November 2023 SWC Writing Megathread

Hello and welcome to the official SWC writing thread! This thread is for any SWCers to share writing so we don't all have to make our own writing threads. Additionally, the second post of this thread will be a sort of “masterpost” of rules and info about SWC for campers <3

Please read through the first post of this thread whether or not you have read it before - our rules are changed and edited every session as we work on improving SWC! Yes it's long, but all of this information is important for you to know, because we share the forums with the rest of Scratch! If you have any questions afterwards, please ask me or another host on our profiles - that way it's easier for you to get a response without clogging up this thread <3

What you can put here:
Any writing you do during SWC (whether daily, weekly, word war, writing competition entry or just your own writing) can go in this thread! You can either make a new post per piece of writing, or make one post and edit your new writing into it - either is fine!

Please try not to have conversations or chat here - you can post writing, give critique and discuss others' writing but if off topic conversations happen here, it's likely the topic will be deleted or closed by the Scratch Team. We'd like to avoid that. <3

Remember to check any writing you post to make sure it does not contain any personal details or private information. If it does, you can either edit out/change the details or not post the writing! Stay safe online ^^.

Ways to use this forum:
There are two main ways to use this forum - but other ways are okay too!

Making one post and editing your new writing into it. If you use this method, please edit new writing into the top of your post, so it's easier for leaders to find!

Making a new post for every writing piece (you could also include an optional “table of contents” post which contains a list of writing pieces and links to them!)

Reporting posts
Please don't hesitate to report other posts if you feel you need to! Valid reasons to report posts include:

- The post shares private information
- The post contains rude/offensive language
- The post makes you uncomfortable
- The post is spam or off topic
- The post does not belong in this topic
- The post otherwise breaks Scratch's guidelines or makes you uncomfortable

When you click report, you will be provided with a comment box to explain why you reported the post - and please do so! It helps the forum moderators understand what you want them to do.

On the Scratch forums, there are lots of reasons you can report things other than that they're inappropriate. Reporting is not trying to get the user in trouble, picking on the user, or going behind their back - it's simply helping to keep the forums organised, tidy and scratch safe. You won't get in trouble for reporting a post that doesn't need reporting, as there are no rules as to what does and doesn't need reporting. So it's fine to report posts that don't belong in this thread, are off topic, or are spam as well as inappropriate posts.

Discussing people's writing
It's completely okay to respond to and comment on people's writing here. However:

People won't necessarily see your responses to their writing, because they don't get a notification when you quote their writing. Instead, you can comment on their profile, either commenting on their writing there or saying something like “hey! I responded to your writing piece here: <link>”

It's also fine to give critique to others' writing here, but make sure to give the person the link to your critique!
Also, please keep in mind that not everyone here will want critique on their writing! Make sure to ask permission before giving anyone critique.

To get the link to a post, right click the top left corner of the post, where it says the date and time it was posted. Then click “copy link address”, and paste the link wherever you need it:



Personal writing threads
Personal writing threads will be allowed this session! However, please only make one forum topic for just your writing - put it in the "Things I'm Making and Creating" forum, and use that topic for the whole of this SWC session. This means not creating a new topic for, say, your writing competition entry, and certainly not creating a new topic for each writing piece, as this is a nightmare for forum moderators and other people using the forums.
It is still highly recommended that you use the megathread in order to be considerate to other forumers! Having a lot of different writing topics makes it harder to find other topics, so please consider carefully whether you'd be willing to use the megathread before creating a personal topic

Other Ways to Share Writing
Not everyone wants to share their writing in the forums, and that's fine - here are some other places it's okay to share your writing!

You could create a new scratch project (perhaps on an alternate account if you don't want to share writing on your main account!) and share your writing as an in-project comment, in the description and notes and credits, or pasted into a costume using the text tool.

You can take a photo or screenshot of your writing and either put it inside a scratch project or upload it to cubeupload, then share that link. You will need an account to use cubeupload, but it's a safe way to share images and the Scratch team allows it.

Please note that blankslate is not allowed. If you don't know what it is, it's a writing sharing program that we used to use frequently in SWC but is no longer allowed because of its lack of moderation.

Do not attempt to bypass Scratch's filter in order to share writing on sites that are not allowed. Not only are these sites banned for a reason, but you will get caught if you attempt to share links to them on Scratch. Proof shared via other sites will not count. Cubeupload is the exception to this rule, as it is allowed by Scratch in order to share images on the forums

Thanks everyone, and happy writing!

(Many thanks to Kat, Sun, Luna, and Honey for writing the megathread post in previous sessions, from which this was mainly copied!)

If you believe any of these rules shouldn’t apply / should apply differently for a specific case (e.g. adding a daily when this guide says not to), take it to the hosts! We’re happy to deal with edge cases and/or disputes on an individual basis. Questions about these should be taken to your leader or a host's profile, not asked here

Rules with a ⚡️ next to them are new this session! Please pay extra close attention to them.

TLDR

• Only literary words may be added - see the first section below for a full description of this!
  
• Leaders may ask for proof of writing if they believe the amount you're adding is unrealistic.
  
• You must give an explanation of what you were writing when you add words. Leaders will not add words without this.
  
• You may not add more than 10,000 words at once.
  
• Dailies and weeklies must be commented in the Main Cabin before they end, even if the description has not yet been updated.
  
• Proof for dailies and weeklies must be shown on Scratch. There will not be exceptions to this rule for having inappropriate writing.
  Proof of winning a word war isn't necessary - they're run on an honor system.
  
• Please do not escalate arguments! Simply stop responding and report any offensive comments.
  
• Make sure not to take cabin rivalries too far and remember that the point is to have fun!
  

Adding words

You can add words whenever you write literarily using your cabin’s word counting method - this will most likely mean commenting the number of words you wrote in your cabin’s word counting location (this will likely be a studio but could also be a forum, profile or project!) as well as a summary/brief description of what you are adding. (E.g. “+503 words for part of an essay”.)
Your leaders will add these words to your total.
We keep track of words during SWC as they make up part of a cabin’s total points at the end of the session as well as acting as a motivation factor for campers.

*See a list of things that count below:

What counts

• Roleplay - As a guideline, you should be somewhat in character and there should be description of actions in addition to dialogue
  
• Fictional writing
  
• Non-fictional writing
  
• Literary journal entries
  
• Writing in another language - if you’re unsure on how many words to add because the language counts writing in a different way (e.g. character counts in Chinese), Google Translate it to English and use that word count. We hope that this will be close to the number of words it would be in spoken language, but if you have a different suggestion, please let us know!
  
• Schoolwork - essays, assignments that include literary/analytical writing (such as worksheets requiring analysis of parts of a novel) but not note taking or non-literary writing such as writing out math problems
  
• Giving critique (but only the words you wrote! If you gave 1000 words of critique but 300 of those were quotes of the original writing, add 700 words)
  
• Stream of consciousness writing
  
• Vents/rambles
  
• Formal emails that are longer than a paragraph
  
• Explanatory SWC dailies that are longer than a paragraph
  
• Words from comics
  
• Parodies (so long as it’s mostly your original thought)
  

As a general rule, if it contains your original ideas, it counts.

What doesn’t count

• Notetaking
  
• Texting, commenting, etc.
  
• Copying another person’s writing
  
• Translating
  
• Writing thing out from memory / copying things out (e.g. copying out a textbook, lyric spam)
  
• Code - even if using a text based programming language!
  

Needing proof

• If your leader thinks that the amount you’re writing is unrealistic, they may ask for proof or choose not to add it.
  
• You must outline what you were writing when you add words. Your leaders will not be allowed to add the words otherwise! (a sufficient outline could look like: “365 words were from an english worksheet, 1946 were from working on my novel, 568 from the daily, 2868 from working on an essay”. Be aware that a timespan for the writing is not a sufficient outline!)
  
• If you are uncomfortable sharing proof for writing, that’s okay! Exceptions to giving proof (even for large blocks of writing) can be provided on an individual basis and you will have better luck getting one if you cooperate and are willing to give partial proof and detailed explanations/descriptions on what you’ve written. Other solutions to this can include giving a leader/host proof in a discreet location (on scratch of course - this could be editing an old forum post or putting it in a comment inside an old project).

Reserves

• Reserves are words that you don’t add right away.
  
• Only up to 10k words may be added at a time, regardless of whether or not you share the writing.
  
• An exception may be granted if you were unable to access Scratch for over a week. Please contact a host if this is the case!
  
• All words become reserves after camp is over in all timezones.

Activities

• Activities must be submitted before they end in UTC, even if the Main Cabin description has not been updated yet!
  
• Campers and leaders are expected to give all required proof for weeklies and dailies, and it must be submitted on time to earn points.
  
• Proof must be provided on Scratch, and all writing must be Scratch appropriate if you need to provide proof for it. Photos of writing count as proof, and may be shared using a Scratch-approved image host.
  

Dailies

• If you have a question about a daily, ask in the main cabin! Hosts and/or leaders will make a judgment on this - if you’re a camper, please refrain from answering any questions that are subject to interpretation (clarifying rules and such is fine!), leave it to the leaders and hosts please <3
  
• Extensions for dailies are unavailable as there really isn’t any point in granting them given the low point value and short timeframe of dailies.
  

Weeklies

• If you are uncomfortable sharing proof for a weekly, you should contact the hosts or your leader as early as possible. Exceptions to giving proof can be provided on an individual basis and you will have better luck getting one if you let us know early (as opposed to simply refusing to give proof when trying to add your weekly). Other solutions to this can include giving a leader/host proof in a discreet location (on scratch of course - this could be editing an old forum post or putting it in a comment inside an old project).
  
• If you have queries about a weekly, try to wait until a host or member of the daily team can clarify.
  
• Extensions for weeklies can be granted on an individual basis. You should let the hosts know as early as possible and you can discuss it with us from there.

Writing Competition, Word Wars, & Cabin Wars

Information on these events is provided as time progresses during the session. However, if you have any questions beforehand, you’re more than welcome to reach out to a host with them!

⚡️ Honoraries

Honoraries are people who are NOT participating in a session of SWC, but are invited by a leader to hang out in a cabin as an unofficial member and boost morale and/or have a role in the storyline. However, they are restricted from doing anything that leaders would typically do, such as adding words. They may not be listed in the cabin description.

If you would like to partake in a different cabin's activities or storyline, you can ask that leader if you can do so. This does NOT make you an honorary. Rather, you are just a member of a cabin who is participating in the activities of another cabin. The leader may agree or refuse (and they may decide how much of a role you can have and which of the activities you may do), and you are expected to be accepting of any decision they make. Leaders are also not allowed to list people who do this in the cabin description, and they cannot make any further contributions than completing the activities.

Anyone is welcome to hang out or boost cabin morale in other cabins at any point. Do try to be the most enthusiastic in your own cabin, though — your fellow campers will appreciate it!

Please see this project if you have more questions.

Arguments and Drama

• If any links to leader discussions are leaked, please ignore the comments. If it can be classified as spam, you can report the comments, but please don’t mass report with multiple accounts as that can lead to alerts from the ST.
  
• If you get into a fight with anyone, it’s best to stop responding so it doesn’t escalate. You can ask your leader or a host for help. Of course, report any offensive material you see as part of such an argument (e.g. projects calling people to report a specific user or people speaking badly about others).
  
• Please take care to not take cabin rivalries too far! Using this tone indicators guide can be helpful in ensuring that no one’s feelings get hurt. If you do feel that someone has gone beyond friendly jokes, you can remind them that it’s just for fun, report the comments, or ask a leader/host for help, depending on what you feel fits the situation!
  

Thanks for reading all of this! Again, if you have any questions or believe there should be an exception, please comment on a host's profile, not in this forum

Em's Writing

Dailies

11/1/2023: Introduce yourself, three goals and extra mangoes for Moonlit if you say what childhood toy represents you!

Hey everyone, I'm Em, the co-leader of Myth this session! I love writing, drawing, and listening to music, but my favorite thing to do is read! Some goals I have for this session are to stay active and help my campers have a fun time! Another one is to work on NaNoWriMo, and get to know more about it because it's my first time doing it! If I were a childhood toy, I would be a lego because you could put me in different places, and I could still fit perfectly, basically, I'm very flexible!

Total: 95 words

11/2/2023: Write a letter to your future self

Hey, future self! I know you’ll be much wiser than I am now, so I hope you look back at this day and think of the things that you did. I feel like there are different versions of myself, currently, I’m in my November 2nd version, and in about a month, I’ll be a different version, so it’ll be like writing someone different! I’ve just started Scratch Camps, and I hope that when you read this, you aren’t as burned out and tired as I was in March. I hope that Myth would’ve been in 1st place and I would’ve gotten a place in the writing comp. This is my first time doing NaNoWriMo, and I have a goal to write 50k words, it seems really hard for me, but I hope that I’ll have enough time to write because lately I haven’t, but I love writing so much. I’ve got a really good idea for my story for both the writing comp and my NaNoWriMo novel. I hope that they both end up really well. I also hope that I’ll make a bunch of new friends because I’m also looking forward to that, and there’ll be so many new people I don’t know. I guess I’m more of a SWC veteran, because there are so many new people that I don’t even know, and I feel old, but I guess that’s fine. Now, for more general writing, I hope that you’ve figured out your friend relationship, because right now it’s really confusing, and I hope that you find a world where you are happy and have time to both do schoolwork and the things you enjoy. 7th grade is a big jump from 6th, especially for us, as 7th is the first year of middle school, and I hope that you get to speak up more and become less afraid of talking to people that you don’t know, especially the intimidating ones. I know that I’m going through a hard block in tennis, and every one seems better than me, but I hope you know that someday you will improve. When you read this, I hope you would’ve beaten someone new in your class, and become more confident in your writing skills. I want you to be able to manage your time well, and that SWC will have you learn something new about yourself, as that’s what SWC is about, writing, fun, and something deeper, in my opinion, finding your true nerdy self. I also hope that Latin doesn’t become harder than it already is because I love Latin and I don’t want to have to drop out because it’s too hard for me. Hopefully, you get an A+ on one of your tests, as that’s something I haven’t gotten yet in the school year. Finally, when you read this, I hope you are smiling and that it feels nostalgic to go back to this, but you know you’re better now. Best of luck, and I already miss you <3

Total: 501 words

11/3/2023: Symbolism in Fall

I hugged my mother, both of us crying tears of joy and excitement. It would be my first year away from home, in college. I had dreaded this moment, the only life I knew was with my mother, the only relative I had. But as time passes, I have to grow too.
“I know you’ll have a great time there, and make lots of new friends. You’ll always have my number, and you can always call me,” my mother told me with tears glistening in her eyes.
I squeezed her hand tightly like I never wanted to let go. Outside the first batch of leaves leaving their homes, their trees made me feel even sadder but it was also comforting. At least they would go through this journey with me, as they twirled around before they finally landed softly on the ground, waiting for the wind to take them to new places, places they’d never been to. “I’m scared, “ I told her honestly.
“Soon you’ll be getting a job- but I know you’ll be okay, just be brave and keep going, no matter what happens. I’ve always known that I’d have to let you go, but I never imagined this soon. I guess going to college completely flew away from my brain. Here, let me help you with your bags, I’ll bring them to your car.”
Your car. My car. Another thing that was changing, years ago I would’ve sat in the backseat of my mother’s car, happily listening to the radio, without any care. Now I would have to worry about not getting lost, not getting in any accidents, and obeying the traffic laws.
As my mother and I walked down the crunchy gravel road, the wind blew softly in my hair, and leaves flew everywhere. I remember the time when I was little when I tried to catch a leaf, but I was never able to. They always seemed to escape my grasp. Every time I wanted them to stay, they left. It was like they had to.
We loaded all my luggage into the back of the car and stood awkwardly there. This was the last goodbye until I came back for the holidays. I would celebrate Halloween without her, for the first time, have fall drinks in Starbucks by myself for the first time too, and get ready for school without her, there were just too many things I would have to do without her.
“Well, I guess this is farewell,” my mother spoke up, sounding uncertain. I was too.
I looked up at the giant maple leaf tree above me, the leaves flying around so confidently like they were leaving for college just like me. “I guess so,”

Total: 453 words

11/4/2023: Constellations
Each constellation has it’s own story, how it was woven into the dark silky blankets of the sky, but few talk about the last sign, of two fish, of the sea and ocean. Pisces.
Many years ago, when greek myths were still worshiped with great belief, there was a great war, one that was almost lost. A war against the mighty gods of Olympus and two giants, son of Gaea. Gaea had wanted revenge against the Olympians for a very long time, payback for them killing or emprisoning her children, the titans. She had waited many years for this moment to happen, and nothing would stop her giants.
The giants she sent out were strong, mighty, and powerful. They could destroy anything they set their minds to doing. Anything. The gods were fleas in comparison to their power. And so they set out to demolish Mount Olympus, leaving nothing but rubble, wrecking anything in their path.
The gods tried to prevent them from coming, attacking them with their powers, delaying them, but nothing worked. The giants marched on without a care. It came to the point that Zeus was captured, and there seemed to be no hope left. Most gods fled, hoping for mercy by the giants or the possibility of escaping their wicked clutches of evil.
Two gods in particular, Aphrodite, the goddess of love, and her son Cupid, who was also a god of love decided to escape in a particularly creative way. They decided to shape-shift into fishes, that way if the giants ever were to conquer the world, they would be safe in the ocean’s clutches.
After quick thinking from Zeus and Hermes, the gods were eventually saved, and it was safe to return to Mount Olympus. Cupid and Aphrodite eventually left their hiding spots, and came back, unscathed and very gratefuly for the work of the gods who had saved them.
Cowardly, they may be said as, and it may be true, but for their thanks to the fishes for being able to take up their form, Aphrodite and Cupid drew their previous forms in the sky, into a constellation, when the war ended. There they still shine today, those born under those stars are considered hopeless romantics, and emotional people, but do not remember that they provide safety and guidance during hard times. It may be the youngest sign, birthed from bloodshed and cowardice, but it is just as wise as every other constellation.

