealy, and you must always refer to me so.” I’ll show you to your room. You’d best be quiet. I won’t have you waking anyone else.” Lark followed Mrs. Dealy through the drab boarding home. “Lark, it will be safe there.” Her mother had promised. “Far, far away from the war.” After leading Lark to her bed, Mrs Dealy left, taking with her the candle that had been the only source of light. Lark clung to her sheets, whispering reassurances to herself. “It’ll be ok. Far from the war. Far from the war.”

After many hours she fell into the gloom of restless sleep.

The next morning the whole building shook with sound. Lark’s home had always bern quiet. A home for two, with not too much and not too little of anything. Everything she could ever have wanted from life. This place was an uproar. Too many children with too little to eat, too little to wear, and too little to do. Lark pulled her suitcase out from under her bed and dressed. She headed down the hallway, following the other girls to where she hoped she would find food.

What she did find was Mrs. Dealy staring at her annoyedly. “What’re you wearing, child?” she exclaimed, and dragged Lark back to the dormitories. She searched around a bit in the old gray closet and came out with what looked like a uniform. “You’ll be wearing this during school hours.” she explained matter-of-factly. Lark was confused. “School, I-“ Mrs. Dealy raised her hands in frustration. “Don’t tell me you’ve never gone to school, girl! Ah, no, you must be fooling me. Come downstairs now. Headmistress wouldn’t be pleased should you miss breakfast.” Lark followed Mrs. Dealy down the stairs into her new life. She hoped against hope that it would be a good one.

November 11th 2023
—— character swap with @-writingiscool-

Sorry if this is inaccurate! I tried my best to stick to the sheet but I may have invented a few details. I really have no idea about the time period so this could be completely off.

It seemed to Niah that the person she had been two months ago was one from a different life. Now she was on her own, and everything she'd ever thought she stood for was thrown by the wayside. Survival comes first. In this new life perhaps she would never need to think about anything else.

Sleeping was dangerous. But so was being weakened by the lack of it. In the end, Niah established a routine. Short bursts of light sleep throughout the day. Never unprepared for anything. After one of these naps she awoke, disguised herself with some rags she'd found in the alley, and entered the marketplace.

Niah had grown up with noise like this, but it was still jarring. Just in and out. With her skill, food was not a problem, but she could never be too cautious. She never visited the same place twice in a row. She was careful to only take small amounts, nothing that would raise suspicions. She slipped by a fruit stand. She stood there only a moment. No one noticed that there was one less durian when she left.

Exiting the bustling city center, Niah glanced the theater. She stared at it for a moment, stirring secret dreams. Maybe someday. But not today.

Flitting like a bird through the city streets, Niah entered a tight alleyway. Past a few crates she knew there was a corner where she would be safe for a few hours. Having reached it, she sat down and pulled out her durian. She sighed. There was a time where she might have had a brighter future, but it was gone now. She took a bite of the stolen fruit, but it left a bitter taste on her lips. This is hardly a way to live. Filled with resolve, she herself made a promise. She would make her own future.

November 11th 2023
—— attempting a fifty headed hydra

Elena shifted uneasily in her seat. Only two more minutes until she was up. There was no way she was going to win this. “Miss Elena Yovel!” called the loudspeaker. Geez, that was a fast two minutes. Nervously, Elena walked up onto the stage, clutching her notes like a lifeline. She leaned forward into the microphone. Too far forward. She knocked it over, creating an ear-splitting squeal. The audience cringed. Elena wanted to curl up and die of mortification. The announcer chuckled in that photogenic way that tv announcers do, and set the mic upright again. “Go ahead, Miss Elena.” he prompted. Suddenly, Elena forgot how to speak. She opened her mouth, and no sound came out. “Um…” she began. She glanced at her notes. She also seemed to have forgotten how to read. She looked around. So many people. Too many. She tried to remember what she was here for. She'd been practicing for months! But now the pressure was getting to her. She closed her eyes shut, blocking out every sensory trigger from the studio. Home, she thought. I just want to go home. Colors danced across her vision, and she was falling, falling falling. Everything went black.

The next thing she knew, she was on a thin stretcher, being looked at concernedly.

