Part 1(Cardigan):
I heard the door click open to my apartment. It could only be one person. My boyfriend Erin. I get up and stalk over to him. “Running like water off to the other girls” I snark at him. “Trying to sneak around behind my back doesn't always work.” I start to get more frustrated. “You said I was your favorite and that you would never leave me.” Wrapping my old cardigan over my vintage tee I look at the floor. “My emotions are not your play toy” I scream at him. Wishing that I had never met Erin. “Well they were all prettier than you anyways Mari” he says with a shrug. I pick up a garbage bag beside my feet. Thrusting it at his chest I say “Here is all your stuff. Now take it and get out of my house.” I yell at him. “When you are young they assume you know nothing but I am no fool Erin.” I open the door and shove him outside. Slamming the door in his face I sink down to the ground. I start to sob hot stingy tears. I lay there and cry for hours, wishing that this would all go away.

Part 2:
Name:Mari
Pronouns:she/her
Sexuality:Straight
Relationship Status:Single
Species:Human
Physical appearance:Wears vintage shirts and her old cardigan normally, has long brown hair that is usually in a messy bun, dark green eyes, pretty tanned skin
Strengths:Listener, Attentive, Caring, Strong willed
Weaknesses:Slightly Naive, does not see red flags until its to late, tries to change things she should not
Tendencies:She has been hurt a lot of times by her different exes because she did not think that they would do anything to break her heart. She does not like to share her secrets with a lot of people because she is scared that they might black mail her.


Part 3:
Mari walked around her apartment shoving her ex boyfriends stuff into a plastic bag. Grabbing each item and chucking it in felt satisfying to her. grabbing a picture frame she looked at the photo inside. She and her ex had been at a concert to go see Taylor Swift that day. They were all dressed up and looked as if they were having the time of their lives. Mari's heart ached as she looked at that picture. “Never mind that” she said, snapping out of it and throwing the picture in the bag. She walked over to the door of her apartment and opened it. She headed down the stairwell that lead to the dumpster. Opening the lid to it she threw the garbage bag with all of her strength. Once she heard the satisfying crunch she turned and headed back upstairs. Once she got back to her apartment she flopped down on her couch. Her cat Roger padded over to her. Stroking his back she muttered to herself “Maybe well find true happiness Roger. Maybe one day.”

Mari stood out on her balcony looking at the forest. She gripped her gray elephant shaped watering can was rubbing the handle with her thumb. She moved over to her big monstera plant and started to water it. Mari gave a big sigh. “You guys are a lot easier to talk to than real people.” shuffling over to her succulents she started to water those too. “You don't have anybody to tell my secrets to and you all are great listeners. People are scary because they can use you secrets to black mail you or try to dig up more information.” I move over to my hanging plants and give them a bit of water too. “Why do people have to be so mean” Mari sigh as she set the now empty watering can on the table. Moving over to sit in a stool she looks out at the horizon. “At least my secrets are safe with you guys.”

Mari was out at a party with her friend Emma. They had both gotten off work and decided that they wanted to go have some fun. “Hey Mari you ready to go?” Emma shouted to her. “Yeah sure, just give me a minute.” she said as she went back to grab their purses. As the started to walk out once they had all of their stuff a guy started to approach them. “Weirdo coming in right behind us” Emma whispered to her just before he came up behind them. “Hey girl. Wanna come over with me and my friends?” He said as he leaned up against the wall near Emma. Emma looked obviously uncomfortable and tried to scoot away. “Buzz off loser” Mari said to the man and tried to shove him away so Emma could get through. He didn't budge and asked Emma if she wanted to come with him again. “I said buzz of!” Mari said again and succeed in shoving past and pulled Emma along.

Part 4:
Mari continued to stroke Rogers back as she lay there. Suddenly her phone buzzed beside her. “Hey we're going to this one party tonight. Want to come?” said a text from her friend Emma. “Well I need to quit acting so depressed” Mari said as she picked up her phone. “Sure what time?” she asked. “Ill pick you up at 5” she responded. Getting slowly up of the couch Mari pulled of her cardigan and draped it over her arm. She walked over to her room and stepped over the piles of clothes on the floor as she went to her closet. Opening the door she could see that she did not have a lot to work with. flipping through the different clothes on the hangers she pulled out three different dresses. The first one was a short sparkly black dress with a strappy back. The second option was a silky ankle length pink dress with a cut that was from the thigh to the bottom. The final dress was a short and strapless with layers of deep red tulle on the dress and below the shoulders. Laying the all out on her bed she stood over them for a minute trying to decide which one she wanted to wear. Finally she decided on the third dress and went over to her bathroom. After getting a quick shower she pulled on a bathrobe and started her make. She started to put on her foundation and concealer, then she put on bronzer with a bit of blush and highlighter. She decided to brush a bit of smoky eyeshadow over her eyes and did some bold eyeliner. Finally she found some lipstick that was the same deep red as her dress and put some of that on. “Well I think that will work.” Mari said as she looked at herself in the mirror. She pulled out a curling iron and laid it on the counter as she took her now dry long brown hair out of the towel. Roger came strolling while she was brushing her tangles out. Stopping she reached down and gave him a quick back rub. Later after she had curled her hair she went and changed into the red dress. To complete the outfit she went to see if she had some jewelry and a bag. As Mari looked through her jewelry box she found a golden heart locket and some small gold hoop earrings. Struggling to reach the top of herself where all of her bags were, Mari went over to the kitchen and grabbed a stepstool “Curse my short legs” she grumbled as she walked back over to her closet. When she got to the top of the stepstool she looked at her different bags. Finally she settled on taking her black leather crossbody with the gold embellishments. To complete her look she grabbed a pair of black heels. As she put all of her stuff on she moved over to the mirror. Looking in the mirror she didn't see a pitiful girl who had suffered through many heartbreaks. She felt powerful. Like she could do anything and be someone. “Well hello gorgeous” Mari said as she gave her reflection one last look and strode out of the room.

Word count total:
Part 1:166 words
Part 2: 103 words
Part 3: 505 words
Part 4: 543 words
Total: 1317 words

lark's writing for nov 2023:

Weekly 2

PART 1, 435 words out of needed 350
The scene begins in a small cafe, with wooden tables for two pushed against the walls. Behind the counter, there's an employee of the place who appears to be watching a nature documentary.

Two people who resemble one another are just outside of the cafe, chattering enthusiastically to one another.

THE DOOR OPENS, AND A TRUMPET FANFARE PLAYS

BARISTA (looking up, smiling): Well! If it isn't Chelse and… and… Randolph! My favorite pair of second cousins!

NOT RANDOLPH: Frankie, you know my name's George. And actually, Chels and I are first cousins once removed.

CHELSE: Hi Frankie- we just dropped by for coffee. George here can't cope without his black coffee, no sugar, no cream, one sprig of mint.

FRANKIE: Yikes. I think we've got business cards for a therapist's office on the corkboard over there, y'know.

GEORGE (haughtily): I'm quite well, thank you for your concern. My ex may have told me that was a drink full of self-loathing, but she was the one full of remorse when I took our cat in the breakup.

FRANKIE (dubious yet intrigued, with a faint air of sarcastic curiosity reflected in a slight furrowing of the brow and a wry smile): Huh.

CHELSE: It'd be a real horror to go without Snookums Sprinkles the third, that's for sure. Speaking of sprinkles… do y'all still have that birthday cake shake?

FRANKIE: Oh, the sugar coma special? Yeah we do baby! And for you, Ran…George? Feeling bold enough to try two mint leaves today?

GEORGE: Actually. I think I'd like a banana hot chocolate, hold the banana, no chocolate.

CHELSE + FRANKIE (in unison, facing George): A hot?

GEORGE: You heard me.

FRANKIE: I wish I hadn't! Sit anywhere, your drinks will be ready in a heartbeat. Or. maybe, y'know, a couple minutes. Possibly less. No guarantees.

GEORGE AND CHELSE SIT DOWN AT A TABLE BY A WINDOW.

GEORGE: Is nothing guaranteed in this cruel and fickle world!? I wait in earnest for a beverage that may never come. I-

CHELSE (interrupting): Lovely weather we're having, isn't it?

THROUGH THE WINDOW, THE RAIN BEGINS. FRANKIE IS POURING WHAT APPEARS TO BE WATER INTO A CUP WITH A DRAMATIC FLOURISH BACK AT THE COUNTER.

FRANKIE: One coma, one loathing!

CHELSE AND GEORGE WALK BACK TO THE COUNTER, AND PICK UP THEIR DRINKS.

CHELSE: So… how's your… beverage?

GEORGE: Marvelous. Splendid. I've traversed cafes far and wide, and never have I had a fresher, warmer, cup of water.

CHELSE: You've never left Rosemville in your life, George.

FRANKIE (grinning): Well. It's always a pleasure. Stop by anytime, you two.


PART 2, 323 words out of a needed 250, parody of Billy Joel's Piano Man


It's some certain time on a certain day
A cast of characters walks on in.
They'll all order their drinks differently
Silly combinations now and then.

One asks, “Hey, could you make me an earl grey?
I don't really know how it tastes,
but it's herbaceous and dismal, vaguely abysmal,
representing how I'm so glum-faced!”

Tea, and tea, and coffee
Tea, Tea, a mocha frappe

Pouring a cup, it's the barista
Pouring a coffee today.
She's taking orders that show personality,
but she's criminally underpaid.

Now John orders chai all the time,
but today he's chosen cold brew.
So something has changed, and his thoughts rearranged
His character arc is now due.

He says, “Hey, I've had a change of heart.”
And he sipped his coffee for a bit.
“Y'know, maybe it just wasn't smart,
to compare my wife to a zit.”

Oh, Tea, and tea, and coffee
Tea, and a caramel latte

Now George is a finicky botanist
Who took the cat from his ex-wife
He walks in with Chelse, his cousin who's wealthy
And she's living her very best life

And the barista is vaguely sarcastic,
and the drinks all symbolize woe.
Cause their choice beverages make their character,
so the author's prose can flow.

Making some tea, it's the barista
Making matcha today.
Her black coffee may taste like a tombstone,
but maybe she likes it that way.

The folks in there are the background,
for some other grand ol' plot.
When the hero walks in, they'll not be mentioned again,
Characterization for naught.

Now the setting, it won't stay for long
A brief start to some epic quest
Side characters are made, soon no longer displayed
But their drink choices were truly the best.