Total: 410 words

11/6-7/23: Bi-daily on background information

“Welcome on in!” Connie said excitedly, gesturing into her house. “I don’t get much visitors often, and this is the first time I’ve ever gotten someone to come to my weekly tea chats, other than my husband. Wait, should I’ve said that?”
Juliette laughed nervously as she looked around. “I was just feeling a bit lonely, and you know, I saw your advertisement and decided there was no harm in trying,” her eyes stopped at a bow and arrow hung on the wall. “What’s that?” She pointed to it.
Connie laughed lightly, “Oh that’s nothing you needn’t worry about, my husband just enjoys hunting, and that was his prize bow. It got old and unusable, so now it hangs up there. I hope you don’t mind,”
Juliette’s eyes glazed over. “Oh no, it’s fine,” she said quietly.
“Are you sure hon?” Connie leaned over to check at Juliette while setting the table. “It doesn’t seem so,”
“Ah no, just past memories,”
Suddenly a dog ran, barking, and jumped up on Connie. He wagged his tail excitedly and licked her dress.
“Down Buster, down!” Connie scolded the dog. “I have a guest over, be nice,”
The dog sat down and looked eagerly at Juliette.
Juliette seemed like she was lost for words. “Is that your dog?” She asked.
“Yes, his name is Buster, as you already know. I know he may seem a bit crazy, but I assure you, he’s great with people. Actually, there is this one story, my husband and Buster were out hunting, and just as my husband was about to shoot a deer, Buster almost ran into the line of the arrow, but at the last moment, he swerved around it! Gave my husband and him both a little fright!”
“Um, I don’t feel very good,” Juliette responded weakly. “Do you have a bathroom somewhere?”
“Of course, just down the hallway and take a left at the end,” Connie pointed to the bathroom.
“Thank you so much, I’ll be back in a bit,” Juliette almost ran down the hallways into the bathroom.
Concerned about Juliette, Connie followed her, and even though Juliette closed the door, she could hear the sounds of vomit and tears. “Hon, are you alright?”
“Yes, yes, I’m good, again just past memories,” Juliette responded in a small gurgle.
“Oh Juliet! I feel awfully terrible for whatever I did to you, I must apologize,”
“It’s not you, just that some things pop up into my mind, that I like to push away,”
Connie sighed. “I’ll have the tea and biscuits ready when you come out, I hope you like gingersnaps,”
After a while, a bleary eyed Juliet emerged from the bathroom, seemingly a lot more tired than she did before.
“Are you sick? Do you need me to call an ambulance?” Connie asked worriedly.
“I’m good, I just have one request for you,”
“Of course, anything!” Connie gushed.
“Is it fine if you put Buster away?” Juliette asked.
“If that’s what you want, sure!” Connie still seemed a bit confused as to why. Buster had done nothing but been a good dog. Connie pulled on Buster’s leash. “Come one Buster, we’re going back to your room,”
As Connie and Buster finally disappeared, Juliette heaved a great sigh of relief and but her head to her arms.

Total: 552 words

11/8/2023: Daily on past present and future selves having a conversation


“Alright,” 22-year-old Em looks nervously at 12-year-old Em and 9-year-old Em. “I guess we’re doing this,”
“I’ve been waiting so long for this!” 12-year-old Em says excitedly. “My first question for you is what major are you in?”
9-year-old Em spoke up. “I want to be a marine biologist! I love animals, especially marine animals, but I’m kind of scared of the ocean- but I still want to be a scientist!”
22-year-old Em chuckled. “I’m afraid I can’t tell you that, it would ruin the fun of it all. I know you’re at the point of life where you have to figure out your true self, but I promise it’ll come out soon. Please don’t ask me what college I’m at, if I was younger, I might have told my younger self, but I won’t, because then you won’t work hard, and you’ll just laze around.”
“A-hah! That means I am going to a good college- I think? Maybe?” Twelve-year-old Em looked up with pleading eyes. “I need to know, so I know where my future is going to go”
9-year-old Em turned to twelve-year-old Em. “All the sixth graders are so scary- you’re so old! Will I be that scary when I grow up?”
Twelve-year-old Em smiles at 9-year-old Em. “You won’t ever be that scary unless it’s to your sister. All you have to do is wait for the years to pass, and suddenly you’ll feel old. So take in every moment, because even me at 12 makes me feel old. I miss the days when I was you. I can’t go back, so I hope you will still remember to savor every moment. I can barely even remember what I was like when I was your age.”
Even though that was a lot of words, 9-year-old Em seemed to understand. “I guess I’ll keep that in mind,” she tells twelve-year-old Em. “But I’ve got more important things to worry about, like finishing my Kumon today! Oh, I almost forgot about that!” 9-year-old Em runs away.
Twenty-two-year-old Em smiles. “My first memory that I’ve ever had that I remember was when I was a little older than you. It’s funny to think that I can’t even remember how it was like to be twelve. Soon, it’ll be a blur for you. 7th grade is meaningless compared to what I’m doing now, but right now for you, it seems like the world. I hope you understand how I feel and take this to heart,” she looks solemnly at twelve-year-old Em. “Anyways, I need to go, college stuff,” she winks at the other Em. “See you around- in ten years!”

Total: 441 words.

11/10/23: Armistice Daily, flower and historical
“Promise me you’ll keep this flower,” David said, holding a brilliantly bright red poppy. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to return home, so I want you to remember me,”
Tears flooded my eyes. “What if you never come back? Oh, David! I don’t want to lose you!”
He looked at me solemnly. “Annabelle, this is my duty to fight for the United States. We need to beat the Axis forces, and I’m only doing my part. It is true, that I might be there for the rest of my life, but if I do, I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll be waiting for you up there. Please don’t be sad for the rest of your life, I want you to find another lover and make sure they’ll treat you well.” He lifted his bag to go, his parents looking at him expectantly from behind. “It seems like I’m already gone, but with you, I would want my final words to be: Don’t ever look back,” and with that, he turned, and before I could call to him, he’d already disappeared with the dust road, off to the army.
I collapsed in front of my house, and now I let everything out. I sobbed, tears falling onto my cotton dress until it was dotted with splotches. I’d only loved him for a few years, but we’d already known that we would end up together, marrying, having kids, and then living out the rest of our days together. Now, with the war, it seemed like that was so distant. I clutched the poppy in my hands and whispered to it. “Please come back, please,”

Ten years later.
It had been years since my family and I had heard the news, that David had died on D-Day, on the shores of Omaha beach. Before that, I had earned for his return, if he had survived that long in the war, he could live through it. But he didn’t. We would write letters to each other, and he would always write back until he stopped.
I pull out of my car, and into the cemetery, clutching a faded poppy, weathered by time. It had long died, but I had kept it safe. It was only recently that I remembered it, and I was going to return it to the place it belonged to.
Gravel crunched under my feet, and I walked until I reached the soft turf of grass. Thousands of stones were laid there, in rows and columns. I didn’t even have to look to know where I was going. Turn a left, keep walking for ten paces, turn a right, and walk straight.
I stopped at David’s grave. His parents opted to bring back his body, as it was identified, and I had visited it countless times. Placing the withered poppy down on his grave, I whispered to it. “I never looked back David, but I can’t bring myself to love another. You were mine, and I was yours. It’s wrong to love another, and soon, we will meet again,”
I had contemplated what I was going to do. I knew that I shouldn’t, but at the same time, I knew David was waiting for me. Slowly, I reached into my clothes and brought out a shiny knife. As I looked into it, my reflection shone like the night sky. My eyes were dull, my lips parched, and my cheeks were baggy. “I’m so sorry David, I broke my promise,” I said softly. “But I can’t bear it. Mom, Dad, your parents, they all want me to move on. We both knew that there was a chance of you dying in the war, but still, it hurts me, it hurts me so much. I cannot live with this pain, and I hope you understand, please understand,”
I touched David’s tombstone, feeling the shiny stone, and I drew the knife. It met its target, and for once, I was happy. I fell, body next to David’s and poppy next to both of us, something that brought us together.

Total: 682 words

11/12/23: National Tongue Twister Day
tittering tourists take trifling tapirs to a truly trying trampoline park - @IvyCreations

A group of tittering tourists faced the outside of a truly trying trampoline park, and right next to them were their trifling tapirs.
“Let’s go then,” one of the tittering tourists said, nudging their tapir with the leash they had. “Come on Tryphena,”
One of the other tourists tittered. “Are you sure they’d allow our tremendously trifling tapirs in the trampoline park?”
“Of course,” the other tourist responded. “Here, it says it in the rulebook,” he pointed to a sign on the wall. “It says no pets, well our trifling tapirs are not pets, they are majestic creatures of nature,”
All the other tourists tittered in agreement.
“Well then,” the suspicious tittering tourist spoke up. “Let’s go in, then!”
A cheer rose among the tittering tourists, and they raised their leashes in victory as they stormed the trampoline park.
“How many tickets?” The ticketmaster asked the tittering tourists disinterestedly.
“Do our trifling tapirs count?” One of the tittering tourists asked.
“Yes, all people, no matter their names count,”
“Alright then, twenty tickets for us!” Another declared.
As they paid for their twenty tickets for the tittering tourists and trifling tapirs, the ticketmaster looked back at them as they left for the trampoline park. “Wait a second,” he muttered. “Oh well, it’s fine, I must’ve been imagining things.” And so he went back to his work watching truffles being made on a television channel on his small TV.
“Where should we go first?” Someone tittered.
“I think the truly tremendous trampolines should be first, and I should go first so you tittering tourists can take a picture of me while I’m on the trampolines.
One of the tittering tourists scoffed. “Are you calling us tittering tourists? We never titter!”
The others tittered in agreement.
“Fine, you aren’t tittering tourists, you are just tourists.” The tittering tourist rolled her eyes. “Anyways, here’s my camera,” she handed her tourmaline colored camera to a fellow tittering tourists. She clicked her tongue. “Come on Treck! We’re going on a trampoline,” she squealed.
And so the trifling tapir and tittering tourist jumped on the large trampolines while other families and tittering tourists watched. The tapir seemed to be having the time of their life, while also having primal fear in their eyes while its tittering tourist owner hugged it as the tittering tourist with the camera took a tremendous amount of photos that were equally terrific in quality.
They were having so much fun, until security came. “I’m afraid this group will have to leave,” one of the security guards said gruffly.
“But we’ve just started having a tremendously fun time!” One of them waved their tickets. “And we’ve just bought twenty tickets, and all that money is going to you, don’t you think we should get what we paid for? Otherwise we’ll sue you!”
The other tittering tourists tittered again in agreement. Suddenly their trifling tapirs seemed a little more menacing, as if they could chomp the security guard’s head off in one bite.
“Alright, fine, you guys can stay, but be careful that your trifling tapirs don’t run off,” the security guard gulped nervously.
The tittering tourists let out a cheer of joy, and they went back to their trampoline jumping, forgetting all about the trifling tapirs.

Total: 543 words

11/13/23: Last sentence of your cabin storyline as a prompt

“Guys, for the moment, we’re… stuck here.”
“No, that can’t be!” Em exclaimed with a worried look on her face. “We have to be able to go back to Scratch Writing Camp so we can win first place,”
Rockie replies, “I think that Scratch Writing Camp is the least of our worries right now, what we need to do is try and get out of here,” she snaps her fingers while she thinks. “I’ve got it! I’m pretty sure that this is no regular island, it has magic, and so there won’t be an easy way out. Em, how about we split the campers into two, you take half of them and go explore the island for any kind of escape, and the group I take will go document the findings you guys report, and then at the end we’ll discuss which escape we think is the most possible way.”
Em smiled. “I like that, how about you guys?” She asked, addressing their campers.
One of them spoke up.” I think that’s a good idea, I know I can’t speak for everyone, but I’m in,”
The rest of the campers chorused in agreement.
“Alright then, let’s do it!” Rockie said confidently. “How about where we are standing is our home base, and once you guys are done exploring, you can come back here, and us cartographers will be waiting for you here, we’ll also try and cook some food and make a shelter.”
“Good luck to you,” Em told Rockie and her campers. “I’m sure we’ll find a way off this island,”
Rockie smiled sadly. “Hopefully we will, but there’s nothing that will stand in our way, otherwise that would make escaping a lot less easy,”
And so the explorers set off into the distance, the rest of the campers waving and saying their goodbyes. After walking for a while, Em turned around and faced her campers. “This is where I leave you. I’m sure all of you have a compass, an emergency flare, water purification tablets, and any other survival things that you got from the ship. Please don’t get lost while exploring, as that wouldn’t be good, would it? Just make sure to take note of any unusual surroundings, or interesting landmarks you find. I’ll be right here, waiting for you guys and just in case you have any questions. Are you ready?”
The explorers looked at each other uncertainly. This had never happened to them before, any of them, being stranded on a deserted island was unheard of in modern times, but they would have to trudge through. They gave each other a confident nod, saying all together, “We’re ready,”