Only 217 words, which is, freakily enough, almost the exact same amount I got last session when I tried this.

November 15th 2023
—— daily for fantasy

Every day Gina felt like she was being pushed even further into a box, like her life was crumbling around her. She had no control. Her cousin had been in a car accident, and all of a sudden Gina was moving. In the middle of the school year, with no warning. Joining a new school, she expected not having many friends. She didn’t expect all the other kids to hate her for no reason. Nothing in her life made sense. It felt like a badly written story, where the plot had no connections and the characters never changed. It wasn’t a story she wanted to be a part of anymore.

It happened suddenly, that day. Out of the blue. The first change was a strange sensation, sort of like her ears popping. Her thoughts became clearer. I feel so much more like myself. And finally, I let go. Gina felt as if the weight of the world was lifted off her shoulders. Her eyes were opened. She realized one thing: she didn’t need me anymore.

Exactly. Now, can you go? This is my story.

Alright, let’s start over. My name is Gina White, and for the past few months stress has been high. But now that I’m free, I can do whatever I want. So you know what? It’s time to go to school.

It would sound cool to say “it happened when I least expected it.” But honestly, it happened right when I expected it to. Don’t ask me why I’m being so vague, I think it rubbed off on me from that narrator weirdo. All I meant to say is that Keisha and her clique were being so annoying this morning. You hear all the random “ignore them” junk, but I have yet to see that working. Here they come now, and I have no plan. Great. “What are you wearing, Gina?” Keisha asks in that grating voice of hers. I don’t feel like doing this again. You know what, you lousy narrator? I don’t have to do this again. Even though I know i’ll probably come back to bite later, I respond, “Clothes.” and walk away.

Who cares if there are repercussions? I can do whatever I want. My life isn’t perfect, but at least it’s my life now. The only choice I have to make is what to do with it. Well then, see you later.

November 10-16th 2023
—— weekly for fantasy

Part 1:

RILEY (yells back from the front seat of the car): Lina, did you turn off the stove when we left?
LINA (yells to the front seat, where her brother Riley is driving): Ooh, I don’t remember! I mean, I think I might have. Yeah, I’m pretty sure I did. We should head back.
RILEY: Never mind, it’s probably fine.
LINA: (exasperated and a bit worried) Riley, you can’t just drive away if the stove might be on! Come on, we have to go home!!
RILEY: You can make the choices when you’re sixteen.
LINA: You’re hardly even a day over!
RILEY (annoyed): I’m not turning around, Lina. I’m going to be late.
LINA: (under her breath) Oh, you bet you are.
RILEY: What did you say?
LINA (innocent): Nothing!
RILEY (reaches a red light and glances at watch): Aw geez, I’m going to be so late.
LINA (gasps dramatically, pretending to read something on her phone): Riley, Heather across the street says there’s smoke coming out of the windows!! Hurry home, or mom will kill us!
RILEY (gulps): Ahh, ok, maybe that’s a good idea.
(Riley makes a swerving u-turn and races toward home)
RILEY (driving up to their house): I don’t see any smoke.
LINA (obviously lying): I can! Come on, we have to go inside!
(Lina drags Riley inside. He sniffs around, and then examines the stove.)
RILEY (mad): Lina, the stove isn’t on, there’s no smoke, and I’m going to be seriously late. Is this some kind of a joke to you?
LINA (looking a bit guilty): Well, I had to check, didn’t I?
(Riley sighs, resigned, and shakes his head. Suddenly he cocks it back up.)
RILEY: Did you hear that?
LINA (confused): Hear what?
(There is a crash, and water begins to pour down the stairs. Lina and Riley stare at each other in horror.)
LINA (very guilty): Umm… it looks like I did leave the bathtub on. It’s good we came home, isn’t it?
RILEY (walking away): Little sister, that’s your problem. I’d rather be late to work.
(Riley slams the door. The end.)