Oh, Tea, and tea, and coffee
Tea, a mango smoothie

Crafting a drink, it's the barista
Watch as she stirs in the ice
You'll never see these folks again
But wasn't your one meeting nice?

part 3, 721 words out of a needed 700

dragons and dragonfruit lattes

it was said that the cafe at the top of cliff lane was fantastic, really. certainly the scenery was something to behold- gorgeous crags overlooked the dusky warm leaves of constantly fall-colored spruces and birches. sure, it was a bit of a hike to get there. cliff lane was thus named because of the peaks that reached far above the treetops, accessible only by a winding trail, a sketchy elevator in the heart of the stone, or a dragon.

that was probably the main draw, come to think of it. there were dragons of all sorts that resided in the cafe, there to keep travelers company and to carry them to their next destination for a fee. it was a profitable enterprise, really, for both the dragons and the manager of the cafe.
locals said that manager moonlit had always dreamed of the fantastical– but she'd become a barista for a couple years, and seemed content enough. in working at a more standard cafe.

however, moonlit had discovered a principle of economy. people liked dragons!
and moonlit knew that the wild dragon population was looking for more opportunities to get to know the world around them. so she created the dragon cafe, hiring dragons to taxi travelers to their destinations and to hang about the cafe.

it was in this destination that frankie wandered on saturday, the 18 of plearth. well- perhaps wandered wasn't exactly the word. it had been a trek, really, up the sheer cliffside. but frankie was never one to run from danger, nor an adventure. she'd heard that there was to be a meeting of folks up there in the cafe, of adventurers seeking their newest quest. it was about time for a quest of her own, she thought, and perhaps those people would be the ones to go with her.

plus, there were going to be dragons. she'd only ever seen them from afar, their looming wingspans and slightly silly faces. it was a little odd to have kept so much distance from them, perhaps, but her mom had always been a little scared. the people hadn't known the dragons as well back when her mom was young. they'd feared what they didn't know. and those values had at first been instilled in her daughter as well.

but no longer! frankie was going to meet the dragons in the cafe, and she was going to adventure to what she did not know. the world would be hers for the learning and discovering. it all began with a step, she thought.

the wooden door to enter the cafe had a cheerful open sign in the window, and as she took a breath, she stepped inside. everywhere she looked there was color and movement, people and dragons and coffee and tea. there was a group of teens eating pastries, and a dragon no bigger than a cat sitting on the lap of one. there was a giant dragon, taller than any human she'd ever met lounging in a corner of the cafe. and a sign, saying order at the counter and sit anywhere. it was beautiful and fun and she was thrilled to be there, really and truly.

walking up to the counter, frankie looked amazed. there were just so many things to look at, all of them in motion. not to mention the happy chatter she heard from all corners of the place. then there was the smell, of fresh baked cookies and mountain air, tinged with coffee beans and lavender. though it might have sounded overwhelming, there was a certain comfort in everything, no real chaos but just a gently busy atmosphere. a the barista was in the back of the kitchen, and she called a friendly greeting, saying she'd be there in a moment.

and what to order? the menu was there on the back wall, delicious drinks written in fancy fonts on a chalkboard. they had everything frankie could have considered, and a handful of drinks she'd never even considered before. When the barista came back to the register, frankie asked “is there anything in particular you'd recommend?”

taking a moment to consider, the friendly face behind the counter laughed a little bit, and replied with a smile, “well, you could always try our most popular drink- the dragonfruit latte?”

Weekly #1
(syze/rose, lit-fi cabin)

• Part 1
(235 words)

“Getaway car” by Taylor Swift

..

The sun had started to set on the horizon, casting a warm orange hue on the small town below. It was the place where everything began.

Kiara stared down the street, observing how much it had changed since that day. She could still feel the rush of adrenaline as he pulled up in his car, sirens echoing from close behind.

He had been so different than anyone else she had ever met. His brown eyes had sparkled with mischief and his dark hair had been tousled by the wind. He had a wildness about him, like he was always living for the moment. He always seemed to be two steps ahead of everyone else. He was confident, driven, and ready to take on any challenge.

It was this attitude that caught Kiara's attention.

The day they first met, he sat behind the wheel of his beat-up car, trying to outrun the police. Kiara wasn't even scared. She sat in the passenger seat, tapping her foot in time to the sirens as they blared in the background. She had been so captivated by him that day, he was someone special in her eyes.

Now, standing at the end of the street, Kiara remembered the way her heart had raced and the way her soul had sung when she had first met him. As if it was yesterday, yet so long ago.

• Part 2
(198 words)

Name: (no name)
Age: 19
Gender: Female (she/her)
Occupation: Medical student
Education: University

Appearance: 5'8, long and dark brown wavy hair, deep skin tone. Wearing a purple top, black mini skirt, and gold hoops (https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/870677802/ #1)
Personality: She takes her studies seriously and is always looking for ways to improve her knowledge and skills. She is friendly and compassionate with her patients, and she is not afraid to speak up if something is not right.
Background: She was born and raised in a small town in the Midwest. She was always a bright student and was accepted into a prestigious medical school in the city. She worked hard and excelled in her studies, graduating at the top of her class.

Likes: Music, exploring new places, nature, playing sports, fashion
Dislikes: Messy environments, wasting time, following rules, lacking ambition
Goal: To become a successful doctor
Fears: Not living up to expectations, failing, being forgotten
Strengths: Her analytical nature, excellent problem-solving skills, and determination. She's known to be hardworking, creative, witty, sharp, observant, determined, strong listener, and fierce
Weaknesses: Her overpowering need for perfection can make her obsess over details and slowly act stubborn toward others

• Part 3
(0 words)

• Part 4
(0 words)

11/7/23
The small spirit flew through the forest, hearing grass shifting behind her as things chased after her. A pressing headache was rising, and she had to spend half her concentration to keep it from building. She almost hit a tree, grazing her wing. She flew faster, but the disorientation was enough to distract her from the hunting trap. Her tiny foot got snagged, making her lose balance in the air and fall to the ground. The fall didn’t hurt her so much as her ankle, a pack of Houndour surrounding her. She tried to fly away, but one of the doglike creatures bit down on her leg, pulling her back to the ground. She struggled, her headache getting worse. A human approached, the houndour backing away and giving her some space.
“And the boss said you’d be hard to catch.” the human said. “You’ll get me a promotion for sure.” The Celebi whined, clutching her head. The human just smirked. “Come on. Let's take you to your new home.” He yanked the small fairy off the ground, shoving them into a miniature cage.
The Celebi looked at the human. “Please… you don’t know what you’re doing… the forest needs me.” The human ignored her lie. Stressed, she tried to convince him using the truth. “For your own safety you must let me go. You’re in danger!”
“I’ll listen to you. Once I have a check in my hands instead of you.” the man laughed. He wouldn’t be laughing.
“Let me go! Let me go!!” she exclaimed. “You aren’t safe! You have to run!” She grabbed the bars of the cage, shaking them. “Please!” she begged.
The man headed towards a motorcycle, putting her on the side of it near the exhaust. He pulled the houndour back into their pokeballs. He cranked the ignition and the engine kicked to life, throwing smog into the Celebi’s face. She coughed and choked on the emissions, gasping for breath as pollution filled her plantlike body. The circles grew darker around her eyes as her irises sunk into her shrinking pupils. Her green body lost some of its color, the tips of it turning into a sickly brown the color of dry dead wood. Her breathing slowed, before stopping completely. The human started driving, not noticing the change in the wind. All of a sudden they heard a tire POP and the motorbike slowed, the man cursing to himself. He gave the bike a kick and the Celebi’s eyes widened. A tree burst from the ground, snatching up the vehicle and snapping it in two, fuel splatting all over. The man, rightly surprised, stared in horror as the cage burst apart from the inside, psychic energy ripping it apart. The Celebi’s eyes snapped towards him, pupils barely a sliver in their eyes. The expression was dead empty, but the hunter could sense the rage behind them. He tried to run, but thorned brambles cut off his retreat. The corrupt mythical sent a wave of psychic energy at the man, who just avoided it. The blast kicked up a strong wind, blowing his cap away. Vines shot out from the wall behind him, wrapping around his limbs and piercing his skin wherever the thorns were. He struggled but that only made it hurt more. The corrupt fairy was about to strike the finishing blow, but froze, staring at the small red letter emblazoned on the figure’s chest. She froze, a twinge of color returning to her eyes. “It’s you… It’s you it’s you…” she shook her head, memories flashing of that red R, orbiting around her as she came into this life. The withered plants dissolved into dust in the wind as the pokemon drifted away, the green life returning to her body. “You made…” She flew off, leaving him in the dust.
Word Count (637)

xxfierrorfalafelxx

nov 6-7 bidaily

820 words

David walked over to the fire that Dante had built and held his hands over it until they didn’t feel quite so cold. “You aren’t tired?” Dante asked, not looking at him, just keeping watch.
“I don’t particularly like sleeping, remember?” David said. He took a seat on a stump next to Dante.
“Your dreams been giving you any clues toward where the prisoners might be?”
“Same as always,” David sighed. “Just that creepy cave, but I know we’re heading in the right direction.”
“Well there’s a ton of caves like that.” Dante flicked David’s head. “So use that cool superpower for something useful.”
David rolled his eyes and pushed the older guy’s hand away. “Ignatius and Romulus are good with all this clue solving stuff, you’d think one of them could have this power.”
Dante shrugged and took a long slow sip from his canteen. “There’s a lot of people who we think could use our powers better than us.”
“Let me guess this is some motivational speech about how I should be proud of my powers and fill the role I was meant to fill?” David yawned. “I heard the speech before. I’m special blah blah blah. I don’t care about these powers all I ever wanted was to protect my family.”
Dante smiled slightly. “No, actually… I was thinking about someone who could use my powers a lot better than me.”
David turned to look fully at him now, confused.
“His name was Malcolm. Maybe…half a year older than me, but we were best friends all our lives.” An image of the two little boys flashed through David’s head. Malcolm, that had been the name of the one with curly hair. But the other boy definitely wasn’t Dante. After just that split millisecond he was back in reality, watching Dante.
David wasn’t great at reading people but he had a feeling Malcolm hadn’t just been Dante’s friend.
“He had such a way with words and an unmatched charisma. He had no regard for the rules of the council and he was leading some of us into battle when we were just 13. He had a wild, dangerous energy, a thirst for adventure and glory. He was our hero and we loved him.” David didn’t take his eyes off of Dante now, though Dante still stared out far ahead. Maybe he was still keeping watch or maybe he was reliving his teen years spent adventuring with Malcolm.
“What did you mean about him using your powers better than you?”
He sighed, sadly, heavily. “Malcolm’s power, was to join minds with those around him, of course the mind would have to be willing, though he did tell me he thought he could coax it out of someone unwilling. He never could fully explain to me how it worked, but he said it was like he was where they were and where he was at the same time while he used their powers. Malcolm and I well, we always fought side by side and so-” his words cut off and he made a sound somewhere between a grunt and a growl of frustration. “God, why am I even talking about him? It’s been 10 years.”
“Is he…?” David couldn’t bring himself to say the word dead.
Dante made a choked sound somewhere between a sob and a deranged laugh. “Have you ever seen an angel? A real angel I mean, from the ethereal realm?”
David just shook his head, not sure if he should be feeling nervous around Dante right now. Then again, he knew quite a few ways grief could manifest itself.
“They’re terrifying. Made of flames and bits of stardust…and how would McNamara put it? Oh yeah, cosmic horrors.” David decided this would not be a good time to mention that he always thought they looked like those blond, winged, sort of fem boy looking paintings they had all over churches. Dante’s hands were clenched into fists now. “The claws are the worst though. They’re made of some indestructible metal, coated in stardust. The marks they leave… the way they tear their victims to shreds?” He sobbed.
“Dante? You don’t have to talk about this.”
Dante shook his head, trembling. “It’s been 10 years. Someone else needs to know besides me.”
David wanted to ask why Dante wanted to tell him and not someone closer to his age, but he was used to being a shoulder to lean on, even if he had no idea what he was doing.
“It was…it was dangerous. He was acting crazy I mean, I just… just the day before he’d gotten two kids killed. Why-why couldn’t he just learn when to quit? It’s my fault. I should have kept him in line, I should have- if I had acted earlier.” Dante looked so broken now.
“What happened?” David asked softly.
Dante’s voice was barely a whisper. “I set the angel on him.”