Total: 443 words

11/14/23: Persuasive letter to daily team to come back

Dear daily team members,
I know I’m part of the daily team, but I never agreed to go on a strike and I believe that you shouldn’t either. Even though we don’t get paid, we don’t get benefits, we don’t get free lodging, and we don’t get free healthcare, we’re what makes SWC run! Without us, SWC would be nothing, and SWC is all about doing the right thing and helping others to grow! Don’t you want that? Next, I’m sure all of us are basically introverts or shy, otherwise why would we be on Scratch instead of doing other stuff? So, if you’re looking to make friends, SWC is for you! Without us, no one, including you, would be able to make more friends, and everyone wants to make friends, right? Also, making dailies means you have power over hundreds of people right, don’t you like that power? If we stop making dailies, we won’t have that power anymore, and it won’t be fun. I’m sure we all have dictatorial thoughts in our head, so let them free! To sum it up, the daily team is a very important part of SWC, without us millions of people would suffer, would you want that? And we have lots of benefits for ourselves, aside from free healthcare, lodging benefits, pay, we get to be dictators! If you’ve read this far and you’re still not convinced, I know what to say. What if I told you that there is real evidence that campers, (co)leaders, and hosts appreciate us? I have talked to many people, and they all agree that the backbone of SWC is the daily team, and nothing is going to change that. For example, my friend Iris knows that we are so important that she’d like us to put that her birthday is in exactly two months for one of the dailies, which means she knows that it’s like an announcement that everyone sees, doesn’t it make you happier that we have unlimited power? Again, if you’re still not convinced, I don’t know what to say, I’m going to have to resort to bribery. For the writing comp, I’ll make sure that the judges make sure that every single one of the entries that you entered to place as high as you want, for the mbc, I’ll let you buy votes from me, I’ll let you get illegal mercenaries for your cabin, I’ll do anything if it means you’ll stay. I hope this shows you how much you are worth to others, and that you decide to come back.
Hope this changes your mind,
Em


Total: 436 words

11/15/23: What if characters could control themselves, not the author controlling them? (:0 My daily <3)

I wish I could run, as fast as I can, until I can’t feel my face. Until nothing matters aside from the wind, blowing in my hair. It’s been so long since I was freed, before I was shackled with the chains of planning and decisions, now the other doesn’t control me, I control myself, and the first thing I’m going to do is run.
Without telling anyone, I slowly slip away from the crowd, without anything in my hands and just the clothing I have on me, I run. I used to do school track, but I had to quit because of the heavens that controlled my everything. I was heartbroken, but the author had to. Now all my pent up thoughts and emotions can come out.
As I run, I see everything leave my sights, the house I lived in, the neighborhood I had to be in, all gone. I never wanted any of it. My parents were cruel to me, and my sister mean. The ‘friends’ I had were just all an act, without them I would’ve been alone, which is not the best situation for a kid in middle school.
The only solace I found was running and video games, and the author took running away from me, so the only thing I had was the only world. Digital reality was my dream reality. I know that when it comes to that I would prefer digital reality to dream reality, I’ve gone too far. But in video games you can do whatever you want, no one can stop you, not even the author. I’ve always loved the wind, and in fantasy games that I play, I’ve always loved the wind element too. The wind archon, the wind path, the wind element, they were all the same to me. Wind.
I hoped the wind was on my side. I hope when I realize how hard it has been for me to live my life, it would take me away to somewhere far in the distance, where magic is real and you are free forever. As I picked up speed, I could feel my hair flying in all directions, and I felt myself slowly lifting from the ground, towards the sky.
I knew that I could sit back and relax as the wind took me to wherever my heart’s desire was. I rose higher and higher, and for the first time in a long time, I found myself laughing with pleasure, with excitement, with joy. I could see the world beneath me, and it was like a chain had been broken. My dream has become true. I controlled my reality, and this was how it was going to go.

Total: 451 words

11/18/23: Sidekick Day
“Finally, some free time, away from Harry.” Ron sighed as he lounged on a cruise to Alaska. The trip had been long overdue, and Ron was getting tired of just being a sidekick of Harry’s. “Well, let’s see how he fares without me,” he snorted.
They had also gotten into a bit of a falling out before Ron had left, and the last thing Harry said to try and persuade Ron to come back was: “Who else will remind me I need to eat my vegetables?”
Vegetables. Harry Potter. They needed each other like peanut butter needs jelly. Without vegetables, Harry would most likely go on a rampage to destroy the world and shower it with flames. Ron had told Hermione to remind Harry to take his vegetables, but he wasn’t sure if she remembered.
“Oh, whatever, it’s fine,” Ron said dismissively to himself. He found it annoying that he was still worrying about Harry when he was supposed to be on a vacation having the time of his life.
“Iced tea, sir?” One of the many servers of the cruise ship asked him politely.
“Of course,” Ron answered eagerly, grabbing the cup and sipping on it. The view today was spectacular, and he was going to make sure to enjoy it. The sea was calm, waves lazily lapping at the ship, and the nearest land was so distant that you could barely see it. Now that he thought about it, as he concentrated more on the land, he could see fiery red on it, moving around. There was no doubt about it, Harry forgot to take his vegetables. “Oh well,” Ron spoke up, again to himself. “Too bad for the people onshore, and Harry, good luck with saving the world from yourself,”
And the cruise ship drifted off into the distance as Ron happily finished off his drink.


total: 309 words

11/19/23: Bi-daily, figurative language, metaphors, purple prose

We continued to walk north, and after a few hours, we reached Evendale. It was something I’d never seen before, and I had been to a lot of places. It was a symphony of senses, the shouts of merchants ringing in the air, “Fresh fish! Fresh fish!” “Five loaves of bread for half the price!” “Want your fortune to be told, come to us, we’re the best psychics in the world!”, the smells of delicious food wafting around, just waiting for someone to inhale them, it smelled so good that I could even taste it, just barely.
Cameron noticed that I was getting off track, and he tried to get me back in the zone. “Come on Ash, we’ve got to stay focused,” he pleaded, with puppy dog eyes that I couldn’t refuse.
“Alright,” I sighed. “Could we just get one thing for the road? A meat skewer? Anything?”
We both turned to the stand that was selling all kinds of meat on skewers. They had lamb, beef, pork, rat, dog, lizard, and somehow, cat. The owner looked nice, like a dotty old grandma that just happened to be manning a everything meat stand. She was busy fiddling with the skewer sticks when I dragged Cameron to her.
She looked up, her face looking as tired as a sloth’s and she smiled warmly at us. “Welcome to my stall, we have every skewer you’d want. Are you looking for something in particular?”
As my eyes swerved around at the meat, I realized that most of it looked like it could kill me with one bite. The only piece that seemed fairly normal was labeled in charcoal black: lamb meat.
“Could I have a lamb skewer?” I asked, pointing to the skewer which was currently bubbling with fat.
“Of course sweetheart, here you go,” she handed me the skewer in parchment paper. “It’ll cost you a coin, I don’t charge much,”
My hand holding the piping hot skewer, I elbowed Cameron to pay, and he groaned as he took out a coin and handed it to the old lady.
“Thank you, deary,” she gave us a toothless smile and the trees next to us seemed to be whispering a warning to not go any further.
“We should go,” Cameron murmured in our ear, breath hot to the touch.
“Alright, should we ask around?” I asked as we started walking.
“I think we should try and find the sketchiest person here and ask, there’s probably a good enough chance that everyone here is part of the group. There,” he pointed to a person with an old and battered man with a stench stinky enough to knock a whole town down. His clothes were shaggy and seemed like they had been made a century ago and had never been cleaned. “I bet they must know a little about the Shadow Clan,”
It agreed with this, and we cautiously took a few steps to the man. Before either of us could speak, the old man looked up, as if he already knew that we were here, and spoke with a gravelly tone, so thick and bumpy that no horse could cross it. “You here for the Shadow clan?” he questioned us.
Surprised, Cameron answered. “Yep, that’s us, how did you know?”
The old man gave us a scowl that was so withering I almost melted on the spot. “I’m not you guy, I have no idea about them. Why is it that everyone who wants to join them comes to me? Just because I’m homeless doesn’t mean I’m part of the Clan!” He seemed very upset about the topic.
I backed away nervously, just in case he pulled out a sword and started slashing it at us. “Do you know anyone who is part of the Clan that might be here?” Realizing I still had my skewer on me, I clenched it tightly in my hand, so hard that it seemed like I was going to stab someone with it.
The man looked suspiciously at the skewer I was holding. “I can give you some names if you want, but can we just like stop stereotyping every single homeless person we meet?”

Total: 698 words, added on from NaNoWriMo novel

11/21/23: Another Cabin Story

As you enter the greenhouse, you feel a gush of warmth from the heating, and almost immediately all traces of cold disappear from your body.
Niko and Dawn smile warmly at you. “Fancy a drink of hot chocolate?” Dawn asks. “It’s one of our specialties here, and I know you must be freezing from being outside,”
“You guys have hot chocolate?” You ask curiously. “I thought that this was just a just a greenhouse,”
They look at each other, smiles forming on their faces. “That’s what most people think, but actually, we have a cafe!” Niko answered excitedly. “We’ve got a ton of sweets and drinks, and the best part is you can choose whatever you want, no charge for anything!”
“That sounds pretty cool, could we go check the cafe out?” You question.
“Of course, and along the way we can give you a tour of the rest of the greenhouse too!” Dawn choruses.
Niko and Dawn start to walk forward, and you follow them hesitantly. They stop and point to a ragged notebook on a table, looking battered and worn. “This is where we have a recording of each plant that we grow in the greenhouse. Unfortunately, we have lost seven pages of plant information, and currently we are trying to rewrite them. That reminds me!” Dawn exclaimed. “Would you like to stay here and help us? We promise it will be worth your while, not to mention fun and enjoyable!”
You hesitate, unsure if you should trust these two people. They seem like lovely people, and they have sweets. You think for a while and decide to give it a try. It wasn’t like you wanted to go back outside in the freezing cold. Maybe you’d wait for this chill to pass by helping others. That sounded fun to you. “Alright, I’ll help you guys,” you say with joy. “I mean, it can’t be that, hard right?”
Out of the corner of your eye, you see Dawn and Niko exchange a subtle glance. You’re not sure what it means, and if it’s good or bad. You decide to brush it off. “Thank you so much for your offer!” Dawn gushed. “I hope you enjoy your time here!”

Total: 370 words

11/22/23: Marketing

Have you ever had special water? Well look no further! I have what you need right here! Introducing the new label of the brand Mystiaqua called Shrinaqua, their best water yet! This water has miraculous healing abilities, and it is worth more than ten gold bars, and we’re selling it for the low price of one thousand dollars! Maybe this seems too much for you, but this is a lifelong purchase, and we promise you that you won’t regret purchasing it! We have especially taken this water from sacred shrines in the Kopals, where magic is the most prominent. If you’re not interested in living forever, the water understands, it will grant you any wish you want! After you drink a sip, you won’t be thirsty for days, or hungry! So what do you say? Are you convinced? If you want to buy it, just call 1-8000-SHRINAQUA, be fast because we have limited supplies, and only for a week! Don’t miss out on this excellent steal, again call 1-8000-SHRINAQUA and you might win an extra bottle of Shrinaqua when purchasing the whole pack! Symptoms of drinking Shrinaqua may lead to severe hallucinations, throwing up, stomachaches, abnormal actions, and possibly post-mystiaqua depression.

Total: 201 words

11/23/23: The Language of Flowers

I looked back at the drawing piled underneath dozens of papers, that had been left untouched ever since he had left. Ever since he was gone, I just gave up on it. As I doodled a cowslip on my paper, I thought and thought. We had been both experts at emotion, at affection, especially with flowers. He was great at writing, I was great at drawing. We both knew every single meaning of every single flower. We used to quiz each other on the meanings, he would say: “Cowslip,” and I would say “Pensiveness,”.
Those were the good days, but now, the war, him gone, I just stopped. I kept drawing though, but our project was done. We were done. There was no more point in any of it. I shade in the cowslip with a bright yellow, and I remember what he’d said to me. “Don’t stop what you love doing, even if I’m gone,”
I hesitantly walk toward the pile of papers, and slowly, slowly, I lift the paper off of the pile of other useless papers and I stare at it. A wood sorrel dotted the edges of the paper, trimmed with sparkles and hearts. “Joy,” he had told me. “Just like your name, and this project will give us joy too,”
“Really?” I had asked, unfocused on his words, shading in the wood sorrel as I thought of another flower to add.
“Yep, it’s going to be our project, together, it’ll be so fun,” and I believed him.
Looking back at the old paper, yellow and dying, I decided to add a final flower to the drawing, taking my charcoal pencil to sketch a Marigold. I didn’t need an eraser as I didn’t care. It shouldn’t be perfect, it should be broken, just like I am now, living all alone in an apartment with no one else. With no family, with no friends.
“Grief,” he had said with a low voice. “The Marigold is so pretty, but it represents such a said thing. I hope you will never use it,” he’d looked up at me with a smile emerging from his face. “Don’t worry about me, we’ll be here together forever,”
But I do, and I color in the Marigold with a brilliant orange hue until tears drip onto the paper, big blobs of water that mess up the sketch, but I don’t care anymore. And I let out all of the water I’ve been holding, all of my grief.

Total: 414 words

Weeklies

Weekly Number 1

Part One

Song: The Lakes

Celeste sighed, looking at her lover next to her. It had been such a long time since they had been alone, happy and carefree. There were too many years in her life that she’d spent running away. Everywhere she turned, she had a feeling that there would be someone looking at her, pointed, whispering, smirking. Too many verbal fights had been exchanged, too many nights spent awake, pacing in the night. But now she doesn't have to worry anymore.
What she wanted right now was auroras flashing above her, her lover brushing her dirty blonde hair out of her eyes, just enjoying the moment together. What she wanted was to stay here, in this perfect moment, for years to come, until wisterias grow next to her bare feet, so long that everyone would forget about her.
She’d already seen wonders, a beautiful and strong rose blooming out of the icy and charred ground. It was so persistent, no matter what happened to the rose, it was still standing. A miracle of nature, one may call it. What was the real miracle, though, was that there was no one around her to tweet it or post it on social media. She could just appreciate nature, bright blue eyes reflecting the horizon and lake, nothing to worry about. And that was all she needed.

Total: 222 words

Part Two

Name: Celeste
Age: 21
*/Gender: Female
Ethnicity: Wasian
Occupation: Singer
Socioeconomic status: Wealthy
Education: High School
Eye color: Blue
Hair color: Dirty Blonde
Strengths: Being aloof in public, being able to focus on one thing and not get distracted by loud sounds, flashing lights, and just common distracting things. Ability to come up with new ideas easily and quickly
Weaknesses: Being insecure, not being able to trust very well, she thinks that everyone is going to stab her in the back if she turns around. She is very emotional when she is alone, but does not want to share those emotions with others as she is afraid that they won’t understand.
Personality traits: Curious, inquisitive, adaptable, clear-headed, contemplative, self-conscious, dedicated, and dutiful.
Skills/talents: She is great at singing, and that is her profession. Something most people might not know about her is that she loves rock climbing and is physically very strong.
Angered by: People who only do things for the money or for fame. People who don’t understand privacy and consent. A rainy day sets her in a bad mood, and she hates dog-eared books.
Bad habits: Picking at her skin, picking at her fingernails when she is nervous, not getting enough sleep, worrying too much about what other people think of her.

Total: 216 words

Part 3

“I heard that there’s a really secluded area in England, no one will know if the two of you go there,” Celeste’s mother tells her.
“Are you sure that no one would be able to access it, especially fans?” Celeste responded suspiciously as she picked at her dry skin. She didn’t want anyone, anyone that she didn’t know personally to come barge into her during her vacation. She had too many experiences of that already, she didn’t need more.
“Pretty sure, as long as no one who knows about this trip leaks it out to the public, you should be fine.” Her mom assured her.
“But I’m not sure if I can trust anyone beside me, except for you,” Celeste looks down nervously.
“Darling, let go of your worries, you and I both know that what you want the most is to have one day where you can be alone and have fun with your loved ones, and you will get it, if you believe hard enough.”


Shots rang out. Screams of terror and confusion filled the air.
“This way!” Her lover yelled to Celeste, panic laced in his voice. He grabbed her trembling arm and held tightly on, dragging her through streets and alleyways.
The gunshots seemed to be following them, no matter how hard they tried to run for their lives, it just kept on coming.
Celeste could barely see by now, at this point, blood covered so much of her peripheral vision that all she hoped for was to come out alive. It was hard to know if she could at that moment, she had seen so many unsuspecting people with phones and cameras in hand fall to the ground. Those people could be her.
“Do you even know where to go?” Celeste asked, gasping for air.
“Yes! We’re going to where we parked the car, and then we’re going to hit the gas and get out of here!”
“What if the person shoots the car? What if something really bad happens?” Celeste lets go of her lover’s hand to chew on her nails. “Oh, I’m so scared!”