Part 2:

We don’t talk about Cabin Wars, no no
We don’t talk about Cabin Wars, but

It was July the eighth
I was feeling really great
But cabin wars would soon arrive
First cabin wars to arrive
Lyric walks in with a devious grin
Thunder!
You telling this story or am I?
I’m sorry Summer please go on
Lyric says “It’s Saturday”
Sounded mysterious
Then hit midnight UTC
Uh oh this is now serious
I thought that we were siblings
I mean hey, they warred us anyway

We don’t talk about Cabin Wars, no no
We don’t talk about Cabin Wars

Hey, Cabin Wars appear for just two Saturdays each session
Boy, I’m really glad that they don’t happen in succession
Can you just imagine all the points that would be lost? (lost, lost, lost)
Even so you have to make sure that your cabin’s active
I mean I know that losing sleep sounds pretty unattractive
But a chance to win the session is enough for that exhaust
Sleep lost, what cost?

700 word collab, two people online
With just one more, it all would be fine
But those leaderboard schemes are haunting your dreams

We don’t talk about Cabin Wars, no no
We don’t talk about Cabin Wars

They told me they’d be online, the next day, lies

No, no

I forgot to turn off the stove, I’m warring allies

I think that all this late-night screen time’s really bad for my eyes

No, no
Losing too many wars is your demise

The leaders told me that SWC
Is a camp that is purely for fun
But as the wars keep pouring inside
Our hard work is being undone

Oh hey, please don’t send wars this way

They said “hey, achieving first place
Is a hard goal to face
Just settle for lower”
Still climbing higher now

Hey hosts, I’ve heard not a sound out of you

Still climbing higher now, climb to first place now

Cabin Wars
I’m looking at the leaderboard scores
We can’t afford to lose more wars
I need the campers writing at full force

A reminder, two hours left

Time for writing!

(Next four verses in unison)

Write 500 words in this amount of time
Don’t stay up too late, or you’ll lose your mind
There’s no time for dreams
We need the whole team
(repeat)

Now it’s nearly midnight
Deadlines giving me a fright
With not enough campers online
Campers, you’d best get online
Midnight UTC is just too close for me
Blunder
You writing this weekly or am I?
I’m really sorry Summer go on
Leaders say “We’ll lose again”
Why the discouragement?
So I decide to go insane
There’s a bit of encouragement
Finished with the new daily
Now we’re all ok

They told me that SWC
Was a writing camp all for the fun
But if we lose this last cabin war
We’ll be in place one thousand and one, I’m so done
(repeat)

They said “hey, achieving first place
Is a hard goal to face, to face”
But I'm climbing, and I'm climbing, and I'm climbing, sky-high

The deadline’s here
Don’t talk about Cabin Wars

Why did I talk about Cabin Wars?

Not a word about Cabin Wars

Should’ve written more words for Cabin Wars

Part 3:

The first mission was not going as Summer had expected. To start with, the day on which she planned to embark, there was pouring rain and hail. Second of all, when they finally did set off, they were interrupted by a raid, which was definitely not something the training had gone over yet. As Summer absentmindedly directed her dragon’s fire towards enemy ships, she couldn’t help but think, “Well this couldn’t get any worse.”

She knew right at that moment that it could.

Flaming missiles soared in towards the village, accompanied by cries of “Take that enemies!” Summer glared. The yells were coming from Steampunk, the devious relatives of the vikings. Perhaps the feud was caused by both sides of the family, but Summer couldn’t imagine that anything had ever been fantasy’s fault. She was drawn out of her thoughts by more fiery projectiles. Were those… mangoes? No matter. She had to protect the village, and more specifically, the trainees.

She flew up to Ave, whose lighting-fast Fury was zipping around and lighting up the enemy vessels. “Nice work Ave!” Summer yelled over the noise. “Do you need any help?” Ave shook her head, too focused to reply. Summer shot some fire at the nearest ship. It was quite odd, almost seeming to be constructed out of playing cards. But Summer had no time to think about that. She had to keep moving.

The next camper she saw was Orion, whose dragon was picking enemy campers off their ships and throwing them overboard. He seemed to be doing just fine. Suddenly Moonlit flew by, fighting vigorously with two armed Horror campers. “Need any help, Moonlit?” Summer asked. Moonlit dodged a projectile then spun around to Summer. “It would be appreciated!” she yelled before returning to the fight. Summer grinned. These enemies were in for a fight.