Nov 8
(a note that I’m going to refer to my younger self as her because it is before I really understood who I was. This is not a choice that all trans writers will make and I’m not saying that they should do it this way, but this is how I am doing it. I’m also giving myself a different deadname. Also warnings there’s gonna be some nods toward thoughts of s*lf h*rm)
A kid sat on the swing, watching the other kids play, picking at a scab on her thumb. She looked to be about 12 years old, her shoulders hunched up a little, a hoodie on her despite the hot weather. She watched them playing, wishing someone would come over and talk to her and dreading it at the same time. “Hey, is this swing taken?” The person who had spoken looked a lot like her, but looked somewhere in a range of older high school age to college aged. They held themself in a somewhat awkward way, but they had a friendly grin, and held themself with a bit of confidence.
“Um, n-no I mean, um, yeah you could take it.” Do I talk to them? She wondered to herself. I mean, hey someone not my age? Maybe I actually can have a conversation.
“Oh my god dude, I forgot about that!”
The girl blinked. “Huh?” she asked, though she was sure the other person wasn’t talking to her.
They pointed. “Your shirt. God that was fun. When was that, 2017?”
She looked down at her shirt confused. It was 2017. Ship of the Dead. From when she met Rick Riordan. “This was like a week ago.”
The person next to her tilted their head. “Was it? Man feels like forever.”
“Who are you. I mean uh sorry that was blunt. What’s your name?”
“Phoenix, and let me guess, you’re Violet?”
“That’s a cool- wait hang on how do you know my name?”
“Phoenix formerly known as Violet at your service.” Phoenix attempted to spread their arms out in a grand gesture, but they had forgotten that they were swinging, so instead it turned into them yelping and frantically flailing their arms, managing the grab the chains of the swing again before they fell. They laughed. “Totally didn’t happen, no way I nearly fell out of a swing.”
Violet stared at Phoenix. “Alright, even if that were possible, there’s no way that’s true. I mean you look to be about eighteen, and you’re well, I mean…” she trailed off.
Phoenix frowned slightly. “You mean I’m not dead.”
“That was the plan wasn’t it? Living in this world just is too stressful.”
Phoenix glanced at the horizon. “Life is still too stressful, but I’ve learned that we’re way too stubborn to just give up.”
Violet hesitated. “Do I get good at making friends?”
Phoenix chuckled. “Well, you still have trouble, and some friendships end in messy ways that really destroy you, but a few of your friends?” Phoenix shook their head. “Dude you will never meet more awesome people. And when you join scouts? Not only do you learn to get out of your shell and really act like a leader, but you get a second family.”
“Scouts? Like girl scouts?” Violet wrinkled her nose. “Why would we ever do that? I only ever hear bad stories about them?”
“Nah, like boy scouts. They’ll be letting girls in soon. Well, I suppose in our case we’re not exactly, well actually I should probably let you figure that out on your own.”
“Figure what out? I’m not exactly what?” Violet could see she wasn’t going to get an answer so she sighed and asked, “well do we make eagle?”
Phoenix shook their head. “Nope. Still bothers us a lot sometimes, but hey we made it a lot farther than we ever thought we could. And you know what else we learned? Regret hurts more than fear.”
Violet was about to respond but she heard something. She paused, uncertain of what it was, slowly getting off the swing. Then she recognized it. It was like a soft chime of music. She’d heard it when Phoenix had shown up but hadn’t paid attention then. “I’ll bet you that’s another version of us.”
“Man I’m broke.”
“Me too.”
The two of them went into the woods. They looked different now, mostly their hair, which had some sort of androgynous pixie look to it along with being purple, and they looked nearly 15 years older but it was definitely them. They seemed to be collecting samples of soil and fungi from the woods. Phoenix’s eyes widened and they brought their hands to their mouth but they weren’t doing a very good job of containing their squeal.
Violet looked at her older self, confused. “Um.. yeah I guess mushrooms are cool.”
Phoenix rolled her eyes. “Cool? Don’t you get it, that’s us, doing environmental science!”
The researcher turned to look at them. “Well now I’ve seen everything. You two are me aren’t you?”
The two of them nodded. The researcher just nodded slightly. “Well, sure why not.” They gestured to their equipment. “Not really world changing, but I think I’ve really been helping our county a lot. Just wish I could do more.”
“So do more,” Phoenix said.
The researcher shook their head. “God were we still like that? We can’t do everything.”
Phoenix huffed. “Sure we can.”
“You know we can’t. Burn out is not our friend.”
“Tell me about it.” Violet said. “I got an amazing idea for a book about this guy who can travel through people’s dreams, but there’s no way I’m ever going to write that.”
The researcher grinned. “Jeez were we really that young when we thought of it? Well rest assured, we’ve got nearly the whole series published now. We’ll get around to the last book some day.”


daily nov 10

“I’ll kill those English,” I vowed, fighting back tears.
“Keep your mouth shut about that Saoirse, you don’t know who might be listening,” ma told me. But who cared when this was the life we lived.
Patrick had Maeve’s yellow hair ribbon crumpled in his hands. “It’s not fair,” he said suddenly. I walked over and hugged him. “First Kieran, then Da… Granny, now Maeve? How many of us have to die?”
“I’m not gonna let you die,” I told him fiercely. “We just gotta keep fighting.”
“Isn’t it supposed to be the other way ‘round? Aren’t I supposed to protect ye from the bad things?” he asked, pain clear in his voice. “Protect you like I couldn’t protect them?”
“Children, let’s talk about this more later and go home.” Ma put her arms around us and led us away from Maeve’s gravestone, but not before Patrick had dropped her hair ribbon on the ground.
Maeve had loved that yellow ribbon that Granny had bought for her when she was little, saying it always reminded her of the sun. The memory was faint, it hadn’t happened since I was real little, but I remember my big sister had a smile as big and as bright as the sun once upon a time. But that was the time before the Great Hunger. The cupboards were empty so Patrick went out and managed to haggle some oats from our neighbor. We mixed the oats with hot water. So much hot water in fact you could almost forget there had ever been oats, but it only made me hungrier.
“What were potatoes like?” I asked Patrick. He remembered back before the disease took all of them.
He grinned. “Oh goodness, they were white and… kind of fluffy on the inside and they tasted amazing if you got a little butter on them.” he shook his head, sighing. “We ate them so much. Every day I swear. I’m not proud of this, but I was glad when they started dying. I didn’t realize those potatoes were all that we had.”
I picked at a loose bit of wood on the table. “Is it true? Did the English do this to us?”
He fiddled with a button on his shirt. “That’s what Da said.”
“Do you wish we could get rid of the English?” I asked him.
He laughed. “And how do you propose we do that when we’re all starving and dying in our own filth?”
“Well, the O’Donnells say they’re going to go to America. And I heard America doesn’t like England so maybe they could fight them for us.”
“You’re crazy, the Americans wouldn’t help us.”
“Well…maybe we should go anyway. They have food there,” I murmured. “Maeve always said that.”
“Well Maeve is dead! So stop! Just stop! All our family is here we can’t leave.”
“All our family is dead,” I cried, letting myself lean into him so he could hug me. “I’m so hungry.”
In church we prayed for the famine to end, and we prayed for all the people who had died this week. I felt more and more sick each day, uncertain if it was this hunger or the feeling that I couldn’t do anything.
“Look at that,” Patrick said as we walked home together, ma wasn’t feeling up to going to church. “Bluebells!” we ran over to the cluster of flowers, da’s favorite. We grinned at each other and picked a bunch. I pressed one in our bible to remember da by.

When I finally came to America, it served as a memory for all of my family and I always see them when I look at that flower. That flower is preserved forever in a moment of time, but it’s not truly alive. I do my best to remember them bright and happy before they all withered away, and I wish I could have pressed them in a book too.


archaic language thing for cabin wars


Hark unto mine voice and heareth thee, a tale of ful corage. I have the tyme if thou wilt hear for mine is a tale you will wish to learn. I was a knyght, right full with chivalrie and honour, and I have tak’n many journeys, trav’l’d many roads, and thou wilt soon learneth I am a man who can liveth even in the worst of times. I shall telleth you of mine sovereign whom didst I serveth, and he that named me knyght most true in the land. Hark, I say to thee, getteth thee thine handkerchiefs, for he walks these blessed lands no more, but when he lived, no better a man was there. In those days when he was still our king, and goodenyss and prosp’rity reign’d, a woman came into our kingdom, with hare yelwe and fair, and right goode was her outward looks, but inside her, there was a dark enchanting, and the face was all a lie. And it was as if she’d stol’n an arrow from that pagan god Cupid, and pricked my king and made him fall in love. Five years, a witch sat on the throne as our queen, and I could not get my king to listen. So lo and behold my fortitude and the ful dedication I gaveth to mine king and mine kingdom both, I mounted a horse strong and true and road thousands of leagues to find a seer, a prophet. For his was no dark magik but the miracles of our Lord, and he would save our kingdom and make it right. But make no mistake, the road had much perille. It was a place full up wit’ villeynyes, and no place for the meek.


daily nov 12


prompt Gobbling gargoyles gobbled gobbling goblins

Long ago in my town they built a big cathedral, with a steeple towering high up into the clouds. I never went up there but I wonder if when the bishop went up there he could wave to God and see him face to face. They never let me in that cathedral because they didn’t think I should be allowed, they said I was an abomination, and a child of the devil. All because I am a goblin. Mama always told me to stay away from that cathedral, you don’t know if they’ll try to hurt you. She tried to scare me with stories of the big stone gargoyles eating goblins. But I liked to press my ear up against the wall of the cathedral and listen to the music. Goblin ears are very good so I could hear easily through the thick stone walls. I loved the organ, the violin, and the trumpets’ joyful blare. Goblin music has only very loud percussion and screaming. Hiding in the church gardens in the dark of midnight, I tried to softly sing along, but I only ever ended up sounding like a turkey. I crossed my arms, annoyed at the way my goblin voice worked and tried again. Still it was all just gobble gobble like a turkey.
♣
All the other kids who went to the cathedral in our town were so stuck up and full of themselves. And they were never any fun, always bragging about how virtuous they were and never breaking any rules. It was so boring. Then on Easter we went to mass at midnight. Midnight! The most auspicious of times when all sorts of bizarre things happen and adventure is just around every corner and I was sitting in mass with my parents listening to the bishop going on and on. I didn’t mind mass of course, but I’m sure if God were here he would tell us to spend less time cramped up in a room with too many candles and too much stained glass and have fun and live a little instead. Especially on nights we were allowed to stay up until midnight. I told my mom I had to go to the bathroom. Instead I snuck outside, telling myself I would be back in time for communion. After I carefully and quietly closed the heavy door behind me, I looked around, deciding where I should go. Then I heard a voice, it was like someone trying to sing but it sounded more like a turkey. Curious, but still cautious, I picked up a good sized rock and slowly started walking over. When I saw him I screamed, or maybe he screamed first and I threw the rock but I missed completely. It was about my height though it was mostly legs and arms, a dull greenish-gray color with ears and a turned up nose like a bat and bulging yellow eyes. “Demon! Demon!” I screamed, but nobody could hear.
It clamped an eight fingered hand over my mouth. “Shh, I’m not a demon.”
I bit his hand, making him let go. “Oh what are you then?”
Glaring at me, he bowed slightly. “I’m a goblin of course.”
I studied him curiously. “I didn’t know there were goblins here.”
He shifted, looking uncomfortable in such a human way. “Well… there aren’t. I mean I just came here from really far away. There’s no goblins around here, don't try to look for them.” He was obviously lying.
I decided to change the subject. “Goblins are cool. At least from the stories I hear. They’re a lot cooler than all the kids in my town anyway.”
♣
I looked away when the girl said that I was cool, fiddling with a thread on my tunic. “Y-you think I’m cool?” Nobody ever thought I was cool. All the goblins in my community were always annoyed with me and this was the first time I’d ever spoken to a human. “Are you sure you’re not lying so you can throw me in a furnace somewhere?”
“Why would I do that?” she asked. She stuck her hand out at me, “I’m Jill.”
I peered at her hand, confused, then looked back at her, waiting for her to say what she wanted. “You’re supposed to shake it.”
I was confused but if it stopped her from calling a church full of goblin haters… I grabbed her by the arm and shook her up and down just like she asked.
“Hey! Put me down!”
(not finished but I got the wc I needed)

nov 13

“ so, are you ready to become a full-fledged fairy? ” (that was the prompt)
Milkweed glanced up nervously at the taller fairy, a little intimidated by her wings which had intricate markings telling all about her life story and her skills and what she was known for. Milkweed’s wings were small and drab, good for transport, but not much else unfortunately. She dug her nails into her palms, making fists to contain her excitement and set a look of determination on her face. “Are the stars the eyes of the universe? Of course I’m ready, let's get me those wings already!”
Nectar laughed. “Well, I’m glad your enthusiastic, but getting your true wings will take a while. It’s pretty much the most important moment in a fairy’s life you know. You can’t get them instantly. Everyone will get them when they are ready. For some it may take a thousand years, but you have completed all the beginning tests and we have seen that you are ready to begin. But remember, these trials will get harder and harder over time.”
Milkweed nodded. “I know, but I want my real wings.”
“Hey it’s not all about wings,” Cactus said snootily. “There’s just this oh you know tiny little thing called being masters of nature.”
Nectar frowned a little. “Well, we aren’t the masters, more like…guardians, guides, but cactus is right, you should make sure wings are not your main focus but rather what these wings represent about you. What will your place in the universe be? The great thing about fairies is that there’s just about an endless possibility of things we can do.” Nectar looked at her leaf schedule. “And it looks like the first thing we will be doing, is checking on the beehive. Now I know bees may look really scary, but it’s important we take care of them because we need them to pollinate the flowers.
They went to the brightly colored garden. Milkweed loved the scent but Cactus was always complaining and flew up to take a look at one big orange blossom. “Oh yes this one is ready for bees I think,” Nectar said with a smile. “Follow me to the hive