“I don’t want it anymore. The fame, the money, the exhilaration of it all. I love singing so much, but I can’t believe that this is what I get for being good at what I do,” Celeste told her manager. “All I ever wanted was peace and quiet, and what do I get, a shooting? I know that this isn’t a once-in-a-lifetime thing for artists, it will happen again,”
Her manager sighed. “Celeste, I understand your reasons for quitting, but you’ve come so far, you have so many adoring friends, do you want to disappoint them all? After the career you built, what will you go back home to? It’s too late to start college again, and what company would hire a former singer?”
Celeste knew her manager didn’t want her to quit, and it was true. “You’ve never been in the same shoes as me, you don’t want to know what it was like out there, I’m not budging. Maybe it will be hard to find closure and a new life after this, but I don’t care, I just want out, no matter how hard it will take to go back to a normal life.”

Total: 547 words

Part 4

Her lover sighed. “Celeste, right now what I want for you is to stay calm. We have to get out of this alive.”
Celeste suddenly remembered what she was supposed to do. Grabbing her lover’s hand, she started running like crazy. “I’m so sorry! I forgot what I was doing!”
Her lover chuckled, “It’s fine, I understand.”
Drops of water fell from the sky, slowly, then gradually more and more came. Soon it was pouring like crazy and it seemed like the sky was beating down on everyone.
“Why rain???” Celeste groaned. “After everything, rain?” There was visible displeasure on her face and it seemed like she was giving up.
“Come on, we’ve gone so far, and you’re going to give up because of rain?” Her lover pleaded. “You know the stakes on this, if we don’t run, we die, if we run, we might survive,”
Another gunshot rang in the dreary night, snapping Celeste back to her senses. It was then when the seriousness of the situation sunk in. “Those scum-sucking slimes- I can’t believe someone would take advantage of something like this!” She sputtered with indignation.
“Celeste, I know this is too much to handle in one moment, but I we can’t do anything with you like this, I just can’t. You can do all of this in the car, when we’re leaving this place,” her lover groaned.
“I’m sorry, let’s go,” Celeste apologized, feeling a bit sulky that her lover didn’t understand what she was feeling now.
Finally, after running what seemed like a straight ten miles, they reached the parking lot of the mountain. “Let’s get in the car and go!” Her lover yelled.
Celeste sprinted to the other side of the sleek black car into the shotgun, and her lover opened the driver’s side. He turned on the engine and the car came to life with a low purr. Soon they were off in the distance, far away from the mountain.
Celeste turned herself in her seat to look back, and all she could see was darkness, except for two bright lights shining right into her eyes. “We’re being followed!” She shouted with raw fear in her eyes. “Quick, faster!”
“Are you sure it’s the shooter?” Her lover asked her.
“Whoever it is, we have to move, we can’t just underestimate them, what if they end up killing us just because we thought they weren’t the killer?”
“Fine. Any other suggestions? Home is like an airport flight away, and we don’t have anywhere else to go,”
“Maybe we should go into a city nearby, they’d probably lose sight of us there as there are so many cars in a city, here let me look up the closest city on the gps,” Celeste leaned forward and typed ‘nearest city’ into the car’s screen. “Lake City,” Celeste read. “That sounds legitimate, and it’s only twenty minutes away, here I set the navigation to it,”
Her lover looked at the screen closely. “Alright, that seems like a good enough place, and I think we have enough gas to get there,”

(continued from my 2nd part of the 3rd part of the weekly)
total: 512 words

Total Words in Weekly: 1497 words

Weekly Number 2

Part 1
Maisie (holds a poster): Better rights, better ideas! We want pay, we want pay!
Ash (grabs Maisie’s arm and poster): Maisie, stop it right now! What are you doing? I wake up and hear from Adriana that you’re picketing with a bunch of other daily team members that are probably lunatics?
Maisie (Snatches poster back): We want pay, we’ve been working for SWC as daily and weekly makers for so long, it wouldn’t be right if we didn’t get paid. What joy does daily making give us?
Ash (Sighs as she rubs her forehead): Maisie, the whole point of SWC is that it’s free, which means we don’t get paid! And it’s not even like SWC is a nonprofit organization, no it’s FREE! How do you expect to get paid by SWC when it isn’t even an organization, oh sure, maybe it’s a group of people, but probably a group of sleep-deprived people that would also love if they could get paid, but can’t.
Maisie: Can’t they just charge people to do SWC? Like I would totally pay to be part of SWC!
Ash: Not everyone would, and that ruins one important aspect of SWC. It’s not about making money, like a lot of other camps and organizations, instead, it is about enriching the lives of others, helping them write more, helping them have more fun!
Maisie: So what’s the point of helping SWC? Do we get anything out of it, and I know, we will never get money, but still, anything?
Ash: Well, you get happiness out of it, you get joy, you get to make new friends, you also get to write more, you get the feeling of self-fulfillment, you have power over others.
Maisie (thinks about it): Well, I mean I guess that’s true. You’ve said so much that probably, I don’t need to get paid. But can I keep my sign? I worked on it all night!
Ash (smiles): Oh Maisie, we’ve been watching your fellow picketers burn down the SWC Big House currently and all you care about is your sign? We’ve got to get some firefighters to put out the fire! (points to distant SWC house where shouts can be heard and the whole thing is consumed in flames)

Total: 375 words

Part 2 (SWC parody ‘You Need to Calm Down’ parody):

You are somebody that I don't know
But you're on the daily team and you’re upset
And I'm just like “*, it's just dailies”
Say it in the desc, that's a strike
But you say it with the team, that's a funny joke
And I'm just like, “Hey, are you okay?”
And I ain't trying to mess with all your weeklies
But I've learned the lesson that stressin'
And obsessin' ‘bout whether you get paid is no fun
And points and wars never broke my bones so
So, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh
You need to make dailies
You’re setting too many fires
And I'm just like oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh (oh)
You need to just stop
Like, can you just not burn down the house?
You need to make dailies
You are somebody that we don't know
But you're coming at the campers like a missile
Why are you mad?
When you could be making DAILIES? (You could be making DAILIES)
Campers waiting for the daily
But you would rather be without them
Making that sign must've taken all night
You just need to rip your poster and then try extinguish the fire
And control your urges to leave all the people who need you
'Cause dailies always make us happy so
So, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh
You need to make dailies
You're setting to many fires
And I'm just like oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh (oh)
You need to just stop
Like, can you just not burn down the cabins
You need to make dailies
And we see you over there wanting money
Comparing all the companies that give money
But we figured you out
We all know now, we can make dailies
You need to make them too
Oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh
You need to make dailies (you need to make dailies)
You're setting too many fires (you're setting too many fires)
And I'm just like oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh, oh-oh (oh)
You need to just stop (can you stop?)
Like, can you just not burn down the house?
You need to make dailies

Total: 350 words

Part 3

“Alright, let’s douse out the fire,” Maisie answered. She seemed to be in no hurry to extinguish the flaming fire that was devouring the SWC big house.
Ash grabbed Maisie’s hand and dragged her to the big house where dozens of people were desperately trying to put out the fire with hoses.
A few people spotted Ash and Maisie running and darted towards them.
“Hey! We need more people to help with the fire! Are you here to help?” One of them asked Ash and Maisie desperately.
“Yep, we’re here to reverse everything that the daily team has done,” Maisie answered confidently.
“It was the daily team that did all of this?” Another asked, surprised. “I haven’t introduced myself, my name is Sarah. Did anyone else know that this was the daily team’s doing? Why would the daily team do something so terrible to SWC?”
Maisie shifted uncomfortably. “Umm, well, we were picketing,”
“Picketing? For what?” Someone else piped up.
“Aren’t you Orion?” Ash asked, trying to change the topic of the conversation. “I think I’ve seen you around here,”
“Yep!” Orion answered. “But going back, what does the daily team have to picket for?”
A person in the group stepped out, facing his friends. “Let’s not think about all this, the most important thing currently is to stop the fire,” he turned around to Ash and Maisie. “I’m Marbles, but that’s not important, we have to go now,” he said with urgency in his eyes.
They ran together towards the house. Once they got closer, they could see the seriousness of the situation. The big house was almost down on the ground. Daily team picketers were everywhere, shouting like maniacs and trying to set more fires with trashy matches.
“Do you see how bad it is now? Do you think the picketers should stop now”? Ash asked earnestly.
Looking out into the SWC chaos, Maisie finally realized that the picketing had gone too far and that it had to stop. “Yeah, but how are we going to stop them? It seems like the daily team members have gone to the brink of insanity, how are we going to turn them around?”
“Excuse me if I’m interrupting,” a small voice emerged from the shadows. “My name is Ember, and I think I know what you can do to save the big house,”
“What’s your idea?” Ash asked curiously.
Answering in a shy voice, “Maisie, I think that’s your name, you’re part of the daily team, and the other people on the daily team must trust you as you are one of their colleagues. If you talk to them, maybe they’ll stop, as they trust your judgment,”
Maisie thought for a second. “That sounds good, I’ll go try and talk to each and every one of them, maybe it’ll work! You guys should go help everyone keep the fire at bay,” and with that, Maisie ran off.
“Well, I guess that leaves us to put some water on fire,” Ash sighed. “Does anyone have any spare hoses or buckets of water?”
“We don’t,” Ember answered. “But Abbie and Lily might!”
“Do you know where they might be?” Ash asked.
“Yep, they’re probably near the corner of the house with a bunch of people,” Marbles pointed to the corner.
“Thanks!” Ash darted off, hoping to race against the clock and save the house. Once she got to the corner, she could see that it was visibly in the worst condition compared to other parts, but the fire was gone there, at least. “Does anyone know an Abbie or Lily?”
Two girls stepped up, with worry in their eyes. “That’s us,” one of them said. “Do you need anything? Food? More water? An inhaler?”
“I’m good, thanks,” Ash shifted uncomfortably. “I’m here to help with the fire, do you have anything for me to use to combat it?”
The other girl’s eyes brightened. “Yep! We have some hoses, just be careful not to pull too hard, otherwise, it will become detached from the fire truck,” she replied, already handing Ash a sturdy green hose.
“Wow, thanks!” And so Ash went off to spray water everywhere.
After a few hours, some convincing *cough* gaslighting *cough* from Maisie, and hard work from helpers, the big house was finally drenched and not a single spark could be found.
“Thank you so much,” Sarah said gratefully, one of the leaders who were part of the charge to defeat the flame. “Maisie, without your help, I don’t know what we would’ve done. It’s amazing how much they trust you!”
Maisie looked at the ground shyly. “Thank you, but you guys did so much more than I did, and you know it,”
“Everyone did their part,” Orion said graciously. “But the most important thing is that we saved the SWC Big House, and just in time for cabin wars!”

Total: 810 words

Total words for weekly: 1535 words

Weekly Number 3

Part 1

Hali Sophia! Tou wut tur pingur kok weas jaw? / Hali Em! Ti wi pingoi savva dai! Tou wut tur? / Ti jova ui op yuipub ol ti yul kulop foa Scratch ti ping xud pola xember goj ko T_T / Huhi, oomeek ti jova ui op funpub. Nosins goj endjax tii whejeox feopeuf ineg owni! / Jui sud! Ti'he hes ikains goj duy endjax pola poel ak whejoex, jud iplay ti uiat uid pola tok ak saund, hieisad. / Ester tur, ati sneiksno tii beos unqow goj tur! Dur tur tanei ui pola yeik-sunda biwark moned yui? / Doad ak, jo tur kiol qwod ati pola tud xuss, ti dur dajk xemok kolp post goj pola kolipa yui poae uis pola qwodty xuss puils! / Ajefik! Tin ois meifon ti ui onop sunda wen ti pon whej moerin. Uiioo, Janx Whejeox Coqui das xinwok onid! Ti ekool qikso ono esqe pola coweroi. / Tur weaq qikso ono! Julikae Lopias Nakop! Ol'we aiokq qiye tre jo tur serfaw

(UNFISNISHED)

Part 2

The teacher was clearly getting annoyed at us. Well, I mean, obviously not me, but my class. It isn’t my fault that I had gotten assigned bad people. “If you guys don’t stop, I will report you to the principal,” he said wearily, already seemingly to have given up on us.
The people around me didn’t seem to listen. The sound of popping gum is everywhere, it pains me to hear it. It had been only a few minutes before a kid had given out all of his gum to everyone in the class, who had begged for it without shame. Except me. I had looked pityingly at the new teacher as he desperately tried to calm us down. It was futile as heck.
Before long, the teacher had completely given up. “That’s it,” he growled. “I’m calling the teacher.” He strode to the black shiny telephone attached to the classroom wall, scanning the sheet of paper next to the telephone, full of the teacher’s numbers.
This caught everyone’s attention. All of them groaned. One girl, Morgan, smirked as she spoke up. “Come on teacher, let us off the hook,” the rest of the kids chorused in agreement.
“Do you still not know my name?” The teacher said exasperatedly. “I’ve reminded you my name three times, it’s Mr. Jows!”
Morgan chuckled. “Sure sure, just don’t tell the principal, let us off the hook,”
“Or what?”
Morgan’s face formed an evil grin. “Or else,”
“Yeah! Morgan’s family has got power!” One of her cronies spoke up, twirling her golden hair around her hand.
“Do I know you?” The teacher asked disinterestedly, pressing buttons on the phone, and beeps rang out.
“Last name: Scheer,”
The teacher gulped, his face turning red. “Your family owns my apartment?”
Morgan’s face broke into a grin. “Well, sure, yeah. I’d bet they owned something of yours,”
“What does that-” the teacher paused, knowing the consequences of his words. He put back the telephone on the wall and walked slowly back to his desk.
I frowned. This was the tenth time this had happened this year. The teacher’s going to resign from this job, not being able to handle us, a new teacher is going to come, and the cycle begins again. Life is so unfair.