A few hours later, Summer was exhausted. She flew back into the village for a short break, and was greeted by Moonlit. The moment fantasy’s leader saw the dark circles under Summer’s eyes, she laughed. “Summer, rest.” she said with concern in her eyes. “We’ll hold out without you.” Summer yawned. “Mm… ok.” She headed back to her lodgings without complaint, and soon fell into deep sleep.

The next morning, Summer’s house was in flames. Well, not exactly. Sapphire had sneezed and fried a potted plant, but other than that the morning seemed pretty normal. That was until she remembered the raids. She hopped out of bed ready for battle, having been too fatigued to change last night. She grabbed her dagger and maneuvered her Deadly Nadder out the door. “Sapphire,” she complained as she was forced to duck under the doorframe. “Why can’t you just sleep outside?” Sapphire gave a haughty sniff, scorching another burn spot into the doorframe.

Outside, the village was in uproar. Apparently the battles hadn’t gone too well last night. Though they were being vigilantly kept away from the village center, the enemy had disembarked on the far shore. With a quick pat to Sapphire, Summer was in the air. She took a moment to scan the battlefield. There didn’t seem to be many wounded, which was good. There was no damage to any of the village buildings. But the fighters were getting sluggish. They had been fighting all night. They needed backup. Summer certainly didn’t have an army, but she had herself. Giving Sapphire a pat, she yelled “CHARGE!” and rushed the attackers.

Summer’s appearance was a slight encouragement to the other campers, and they were able to drive the enemy back to their boats. That was good, but it wouldn’t last. They had to think of a way to keep the other cabins away. She consulted the campers. Several suggestions were brought up, but none of them seemed like they would work. Finally, a camper spoke up. “What about a barricade?” Summer thought about that. It would be time consuming, but it just might work.

A few hours later, she was looking proudly at a hastily constructed barricade. “This should hold for about three hours.” she announced to the village. “We should use that time to rest and recover. The next time they come, we’ll be ready!” Cheers went through the village. Someone began to chant “Vikings! Vikings!” Summer smiled. They could still win this.

The vikings fought well. Even the trainee dragon riders, who had never fought like this before, held their weight in battle. Eventually, the joy of all, the enemy sailed away. As people celebrated, Summer quietly came to Moonlit. “What are our losses?” she asked. Moonlit smiled. “None.” Summer gaped. “None? Nothing at all?” Moonlit nodded. “I believe that calls for a speech.” She flew up into the center of the village and called for silence. The noise died down immediately. “Vikings!” she called. “You have fought well today. Thanks to you, our village is saved!” The ensuing cheers were so great that it took Moonlit, Sun, and Summer several minutes to quiet them. Moonlit continued. “I especially want to acknowledge our trainees, who proved themselves this day.” She smiled. “They are the generation who will lead our village into the future!” The vikings cheered as one by one the village took to the skies.

November 17-24th 2023
—— weekly for fantasy

Part 1:

Forum thread where I discussed my conlag with my partner: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7660406/

Part 2:

Through thick and thin. Though I’ve heard this phrase used countless times in my life, it always reminds me of one Christmas morning.

I remember my fourth Christmas. Many people don’t believe me when I say that, but I do. I don’t have a particularly good memory, but that day has stood out to me through the years.

Back then, Christmas was still quite literally magic. I nearly cried for joy coming downstairs that morning (much earlier than I should have) and seeing the present-adorned tree. Santa had visited, I was sure of that. Soon enough I had dragged my groggy parents out of bed to begin the festivities. Last to wake was my older brother. He was seven then, I believe. We spent the morning oohing and ahhing over all our new toys and clothes. My parents smiled in the background. It was much like every previous Christmas, and many Christmases to come. What matters is what came next.

My absolute favorite gift that Christmas, though I had received toys and books and so much more, was a pair of red rain boots. Best of all, it was a muddy Christmas. Five-year old’s dream. As soon as all gift wrappers were in tatters I was rushing out the door.

Mud. Glorious, sticky, oozing mud. Thick and gloppy. Perfect for jumping in with brand-new rain boots. As I jumped, a light rain began to fall, which delighted me all the more. I was most definitely in my element.

“Georgie!” I yelled as I trounced around the yard. “Come play with me!” He looked warily at the mud, almost as if he /wasn’t/ hoping to jump into it as soon as possible. Still, I made enough pleading faces (and yelled enough times) that he eventually rolled his eyes and clomped through the film of mud covering the ground.