Dearly esteemed Daily Team, your choice to stop writing dailies has caused the camp to fall into chaos. Dailies are in a way the bones of this camp and it wouldn’t be scratch writing camp without them. I ask you to take a moment to think back to when you were a new camper, just getting started. Do you recall your first session being very daunting? Maybe you saw the stuff that other writers had created and you wanted to write like them but you didn’t know how to get started and you were too shy to ask how. But that’s where the dailies came in, didn’t they? A new skill or prompt to foster for a day or two, taught by people who have been in situations very much like yours, now wanting to display what they know and teach it to other campers, let them learn how to tackle a new aspect in writing, or give them a challenge they would never think up on their own. Sure campers get points for doing these dailies, and we love the point system and the competitive nature. But the overall point of the dailies is so that the campers can become better writers. I, and many others, have trouble writing every day, but these dailies help keep me motivated to write every day and it strengthens my writing that I later apply to my novel. Now you’re part of the daily team. You chose that of your own free-will. Nobody forced you to do this. You have a commitment to these campers, they look up to you and trust you to help them cultivate these skills. You should feel proud to be part of the Daily Team, it’s a big responsibility and a big honor. If you stop making dailies, you run the risk of campers never leaving their comfort zone when writing or falling deep into writer’s block. If the dailies go away, how long until the weeklies go? How long until the writing competition, or word wars go? At some point, scratch writing camp may become scratch just chat about random stuff camp. And if that happens then what’s the point? Scratch writing camp has been around for years now, and nobody wants to see it end like this. I’ve never been on the daily team for this camp, but I have done a similar thing for another. I know it can be hard and I know that you can feel like you’re underappreciated. But you really are appreciated and scratch writing camp needs you. Otherwise it could all just fall apart.

Daily
Dev sighed at the state of the inn’s attic. It looked better, but cleaning was like eating spaghetti. You never make any progress.
He prepared himself for a few more hours of dusting.
After cleaning out the cobwebs and sweeping out seventeen years’ worth of dust, he began cleaning the other half of the room. It was going to be a long day. He tightened the knot that kept his bandanna on his face and started dusting the old furniture. It was difficult to distinguish different pieces through the dirt and grime. Dev winced as he nearly knocked over a lamp while uncovering the piano. He emptied out the oak dresser’s drawers. There wasn’t much there, only a couple of meaningless trinkets here and there. But something caught his eye.
It was a music box. He picked it up and gingerly ran his fingers around the intricate designs on the wood. It was a beautiful display of its maker’s talent.
Dev clenched his fist and took a slow breath. The clicking of the wind-up key filled the silence of the room. He opened the music box, and the melody that had haunted him for years played for him once again.
“Dev! Come here! I have a surprise for you!” She said.
It was enchanting.
“This is a magic music maker, like from the Great Fair! You just wind it up here…”
Dev shook his head. “I’m afraid it isn’t magic, Riva.” He saw the girl’s disappointment, and quickly added, “But it’s something even rarer! It’s mechanics!”
Riva lit up. “Mechanics?”
It was mesmerizing.
Dev ran. Dev ran, and he didn’t even make sure she was following him. The beast screeched-
The music box slowed…
“Riva!”
And stopped.
“Riva where are you?!”
Dev closed his eyes. He could hear her in his head, accusing him. Judging him. You coward.
The trap door opened, and Dev shut the music box. Jace came up through the door, holding a broom. “Hey pal! Thought you could use some help up here. Like moral support or something like that.” Dev forced himself to smile at him. “I’ve got it, thanks.”
Jace examined him. Dev coughed.
Yup. Jace decided. Dev is definitely up here going insane. He decided to probe. “Woah! Cool music box! Where did you get it?”
Dev stared straight into Jace’s eyes. And played dumb. “What music box?” Jace laughed and punched him in the shoulder. “What kind of sad attempt at deflection was that?” Dev huffed. “I’m not deflecting, I’m genuinely inquiring!”
Jace grabbed the music box. “This one. Right here. The one you were staring at.”
Dev grabbed the broom and kept sweeping. This was the last thing he needed right now. “It’s not important, alright?” Problem expertly solved. Now Jace would leave him alone and he could get on with his life.
Jace opened the music box. It seemed to be an ordinary music box; he didn’t really understand why it bothered Dev. Running his fingers over the polished wood, he found a small piece of paper hidden in an inner compartment. Jace pulled it out. Two people stood next to each other, clearly fake smiling in an attempt at good picture poses. They failed miserably, considering they were both blinking. He recognized one as Dev, but the other person…
“Hey Dev, who’s this?”
Dev stopped sweeping. Please no oh gosh please NO- The silence between them lasted a little too long, and Jace thought he might have pushed harder than he should’ve.
Dev sighed. He knew Jace well enough to know he wouldn’t stop until he got something he was looking for. Maybe, if he just shared a little bit…“She was my sister,” he said.
Jace didn’t miss the use of past tense in his wording. He carefully considered his reply, going over what to say and how to say it. He landed on something simple. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it. It happened a long time ago.”
Jace was quiet for a moment. “Do you want me to stay and help?” Or do you want to be left alone remained unsaid. Dev shook his head. He waited as Jace took the second broom and left the attic, closing the door with a soft click.
You’re pathetic. You could’ve saved me.
Her voice…
It should’ve been YOU.
Everyone had told him she wasn’t truly gone. She lives forever in memories.
They would never know how right they were.


(NOTES: not sure if I did this right? It isn't as much dialogue….)

“Shard?” Blaze called uncertainly, lifting his nose up from Shard’s scent trail. Seeing a dark mound by the trunk of a tree, Blaze approached. Beneath the canopy of tree branches, Shard lay motionless. His eyes were wide open, but unseeing.
Shard didn’t react as Blaze approached him, wagging his tail in a cautious greeting.
“Shard?” Blaze asked again, more insistently this time, a note of concern creeping into his voice. “Are you okay?”
Blaze sniffed the unresponsive wolf, but the scent seemed completely normal, no sign of sickness. Raising one paw, Blaze hesitated for a moment, then touched Shard’s shoulder.
Shard spasmed at the touch, jolting as if struck by lightning, every hair standing on end. Blaze jumped back, startled. “Shard!”
Shard’s head snapped up and he whirled around, snarling. “Haven! You-” Then his snarl tapered off, and he blinked in confusion, panting heavily. “B-blaze? What are you… Where am I?”
Blaze paused. “I-I couldn’t find you. Chaos told me you had come out this way, so I tracked down your scent trail, and…” He shook his head. “Shard, what’s going on?”
Shard dug his claws into the dirt, eyes flashing side to side nervously like trapped prey, not making eye contact. “You shouldn’t have come here,” he hissed.
“What do you mean?” Blaze tensed his jaw, worried about his friend’s apparent paranoia. This wasn’t the first time Shard had said such things. He wished he could put Shard’s mind at ease, but there was definitely something he was hiding, something he didn’t want to talk about. He always had these dreams…
Shard stepped closer to Blaze, suddenly locking eyes. Blaze froze, wanting to step back, but too surprised to move.
“What do you remember about the day you were born?”
Blaze was not expecting that question. “I… don’t think any wolf remembers being born, Shard.”
“Earliest memory, then?” He seemed desperate, as if his life depended on Blaze’s answer to this question.
“Um…” Come to think of it, Blaze couldn’t remember much about his early life. He must have had a pretty average life as a young pup. “I think I remember… feathers? Probably from one of those new prey creatures? Shazarxi?”
Something about the memory seemed strange now. Shard’s demeanor was putting him on edge, his nervousness rubbing off, he supposed.
“Shazarxi,” Shard repeated slowly, a weight seeming to settle upon his expression.
“Yeah,” Blaze nodded, an inexplicable sense of dread forming in the atmosphere. He glanced away, feeling unconfortable. “Listen, how about we head back to camp, and-”
“No!” Shard interrupted, fur spiking up along his back. “It’s not safe there!”
“What- what are you yapping about, Shard? There’s nothing wrong. Everything is fine. You’re fine, Shard. I’m fine. No one is in danger!”
“You don’t understand,” he said, his voice hushed in horror. “You’ll see soon.”
“See what?” Blaze demanded. He was beginning to get irritated at the unease pricking his pelt.
Shard looked away, gazing into the distance with a look of apprehension. “Neither of us know who we truly are…”
What nonsense was this? “You’re Shard, I’m Blaze,” he snapped, losing his patience. “We’re wolves. Now let’s go home.” He began to start walking back the way he had come. Shard didn’t follow.
“I don’t think we are, Blaze.”
Blaze stopped.
“We’re not wolves,” Shard continued. “Or at least, we didn’t used to be.”
“…What?” Blaze didn’t even know what to think anymore.
“We’re shapeshifters.”
Blaze sat down, speechless. He wanted with all his heart to deny it, to call Shard crazy, but he couldn’t help a strange sensation of recognition at Shard’s words. What if Shard was right?
“Why else do you think you can’t remember your puphood?” Shard kept going, his words tumbling out more quickly and confidently now. “I can’t remember mine either. We don’t have any kin in the Packs.

Lisa was in a sea of darkness. To be more specific, an ocean of darkness. It was the kind of darkness that consumes you, that distances you from where you actually are. It felt like she had ventured past the end of the world. No matter how much she blinked, she couldn’t see beyond the barrier of black that surrounded her. It was unnerving, but it helped her other senses catch up and focus on what was around her. She shifted, tracing her hand on the top of the couch, the window frame, the glass, feeling the cold darkness beyond. She heard the hum of the train, even as it sat stationary, stopping for an illusion of safety in the sunless waters that surrounded them. She hated the bottom of the ocean.
But every now and then, she saw something, like stars twinkling in the night sky. A quick flash of light, far away, hinting at the hidden world they had traveled into. And so she sat, watching in the dark, listening to the lull of the ocean, the gentle workings of the train, waiting for whatever came next.
Evidently the universe was listening to her because out came the one person who, without fail, always showed up when she didn’t want him to (of course, things were a little different now, but still).
The train car’s door creaked, and a bright light filled the car (it was actually rather dim, but everything seemed bright in total darkness). Lisa whipped her head toward the door.
“Sorry!” came a hushed voice.
It was West, who was holding a flashlight, probably to help him cross train cars, which would be rather hard in the aforementioned total darkness.
“I just wanted to get some water,” he said as he crossed the car. “I didn’t mean to interrupt … whatever you were doing.”
He stopped when he reached her. “Say, what are you doing?”
He swept the flashlight (though Lisa would argue that the proper term is “torch”) beam in her face. She winced at the bright light.
“Sorry,” he repeated.
Lisa shrugged and looked back out the window, now reflecting their faces and the interior of the train car. “Just … watching.”
“Cool,” West said, plopping down on the other end of the couch. He clicked off the light, plunging them into the complete darkness of the ocean.
“What are we looking at?” he whispered.
It was strange hearing his ghostly voice, floating disembodied through the night. Lisa placed a hand on the windowsill, orienting herself once more.
“Sometimes you can see things out there,” she whispered back. “Lights from the creatures of the deep.”
As if on cue, a light flashed from far away. They sat quietly, watching for more.
“It’s crazy what could be out there,” West whispered after a moment.
“I know.”
The train car’s air conditioner whirred to life, startling them both.
West glanced at where he thought Lisa was (he was looking at the door, not even close). “Why are you still awake?”
Lisa huffed and gestured at the window, knowing both of them wouldn’t see it. “It’s just that — we don’t know what could be out there.”
West furrowed his brow, forgetting both of them couldn’t see it. “And you have to keep us all safe?”
Lisa pressed her hand against the freezing windowpane.
“Well, it's my job to do it.”