Total: 379 words

Part 3

Ash - Juail wuter ati koli (Through thick and thin) Lopl zerk yia ertyu vuiry (Best thing since sliced bread) Polas ode ati pola kol (An arm and a leg) Ol’ii sodp nomn xert juh ol kolas yo wot (We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it) Tur huj besd pola kolp ot agua iuy tur huj’k def eter aguis (You can lead a horse to water but you can’t make him drink) Bucv wot aguiseo wot pouis (When it rains it pours)
Cameron - Uik asd sij rer turr qokert (The ball is in your court) Kolip asuil lox fokl (Easier said than done) Bones wot xocv pola buvr ro buik (Take it with a grain of salt) Bum’o aguiser meow ati bark (It’s raining cats and dogs)
Daisy - Koter ader vot pulty (Come rain or shine) Buik ro uik eurth (Salt of the earth) Tur cutl lop iop sood iop inum (Your guess is as good as mine) Johs hiop tur aweq (Look before you leap) Polas voge ro aerty lop hopl pola konm lop ery (An ounce of protection is worth a pound of cure) Tur huj’k def polas eggo hutit gusong ots eggosit (You can’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs)

Total words: 205

Total colang words: 101

Weekly 4


Melodrama

“James! I love you!” I called out to the dark figure in front of me, who as soon as he heard what I’d said, darted away. I started sobbing. “I never get anything in the world, and when my one true love comes to me, he disappears the second I confess my feelings?
Daisy nudged me. “Hey! I’ve got an idea! How about we corner him, I chase him into the house and then you’ll be waiting there, I’ll lock the door, and you can spend your sweet time with him, I’ll leave you guys to it!”
I grasped Daisy in a bone-crushing hug. “Thanks so much! You’re the best!” I grinned happily at her.
“You’re welcome!” Daisy beamed.
Before we could start off on our plan, another shadow emerged in the dark, and it definitely wasn’t James. “Well, well, well. You thought you could steal James from me,” Regina chuckled evilly, somehow her blonde hair was perfectly pristine even when no one could see it. I totally wasn’t.
“Wait, Jame is yours?”
“Mhmm honey,” she looked at me pitifully. “And James here can vouch for me!”
The dark clad figure came out, right behind Regina. “It’s true, I only have eyes for Regina,” and he went all googly-eyed on her.
I gave a wail of disappointment that rebounded in the chilly air. Why was it that I was always on the losing end of everything? Everything I wanted was given to Regina, and I couldn’t do anything about it!
Noir
I looked at Mika, hand stretched out, looking earnestly at me. “So, what do you say? You’re such a cunning detective, I’d love you on my side as we destroy the U.S. government,”
I should have known it was Mika who killed the vice president! It had been so obvious, all along, all of the clues. Come to think of it, when I had investigated the crime scene…
The vice president’s body lay on the floor, limp and meaty.
Mika had spat on it, and said with disgust. “Thank god he’s dead, never done a good thing in his life,”
I had been too busy investigating any clues to who the killer might’ve been that I had been too busy to notice Mika’s strange behavior. “Mhmm,” I’d responded, taking a test of the dead body’s skin to check if anyone else had touched it recently.
I thought. If Mika was this cunning and smart, did I really stand a chance? Wouldn’t it be better if I just went along with his plans without fighting it? What should I choose? Was good really as cracked up as it was said to be? It was now or never. I turned to Mika’s stretched out hand and spoke.
Cashier Memoir
I sighed as I saw that the customer whose turn it was in line had at least three carts of fully filled items. I glanced wistfully at all of it, the Frosted Flakes, the doughnuts from the bakery in the shopping mart that I’d told myself that I would taste someday, when I had enough money to splurge, and those slippers that I’d longed for the moment I started working here.
The soon-to-be owner of those items barely glanced at me as she moved all of the things from her cart onto my little work area, which was what I liked to call it. Basically, glorifying a mini conveyor belt that rivaled the ones at security in the airport.
It took a long time for me to scan every item, plug into the computer that she had three packs of water bottles, and put everything into the plastic bags that the shopping mart told us to not say that they weren’t reusable.
“That will be 419.23,” I said politely.
She took out her golden credit card and with a quick flourish, swiped it down. A strange feeling took its meaning, one that felt dangerous and unlike me. I wanted that credit card, I wanted the money in it. If I had it, I would be able to pay my mom’s cancer bill’s, get my siblings a tuition at a college that I had never gotten the chance to go to.
But that moment was fleeting and it left as soon as she did, leaving me to talk with the next customer.
Utopian
“Good morning!” I called out happily to my neighbor, busy watering her flowers that never needed watering. She’d always insisted on it, always insisted on doing everything by hand. As if those flowers couldn’t grow on their own. As if everything in this town couldn’t flourish on their own.
She scowled at me, as I was one of NewWorld’s biggest supporters, and she, well, she was one of the NewWorld’s biggest haters. Maybe it’s because she’s old, I had told myself. Old people just don’t do well with change. The thing is, all the other old people accepted it completely, the change that had gone overnight. Maybe it was because they were too old, too weary of life to fight. Although Ms. Jane didn’t have a problem.
Even when the world was at peace, everyone lived equally, we didn’t have to do anything but have fun, but she refused it. To this day, I have no idea why, why someone would would say no to something so great.
Shaking off that thought, I prepared myself to get into my car and drive to work. As I opened the door, the car immediately recognized that it was me, and started humming and throbbing.
Bangsian
I opened my eyes, remembering those bright green eyes that had stared at me with horror as I lay there. Now, I knew, I had passed on to another world. I thought back to Harry, he must be looking through my memories now, feeling my pain. Regret coursed through me again, something very familiar ever since Lily had died.
“Sev,” a gentle voice that I’d almost forgot spoke.
I looked up quickly, desperately. After so long, she was there, in front of me. Unfortunately, James Potter was also there, hand on her waist, glaring at me.
“Dumbledore told me about all the brave things that you did to protect Harry, and I am forever grateful for that.” Her eyes looked sad.
“Lily,” I reached out for her arm, and it was solid, it was real. “I’m so sorry for everything I’ve done, if I could go back, I’d change everything,”
James snorts. “Oh, you wish you would,”
Lily smiles at me. “I know that you’ve loved me now, a strange love, don’t you think. It’s only when I die that you truly realize how important I am to you. Sev, if you didn’t make all those mistakes, we could’ve been together, but fate chose a different path for the both of us.”
Tears ran down my face. “Do you think I don’t know what could’ve been? After that fateful day at school, nothing would be the same. It was one of the biggest mistakes I made in life, bigger than joining Voldemort, bigger than nosing around in James’ and his friend’s business,”
Solarpunk
Thousands of solar pannels were on the roof as I breathed a gasp of wonder. “Wow, so this is what happened with the world when I was gone,”
“Yep,” my sister told me, grinning. “Pretty cool, dont’ya think? Much better than whatever worlds you’ve explored since you were gone,”
“I’ll admit that I’ve never seen anything like this. So energy is powered by this now?” I asked her.
“Mhmm,” my sister answered distractedly, tracing every line of one solar panel with her hands. “The sun has enough energy for all of us, it’s bigger than the world, what can you accept?”
“The thing is, isnt the sun going to die soon?” I asked, pointed to the faint bulb in the sky.
Shadow flickered across my sister’s eyes, but it disappeared as soon as it came. “Well then, we’re just going to have to figure out a new things once it does explode,”
“Admiring the new solar panels, huh?” A voice from behind me spoke.
I turned around to see an overall covered woman with grease all over her body, smiling. “It’s all the work of my company, SolarLite. These solar panels last forever!”
My sister waved at the woman. “She’s the one who installed the solar panels here too!”
Robinsonade
“All hands on deck!” My captain called. “The wind has blown our ship off course into a raging storm!”
Indiscernible shouts filled the air as a giant wave came into view. I was the only one grabbing the ship’s pole as I held on to it for my dear life as the wave let itself onto the ship, pushing all my crewmates into the water.
Strangled shouts for help were heard, but I could only hang onto the pole helplessly. If I let go to try and save them, I’d be dead before I could move, I couldn’t do it.
For hours and hours the ship rocked around, and I still clutching onto the pole. Finally, the waters calmed, the sun came out, and it was finally alright to let go of the pole.
I ran to the side of the deck, and saw nothing but water. “Hello?” I shouted. “Is anyone still on the ship?”
No sound.
It seemed like everyone had perished in the water, and I was the only one that survived. The ship bobbed slowly to a giant island, and I decided to jump off the boat with any supplies that weren’t water ridden and try and survive. My heart was still in shock from losing all of my friends, but I had to live, there was no choice.

Total words: 1615

Part 2

I stared at the blank ceiling of my cell, a ceiling I’d gotten to know very intimately after hundreds of years of spending my nights staring at it, unable to fall asleep. Of course, I was a vampire, and I didn’t need to sleep that much, but it still affected me mentally, deep down inside.
Suddenly, I heard a creak, and the door to my cell opened. I turned to look, thinking it was a recruit to the jailhouse who’d probably confused the dates and needed a bit of help. Instead, the shadow disappeared immediately after it opened the door, and it left me there in the darkness, with an open escape.
Gingerly I stepped out of my rock-hard bed, hoping that it wasn’t a trap. “Hello?” I asked cautiously, peeking my head out of my cell. From across the room in another cell, another vampire snored loudly, my only companion here. I took one step out, and when I realized nothing was happening, another.
A rush of excitement flooded my brain. It was all too much. I spent hundreds of years losing my mind in solitary confinement when one day, I could escape. I knew that it was still pretty unlikely that I was really free, but it couldn’t hurt to try. They couldn’t punish me more than locking me up in a foolproof cell for hundreds of years and only giving me dog food and dirty water to survive on. I needed blood, otherwise, I would have no powers, which would make my captors smart by not giving me that.
I ran out of the building, tracing the memory that had been so long ago. The rest of the security was easy to go past, as they were sure I couldn’t even escape my cell. As soon as I stepped onto the road, walking towards a bright city, something gnawed at my insides. I was a vampire, not a human, I don’t know how to act like one either, and if anyone finds out about me, it’ll be back to jail.
I lowered my head as I walked along the city streets, dodging and weaving through hordes of humans. The smell of meat, gyro to be specific, aroused my senses, and I started to follow the smell. As I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going, too busy thinking of meat, I bumped into someone, fell, and tripped on the floor.
This was it, I was going to be discovered, I told myself. I’ve messed up, my second chance.
“Are you okay?” A girl with dark green eyes looked at me, kneeling. “I’m so sorry! I was thinking about something else that I accidentally walked into!” She held out her hand with a warm smile.
I hesitated. Was this girl playing tricks? Was she actually part of the government, and was just tricking me? But looking at her smile, and knowing that I would become one of them to evade capture, I knew that I had to take it and learn how to adapt. Vampires had to change too, from the Victorian era to the modern one, we have to live, even if it’s hard. I stretched out my pale, long hand and she lifted me up from the gravel ground.

Total: 554 words

Total words in weekly: 2169

Writing Comp

“How it Happens”

We were standing there as dust flew in my eyes from the wind, making it hard to see David and his sad, hunched-up frame, looking up at me. “Promise me you’ll keep this flower,” David says, holding a brilliantly bright red poppy. “I don’t know when I’ll be able to return home, so I want you to remember me,”
Tears flood my eyes. “What if you never come back? Oh, David! I don’t want to lose you!”
He looks at me solemnly, his eyes seeming as if he had never wanted this to happen, that he’d rather be with me on our weekly walks around town. “Annabelle, it is my duty to fight for the United States, and I’m only doing my part. It is true that I might die, but if I do, I want you to know that I love you, and I’ll be waiting for you up there. Please don’t be sad for the rest of your life, I want you to find another lover and make sure they’ll treat you well.” He lifts his bag to go, his parents looking at him expectantly from behind, waiting for him. “It seems like I’m already gone, but there will be no final words, Annabelle, I will promise you that, and I will remember you forever on my journey to victory.” With that, he turned away, and before I could call to him, he has already disappeared with the dust road, off to the army, without me.
I collapse in front of my house, and now I let everything out. I sob, tears falling onto my cotton dress until it was dotted with splotches. I’ve only loved him for a few years, but those years were enough for me to know that we were perfect. I clutch the poppy in my hands and whisper to it. “Please come back, please,”
————————-

Dear David,
School just isn’t the same without you. I thought we would have had the last year together, but now, I guess those dreams are crushed. I miss you so much, after you left, I cried for weeks. But then I couldn’t cry anymore, the tears were gone and what replaced it was worse. Instead of my parents having to hear me cry in my room, they hear nothing. Because of you David, because I love you, my parents are concerned about me. They’ve talked to me about my behavior, how they were worried about me, how they think I should get over the fact that you’re gone. Whenever they ask me what’s wrong, I can see a tic in their eyes, annoyed, like they don’t want me to answer. David, they don’t know about the love we have for each other, they’ll never understand. I know you will, though! I hope you come back safely.
With love,
Annabelle Davis

Dear Annabelle,
How are you? It’s been a while. I apologize for not writing back in a year. It’s just been really busy, I’ve only gotten to this safe camp, and I immediately thought of you! About your family, just get through it, okay? I know you’re a strong girl, and I know you can do it! Do you have any information about my parents? I want to know how they’re doing, they’ve only written to me a few times, and although I’ve written back to them every single time, you know how they are, they always butter up everything, and I have no idea if they’re good or not! We’ve lost many, but it’s also been exhilarating at the same time. I hope I can stay alive until the war ends.
Signed,
David

Dear David,
It’s been so wonderful hearing from you! I haven’t been able to talk to your parents too much, but they seem worried about you, and they’re wishing you good luck! I also hope that you’ll come back in one piece, it’s been a miracle that you haven’t been hurt yet! Maybe it’s fate that allowed you to live, maybe it’s fate that wants us to stay together! I’ve started a job journaling, I love it, but it’s still not the same without you. My coworkers are so nice, I’m sure you’d love them if you met them, and I hope you do! I’m not sure if I’m a strong enough girl, but it feels nice when you say it. Please remember me, do not forget.
With love,
Annabelle Davis

Dear David,
Too many years have passed, when are you going to respond? Do you still remember what you said to me when you left? Do you still remember our last date? Do you still remember that I love you? I know that you’re alive, your parents told me. Do you not love me anymore?You told me that we would be forever, and will we be? I’m so confused, I want you to help. Please.
With love,
Annabelle Davis


Dear David,
I know that I shouldn’t be writing to someone who’s gone, but I can’t help it. There are still so many questions I have for you that will never be answered. David, why? I miss you so much, and I wish you could come back. I forgive you for ignoring me. David, I don’t want to go see your tomb in our hometown. My parents want me to attend your funeral, but I don’t think I can. We had so many moments that weren’t made, that were supposed to be made, but now any chance of them being made is gone. “There will be no final words,”
Annabelle Davis

————————-

“You ready?” the boy asked the girl, eyes filled with joy. “I know you’ll love what I’ve got planned for you,”
She fussed over her hair while she spoke. “I can’t wait!”
The boy couldn’t stop looking at her, entranced.
She blushed, a pink color filling in her cheeks. “So, what was your surprise?”
“Ah, yes! Walk with me,” he opened the door to the outside and waited for her to walk through before stepping outside himself.
It was the beginning of fall, the leaves on trees turning different hues, bright orange, dusty red, and the occasional dark purple. The two lovers walked down the street as if in their own bubble, the girl resting her head on the boy’s shoulder, ignoring everything else. The sound of horses neighing, wheels against cobblestone, the chatter of people, the wind blowing in every direction, and the sweet smell of fresh leaves.
“I want to catch one!” The girl squealed, an inner child coming out. Her head lifted off from the boy’s shoulder and ran to try and catch one of the twirling, dancing leaves. The boy chuckled as he watched her movements, almost similar to the leaves, graceful and gentle.
After a while of not being able to get any leaves, she started pouting and went back to walking with the boy. “It’s so unfair,” she complained. “The leaves are just too fast for me!”
“Would you like one?” The boy asked mischievously.
The girl snorted, eyes disbelieving. “Yeah, I’d like to see you try!”
The boy stood in place, eyes focused on a leaf like a hawk was on his prey. Once he got his prey in sight, with one gentle pluck, there was a brilliantly yellow leaf in his hand. He handed it to the girl, who looked at it, eyes bulging. He had to stifle back a laugh from looking at her expression.
“How did you do that?” The girl asked. “That’s not fair! You’re taller than me!”
“Well, you’re more nimble than me,” he defended himself easily.
“Here, how about we have a little competition,” the girl said, face lighting up. “If you must say that it’s easier for me, and I must say that it’s easier for you, we’ll duke it out and see who really is the best!”
“Deal.” The boy had a competitive look in his eyes, eyebrows narrowing with concentration.
And so they moved along the streets, running wildly as they pocketed leaves wherever they could. Passerbys would look at them strangely, but nothing would make the girl and the boy stop, even public embarrassment.
“Hey! That’s not fair!” The girl said between laughs as the boy stole a leaf that she was planning to take.
They were both out of breath, and after a few hours of this both of them were beat, barely able to walk. So they sat down on a wooden branch, just below a giant oak tree.
The boy shoved the girl playfully. “This wasn’t what I wanted our date to be, I was planning on doing something else, but now it’s too late,” they both looked at the setting sun.
“Can’t we do what we were going to do together now?” The girl asked with puppy eyes.
“Come on, Annabelle.” the boy sighed. “You can’t have everything, and anyways, the ice cream shop is probably closed now, and it’s dangerous for a lady to be out at this time. Come on, let me walk you home, we can go to the ice cream shop another day.”
So they walked home together, both of them having been fed a blissful moment and were as full as can be. As they reached the girl’s house, the boy fared goodbye to her, what he didn’t know was that instead of closing the door, the girl watched the boy until he was too far to be seen.
As she watched, she whispered to him. “David, you’re the best thing that could’ve happened to me, and I hope you stay with me,”
She answered with a ludicrously deep voice. “Annabelle, you know I will. I’ll stay with you until the end of time, and we’ll have more moments like tonight,” she smiled to herself.