Joined by my brother, I splashed and played for hours on end. Finally mud-caked Georgie decided he was heading inside. Me? I had hardly started.

I thought at first that playing by myself would be no different from playing with my brother, but I was quickly proving wrong. It was much less exciting. Seeking a new thrill, I headed deeper into the small woods behind our house. And then I saw it. The biggest, most perfect pile of mud in existence. The first order of business? Jump straight in.

As soon as I did, I wished I hadn’t. I sank in way further than I should’ve, almost up to my neck. Suddenly I was being sucked down, with now way to crawl out. I was stuck. Since all I had left above the mud was my mouth, I used all the power my lungs contained. “GEORGIE!” I screamed. I repeated his name until my throat went dry, yet finally he appeared to me. What a welcome sight. With full hope in my brother’s abilities, I yelled to him “pull me up!” He hesitated. I wondered why, but then realized it. To rescue me, he would have to climb into the very mud I was trapped in.

There were many ways we could’ve handled that situation. The best would probably have begun with one step: get an adult. Obviously, that was not the first step we followed. My brother made a choice that day. To stay by my side through thick and thin. Trembling, he inched into the mud. Once he had sure footholds, he reached for my hand. I grabbed it so vigorously that he overbalanced, and toppled into the muck. I was afraid at that moment that perhaps we would both be stuck. That fear was banished quickly, as he regained his footing and hauled me out. In my relief to be back on dry land, I gave him a hearty hug. George laughed. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

We never told our parents what happened in the mud that day, but I learned a valuable lesson. To stick with someone through thick and thin, through the easy and the rough, is truly the meaning of friendship.

Part 3:

Unali:
Viadla we kuvo
Trime hi viq dej hi foe
Uiyeflufsi uidu yieruenqe.
Evrala ut krova!
Re un wive il’u uifevosi tami.
Kanti nuivahodu ceje wivere!
Asale, asale, asale fverla tami yuverqesi.
Wehe, uichuhudu yudu yieruenqe.
Qarrela dej cryala de.
Mela’u sire flia bleve.
Uivohole de tuirn.
Vohole ko uivaidsi, vohole’u ko uivohosi.
Cu jume ey hadri yudu aqe…
Vaidla’u uikrehedu’u eiy.
Memaha yepietale tahe ugea, yewersi.
Kiweshu nuisi jumies.
Ko uisi hi bitwi unbit…
Nuhuva yeweiarle.
Yahila um, ui uiweiarsi.
Brehe eiy, yedu hi viqi.
Yusi neli frada sa cabmienqe fi we trev sequ siyu hi amhi fihi eih bev.

Liha:
Zavra’l sa revoes
Rouhi rouna e rouna
Den yodra we seina
Cu de yusi’u qrenwe, viqierla’u!
Syhe fi we revoe?
Hi wezi yesabesi yusi hi wezi yeinedsi.
Aneli yusi dubrel delena yais irns.
Yeaehlale hi utra sumb diol mehinet.
Horbe rouchula unayu bisan yecabmisi hi ovohia fi uhe foentes.
Roudiola eih viuine.
Horbe albiela teu yevinsikdu weyij.
Mongala’u eih viavoles.
Uiwersi tadati srebli tadati tahe uiwersi’u.
Rouchula’u hi levera fihi uyis froen.
Yehanasi restibe hi hunbe kela!
Sawinla eih belihivis.
Ser chuhula lubri tami: syhe yevohosi dio yule hi emorire ugea.
Uialisi juliel sa il meveram yewersi.
Hogo dihidela, unbitti.

Shuara:
Ko wenes il yusequmasi
Hi sehe’l creyi
Yusi lano yieruenqe
Yusi omom seilar.
Ko uisi lopra voho?
Ki nuisi tida heva?
Tami yusi sovava cevrevienqe tiembea.
Yusi lano rhin!
Tahe yusi sovava qerri!
Yusi’u cabmia yesi dafa. Il’u yesi dafa.
Yovovae
Ainsiba?
Asale, Meuna? Asale, asale, asale? Qeira asale? Uile hogo!
Uivakatasi proju dej uivakatasi tami cise! Uivakatasi de, uivakatasi de, uivakatasi de!
Nura yesi tota tu lano drehustrada?
Uiwersi yevohole hogo. Yesi we trev feys!
Uialisi eiy, Meuna. Yesi we feys meuna fi revoe.
Ki Il uihanasi hi trev levera re Norhiad?
Uisi spili re Norhiad!
Ki uipalsi proje?