Churro's Dailies #7
(word count: 643)
“Hello?” A girl with bright pink highlights in her hair suddenly appears in front of Churro. She turns, and Churro gasps. She looks exactly like her, minus the pink highlights.
The other Churro turns and sees Churro looking at her. She turns her head down, away. Whoever she is, Churro will impress her. She will NOT leave a bad impression.
So, knowing this, Churro turns to the girl with the pink hair and says, “H-hey, w-what are you… why… I mean, who… exactly are you?” Her cheeks turn red.
Other Churro says, “I'm you. From the future.”
What? Churro cannot believe her eyes.
“I'm assuming you have a lot of questions, right?” Other Churro grins. “Like… how you get pink highlights in the future?”
Churro slowly nods.
Poof! Another girl appears in front of both Churros. Okay, more like another woman. She's taller, and more grown-up-like. Her hair still has the pink highlights, though faded.
Now it's Other Churro's turn to be confused. “What. Is. Going on.”
The Older Churro smiles. “I'm… you.”
Other Churro is flustered. “Oh. Wow.” Older Churro just smiles.
Churro is watching all of this, and she is just confuzzled. She originally came upstairs to her room to cry about the Spelling Bee and suddenly two future selves appear right in front of her. “What… is happening? Let me get this straight. You”- she points to Other Churro-“ Is me in the future. And you”- she points to Older Churro “Is her”- she points to Other Churro- “from the future.”
After a long silence, Other Churro giggles, and says, “Yep. Actually, you're in the past. I'm from the present. And you-” -she turns to Older Churro- “Is me… in, like, 10 years.”
Churro sits down on her bed. “Okay… what the heck.”
“'What the heck' is right.” Older Churro says.
Churro smiles. “First question: why is my hair dyed?!”
Other Churro laughs. “Oh, lol. It's a long story.”
“I use the word ‘lol’ in the future?!”
“Yep. And soon, you'll grow out of it,” Older Churro says thoughtfully.
“What about… you know who?” Churro says uneasily.
“Oh, yeah. You'll get over him soon enough. Don't let boys get in the way of what's important… or girls.” Other Churro and Older Churro burst out laughing, and they laugh until their hair is messed up and they're rolling on the floor.
“What? I'm gay?”
“No, you're bi, you stupid.” Other Churro says, still recovering from the laughter.
“I call people stupid in the future too?!”
“Yep.” Other Churro says.
Churro shakes her head. “I can't imagine… I'm so shy and stupid right now… how did you get out of your shell? I mean, how did I get out of my shell? I mean- oh whatever. How do you… get that confidence?”
Other Churro scratches her head. “You know… I'm still in my shell. Your mom, er, our mom… I think she's a homophobe. So yeah. I'm closeted pretty deep. And I still get stage fright.” Churro shrugs.
“What about you?” Churro turns to Older Churro. “How do you survive… in… where do you go to school-slash-work now?”
“Oh, haha.” Older Churro laughs softly. “I'm still in college. Well, I work real hard on my essays and stuff, but I don't forget what is really important. There's not much advice I can give you, since I'm- I mean, we- still aren't there yet! Remember, I'm from the future, about 10 years from now.” She says. “I guess we'll never know if I'm ever going to come out in this state. I may never. But just know… be proud of who you are. It's okay to be weird. And… keep reading and learning.”
Older Churro and Other Churro wink, then they dissolve, get transported through the space-time continuum again, and to the other side of the universe, where they came from.
Churro smiles.

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November 8th Daily

I find it very peculiar. My friends are having fun and socializing with other; while I'm here socializing with myself. Technically not myself, but my past and future selves. We bear similar names, but I think it's better to name us differently for clarification. My past self is called Mark; myself - the present - is known as Marbles; and my future self would be M649. “Pretty odd for a name,” I said. M649 just chuckled, “Oh, we must be known as digits in the future,” was all he said, “besides, our creator planned for the name to be like that anyway.” Creator? Guess my future self can also break the fourth wall, as expected. “So, Mark. Do you have anything interesting in life yet?” I asked. Mark just shrugged. “No, my life sucks actually. No one loves me, I get bullied every day, and I have abusive parents. So my life isn't so fun and games anymore.” Mark took a deep breath and continued, “Besides, I think life sucks and hope to perish one day. So seeing the both of you here was a large surprise for me.” I giggled, remembering all of those that happened. “Well, Mark. Looks like today's your lucky day. Remember the guy you have a crush on? Yeah, you will date Weren in the future.” I smiled as my past self had sparkles in his eyes. He was just a few years younger than me. After all, all the things that changed my life happened at the time of his age. “Here's a piece of advice. Instead of mourning in your misery alone, try to remember and appreciate your favorite things in life. It really helps!” Mark nodded, but I had more for him, “Also remember to be brave in tough times. I know it's hard, especially for you. But once you become brave, things will go smoothly in your way!” I said, without realizing I was rhyming until M649 told me, “Oh my God, you just rhymed! Every time when I try to write poems, I can't think of any rhymes. So I gave up being a writer.” I spat my coffee out in shock. Me? Giving up as a writer? “I have to know more.” I said, my face pensive. Mark stared at us blankly in the face. At his time, I had not had an interest in writing yet.

I realized what happened. Due to the evolution of ChatGPT, the demand for writers had eventually died out. “Fortunately, my husband encouraged me to pursue in the paths of coding, as it was in demand of jobs nowadays.” M649 explained. That was when I realized how old my future self is. “How much older are you compared to me?” M649 cocked his head to one side, like I always do, to think, “Umm, I think we're 15 year apart.” My math skills are as fast as lightning as I shouted out, “Wait, so you're 31?” I laughed before he thought I just said something offensive. I cleared my throat and asked one more question, “I have to know, did I achieve my goal to fame? Did my animations come true?” M649 sat still, not talking for a long time until I thought he dozed off. “Well, that's a secret. But anyways, our time here is over and I have to go back. I'm a busy person since I'm pretty famous in the future.” I nodded as Mark and I waved goodbye as M649 opened a portal to the future as his husband held his hand. Instantly they were gone. I turned to Mark. “Good luck on your confession. I promise you it will go smoothly. Don't forget about what I told you.” I said while I winked at him. Mark nodded and all of a sudden, he was gone. And I was back in the present. Weren strode to my side, “How was your encounter?” I did not reply. There was so much that I didn't understand from what M649 told me, but I felt that was the same thing Mark probably felt. “It was fine, what about yours?” We continued to chitchat until we exited the cafe, into the real world.

698 words

I am going to be having a conversation with my past self, and maybe my future self. I'm not sure yet because lots of school work today. Oh no, I'm going off topic. Anyway, I'm going to start now. oh also, anything that seems out of context like the marriage, which my past self refers to, i am not married. and if you know why I shut up you know.

My past self and I ran into each other one day in front of my house.
“Hi?” I asked the child in front of me.
“Who are you?” They ask back.
“I think I'm your future self.”
“But your not cool!”
I stare at the incredibly short child in front of me and they stare back at me, craning their neck a little too much.
“What makes you say that, little child?” I ask her.
“I am not a child! I am in second grade!”
“Uh… that is definitely a child,” I have to hold in my laugh.
“Well then, how old are you?!”
I lean down and whisper an number and their eyes widen as they rant about how I am practically an adult and I sigh.
“CAN YOU TELL ME STUFF ABOUT THE FUTURE?!!!?” she screams and I flinch. I was incredibly loud back then.
“Uh… sure..?”
She starts running around like crazy and jumping up and down excited.
“Calm down,” I try to tell her, but she refuses to listen. “What do you want to know anyway?”
“Are you married like Mamma and Appi?” she asks me. “Or do you like anyone?”
“Holy-” I stop myself before I say anything else.
“Holy what?” she asks back.
"Uh… nothing. Yea I like a girl whose name is .“
”But your a girl?“
I sigh in frustration. Of course my past self knows nothing. ”It's possible. Also, when you meet a person named don't say anything about his birth gender you little-“ I shut my mouth again before I say something bad again.
”Little child?“
”Yes, sure. Do you want to know anything else?“
”How fun is it being ?“
”Not fun. Also, you will get more friends so don't be sad.“
”Ok!!!!“
They then look at me, judging my clothing choice and hair length and such.
”Why is your hair so short? I thought that by the time you get to being that old, it would be much longer, but it is shorter than mine is. Also, why are you wearing black and that thing is way to large for you. And where is your really pretty dresses? And-“
”Ok, please stop talking, and I'll explain,“ I take out my phone to show her a picture, but then she gets more hyper.
”YOU HAVE A PHONE?!!“
”Yes.“
”COOL!!!!“
I show her a picture of me before I cut my hair and she gapes in shock,
”Anyway, I like blacks and other dark colors. About the dresses, I am a gen- uh… Sometimes I feel like I'm partially ma- like a boy and sometimes a girl or both or none,“ I try to explain it in a way that makes it easy for an 8 year old to comprehend. ”So, I don't wear dresses. before you ask, yes I still wear Saris and-“
”YOU WEAR A SARI LIKE MAMMA?!“
”Yes.“
”Also, what you said about being boy, girl, both, none, is not possible.“
I slap my forehead. my past self was also h0m0phobic.
”Clothes too large for me are comfortable, so that's all to explain.
“Uh..OK?” I give her a look and she stares back, confused. “How's tiny sis doing?”
“She's annoying,” is all I need to say.
“No she's not!”
“yes she is, and so are you. End of discussion,” I say and check the time. Luckily, it happens to be early enough to leave and walk to my friend's house for doing homework. I turn around and walk away, leaving her still yelling at me.


This was terrible, anyway- that's all. I wanted to do future, but with homework, i can't


+676 words

sofie's thread <3
Nov 15th characters is free -500 words exactly

There is an uncomfortable stirring in my stomach, lumpy bile rising in my throat, dread fueling my thoughts. Because to put it simply I do not want to be here, I do not want to be listening to the people I used to love so much around me, acting as if the world is a perfect place, as they make exclamations like ‘slaying the day away with my girlies’. Every sentence aggravates me even more and I’ve been trapped in the hell hole for months. The truth is I dislike all of them. Every single girl I know. Anger boils, rising to the service till it becomes a bubbling, steaming broth. I feel the screams drowning me, like a mirror shattering, pieces tearing my throat apart. Because I’m so isolated in my hate and anger. Grasping my bag in my hands till my knuckles turn white I leave the room. Heavy footsteps, the only goodbye I whisper as they echo through the dormant halls. I’m so sick of Kyneton.

Now would be the point where the writer of me makes a decision, to go home and sulk, have a good sob and move on pretending like my pure hatred is non-existent or to tell them how I feel, maybe have a mental breakdown somewhere along the way -cut my hair in an irrational display. But this is my life. I will make my own way, through the slithering twists and turns, lumps and bumps.