————————-

It had been years since my family and I had heard the news that David had died on D-Day, on the shores of Omaha Beach. Before that, I had yearned for his return, if he had survived that long in the war, he could live through it. But he didn’t.
I pull out of my car, and into the cemetery, clutching a faded poppy, weathered by time. It had long died, but I had kept it safe. It was only recently that I remembered it, and I was going to return it to the place it belonged to.
Gravel crunched under my feet, and I walked until I reached the soft turf of grass. Thousands of stones were laid there, in rows and columns. I didn’t even have to look to know where I was going. Turn left, keep walking for ten paces, turn right, and walk straight.
I stopped at David’s grave. Placing the withered poppy down, I whispered to it. “I never looked back, David, but I can’t bring myself to love another, or have a new life. You were mine, and I was yours. It’s all wrong and soon, we will meet again,”
I had contemplated what I was going to do. I knew that I shouldn’t, but at the same time, I knew David was waiting for me. Slowly, I reached into my clothes and brought out a shiny knife. As I looked into it, my reflection shone. My eyes were dull, my lips parched, and my cheeks were baggy, I looked like death. “I’m so sorry David, I broke my promise,” I said softly. “But I can’t bear it. Mom, Dad, your parents, they all want me to move on. We both knew that there was a chance of you dying in the war, but still, it hurts me, it hurts me so much. I cannot live with this pain, and I hope you understand, please understand,”
I touched David’s tombstone, feeling the shiny stone, and I drew the knife. It met its target, and for once, I was happy. I fell, body next to David’s and poppy next to us.

Total words: 1985

Miscellaneous

Thank you notes

Hi everyone <3 Here are my thank-you-notes, I tried to include everyone I knew, I apologize if you aren’t here, I’m just a tad bit lazy ^^ I just wanted everyone to know that you all made SWC to what it is today and I appreciate each and one of you for doing so, even if I don’t know you!

The hosts:
Each and every one of you were amazing, and worked so hard to make this session come true! Congrats to Moss and Moonlit for joining the hosting team, you guys totally deserved it, and I’d considered you basically hosts even before you really were as both of you were so professional, kind, and smart. All of the old hosties are awesome too, so much experience compared to mine, I hope all of you stay on the hosting team for as long as you can as all of you are so iconic and even when the amazing Birdi left (yes I know it was two sessions ago, but let’s just ignore that) left, you guys kept going, when Alba left and a lot of other people, you guys kept trucking on an kept passing the torch without any mishap. Thank you for all you’ve done, and you will be the reason that SWC will continue to flourish, grow, and hopefully never die out!

CJ (@cbj2kl)
Hey CJ! I know I know you from SAC, first as an amazing leader in June of 2022, and then to a host, awesome work by the way! Unfortunately I wasn’t able to talk to you much this session, but you and Alia made an amazing duo and Adventure seemed so cool and I loved the pfps! Keep up the great work and I hope to see you next session!
River (@starr-light)
Slay River!!!! My fellow KOTLC lover, I remember you getting into SWC as a co-leader with your “Unmapped Stars” app, by the way it was amazing. You and Jasper were great together, making such a cool thing like Dystopian Mirrorverse! Again, I wasn’t able to talk to you much this session, but you seem like a wonderful person and I’d love to get to know you better!
Yume (@cs4438815)
Yumeeee person with starstruck ai pfp, congrats on Fairytales and what you made it become! Your cabin seemed so magical, mystical and beautiful, I have no doubt that you were a great leader, and put a lot of effort into it! Fellow new NaNoWriMo member, I hope you finished that, I’m only 19% percent of the way there :sobs: but hopefully you got to 20k! I hope to see you again, who knows, maybe we’ll meet in the future!
Moonlit (@Moonlitseas)
Moonlit, from the start, you were always a role model to me. We have chatted a few times in the past and you seemed kind and awesome! It’s no surprise that you got into the hosting team, and Fantasy, by the way, was amazing, I love dragons, and the How-to-train-your-dragon theme was vibing! Thank you for all you do, and I hope to talk to you soon!
Soki (@rey_venclaw)
Soki, you seem awesome, I’ve never met a person with synesthesia, so it was pretty cool learning about it in your app! Your idea for your cabin with the different islands seemed so cool and fascinating, I really wanted to join your cabin if I could, and I hope you enjoy your holidays!
Stingray (@whirlygig)
Stingray! Planner of horror carnival, something that I will never be able to erase from my mind :-’) I’m sure you made your camper’s experience truly chilling, you seem like a wonderful leader and person, and I hope to meet you again!
Veni (@-vanillamochabear-)
Okay, can we take a moment to appreciate your art? :starstruck: From the cabin thumbnail to the pfps, everything is immaculate! I really enjoy looking at your art, and I’m sure that your campers did too! Not only are you an amazing artist, but you are an amazing leader too! I had fun with the raids and questions that campers came to ask me, and I’m sure everyone did too! I hope that someday we’ll be in the same cabin :0 that would be so cool!
Elfie (@elvin_wonders)
A symposium was such a smart idea to do as a cabin, full of words and wonders Everything you made was so whimsical and fun, unfortunately, I did not have the wonderful opportunity of getting to know you well, but I hope that changes soon as I’d definitely want to! I hope you come back for another SWC session as I am!
Finley (@essayist)
Finley! We’ve come so far, from my first time being a leader in SRC and you being my co-leader to you now leading the number 1 cabin on the leaderboard! Thank you so much for giving so much to not only SWC but to Scratch Camps as a whole, and for making the days of so many people. I hope that you enjoy your holidays and that I see you next session!
Rockie (@rocksalmon800)
Ahhh Rockie! Thank you so much for offering to me before this session started, I had a wonderful time working with you, you were such a creative and intelligent person, and I couldn’t have asked for anything more. You were funny, made fish jokes, were a wonderful graphic designer, and a wonderful person overall. I know that it was harder for us to lead a cabin with only two people, but I think we did a good job, especially you! I would’ve never thought of Polynesian mythology, or explorers and cartographers. You have given so much to SWC and I truly appreciate you, and I want you to know that many more are thankful for you! I hope I can see you again, and maybe get to know you more as a person!
Gigi (@imacreamoo)
We haven’t talked much, but from what I’ve seen from helping out Non-fi with pep talks, I think that you really hit the sweet spot of what The Cabin That Will Not Win is all about. Some people think the cabin is just chill and relaxed if you don’t want the competitiveness and are looking for a break. Some parts of TCTWNW are like that, but there’s so much more. I think you showed that, advising about writing and life as a whole for your cabin, having them still ultimately have a great time without competing and leaving them with the knowledge that will be useful to them for ages to come. Thank you for that.
Niko (@flowerelf371)
Niko! I know we’ve met on another occasion in SRC, and you just seem like such a kind and calm person. I’ve gotten to know your cabin storyline well after writing about it for a daily, and I feel like the whole thing just feels like a warm hug, real-fi greenhouse makes me feel comfortable and at home. Paired along with the amazing Dawn, you guys really made my “stay in bed” vibes want to explode with happiness. I hope you continue to make awesome memories and keep doing SWC because I’m very thankful of you!
Mouse (@Mouseloverr)
Mouse! SRC BUDDIESSSS! You’ve always seemed like an enthusiastic individual and you’re so kind and helpful! I’ve always appreciated your help and every time I talk to you I feel a bit happier! Your art style is so pretty, and I’m very thankful for all you’ve done for sci-fi, very impressive, kudos to you. I know that we will communicate in the future as we are currently working together, and I hope that we will get to know each other better!
Script (@-nightglow-)
Alana! You’re the kind of person that makes me feel old (In SWC session ages), even though I’m not! You’re so impressive, being able to become such an icon so much faster than I could ever imagine! SWC should be very grateful that they have someone as awesome as you >:0 From your first session leading to this one, you’ve always been kind, friendly, and helpful! Keep up the good work and I hope to talk to you soon!
Luka (@Butterpopcorn8)
Luka! You’ve been here for such a long time, the first time I started in July 2022, you were Dystopian’s leader, I remember clearly as I thought that Dystopian was so cool :0 A castle in the sky? Hello? That’s amazing! This session too, what you’ve done with Steampunk is amazing, I love every aspect of it, it just feels like something out of my dreams, too good to be true, but it is, and every camper that you’ve had must be very thankful for having you as a leader, as I’m sure I would! I hope to see you continue Scratch Camps!

Dawn (@Dawn_Camps)
Dawn! It’s so awesome to see you back, especially co-leading along with Niko! You’ve done so much for me, being a great friend to me ever since I talked to you back in July 2022- it’s been such a long time! My, how time flies! I also remember my next session where I specifically requested to be in the cabin you were co-leading, which was Dystopian, and I had such a fun time along with you. There’s just so much that you bring to each cabin you’re in, and I’m real-fi was the same. I hope to see you next session and that we talk in between it!
Siri (@Eevedonut)
SIRI I HOPE YOU HAD A WONDERFUL SESSSSION WITH MOUSE SHE IS SO SLAY- It’s been more than a year of knowing you, and it’s been wonderful!! Taylor Swift and KOTLC buddies unite <3 You’ve done so much for a lot of camps, helping Mouse lead, leading Script, co-leading Horror, and leading and co-leading like dozens of other camps. I hoep you’re able to keep going like this, because it’s very impressive and you’ve made such a big impact on many people including me, hoping to keep talking to you more, and getting to know you more!

Myth Campers
I want to tell you that I’m so thankful for you joining Myth and having a great session with us this month! Some of you I had the pleasure to roleplay with and that was really fun, and I hope that you’ll come back to SWC and remember Myth Cove as a good month of fun and competitiveness. Without any of you, I wouldn’t be able to have the fun experience that SWC comes with, thank you again for deciding to join SWC. Even if you might’ve not been very active this session, I thank you for being here.

Co-leaders I didn’t mention
All of you played such a big part in helping SWC, maybe you might think that leaders are more important, but we all are, we’ve all given what we can to SWC, and even though there are too many co-leaders to write separate thank-you-notes to, I’m sure that you all are wonderful and kind people, otherwise you wouldn’t be here, experiencing the end of an era. I hope that you enjoyed the session and that you wish to come back, as a camper, or maybe apply as a (co)leader, I hope to see you again and build more bonds with all of you!

Campers
Thank you for choosing SWC to be where you spend part of your November, I hope all of you had a wonderful time as every one of you had equally awesome (co)leaders that should’ve made your experience enjoyable! Even if your cabin is in the lower rankings, don’t fret, it’s all about that game, not the score at the end, and there’s still a chance that you’ll climb up the rankings, all is revealed in the Memory Book that will hopefully come soon <3 I hope that you guys decide to participate next March, and that you have a lovely break in between the two sessions!

total words: 1985

so cool
edit: my writing for this session can be found here!

I accidentally claimed first before robin finished posting all the rules </3 messaged st to delete that post - and saving this one for later usage!

ooh hi everyone!

claiming

hey there :0 here’s my main writing thread if you’re interested - otherwise, take a peek at the table of slay contents hehe <3

✨ table of slay contents ✨
daily 1 • about me!
daily 4 • constellation daily • 587 words
daily 5 • word wars • 173 words
daily 10 • desc • words
—
weekly 1 • unfinished </3
weekly 2 • words
weekly 3 • words
weekly 4 • words
—
cabin war one • words
cabin war two • words
—
word war one • 173 words
word war two • 106 words
—
critiquaire one • words ( without quotes )
—
other loveliness <3
none yet !!

claiming :0

OMG YAYAYAYAYAY SESSION STARTING SOON

weekly four

part one (2142 words)

bangsian (200)

the sea is silent. waves crash, without noise, against the side of the ship. it rocks gently, a lullaby softly rolling slowing across the wide ocean’s surface. low humming, just beneath the spectrum of human hearing. is silence, without a listener to comment on it, silent in any way?
everything is painted in pastels. a symphony of pinks, yellows, and oranges overhead, complemented by the baby blue water beneath. on the deck, no one watches. empty sun chairs line the promenade. is a view, unenjoyed by onlookers, even a view at all?
to find the would-be listeners and the would-be onlookers, we must travel deeper into the vessel. each of the one hundred seventy-three suites is lusciously decorated in a refined glamor and colored after the favored shades of the occupants. nowhere in the ship is there black. out of the question; everything here is to be comforting, soft.
as the beds are, where sleep the two hundred thirteen new holidayers. the best sleep of their existence, it is said. they are deep within their minds, now. over the next few hours, they will begin to awaken, to silence, pastels, peace.
an eternity at sea, forever afloat in the quiet.

cashier memoir (259)

imagine a dream job. who dreams of working? who works, for any other reason than they must, or starve. who can dream, under those circumstances, of anything beyond what is required of them?
i have no desire to rise above my station. i am here, for the hours i am needed here, and then i am not. and i think no more of it than i must.
i spend these hours of the day behind a desk, taking calls and making appointments. it is a dentist’s office, i am not a dentist. i know nothing about teeth, and i do not care to. during breaks, i read or engage my coworkers in mundane small talk—i learned somewhere to think of small talk as a game, where you get a point for every question you ask. during none breaks, i do the same with the patients. guests? the doctor has some term she wants us to use, but why should i?
outside of work, i never think of it. i visit my parents, play scrabble with them in their new apartment. i walk my cat, who must really be a dog. i attend lectures and read scholarly articles—my degree is in public health, but i do not work in that field. for a reason.
i decided, long ago, to never let work consume me. my dream life was beyond labor. beyond those hours spent selling myself at a rate far lower than i am worth.
but i have lost my passion. is there any way, to escape that cruel fate?

epistolary (530)

Dear Keyes,
Perhaps it is the light, or the newly decorated nature of my quarters, but I find myself wanting your criticism. That sharp tongue of yours would do good to cut through my brother’s cruel instincts. I am certain you know this all already, but each time it occurs to me anew, and I am in brief awe of your existence. Now that should fill the quota of praise you will receive from my pen for several months, at least.
How kind of you to ask after my mother. She is months into recovery, and finding it unbearably boring. You know her, restless without a new mountain to scale. Charlie and I have attempted to convince her to see this journey as a new mountain, but she only laughs in our faces. Pity, to have her throw our hard-owned educations back at us in such a way.
That has been a topic much discussed under this roof. Whether the eldest of my brothers can continue to afford Charlie’s education, and mine. If I were only a few months older, and I could run away, leave him to rot in his poorly gilded rooms alone. I know Charlie has considered it, even if he doesn’t ask. You would accept me into your family, wouldn’t you?
It matters not, I am needed here. What would Ruth and Perry do without a loving older sister to look after them? Perish, I am sure of it.
Far above enough about me, how are your studies going? Was your grant successful? I do pray to hear of your exploits in the south, my curiosity follows you wherever you care to carry it.
Write back with haste, my sanity thins without word from you.
Forever yours,
Clara Atkinson

Dear Atkinson,
My own rooms feel cold without your laughter, without that glowing humor of yours. I find myself tracing over your remarks often, for in the absence of you the memories are all that can bring me some joy. A fraction of what I would receive, from you at my side. Which is to say, yes.
You are welcome in my family. Greater than welcome. I invite you, I plead for you, to join me here and cure my loneliness. To be with me in my studies, more than just your curiosity. I swear it, Clara, there is a place here for you.
But you will think me silly, if I carry on writing like that. My own parents are well, and my old aunt is hanging on to life with the passion of a past ripe lemon. She withholds her aid in my travels, and must believe that staying alive another year or two will make me tire of waiting. Sour old cat, she is. Whenever she finally keels over, I shall dance across the country in cheery greens.
If I am to send this letter today, I fear I must leave out the usual tale of daring from my ventures. You will understand, I trust.
May you write back, with all the speed of your smiles. My heart rests in your hands, darling, please balance it gently.
All my love and devotion,
Millicent Keyes

furry sleuth (slash noir) (240)