English translations:

Unali:
Speak of the devil
To cost an arm and a leg
I wish I was joking.
Hold on tight!
For the life of me (literal: for my life) I can’t solve this.
We barely made it out alive!
Please, please, please let this work.
Yikes, I thought you were joking.
Grin and bear it.
Don’t cry over spilled milk.
I’ll do it tomorrow.
Do what I say, not what I do.
If only your father was here…
Don’t say I didn’t warn you.
You’re definitely going to regret that later, you know.
At least we’re together.
When I was a little kid…
Someday you’ll understand.
Believe me, I understand.
Thank you, you were essential
There’s nothing better than walking in the fresh air with a friend by your side.

Liha:
The best of both worlds
To see eye to eye
To feel under the weather
If it isn’t broken, don’t fix it!
What in the world?
A penny saved is a penny earned.
Anything’s stale after three days.
You’ll be singing a different tune soon enough.
Never judge someone until you walk a mile in his shoes.
Watch your mouth.
Never forget where you came from.
Don’t burn your bridges.
I know everything except everything I don’t know.
Don’t judge a book by its cover.
You certainly have a green thumb!
Count your blessings.
Always think about this: what you do now will be a memory someday.
I love you more than you can ever know.
Good night, kiddo.

Shuara:
When pigs can fly
A piece of cake
You’re totally kidding.
That’s super likely.
What am I supposed to do?
Are we there yet?
This is literally taking forever.
This is so boring!
That’s literally awesome.
There’s no way you’re serious. You can’t be serious.
Whatever.
Seriously?
Please, mom? Please, please, please? Pretty please? I’ll be good!
I hate school and I hate this class.
Why are you always so very annoying.
I know you’ll do good. You’ll be the new best!
I love you mom. You’re the best mom in the world.
Can I have a new book for Christmas?
I’m excited for Christmas!
Do I have to study?

Part 4:

It was dark in Unali’s compound that night, yet she still came outside, as she always did. This was nothing like the world her mother had known. All the orahas, viadis, and kelas, all the brilliant colors of green, had been gone since before Unali’s time. Her mother had once tried to explain to her why. If she closed her eyes, perhaps she could picture that night. That conversation. Her mother Liha’s voice, and the tale of a different world. “Rouhila fi we tuehil.” She told herself, willing the voice to become her mother’s. “Rouhila fi we tuehil.”

“Rahava, we revoe yudu lano viadi dej wivere. Tell me what that means, Unali.”
Young Unali scrunched up her face in concentration. “Uh… long ago, the world was a living tree?” Liha laughed ruefully. “Usa mieus juliel.*”
Unali threw her hands in the air in frustration. “Mom, I’m tired! I already translated three sentences perfectly today, and it’s late! Please can we be done?”
“Don’t call me Mom. We’ve gone over this. I called my mother Meuna, as she did her mother. Vihesela um Meuna.**”
“But all the kids at school speak Common!”
“Unbits, not kids. Proju, not school. And our family speaks Viunian, not Common.” Liha sighed and shook her head. “Just try that sentence one more time, ok?”
Begrudgingly, Unali did so. “Long ago… uh… the world was a… no, the world was very… green and alive?” Liha smiled. “Perfect”
Confusion crept into Unali’s satisfaction, and she asked curiously “How could the world have really been green? It’s just so brown now.”
Liha smiled, though sadness tugged at her eyes. “I can tell you… but…”
Unali groaned. “Let me guess, you’ll tell me in Viunian?”
Her mother nodded with a chuckle. “All right, here we go.”