The sweetness melts on my tongue, the scent of vanilla flushing the air. I lick the waffle cone as a droplet of vanilla bean ice cream with a single sprinkle rolls down the edge, droplets pooling there. I gaze up in awe, the strong yet delicate intricately crafted tower standing above me, just like I’ve only dreamed of all these years. After a 20 hour flight I'm standing here under the Eiffel Tower in Paris, France. I continue licking the ice cream cone. Thunder rumbles in the distance, a smile forming on my lips, lightning flashes, rain cascades down in sheets, each droplet splashing on the asphalt. Expect the unexpected is my story. I start sprinting, not to shelter but to a grassy area where I lay down. Covering myself in dirt, grass seedling, cigarettes, sticky ice cream, letting the rain soak into me. Gazing up at the sky, I watch the light show.

By myself in Paris.
Now what would happen here…maybe a tall handsome guy would wander over to me, tell me something strangely poetic for an obnoxious teen who happens to have good hair but no.

“Bonjour chérie, tu n'as pas un peu froid dans cette tempête, tu vas attraper la grippe?”
The old lady dressed in silken gown, pearl drowned, diamond encrusted, draped in white lace, ruffles unfolding from every possible hem, she wears a long pure creme fur coat, she extends a glove enfolded hand. I take it. A small smile appeared on my face for the first time in months.





Nov 13th last sentence of cabin’s story line -404 words

“come and join us, delve deeper into the mysteries here, and unravel the secrets that lie hidden within the mansion's icy embrace,” gestured mabel, offering you a hand.

I hesitate before taking Mabel’s hand, her skin soft and warm in my palm compared to the icy cold of the foggy evening air. I feel her heart pounding as loud as mine as the reality sinks in. As I stare around in absolute awe at snow dusted mansion, icicles hang off the intricate metal edging of the step railings. I shrink down further into my hoodie, hugging it tight around me, my bare legs trembling in the soft breeze. I sigh, what I would do for a pair of trackies now. Then with one sudden swoop of an arm she grasps the handle and the mansion door creeks open. Time for an adventure it is.

A chill fills the air, as the lights automatically flick on, blinding me. But already there’s an aura to this icy mansion with it’s arching doorways and hand carved banisters. “I don’t like this..” I whisper in a hushed voice to Mabel. The scent of chemicals and antibacterial spray fills my nostrils and I cough, the floors aren’t curving marble made for ballroom dancing, but sterile linoleum made for kinder art rooms. The alls are white as a the snowstorm outside. Till I spot a crimson splatter, a stain, attempted to be washed away. “What is that?” I shriek. But Mabel keeps moving on through the room. Her footsteps click clacking on the floor, echoing throughout the hall. It’s as if she’s in a trance. Panic floods through my bones, my breathing becomes rushed. “MABEL.” I start screaming. “MABEL.. COME BACK.” A tear trickles down my cheek. I close my eyes, recentering, when I open them the mansion is pitch black.

I hear a muffled scream.
The scuffling of shoes on the linoleum floor.
And then silence.
A match strike.
My eyes search through the darkness as I glimpse the singular flame.
A flame that will hold answers. The answers Mabel and I have been searching for ever since our parents were murdered. Now it is time to find out the truth.

My breathing is shaky but its time. “Whoever is there, I know what you did. We know. And don’t you dare think about taking the rest of my family away from me. Give me answers now or I’ll be the death of you.” The power in my voice is unmistakable, the anger creeping in. My fire. And just as my fire lights, their match goes out.




self reflection daily:
676 words and unedited as it's lateee

I stare at the girls beside me in the mirror. Versions of me crystal clear in the class, soft glowing from my lamp filling their faces. I look into the eyes of the younger one, than the slightly older girl and then me. Deep brown eyes, telling untold stories of what they’ve seen. All the tears they’ve wept and all the smiles they’ve smiled. The horrific and wonderful sights they’ve seen. “Hello…” I stutter, somehow nervous in this new setting. Even though it’s just me. But sometimes that can be scary enough in itself. Anticipation courses through me as they look back at me.

The younger one who’ll I’ll name Gracie, looks up at me, “Who are you? You look like me.”

“Haha yes! I think that’s because I am you in some strange twisted way.” I speak, my voice growing with confidence as I address the little girl in front of me who looks barely four years old.
Then the girl who stands to my right, speaks up, whispering to us in a sweet tone that reminds me of lavender fields and picnics. “Hey..I’m your future self. And I’m here to help you gorgeous girls, I’m gonna help your dreams become as sweet as they seem in your head, ease the pain and doubt and to help you fall in love again and again with the universe everyday. I’m here because it’s time to restore confidence in your life.”

“Omg, omg are you like from the future!? How old are you?! This is so exciting!! Did everything we planned for us come true?” I ask in excitement. Gracie adds, “Do we have a puppy dog?”

“Wow!! You lot are excited as! And yes I am from the future, I am twenty-six years old and I have a little German Short Haired Pointer that I love to pieces and is the most excitable thing ever. Yes it’s the dog we’ve wanted since were only a little girl.” The older one says with a confident tone to her voice that I can’t help to admire. Gracie lets out a squeal of excitement as the little dog appears in the mirror beside us. But I still have more questions.

“Hang on, Delilah…” I start saying to the older girl, “Did we go to London like we’ve always dreamed of. Hope builds up inside of me, my heart filling with joy and compassion.

“Yes. Yes we did. We got through highschool and college in a breeze and made it all the way out to London in a whirlwind of dreams. We’ve lived there for just over a year now and have travelled all over Europe, eating delicacies, visiting tourist attractions I’ve only ever dreamed about, going to big libraries and bookstores, walking down cobblestone streets, orienteering out in the beautiful foliage and starbucks trips daily.” My eyes widen in what my life has in store for me but then it hits me.
“Can I ask one more question?” She shakes her head with the slightest motion, before my eyes the image flickers, light cascading off the floor and walls before she is gone and it’s me and Gracie.

Gracie asks in a quiet voice, “I don’t even know what I wanna do with my life yet, I have no dreams apart from a little dog on a little farm.” A smile broadens across my face.

“You know Gracie that sounds absolutely lovely. Don’t worry, the universe will always look after a girl like you as long as you grow into a good girl, be confident, don’t care what others think but most of all think for yourself and value your beliefs and dream big. Because I’ve seen myself grow and I’ve seen my dreams come true day by day. You got this.” I say, honestly marvelling at the inspiration I’m spreading.

“Thank you.” Whispers Gracie. Her little arms wrap around my body engulfing me in a warm hug and I embrace the warmth. I feel the warmth leave as she to flickers, dissolving and cascading around the mirrorball.

Nickname - Ava
Content - November 8th Daily
Word Count - 433/400
Cabin - Mystery

• …Today, you’re going to do a bit of self-reflection!…
  

• …write a fictional conversation between your past, present, and future self of at least 400 words!…
  

• …This daily will earn you 200 points, and make sure to share your conversations in the main cabin for an extra 200 points!…
  

Ava rushed through the school hallways, her head half down. Her friends were gone, and she was now alone again, which meant that she didn't have to keep cracking jokes all the time.

Bumping into someone, she looked up to mutter an apology before letting out a small squeak.

It was… herself?

The taller girl, who looked like her counterpart, smiled as if she knew this was going to happen. “Hi. I'm you, basically.”

Too stunned to speak, Ava looked up at, apparently herself. “What the?”

“Come with me,” Older Ava said, pulling Ava with her hand gently and taking her to the third floor of the school, where nobody really had classes at. It was pretty empty: except for the few clubs which were held there every Wednesday.

Letting herself be lightly dragged, Ava watched as her feet automatically walked up the stairs, following the older version of herself. Getting pulled to the classroom, she held in a gasp of surprise when she saw a much shorter girl, who had the face of the girl in all the family pictures in her house.

What is going on??

“Is that the friend you told me I'd meet?” The younger girl in the picture spoke, grasping at Ava's hand, looking at the older version of both of them. The older girl nodded, smiling. “You only get this chance once, so use it wisely.” Older Ava spoke, sitting down in one of the wooden chairs.

“Who are you?” Ava finally managed to speak, still in shock.

“I told you, I'm older than you.” The older girl smiled. She looked more mature- as if she had gone through too many failings, and had just decided to stick to a normal life.

“Older me?” She said, confused. “What did you just magic yourself in here?”

“Kind of,” The older Ava winked. “You know your dream of becoming an author or an idol?”

Ava looked confused. “Yeah?”

Older Ava sighed. “It didn't work out. Kinda. We did make it into trainees, but we weren't able to join a music group for a long, long time. So you decided to be an author, which didn't work out either.” She smiled sadly. “But we're doing fine just now.”

Ava looked as if she had just been punched, but she pretended to be fine.

She looked down as her sleeve was tugged on by her younger version. “Did we get the toy we asked for?” She asked as if it was the only thing she cared about. Racking her memory, Ava smiled and knelt down.

“Yes.” she said. “Yes we did.”

I don't expect to achieve my goals ok? TT

Go Back Home Here

11/8 word war proof - 198 words
(please ignore the misspellings lol i was typing as fast as i could not worrying about errors)

It was about 4 pm when Aere arrived at the concert hall for rehearsal. Tonight was her first orchestra concert as principal cellist, and she couldn't help but be very nervous - and consequently very nervous. She knew that everyone would be watching her, and looking to see if she messed anything up. ANd the solo in their longest piece, firebird, was really scaring her. All of the shifting and how perfect it needed to be for the pickiest audience members was really frustrating sometimes. Even if she knew that she was perfectly capable, and that all the fingerings were ingrained into her hands and mind, she still wondered if people would like it. Would they judge here for messing up if her fingers slipped? what if she got off from the conductor, or the flutes didn't come in, or… she shut down this train of thought swiftly, before it could spiral any more. She needed to focus on the concret ahead of her, not her stress, as she was walking into hrehearsal. everything would go percfectly. the flutes would come on, the pianist would play perfectly, she would stay together with the conductor perfectly. nothing bad would happen.

In reverse order:
Weekly 1, Pt. 4, Expanded Character Motivation Scene (652)
She knew it was time when she heard the first trickle of melting ice from the roof of the house, the first rays of sunlight streaming through her window and reflecting off of the wooden floorboards.
It had been a month since everything had last frozen, but the sky was still cold with the overtones of winter. Everything hid away and cloistered itself underground, but it was worth waiting for the explosion of life that would follow suit.
Hira dug around in her closet, pushing past layers of itchy woolen coats and lacy dresses to pull out a cylindrical glass container from the far corner. She had stored it there, kept far away from the light. The closet was dry and cold inside most of the year, which were the ideal conditions for seed storage.
Inside the jar was a sundry of seeds in varying sizes, with both ridges and spikes, and varying between black or faded brown in color. They were held inside by a cork stopper, to preserve them throughout the seasons. In faded calligraphy script, the paper label on the vial read, “To be planted in spring. Nya.” Hira reached for one of the jackets, which she pulled on in order to evade her angry aunt's sending her back inside, saying she would freeze to death.
After searching in all her various storage spaces, Hira found her shovel in her bedside table drawer, its flecks of red on its wooden handle from the time it had once been covered in paint. The blade was dented from banging against small rocks in the soil, and had begun to be rusted on the edge, the insidious reddish-brown flecks against the metal.
She sped down the stairs, her hand sliding down the wooden banister as she dashed by. Hira unlocked the latch and hurried out the door. She breathed in the smell of pine needles and sharp, rushing water. The wind ruffled her hair, swirling past her jacket and then up in the branches of the evergreens on the property’s northern border. All the other trees were bare, besides the decorative bushes on the front steps of the manor.
It didn’t take Hira long to find the perfect planting bed. It was partially shaded by the roof from the house, with a window above so one could look out to check on the flowers.
Hira, over the course of the next fifteen minutes, made several quick trips to the nearby riverbed in the woods. She carried over stones from its banks to form a tangent border for the plot, which formed a semicircle against the brick wall of the house. Hira tested the soil; it was firm but flexible, perfect for sowing the seeds. “The flowers will look lovely when they burst through the surface here,” Hira decided, imagining the bloom in her head. “This needs a little life, anyway.”
Hira carefully molded the mound of soil around the small pinprick of seeds she had just buried. The memory of her sister’s voice in her head had softly instructed her to bury it three inches deep, with three seeds in each hole in case some were dormant. Hira knew some wouldn’t grow, unable to reach up through the ground. They would never break through the topsoil, and bask in the sunlight.
The dirt was cool to the touch, and had already gotten jammed under Hira’s fingernails. She loved the feel of cool dirt against her palms, watching the isopods furl and curl in their spherical shells of armor. Hira wished she was like one of the isopods; she could shield herself, roll up, and escape everything.
Hira proudly scanned the rows of seeds she had just planted with a pleased yet forlorn smile on her face. She could imagine them blooming months from now, colorful blossoms and buds that would bask in the sunlight. If only Nya was there to see them.