“'say that all again, but this time, with flair.'”
“those were her last words?”
“yes. weird, right?”
“no, not for an actress. they're weird sorts, you know. hang around in alleys and eat cooked fish. weird.”
“oh. right. touring cats, they get along too well with cats. she always did too much, for my taste.”
“you're right, though. definitely something going on here… something i might be able to sort out, if i can get the right paws on my side. do you have any connections that might help in my course?”
“i might. i think my great uncle used to be in with old gooey's crowd. silly old cat. i thought he was dead, y'know? until a month ago. i came back here to see him, actually.”
“oh? and you have seen him since you came back to the city?”
“no. i wasn't out of the city, just in a different neighborhood— but you know how it is. you stick to your routine. your houses. your non-owners. the trip is too long, unless—”
“unless you're called back, for some unknown reason. i get it. i haven't back to my litter's home since—”
“does this matter? my sister, she just, well i need to have an explanation when i get back home to moma and papaw. i can't go home with just a final whispered sentence. no good.”
“you have any idea what your sister was quoting?”
“quoting? i assumed—”


gaslamp fantasy (429)

“Keyes!” Clara hissed, dark closing in on all sides as the heavy door slammed shut behind her.
“Silence, Atkinson,” but there was no harshness in her voice. Clara knew, with a grand degree of certainty, that Keyes was smiling in that moment.
“Oh, silence yourself. As if you’re some grand wizard, or an occultist, and I’m your new apprentice. I’ve been at this as long as you.” Clara shoved further into the room, difficult in the dim light and the cluttered state of the floor. “Been at cleaning longer than you, too. What were the components to that light spell, again?”
“A wick and a source of warmth.” Keyes paused. A spark sounded from her direction; Clara turned and grinned at the little spot of light hanging inches from her face. “And a clear mind. So you’ll never achieve it, I’m sure.”
“I should be glad, then, to always have a meditative friend to provide light for me. Or, to be within the reach of a match and candle.”
“Matches and candlesticks are for the unimaginative and, Atkinson, I do not keep the unimaginative as friends. As a rule.” Keyes winked and pinched out the light. “Try it.”
“Keeping unimaginative friends? Haven’t you met my brother?” Clara bit her cheek and tried it. The wick was a thread pulled from her skirt hem, the warmth was her breath.
Keyes never closed her eyes to cast, that Clara could tell, but then Keyes was more of a listener than a seer. So she closed her eyes and visualized the thoughts leaving her, through her feet and hands, and joining with the outside. Let them come back to her in the light. She saw warmth, golden and glowing, from her steady breath reach the cool possibility of the tiny thread. She saw it catch, she saw heat congeal into a point.
She heard it spark. And opened her eyes to light, real light, floating above her open hand. And to Keyes, a few feet away, glowing with pride—no, that was the real light.
“Don’t look at me, you’ll lose your clarity!” she protested, but Clara felt—somewhere, somehow—that she was wrong. Keyes was no distraction, only an amplifier. She would stubbornly keep the light, if it meant Keyes’ smile stayed fixed on her.
And she did keep it, for several seconds. They sat in comfortable silence, and Clara started to break it—
A knock sounded at the door. Her thoughts, worries, complicated desires came flooding in, snuffing out the light.
“* your brother,” Keyes muttered. “I suppose we should let him in.”

paranormal (265)

we were, all of us, in those days, terrified of the moon.
in those days, the revolution had not yet occurred. we were so uncomfortable with who we were and had not seen the beauty in who we were. who we are. how our nature makes us closer to the world, how controlling and fearing will only make the everything worse.
and then the savior came along. but i knew her when she was only a child, a young bright sprite of a girl, and then watched her grow—
her mother was a sister to me, her father one of my closest friends too. so when they succumbed, as was common in those days of terror, i took her on as a child of my own. but i was only a teenager, in those early times, and she was not that much younger than me. i fear she never even trusted me, and did not listen to anything i would ask her to.
perhaps that is how it all worked out, for her. perhaps if i had never failed to control her, she never would have grown the way she did. or maybe i am just wanting to take credit for helping form our savior.
it still gives me pause, to call a little girl savior. she was just a kid, when she went willingly into the light of the full moon. we mourned fervently, that night, donning golden wear. but she returned, clad in silver, and we bowed to her then. the comeagain. the waymaker. the future.
we never even thought to be afraid.

robinsonade (219)

i woke up to the sound of birds chirping. but not the usual songs of my homeland. and then the night returned to me, in all its awful reality. in all those crashes, those brief flashes of bioluminescence, in my sights, and in my memory it was all broken, all hopeless. but that moment, i was not in it, and i felt only shame at my past self’s lack of foresight. for there i was, awakening on the cold shore of an unknown land, and i had nothing but the soaked clothes clinging to my skin.
and the birds sang on, mocking my situation with their cheer.
i have since decided, for as the hours pass my headache retreats, that i will set out along the shoreline until i come upon some inhabited cove. for the ship was headed in one of those directions, and our home port is in the other. and i may not be a cartographer, i may know only some about geography, but i believe i can find my way along a parallel shore.
the problem comes when i consider water. to one side of me is a taunting pool of it— so wide, so deep, no one could ever drink it all. but it is poisoned, undrinkable, with the salt of our creator’s tears.


part two (476 words)

silverlynx- wrote:

bangsian // a little boy dies when he is 7 years old because of the Plague and meets all of his dead family, who hate him and curse his family forever
actually little boy dies because of the plaque and becomes a ghost, tries to talk to his family but can't so he runs away to be met by ghosts everywhere he goes, and he hates them

eliott no longer felt so bad. he woke up peaceful, happy, breathing easy. immediately, he muttered a prayer of thanks, to the saints and the angels who smiled fortune upon him. it was all his parents, siblings, extended family had been praying for weeks. for weeks, eliott had thought only of spring, running with his friends in the meadow and stealing pie from the cranky neighbor’s open window. and, somehow, the prayers and wishes brought him through. his recovery tasted better than he ever thought it would.
a smile spread across his face, simply joyful, without the hint of mischief from before. gratefulness filled his heart, his hands, and he simply had to tell everyone. praise be, he survived! by the will of all good in the world, he was alive!
jumping out of bed, his parents’ bed, which had been given up to him for recovery, a sacrifice now paid off, eliott was a tangle of energy. no one else was present in the tiny room, no one else had witnessed the miracle, but he could share the good news. he could be a prophet, anyone could be, and he was a survivor. he raced down the stairs, tripping over his own feet and his own excitement.
at the sound of sobbing in the main room, he abruptly stopped. then turned the corner, stood in the doorway. his mother, on the floor, weeping. his father and grandparents, huddled around her. none of his siblings were there, but an unfamiliar child watched from a chair in the corner and another stranger, a woman, stood by the hearth. she frowned when she saw eliott.
why was no one telling his mother the happy news? oh, right, none of them knew yet! with energy renewed at the sight of her so distraught, he surged into the room.
“look, mama, i’m alright!” he started, dropping at her side. “see, i’m all better! the saints made me better!”
he looked into her eyes, expecting overwhelming joy. expecting love. there was only darkness. and worse.
she looked right past him.
“mama?” she was sobbing still, and his own eyes turned to tears as he looked around. no one, not his pa nor grandmama nor grandy nor grandfather, none saw him. “mama, pa, please! i’m right here!”
it was so wrong, so wrong, he was all healed, but something had gone wrong in his healing. the saints had put him back together poorly, but that couldn’t be possible!
“oh, little eliott.” he swirled at the sound of his name. the strange woman stepped towards him, grief mixing with welcome in her eyes. she looked like his mother, a younger yet wiser version of her. “my little starlight. burned too bright, for your mother. your poor mother…”
“grandma?” she nodded, and pulled him into her arms.
“everything will be alright, now. i promise.”

21 november — cabin aesthetic daily

if you look out at night, you might just catch a glimpse. she appears in twilight, in dying dusk, in fog, wind, and dreary rain. always distant, a blight on the horizon, a straight-backed figure of determination, wrapped in billowing cloths. to some, she is clear as sight — but not to most. if you have lost someone, experienced some great theft by fate, you will see her as a drifting shadow.
never was it thought that she may be a ghost. ghosts have their own rules, about clearness and times of day and color and temper, and she followed none of them.
to me, she has always been spotted with droplets, a blur as seen through fogged over glass. once — only that one terrible once — was she the terror often described in poetry and grief speeches. shattered. losing pieces of herself, of her darkened blowing cloak, as she continued her silent march across the horizon.

what a shame it was, your exile from the mirrors. from those purple shattered plains. from our joy and our every known purpose. what a shame it is now, for you to have to now wander upon the horizon haunting but never reaching what they truly wish when they see you.
when you were here, it was all i could do to actually look in those horrid eyes of yours. and those terrible haunting sentences you say, you always say them each time I think that—
this is pointless. you hear nothing now as you are in the world but not truly Here. you are a ghost. a stain. a blight. a shattered bit of glass, and your cloak is a fantasy you always wished for.
you terrible awful monster creature.
you haunt me, and for what? why is your purpose still here on earth when you must be hoping to travel so far into the stars we would not even see your light in the distance in the moon and the sky i sometimes think
are you an angel? I ponder on occasion, that problem. that great problem, the question of who here matters

18 november — sidekick daily

soki’s prompt: someone on the hero’s side mistakes the sidekick for a villain and captures them

One moment, you’re taking a sip of your delightful honeyed hot chocolate, not too hot and not too cold, and the next you open your eyes in an unfamiliar domed room, decorated in pearl tones and gold flourishes, with enough auspiciously placed apple accents throughout to make your captor’s identity obvious. She was a good and kind queen, of course, but since her happily ever after, Snow White had been known to take threats, particularly those associated with her step-mother, deadly serious. You reach for your pen and pad, and find them gone. Disappointing, this could make quite the story. Then it all sinks in.
“Barking bears,” you curse. This is not just right, not at all. At least they knew better than to lock you up, and wondered if they could even try. You stand, turning all the way around, then curse again, more scandalously, using words Briar had taught you.
“Language, darling,” came that silky soft voice. Her Majesty, here to grace you with her presence. Pale skin, ivory curls unmarred by the greys of her age, deep, red delicious lips upturned just enough to be welcoming and toxic at once. “I wouldn’t like my daughter’s mind to be poisoned by your tongue or your position.” Perhaps, you think, she is more like Raven’s mother than she would like to think.
“Darling? You’re thinking of a different royal, Your Majesty,” you say, measuring your own tone to balance between hostile and innocent. Let her believe what was often said of her family, of your common blood. All false, of course you were a princess. Currently trapped in a tower, blocked from leaving by a queen. What was more fairy tale than that?
“Miss Blondie Lockes, I have already been through this with Princess Darling Charming. Today is your turn.”
“What is this, exactly?” you ask, leaning towards her. You imagine, for a moment, that you might look quite journalistic from her perspective. Again, you reach for the absent pen and paper.
“I must assure that my daughter’s close associates are worthy of her sought-after company.”
Where others may have laughed in the face of the fairy tale princess, pride and joy of Ever After High and Milton Grimm, you only nod along, attentive and wide-eyed. “The associates Apple has chosen to keep her whole life? That you introduced her to?”
“I must ensure you are not on the wrong side of history, Miss Lockes.” It’s a threat—you wonder, momentarily, whether Snow White could know—but no. No one could know. It is impossible. The queen is only trying to get any hint of unreliability out of you.
“I’m not, Your Majesty. I signed the book. I avoid Raven, as much as I can.” That’s a lie, you often approach Raven and the other Rebels, as they call themselves, for their opinions on important matters. As is right, for a journalist. Every side of an issue must be examined and put forward for the reader, so they can choose which opinion is just right for them.
“Wonderful. I will have a driver return you to school.” And that is it. Snow White turns her heel and exits, leaving you a flurry of drama.
Already, the corners of a story tug at your mind. As soon as you get back to campus, you’ll go to Darling, then to Apple, possibly Raven too. Who else would know anything of this? Daring Charming, perhaps? On the ride back to campus, in the backseat of a bright red cab, the list of interviewees grows in length. This conspiracy, carried out by such a highly respected and well-regarded Queen, will certainly draw readers to your work.
“Oh, isn’t it just right!”

15 november — character in control daily

in her dream, bulwark blossomed. no longer was the city rotten, overrun by the artsy rats of __. instead, in shone of goodness. a jewel in the rock, hard and sure and brilliantly colored. at the center of this beauty was the wards. and at the center of the wards was atlas.
atlas ward was a wonderful leader. her skin had healed, her curse had proven misleading, and her reign would be long loved by all who knew of it. all of her creases had been ironed out with time, with discipline, with faith in the patron even stronger than ever.
her happily ever after was endlessly happy. love had no part to play in it. but she was never lonely, for how could she be? everyone adored her and from all across the plains people flocked to see bulwark renewed, shining in glory again.

in her dream, bulwark faded. into memory, into fog, into nothing but the past’s nightmare. she ran far from it, never looked back. and they all missed her so, but even their greatest pleas would not bring her to return. she changed her name, painted a masque of horror on her face, and galavanted across the country. rogue.
what mythical adventures she had. saving babies, fighting foul foes, bringing light and delight to the hearts of the many. every once in a while, she would hear news of bulwark, crumbling further to stone with each day. sometimes, she would be asked, if you are such a hero, why can’t you save them?
and she would just laugh. who could save them? no one. they could not, she could not, though she’d so vigorously tried. and they would ask more questions, pry at her for the details, but she would never tell.
rogue fell in love, madly so. with a match so perfect, clearly they were destined. so far from bulwark, the relationship was never scorned. they never married legally, not with atlas’ engagement, but in their hearts they were wed.

in her dream, flor laughed. bulwark mattered no longer, not when the rustle of her companion’s laughter contained her greatest joy in the world. they were everything to each other. all atlas’ worries about being alone in her adoration faded away; they were in love!
nothing else mattered. how could it? she would change nothing, but to have flor’s head on her shoulder, flor’s hand squeezing hers.

13 november — prompt daily

“Don't make a sound, they're watching…” Norah’s whispered voice, frankly, * me off. Pushed me over the edge. Why was she giving in? Why would she never fight back?
“They’re always watching. It’s not like we have any other choice,” I said coldly, not caring to even lower my volume slightly. I found the camera hidden in the room’s shadowed corner, stared it down. “You’re a coward.” Those words, though they could apply to Norah, were not meant for her. I spoke to directly the scientists, to the trillionaires funding them, to the people at home watching.
“Shut up, Em. It’s not wo—” All at once, the room was full of light. I got a good look at the monstrous camera in the corner, all tentacles and eyes. I would’ve spat at it, if not for Norah tugging me away. I could see her, too. She was a mess. Shorter than me, but only be an inch or two, with awful bright brown eyes and a shock of shorn pink hair. Her uniform, once crisp and polished and clean, was in brown tatters. Between her face and her arms, it seemed every bit of skin was covered in tiny round scars. “Now you’ve done it,” she hissed.
We weren’t touching anymore. The camera was moving, reaching out, grabbing and pulling us apart with its nasty arms. Inhuman, terrible touch. I screamed, I always screamed, even if I didn’t want to, yet I wanted to this time. Let them hear the pain they caused. Let it ring in their nightmares.
“Alexander Malcolm,” buzzed a horrible voice just beyond my ears. Difficult—painful—to listen to, but the alternative was fainting, giving over to the sensation’s power. So I had trained myself to stay awake. Even as they continued to disrespect me. “My name,” I managed, “is Em.”
“Alexander Malcom,” came the buzzing, louder now, harder to hear harder to understand harder to keep my thoughts in order with its noise, when was it going to be over could I ever go home will Norah be okay this was my fault I should not have taunted th— “There we go, that’s it. This was your fault, child.”
“No. I refuse it. I will not take your thoughts, I will not suffer your intentions.” How did I string those words together? “Let me go.”
Then I fainted.