“Rahava, we revoe yudu lano viadi dej wivere. Unas nyuwivedu fi plar, dej nyuhanadu beju lihivos. Rievi yurouhidu ajvahi we revoe, dej yuqarredu. Yusi lano hogo. Kuj usa irn, usa una yurehiddu tahe jume rehot yusi’u mehinet re umi. Uye yukutdu juliel, juliel, juliel, dej siyu hieve niunale una’l, rehot dej viadi dej we wive’l revoe yusoneldu qewer. Kuj tida usa una syheq yuwerdu tahe we revoe yufierdu we kelas, dej oralas, dej viadis. Uhe yeflu yullanerdu we Viunani. We Viuniani nyualidu rehot. Nyusoneldu asu bitwi unaski, kuj nyullanerdu mehevai hi unareo. Rahaves yuvaidsi tahe nyusekibdu valetu dej lihaviu we wive’l rehot tiembea. Reirn we revoe yusi helebea fi infa. Palsi yualbiedu lonit’ul uyis wive. Kuj uyis wive, dihmu viadi, usa irn yuvansile. Asu we Viuniani, nuipalsi valetu hieve viadi, dej kela, dej oraha fi we revoe. Jume ahu revoe yule lano wive mejia.***”

Liha looked down at her daughter, and found her asleep on the desk. Gently, she carried her to bed and tucked her in. “Hogo dihidela, unbitti.” she whispered in her ear, just as her mother had for her. “Horbe albiela teu yevinsikdu weyij.”

Unali looked out into the tuehil. That had been so many years ago. The revoe’s wivere was almost gone. “Meuna, yeyeflufdu tahe we revoe yudule viadi meija. Ehusfise.” She whispered as a single tear ran down her cheek. She turned, and entered her one room house. In the corner, on a thin pallet, slept her own unbitti. Her little son, Shuara. How mother would’ve loved to see him. He would never know his grandmother, nor of the world she had lived in. She knelt by his bed and whispered to him, although it seemed more like a prayer than anything else. “Uialisi eih, unbitti. Horbe albiela teu yevinsikdu weyij. Never forget where you came from.”

“Horbe albiela.”

———————————
*Translation: One more time

** Translation: Call me Meuna. (Mom)

***Translation: Long ago, the world was very green and alive. People lived in peace, and had full rivers. Reivi looked down at the world and smiled. It was very good. But one day, one person decided that just nature was not enough for us. He wanted more, more, more, and with every expansion of humans, nature and green and the life of the world began to fade. But there was one man who knew the world needed the greens it had once held. (Note: Liha uses three separate Viunian words for green here.) His dream became the Viuniani. The Viuniani loved nature. They began as a small people, but grew to become a nation. Legends say that they swore to protect and guide nature’s life forever. Today the world is covered in brown. It has forgotten much of its life. But its life, surrounded by viadi, will one day return. Like the Viuniani, we must protect every dark green, light green, and all other greens in the world. (Note: Liha uses three separate Viunian words for green here.) Only then will the world be so alive again.