Weekly 1, Pt. 3, Character Motivation Scenes, count: 3 (160, 189, 211)

1.
Hira carefully molded the mound of soil around the small pinprick of a seed she had just buried. The memory of her sister’s voice in her head had softly instructed her to bury it three inches deep, with three seeds in each hole in case some were dormant. Hira knew some wouldn’t grow, unable to reach up through the ground, break through the topsoil, and bask in the sunlight.
The dirt was cool to the touch, and had already gotten jammed under Hira’s fingernails. She loved the feel of cool dirt against her palms, watching the isopods furl and curl in their spherical shells of armor. Hira wished she was like one of the isopods; she could shield herself, roll up, and escape everything.
Hira scanned the rows of seeds she had just planted. She could imagine them blooming months from now, colorful blossoms and buds that would bask in the sunlight. If only Nya was there to see them.

2.
Hira’s aunt tried to drag her niece back inside the manor one warm, blissful spring afternoon. “You’re coming back filthy head to toe,” the aunt reprimanded harshly. “You never take your shoes, you’re practically wild. What will the neighbors think?” Hira loathed the austere rooms, the fancy trim and impeccable space. She could never confirm herself inside the walls, even if it was raining outdoors.
If Hira was younger, she would have kept her eyes pointed down at the floor in submission and apologized. But she loved the cool grass against her feet and the wind rustling her hair like the leaves. Nature was the only place in which a piece of Nya was still there, so Hira clung to it desperately lest it blow away. That fire would fuel her.
“It doesn’t matter what they say,” Hira stormed, her eyes blurring. She repeated softly, “It doesn’t matter.” She threw open the screen door and dashed back outside, tears streaming down her face and her bare feet pounding the earth. She climbed up into the oak tree, her sacred hiding place. No one besides Nya could reach her there.

3.
Hira took a deep breath as she stretched her leg out towards the next rock in the riverbed. The stream rushed by, the sound of running water against pebbles filling her ears. “Just a little further…” she thought, barely managing to reach the next rock. The slippery surface would have made it harder to stay on, but Hira had chosen the dryer rocks for her mission to cross the stream.
She’d spent hours sketching there, smashing the pigmented pebbles against the stones and pooling the frigid water to create dyes. She had a whole book full of these colored drawings, with vivid greens, shades of browns, oranges, yellows, deep blues, and grays. Her aunt said that art would be the key to her success in society if only her propriety would shine through, and Hira had a good enough foundation.
Hira had also gathered moss and small sticks to build cliff dwellings on the rocks to the side of the riverbed. About a twenty minute’s hike down was a diving hole, but the water was so freezing that it had to be a warm summer day to even stick your toes in.
Hira hadn’t crossed the river since she was a child, and had forgotten what was on the other side.
Weekly 1, Pt. 2, Character Dialogue and Description Development (203)
Hira closed her eyes. “Don’t go, please,” she whispered, begging again in hopes Nya would listen, could change what would soon separate them. The two sisters were perched on the branch of the massive oak tree in their backyard. They listened to the hollow cry of the loon in the pond on the property border, and Hira felt the hollow sadness settle once again. Nya traced the outline of the bark, letting an ant crawl up her finger. She smiled at her younger sister, offering empty reassurance.
“I’ll be back before you know it.”
. . .

It had been eight years since Nya had left, Hira thought numbly, dangling her legs over the tree branch. She traced the peeling bark and the swirling grooves and patterns. Her sister would have been watching the roses bloom in the garden, smiling as the white lilies burst into life once again. Nya would point out the signs of new life in the spring at the manor. She’d hold her sister’s hand and help her reach the tallest branch of the great oak, offering encouragement and hope. She’d say that they were unconquerable, and that everything would get better soon.
A trickle of a tear slid down Hira’s face.

Weekly 1, Pt. 1, Character sheet (105)
Name: Sapphira (only used for formal occasions), nickname is Hira
Pronouns: She/her
Sexuality: Straight
Species: Human
Strengths: Compassionate, empathetic, observant, explorer
Weaknesses: Anxious, doesn’t get too close to people in fear of being betrayed/left behind, naive and clingy (age 8)
Tendencies: Gets very lonely, tends to be lost and has no sense of direction, bursts into tears when she’s very afraid, jumps easily and is skittish, points out and notices small details because that was what her sister used to do
Age: Sixteen years old, but her sister left her when she was eight
Familial Relationships: Her sister Nya was sent to fight in the army overseas, which Hira takes as a betrayal

Weekly 1, Pt. 0.5, Overview, Lyrics and Song
Song: Bejeweled
Sapphire tears on my face

Nov 8th daily

Rosa represents current me, Evie represents me in 2020 and Emily represents me after 18. This is probably really bad haha
it’s based off the ‘if you told me two years ago that i’d be x i wouldn’t believe you’ kind of thing

“Rosa! Hey!” chimed Evie, walking into the café.
“Hi Evie, how are you? Haven’t seen you in a while!” exclaimed Rosa, gesturing to Evie’s place at the table.
“I’m doing really well! I haven’t seen you for over 3 years! How is life going for you?”
“So much has changed, Evie! I’m basically a completely different person!” beamed Rosa, anticipation running high.
“Let’s hear everything!”
“My favourite band is a Ukrainian folk-EDM fusion band and I’m into Eurovision now. Like proper into it.”
“What? No way! That’s so random and unlike how I used to know you! I see what you mean, you are like a completely different person!” remarked Evie, who had only ever known Rosa affectionately as ‘the girl with the basic personality’.
“Yes! I really like Ukrainian music, and I don’t listen to any music by English artists! As crazy as that sounds, it’s true. So what music are you into, Evie?”
“Well, I am really boring, I like britpop and generic rock. That is the total opposite of you, and by far not as interesting! What else will I be surprised by?”
“At least you aren’t into ballads and slow songs! They put me to sleep! Anyway, I achieved a distinction on a grade 5 music theory test, and I’m doing my grade 6 practical in under a month! I rehearsed and perfor-”
“Woah woah woah! You say you got a distinction Rosa? I genuinely could never do that - music theory is so boring and so difficult to understand, I don’t know how you do it!” Evie interjected.
“Yeah, it was really easy for me! You cut me off from saying that I rehearsed and performed with a professional orchestra as part of a yearly programme they do,” Rosa remarked, waiting to see Evie’s reaction.
“Are you serious? I would never dream of that! And you’re still in school, you’ve basically got your whole career figured out Rosa!”
“Um, well, no actually. I have no idea what I am going to do with my life after I’m 18. Join an ensemble, ideally, but all I know is that I am not planning to go to university.”
“I am sure something will come up for you. Oh, who’s that behind you?” asked Evie. Rosa turned around to see her friend who she met at the orchestra rehearsal half-a-year ago, Emily.
“Oh, this is Emily, I met her at that orchestra rehearsal I was talking about! Emily, this is Evie, Evie, this is Emily,” said Rosa as she introduced her friends to each other.
“How many languages do you speak again, Emily?” asked Rosa.
“Three! English, French, fluently, and Ukrainian quite decently. Do you speak any, Rosa?”
“Ah, yes, I forgot. You are everything that I want to be. It’s my dream to speak all of those languages!”
“Since when did you start learning Ukrainian, Rosa? Is this a result of your new favourite band?” wondered Evie with a laugh.
“Yes, it was actually. I’ve been quite enjoying it to be honest. Emily’s also a member of a professional string quartet now, another thing that I would like to be,” said Rosa to Evie, “could I come to rehearsal in place of you one day?” asked Rosa to Emily, half-joking.

daily 9/8/i can't remember - 569/400 words.

I sit down, cross-legged, on a simple chair. The room around me was empty, except for a soft rug and two, unoccupied chairs. I took a deep breath, calming myself down and preparing myself for this interaction. The fear of self-judgement tormented me, though I knew that in reality, we are all judging ourselves anyways, whether we try to or not. We can only choose to make the judgement positive instead of negative. But still, facing said judgement sent shivers of anxiety down my spine.
Three rhythmic knocks broke the tense silence, and a white door in the corner of the room opened to reveal a seven year old child. She glanced at me, wide-eyed, and gave a small smile, before climbing into the chair to my left. She was me, yet smaller, younger, and with frizzier hair. Her bright blonde locks were woven into a braid, and a halo of curly, stray hairs framed her round face. She wore a light green shirt and a purple skirt. Her two front teeth were missing from her smile.
“Hello,” I said, glancing at her as she fidgeted in the chair. “I remember you.”
“We look so different,” she said in wonder, her voice higher-pitched than I remembered. “I didn’t know we needed glasses?”
“Yes. We do. Our eyes get very bad, you know,” I said with a slight laugh. “I’d like to tell you something, ok?”
She leaned in, curious to hear what I had to say.
“Please trust me. Don’t go play with the girl on the slide, my sweet. She will ruin your pure heart, and play with your mind and soul. Her manipulative nature will tear you apart. Leave her be, she isn’t worth your pain. Go play with Scarlett, the sweet girl. She will be your loyal friend. We are quite close now,” I said, remembering the wound that I’m still desperately trying to heal.
Her innocent face glanced up at me sadly, I knew she knew who I meant. I saw the disappointment in her eyes, but thankfully, she nodded.
“Let me tell you something better, my sweet. You’re going to find your passion, your love for life. You’ll learn to weave worlds and create masterpieces, you’ll learn to create universes that you can change with a click of your finger, you’ll find your peace in this love, look forward to it,” I told her, and her upset expression was replaced with a curious smile.
“Thank you,” she told me, smiling her gap-toothed grin. Suddenly, there was another knock on the door.
In walked another girl, looking to be in her early twenties. I glanced at her in wonder, for she is who I was anxious to meet. Her hair was darker, and longer. Her eyes were tired, but her smile was bright. I was her. And she was me.
“Hello, little ones,” she said, and her voice was soft-spoken yet comprehensible. She sat down neatly.
“Can I ask you something?” I ask, she she nodded. “What do we do? As our job?”
“We follow our dreams, sweet one. We’re in medical school at the moment,” she replies, and I offer a small smile.
“Are we still friends with our little group?” I ask.
“Yes, we are. We’ve supported each other throughout high-school, and we are all happy.”
“Thank you, for visiting,” I said, and both of them looked at me and grinned.
“You’re welcome.”