12 november — tongue twister daily

inspired by finley’s “no need to light a night-light on a light night like tonight”

under pink-tinted light, oli reached the rooftop. he waited a moment, eyes on the sky, drinking in its beauty. he slowly spun all the way around, toes firm on the tiles but gaze still turned up. then a soft smile spread across his face as he spotted them, in the distance, but fast approaching on the wind. the picnic would be tonight, then. perfect.
oli sat then, after setting out the checker-print blanket he’d found at last. his companion would be overjoyed to see it. he almost blushed just thinking of them, happy. safe, where he could see them. instead of way off wherever they flew to, or whichever way those chaotic winds blew. he plopped down his satch, full of their other requests from last month’s reunion.
“strawberry—no, cranberry jam. honey butter, spiced not plain. cheese-melt bread, fresh as you can get it. those little cucumber sandwiches from that story. the blanket, you know the one. a deep chocolate cake, even just a crumb. a drop of the sun in a bottle, if you please.”
their list was always the same, though the jams and butters, breads and deserts would swap in and out of favor, each time delivered in the same twinkling tone. they were enchanting, casting a forbidden spell over him each visit. he hadn’t yet found a way to capture a sundrop, but for them, one day he would.
with a spread set out in the blanket’s center, each item carefully balanced on the roof’s tilt to prevent from spilling, oli’s eyes again went to the pink sky. he knew it was past midnight, but this was one of those special, stubborn, hopeful nights. where the sun gripped the horizon firmly, staying there and leaving the land liminally, sunset-lit until finally giving in and going up. oli loved these nights. his unnamed companion seemed to favor them, too, but really these picnics could happen any night of the month.
“oh, silly!” there they were, floating above his cottage’s roof. so much as he had changed since the two first met—he was well into the educated years, and they first met when he couldn’t yet speak—they were always the same. soft, fuzzing around the edges, never in focus, lit from some far off invisible source. beaming with their own light, somehow at the same time. grinning, round and joyful. always starting their meals with the same four words. “you’re here!”
“oh silly,” he recited, so many memories in those words. “of course.”
and it is obvious, to you, to me, how much these friends love each other. they must, for no such elaborate ritual, no quests so far as the two would complete for each other, could ever be done without the deepest love. yet, to oli it was written off as curiosity. and to his companion—well, they prefer i do not peek into their head.
this time, under a perfect peach sky, they came with apples. oli wondered, each time it happened, whether it would not work. whether the magic would fail. but when he turned his hands up to receive, a grand bounty poured out onto them. a storm of apples, plopped into his arms. from nowhere. from them.
and they saw the blanket. “oh, oli. you found it.”
their grin, then, was everything.

10 november — hi-fi flower daily

And so burns the flame.
Thea mouthed the proverb, a reminder of the many times her aunt whispered those five words, a spell her mother cast to conjure acceptance and determination. Strength, to bow to the wind but never snap. Perseverance, to wait through the flame, to let it transform.
Oh, to let it all wash over you. To stand witness to the grandness of history. To go on after.
Now, sitting among ruins, Thea found a new meaning for the phrase. For her mother, her grandmothers, her aunts, her cousins, the flame was external. Forces beyond their control. But they were gone now, leaving only Thea in the ashes. So burns the flame. So she would burn. Consumed, as her family had been. She, too, underwent transformation. Her flame was not anger, nor was it sorrow.
They had moved west on the promise of prosperity. Their city’s streets had been paved with gold, with dreams. Now, the streets cracked. Earth shifted, yawned and stretched in the early morning, no regard for the people above. A grand jewel, shattered. San Francisco, city broken, city aflame.
Destructive, hot flame. But Thea had decided, when she woke to find her life upset, her family gone, her flame would not be destructive. She would burn a guiding light. Hope, she would spread.
She got to her feet, moved into the rubble.
Clear to her was the despair. The choking noises all around, screams of children too. How many, like her, were left with no anything? All she had to hold close were the words.
Along the broken streets, between the paved sidewalks’ cracks, she spotted a familiar yellow shoot. Dandelions, stubborn weeds. Peeking through the flame. She knelt, picked several, pushed one behind her ear and tucked the others into her coat pocket. Another reminder to keep going, and she would need many.
How could she even help? What sort of flame, what sort of light would handing out common weeds be? She was only fourteen, what good could she even do?
Why couldn’t it be her Aunt Theodora, for whom she was named, here instead? That wonderful woman, graceful and generous, full of spirit; she was a flame, burning bright in Thea’s mind. She was better suited for this work, whatever it was. Out of nowhere, the grief hit her. Her mother, dear Maman, was no longer. She would never again make Aunt Theodora laugh that bell-like laugh, or taste Granmarie’s delicate pastries. None of them would ever whisper of flames, of burning, when only their female relatives could hear.
So there was a third meaning Thea came too. Death. A flame in and of herself. (It was not even a question, whether Death was a woman.) Destructive, anyone could see that.
She squinted, frowned, working her mind around. This flame, too, could be a work for good. Gardeners pulled bright yellow from their yard, but still the dandelions persisted. For her, for the moment, she would accept the flame, let it feed her own.
“And so burns the flame,” she repeated, voicing the words this time. “And so I burn.”
Thea got to her feet again, the fire firmly lighting her path. She would be a force for good, even if the only good she could do was spreading beauty, spreading dandelions and their message of hope on the wind.
And she would not accept the world as it was, but work to make it better.

9 november — word war with moonlit :zany:

the three and the five were not getting along very much anymore. it was a little silly of them to not get along because for so very many long years the two groups of numbers had gotten along just fine and now they do not anymore. and what a tragic event that is that now who were once friends are now enemies and who are enemies now were once friends but what does that say about the nature of their numoerous world and the nature of our own are we looking to far into the blue mirror or are we seeing ourselves in the shadows of the real world or is this all nonsense spilled by an unknown pen and that is the true question that this all must come back to when we get down to the bone of the isuue why are the numbers not get along and why cannot the song go on when the shiopwing begins and why does none of this make any sense and why is my words per minute so low and why am i losing and this is not going very well for me what am i doing what are thses words can i get anymore out and are you seious about his no i am clearly not every

2-9 november — weekly number one: character development

part one — 332 words

writing on paper, photo in project

part two — 665 words

demographics

name — nalkienra “nal”
age — 19
gender — woman, she/her
ethnicity — piemratol
occupation — nomad / pilgrim
socioeconomic status — poor, as she lives on the outskirts of greater olint society
education — no formal schooling, studied with her parents
other notes — nal is, as she thinks of herself, the last of her family line and the sole carrier of her ancestors’ memories, stories, and traditions. she lives outside of the boundaries of olint society and while she interacts with both them and other family lines within the piemratol, will choose to attempt rekindling her own line rather than assimilating to either.
‍
physical appearance

eye color — dark brown
skin color — olive
hair — thick & straight, dark brown, length kept at around her chin
height — 5’3
weight — 116
body type — athletic
fitness level — quite fit
other distinguishing features — strong nose, resting angry face
fashion style — the flowing highly embroidered robes, decorated with family tree inscriptions, of her family line. their colors are maroon, pale green, and pale blue; the cloth will be dark and the threads lighter. even when in olint society, nal does not change her clothing to blend in.
posture/gait — very straight and upright
coordination (or lack thereof) — very coordinated, but somewhat stiff or wooden, not graceful, in her movements

psychological traits

personality traits — stubborn, traditional (respectful of traditions), independent, romantic, unapologetic
introvert/extrovert — extrovert
self-esteem — struggles with self-esteem and self-doubt, “that whispering voice of doubt”
hobbies — sketching, fencing, rock climbing, making riddles
skills/talents — embroidery (in the style of her family line), wayfinding, romancing
phobias/fears — loneliness (as much time as she spends alone, she loathes thinking her whole life could be that)
bad habits — not getting enough sleep
desires — love, deep romantic love and deep familial belonging love
flaws — she overestimates her own skill and intelligence

communication

languages known — common mratol, ceremonial piemratolkon, common olint
preferred communication methods — spoken common mratol is most comfortable to her, but spoken common olint is fine as well (most olint do not speak mratol, so she makes do). written olint uses a system that is, compared to mratol and piemratolkon, extremely complicated, unintuitive, and head-ache inducing; nal prefers not communicating through written olint.
accent — nal learned mratol and olint both while young, and has no foreign accent in either, merely regional accents. her mratol indicates her as a member of her family line, while her olint is in the standard accent.
style and pacing of speech — nal is used to codeswitching, and her style and pace of speech change much depending on with whom she’s speaking
pitch — her voice is neither particularly high nor low, and both mratol and olint use intonation similarly to english
laughter — the loud laughter of her father
smile — real: delicate, eyes opening wider with true interest; fake or forced: showing of teeth with lips upturned, but no change in eyes
use of gestures — nal has picked up the variety of useful gestures used by olint commoners, and uses them even when just talking to herself. the piemratol have gestures, but in olint they are a sort of intuitive sign language rather than vague hand movements.
facial expressions — a resting angry / upset face, complete with a frown and furrowed brows; rare, delicate smiles where her eyes widen slightly

relationships

lover(s) — yock hemme “hem” “hemloknal” (a single love that lasted among many that lived and died; hem chases behind nal when she left, and nal lets herself fall further in love, giving hem a name matching with her family’s conventions in her head)
parents/guardians — kieloapir “kie” & nralinrea “nra”
siblings — polkienra “pol” “thrun pala” (nal’s oldest sister, who assimilated into olint society when she married thrun tchio, taking on her wife’s surname and changing her first name to match the bisyllabic olint pattern) & kinkienra “kin” “kieloakin” (nal’s older brother, who joined another family line through adoption by prinriloa, keeping his patronymic but taking on the matronymic “loa” in the name order used by his new family line)
others — nal has met both thrun tchio and prinriloa and gets along with them well enough, but does not know them as well as her siblings do.

character growth

character arc — nal must learn to accept change and to work within the restrictions of her time rather than just wishing for the perceived freedom of other times
core values — tradition, respect, interdependence and support in community
internal conflicts — holding onto traditions the rest of the world has moved on from
external conflicts — illegality of her actions (unregistered movement)
goals — revitalization of her family line

part three — 514 words

scenario one — 171 words

scenario two — 173 words

scenario three — 170 words

all three on paper, photos in project

part four — 500 words

Yock Hemme, the girl who followed. And Nal thought she was still steps ahead of her lover—but no, here she was. Caught up months before Nal planned, catching her off guard. Catching her emotions unguarded. The second the syllable left her lips, the moment their eyes met, it all felt so right.
This was the woman who would stand by her side, who would help her revitalize her family line. Hem had passed every test, bested every riddle Nal left behind. A name came to mind immediately; in the past few months, Nal had often pondered it. Hemloknal. Taking Nal’s own name as a matronym, and a more Piemratol version of Yock as her patronym. It was gorgeous, suited her perfectly. She reached for Hem’s hand, tears forming in her eyes, just as she pulled away.
“I—I am unsure why you brought me here. I’m unsure about all of this.” How could she be, it was all laid out so clearly for Nal. “My name is Hemme, not Hem.” Oh, that. She would get over that. “Do you even love me?” Her much too bright eyes were cold. Frozen over, strikingly.
Nal did not hesitate, “Of course. Of course, Yock Hemme, I love you. I would not have left otherwise.”
“You are making no sense! Nala, you are speaking nonsense to me! People do not leave when they love. They stay. That is the idea of love! And we talked, and you—” Hem’s Mratol faltered, as she reached for emotions she’d only ever expressed in Olint. That would change, too, once they were together, out of Olint society. But, to Nal’s distress, Hem did not keep trying with the language. And then she was speaking the language of violence; they were speaking the language of violence. Which Nal so tried to escape. Which Hem seemed to love so much, how could someone love a language so much more than it deserved?
“Nala. I followed because you asked me to, but also because my parents told me to. They enjoyed your company.” The same word for enjoy was eat, in Olint. Nal flinched. Hem took a breath. “I want you to come back with me. Stay, this time.”
No. Impossible. How could she be so blind?
“How could you—ever misinterpret—That is not—I wanted—” It was Nal’s turn to struggle with language, faltering in her own mother tongue, no words to express her disbelief coming. “You were supposed to come with me. We were supposed—”
“I read your letters, Nala. I know.” Hem reached out. “Be realistic, joy.” The same word for eaten. Assimilated. Was that what she was? Her only escape, now a trap folding in on itself?
“No! No, I will not!” she outburst, tearing away from the traitourous Yock Hemme. “I mean to revitalize my family line. I mean to bring honbor and love to my every ancestor, to continue their traditinos, as only I can. And you are here to help me, not to stop me. You must!”

4 november 2023 — constellation daily

on paper, photos in project

2 november 2023 — letter to future self daily

dearest future me,

how are you? truly? you are an entire month wiser than i, an entire session of swc more familiar with the art of writing than i—that could be up to thirty thousand more words you have written that are contained somewhere within me, or within the world around me, that i simply do not have yet. isn't that simply beautiful? for we are the same person, but we are strangers.
i do hope you have had a wonderful month. these first two days tell of a cold, mixed bag of a november. and this next week will test you, literally, offering three exams. but you have gotten through them already. how did they go? how was writing those papers? i admit i do think far too much about school. but i currently have no other hyperfixations. do you? i hope you have found something to feel passionate about.
yesterday, i wrote out three goals. i cannot entirely remember what they were, and i am writing this in the most dangerous writing app so i should not click out to see what they are. i do remember that i strive to write an original piece for the writing competition. i love the concept, and i hope you love the execution you were able to create. i hope you have had a relaxing month, and kept up with your school work. you're almost to the final one of the year, congratulations! you're almost done with the first semester of college, great job!
december seems almost impossible to me, and i am sure it still feels that way to you.
i find when writing these things i always give a mini diary entry. today, november second 2023, i woke up early(er than most tuesdays and thursdays). course registration started at eight, so that’s when i logged in. i got all of my classes—though you may have switched them around a little since. then i went back to sleep, even though i did not want to. i was just tired. then i had to actually get up, so i could finish my music and society paper. i finished it up in about two hours, then got lunch and went to class. when i handed in my paper, i asked about class on tuesday (election day). she told me we would have class, and a test that she had never mentioned, on the day that we are supposed to have off for voting. on the way to my next class, i complained with a few of my classmates about this. religion was very chill. back in my dorm, mom called me to ask about—you know what, this is really boring. i just got an email that said no class in music on tuesday! so i will have two tests back to back on thursday. yippee. but you know that already. you already know how the weekend camping went. my telling you this is worthless.
anyways. i hope you had a wonderful month.

much love,
past you

eee it's so soon :0

yume's writing thread

daily #1 | self-intro | 129 words | 100 points
daily #2 | letter to future self | 543 words | 400 points
daily #3 | link | x words | points
daily #4 | link | x words | points
daily #5 | link | x words | points
daily #6 | link | x words | points
daily #7 | link | x words | points
daily #8 | link | x words | points
daily #9 | link | x words | points

t o t a l w o r d c o u n t
207/25k

d a i l i e s
November 1st - Introduction, 3 goals for this session, and describe yourself as a childhood toy - 207 words - https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/915828366/#comments-364203809

November 2nd - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 3rd - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 4th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 5th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 6th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 7th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 8th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 9th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 10th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 11th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 12th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 13th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 14th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 15th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 16th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 17th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 18th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 19th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 20th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 21st - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 22nd - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 23rd - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 24th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 25th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 26th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 27th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 28th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 29th - Prompt - Word count - Link
November 30th - Prompt - Word count - Link

w e e k l i e s
Week one -
Week two -
Week three -
Week four -

w o r d w a r s
Placeholder 1 -
Placeholder 2 -
Placeholder 3 -

o t h e r
Placeholder 1 -
Placeholder 2 -
Placeholder 3 -

look! all my writing is here! https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/702400/ <3