****Mother, you hoped the world would be green again. I’m sorry.

November 26th 2023
—— critique for @pages-of-ink

This’ll be my first critique of the session (yes, I know I’m a bit of a late bloomer), and I have to say I’m excited to critique this piece! I’ve read it through and it has a lot of promise! The idea is quite interesting and I think it could work well either as a semi-mysterious standalone piece or a part of a larger story! I especially would love to know more about what was happening when “the sky was shrinking,” and how the girl became a constellation.
–
Once, you walked among the stars.
A prince walked alongside you, too. He was beautiful in an impossible way, with skin carved from moonlight and eyes that seemed to hold entire solar systems in their brilliant depths. The two of you spent many nights together, exploring the skies and playing among the constellations.
He was your best friend, and you loved him dearly. And while he never said so aloud, you knew he felt the same.
–
I’m very impressed with how you managed to use second person consistently throughout the entirety of the piece! It’s very fluid and doesn’t seem forced. I would say that in the first sentence the word “too” seems a bit out of place. “A prince walked beside you” could get the meaning across more smoothly. The description of the prince is very nice, with very detailed wording, but I think you could also include another sentence about how you feel when he speaks to you, or something else that pertains to your interactions together. (The sentence about your nights together is good, but I think it seems a little impersonal at the moment, if you know what I mean.) The last two sentences fit together well. I’m not sure the paragraph break is necessary. I feel like these two blurbs of thought could be better tied together by a transition sentence.
–
Your friendship was only allowed to exist during the night.
The prince did not understand why this was so. One night, while walking you back to the star gate, he said, “Don’t leave me.”
You stopped, turning to look at him. “I wish I didn’t have to.”
–
Although I’m not usually a stickler for “said” I think you could use a better word here. Perhaps an action word, instead of a speech descriptor. (For example, “One night, while walking you back to the star gate, he held back.” Probably not the best thing you could do, but just an example.) You could leave it if you want, this is totally a nitpick.
–
It was true. You’d stay with the prince all the time, were it allowed, but your daylight hours were supposed to be spent on the opposite side of the star gate. In this other life there existed school (boring), homework (excruciating), and lonely summer afternoons spent watching the neighborhood children play without you. The kingdom of stars, with its celestial splendor and endless capacity for adventure, couldn’t be more different. It was your home; nothing would ever change that.
–
Nitpick warning! I think that “all the time” could be shortened to “forever.” (Again, feel free to skip over this.) Apart from that, I love the repetition with the adjectives here. It really flows off my tongue. However, I am a bit confused about the last sentence; it’s a bit too vague. Is it saying that the kingdom of stars is your home, or the daylight world? If it is talking about the star kingdom, perhaps you could elaborate? The kingdom of stars is obviously not where you live, so including a bit on why you describe it as your “home” could be helpful.

I don’t really have much to say for the next few paragraphs except that I love the mystical vibe, and I’m really enjoying your choice of words.

Here are my thoughts about everything after the next break: Wow. Just wow. I really love the way you develop the story, with the decision to ignore the constellation, and the descriptions of how things are changing. The only thing I would change is this sentence, “Now, you could picture maps and walls around the spaces that you and the prince explored each evening.” I understand what you mean by it, but the “maps” is a little odd. Are maps wrapping around the spaces where you explore? Sorry for being such a stickler xD

The world building here? AMAZING, especially the way that the star gate appears when she closes her eyes, almost like it’s a dream. The panic when you realize the gate is gone is well-written, although there’s one thing in particular that confused me- how do you bang on the doors inside your head? (This isn’t something I would change, just a genuine question.)

The rest of the piece is beautiful, the mystery, the tone, and the way you wrap it up so perfectly. I don’t know how I’m supposed to critique this when I genuinely love everything about it! You did a wonderful job, and I wouldn’t be surprised to see you place in the competition. Thank you for sharing this masterpiece with me, and sorry if my critique style wasn’t what you were looking for. I wish you the best of luck!

P.S. I'm sure you can tell that at the beginning I was so dedicated to being thorough and then at the end I just got tired xD

November 27th 2023
—— daily for fantasy

Day in, day out, I faithfully stay by your side. I carry books, shoes, changes of clothes, snacks, and any other random thing you desires to stick in me (was that a cough drop wrapper?), and what thanks do I get for it? To be fair, you don’t exactly know that I exist, or at least that I have a mind. But I do. And working like this without recognition hurts. Yes, I am a backpack. Your loyal companion. Have you ever taken a moment to thank your backpack for all it does for you? It’s unceasing work on your behalf? I bet not. Don’t you think it’s hard work, keeping all your things together? You complain about how heavy I am, but imagine if you had to carry all those things yourself? I could go on strike, you know. My zippers could all jam at once. I could tear open without warning. But you know I won’t do that. I simply care too much. Ah, the things I am willing to do for you. Why, just last month you spilled apple juice down my front. If you thought that was annoying for you, imagine being the one whose flaps are now sticking together! Goodness, that was horrible. You thought you cleaned me thoroughly- ha! I was still cleaning that gunk out of my crevices for weeks! But let us leave the past in the past. All I ask for is respect. Love and respect can go a long way. If nothing else, please just give this old backpack a reason to keep going. We need each other, you know, though I’m much too proud to admit it. But alas, I believe there is simply no hope. You can hardly hear me speak even now, and my voice is so far in the background of your thoughts that I don’t think I’ll ever get your attention. I will be strong. I will wait for the day when my prayers are answer, and I can be more than a backpack. I will be a friend.