Part 1
Song: Invisible
Lyrics:
And I just wanna show you
She don't even know you
She's never gonna love you like I want to
And you just see right through me but if you only knew me

(342 words)
“She’s not going to notice you.”
“You don’t know that!” Willard’s eyes tracked her as Samantha Cortsi walked past, with her shiny blonde hair and fancy makeup, not sparing a glance in their direction.
“C’mon, you look like a creepy old man.”
“Fine.” He puffed out a breath with one final glance, and turned to follow me. A pang hit me, hard, as he walked past with his eyes in a far away place.
“Why do you like her anyway?” I asked, filtering any trace of emotion in my voice. I felt a strange twinge of satisfaction as the clouded look shattered out of his eyes. “She doesn’t even know you.”
“So what?” he snapped. “Just because she doesn’t know me doesn’t mean that I can’t, um.. You know what, forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
‘I wouldn’t understand? I’ve been your friend for years! You don’t know her, but you’re somehow more comfortable with her!’ The words bubbled up in my throat, and I swallowed them, practically feeling them trying to fight their way back up. “Fine. If that’s how you see it,” I said through gritted teeth. ‘You’re practically blind anyway. Can’t see the real me if I’m right in front of you.’
I felt him glance at me, but kept my line of sight straight in front of me.
“Okay, Lila, what’s wrong with you?” he said finally, turning around so he was standing in front of me.
“Me? What’s wrong with me?” I stared at him. “What’s wrong is that you’ve been completely ignoring me over a girl that will never, ever love you!”
“What’re you talking about?” He looked at me, real confusion on his face.
“I’m saying you should stop being blind and pay attention to the real people in your life,” I snapped. “Even when it’s obvious that-” I cut off.
“That what?” he said. I turned away.
“Nothing,” I cut off quickly. ‘Stupid, stupid, said too much again!’ I inhaled deeply. “Besides, you wouldn’t understand. Now c’mon, we’re gonna be late.”

Part 2

(124 words)
Name: Lila
Pronouns: she/her
Sexuality: Bisexual
Species: Human
Likes: Being only with her closest friends, chinese food, being invisible to people she doesn’t know, and hanging out with boys over girls.
Dislikes: Parties or social events, having to talk and/or hang out with people she doesn’t really know, and popular girls that lap up all the attention.
Strengths: Strong, loyal, empathetic, sharp, not easily fooled.
Weaknesses: Wary of others except good friends, which leads her to not be able to make friends, has trust issues, and beats herself up mentally for long periods of time.
Tendencies: Ignores her own emotions to keep a better hand on the situation, bottles up all her anger until it eventually bursts out, avoids social events or occurrences.
Other: A high school student, had hurt a close friend of her’s leading her to believe everyone would be happier away from her, though still interacts with VERY close friends, has a crush on Willard.

Part 3

1. Lila - Forced into a party by her friends, feeling the need to be alone, so others aren’t hurt by her. (175 words)

Neon lights flash on the walls. Raucous music fills the air. And other human beings are way too close. Lila squeezes her way to the edge of the crowd. ‘So much for sticking by my side,’ she thought, rolling her eyes and she spotted her friends in the heart of the crowd.
She glances around, then climbs up onto the edge of the stage to survey the party. Everyone seems to be having a good time.
Except her.
Lila sighed, sitting down to watch the crowd dance. It was hard to hear her own thoughts. ‘How does everyone have this much fun in this much chaos? I must be the only sane person here!’ Yet, as she watched the crowd, a sense of loneliness crept over her. Everyone had someone here. Why couldn’t she?
‘No, you can’t hurt anyone else. Don’t you remember what you said? The look on her face?'
She studied everyone, looking so happy. ‘That’s what she looked like,’ she reminded herself, and turned to walk out, away from all the chaos.



2. Lila - At school, pushing others away in an attempt to protect others from her.
(172 words)
“Hi! I’m Valerie! You’re Lila, right?” Lila looks up, stifling a groan.
“Yeah.” Lila looks away, not meeting Valerie’s eyes. ‘Why does every person in this class want to make some kind of conversation with me?’ She let the silence drag on until Valerie began to shift uncomfortably.
“Well, um, I’ve heard that you’re really good at algebra.”
“Mmm.”
“And I’m not.”
“Hmm.”
“So, I was wondering if you could help me w-with, um..” She broke off as Lila let out a poorly concealed sigh.
“Sorry, I’m not really available anytime,” Lila said, still looking away.
“Alright, um, thanks.” Valerie lingered for a moment or two, then quickly sped off. Lila watched her go, feeling a strange pang of guilt.
‘Why should I feel bad? I’m doing her a favour keeping her away from me!’ But at the same time, a voice echoed in her head.
‘Why are you pushing people away? Why can’t you accept friends? What’s wrong with you?’
RRRRRRRRRRRIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG!!!!!!!!!!
School was starting, and she pushed all her thoughts away.



3. Lila - At home, eating chinese takeout. First day into a new school year, feeling pressured by her parents wanting her to make new friends, but adamant that she will stay away from others.
(252 words)
“So, Lila, how was school today?”
Lila looked up, startled, and quickly shoved in a mouthful of noodles and manchurian to avoid answering. “Mhmm.” Mom sighed.
“Let me guess, if you were lucky, some of your old friends are in your classes, and you are interacting with them, and no one else. If you were unlucky, they are in barely any of your classes, and you’re a lonely lump sitting in the corner of the classroom.” Dad raised an eyebrow in my direction.
“Mmph, Mmm,” Lila said, trying to say, ‘Oof Mom’. Of course, that was completely accurate.
“Honey, you have got to start making new friends! You can’t survive on your old friends, half of them joined other groups, yet you still refuse to make new ones.” Mom pushed away her plate, and Lila braced herself for another speech.
“I’m serious, honey! This is becoming a real problem! You’re going to grow up to have to have a terrible social life and always be alone! Is that the life you want?”
‘If it means other people can be away from me, then yes.’ She forced another bite into her mouth, her stomach suddenly constricting.
“I’m going to bed,” she said, pushing her chair back from the table and rushing upstairs, hurrying into her room and closing the door.
‘Is she right?’ Lila wondered, sitting down on her bed.
‘No,’ she finally decided. ‘Other people don’t have to be near me.’
She turned off the lights and buried herself in her bed.



Part 4

Author’s Note: 6 things from her character sheet are in this story, her dislike for parties, her like of hanging out with people extremely close, her tendency of bottling up her anger, her like of hanging out with boys over girls, her crush on Willard, and her like of being invisible to others. Also, this takes place after the story in part 1, during lunch, so there is some reference.

(511 words)

“C’mon guys, you know parties aren’t my thing.” Lila took a bite of her PB & J.
“Lay, this the best party ever! You cannot skip!” Matheo leaned over to snag a chip from Willard’s tray.
“Watch me.” She took another bite from her sandwich to punctuate her sentence.
“This is the last party of the school year! Can’t you at least come for our sake? It’ll be so much fun! So many people from our school are going, and other people!” Willard chimed in.
Lila stiffened in her seat. ‘That is why I don’t want to go,’ she thought impatiently. ‘Haven’t you realized that yet?’ “You know I like hanging with you guys at school waaay more than going to a crazy rave party.”
“Why do’ya hate parties anyway? They’re so much fun! But I’ve never seen you going to one, or even considering it!” Willard pulled away his chips as Matheo tried to grab another one. “And I’ve known you for a LONG time.”
‘Exactly!’ she thought but did not say. ‘We’ve known each other for such a long time, but you’re still focused on that Samantha Cortsi, who has never said a word to you!’ But boys being boys, he had probably forgotten all about their conversation that morning. Still better than girls.
“Fine,” she said, trying to escape from her anger and end the conversation. “Maybe I’ll come to the party, as long as you guys promise not to wander off like you always do when you force me to go somewhere.”
“Of cource! We will be by your side all the way, milady,” Matheo stuck his elbow out in a mock princly way, and Lila shoved it away.
“And if you stop doing that,” she said, half laughing.
“Never gonna happen,” Matheo said.
“Yep.” Willard grinned at her, and Lila felt heat starting to blaze in her cheeks. She quickly feigned a sneeze for the excuse of hiding her face. She realized she could not sit there with her elbow over her face for that long, unless she wanted other people to think she was even crazier.
“Be right back,” she said quickly, and turned, speed-walking to what she hoped looked like the bathroom. She stood on the side of the hall, pretending to be walking in it whenever teachers came by. Students completely ignored her, which she liked just fine.
Once she looked in the bathroom mirror and couldn’t see a single speck of unwelcome red, she hurried back.
“Seriously though, I have no idea how parties work. I haven’t been to one since-” she cut off abrubtly. Those were memories she would not visit. “For a while.”
“It’s simple! You party!” Willard said jokingly. Matheo nodded solemnly, then burst out laughing. Willard joined in.
“Guys, actually!” Lila said, rolling her eyes. Another con about boys, they never could really tell when you were trying to be serious. Still better than girls, though. “Alright, just don’t leave me behind, okay?”
“Don’t worry, milady, for we-”
He cut off with a muffled yell as she tackled him.

Total of 1820 words, including song lyrics, small moment previews, author’s notes, and this ending part

incomplete daily but it meets the word count lol

sixteen-year-old me, the present me, stares longingly into the mirror of the past. the mirror of the future is sitting right beside it, but present me is too nervous to look in. she isn’t sure whether it’s because she’s afraid of what she’ll see, or if she doesn’t want the future to happen at all.
looking into the past is easier.
fifteen-year-old me is the one closest to the front of the mirror. she’s clearly the most fulfilled of anyone in the mirror of the past, but she also looks lonely. her smile is hiding a longing she doesn’t even realize she’s experiencing.
present me is proud of how far she’s come in changing that.
fifteen-year-old me is wearing headphones. that’s something that hasn’t changed. present me can’t hear what’s playing, but her best guess would be man on the moon by r.e.m. or something by coldplay. her hair’s dyed bright red instead of the natural red-tinted brown that present me sports, and it’s significantly shorter as well, pulled back in a blue headband. she’s wearing a grey shirt with a pattern of sunflowers on the front and dark coloured jeans. her wrists are coated in bracelets half way up to her elbow.
fourteen-year-old me stands behind her. ah yes, present me thinks, the year of existential crisis. fourteen-year-old me has just come to her senses and accepted that it’s okay that she isn’t cishet. her expression doesn’t give this away at all, in fact she looks quite happy and satisfied. that’s because, present me knows, she’s currently in the middle of her first session leading swc, and she’s just started watching marvel movies. both are still some of present me’s favourite experiences ever.
fourteen-year-old me wears her hair, still dyed red, back in a galaxy patterned bandana. her outfit consists of grey leggings, a purple t-shirt, and a maroon sweater with holes in the elbows. she still wears plenty of bracelets, but less than the fifteen-year-old version has.
fourteen-year-old me wears earbuds rather than headphones, and what’s playing in them is likely imagine dragons or nirvana.
thirteen-year-old me doesn’t look very happy at all. but she doesn’t exactly look sad either. she’s currently living through lockdown, and hasn’t talked to many of her closest friends in eight months at this point. she’s also recovering from an injury and isn’t able to do very much. she spends the majority of her time doing one of two things. the first is bundling up in a slightly too tight fall coat, laying down on the ground outside, watching the sky shift and listening to u2 on repeat for hours. the second is watching and re-watching star wars shows with her sister.
thirteen-year-old me wears a mottled white shirt, a flowing blue skirt that stops just above her knees, and thick, warm grey leggings. the outfit is inspired my mary anne from the netflix reboot of the babysitters club. her hair is mostly its natural colour, except for two stripes of blue that frame her face. she either wears it down or pulls it back in the same blue headband as fifteen-year-old me.
on the rare occasions thirteen-year-old me’s headphones aren’t playing u2, they’re playing the soundtrack to julie and the phantoms instead.
twelve-year-old me is an interesting person. it’s hard for present me to see how she could have possibly been this person at one point. twelve-year-old me has two outfits she loves. the first is something present me still wears sometimes. dark blue skinny jeans and a purple shirt with flared sleeves. the second one is an outfit present me thinks is somewhat obnoxious. a loose sky blue dress with white embroidery on the cuffs and down the front, paired with leggings covered in white unicorns with massive, swirling blue and purple manes. to make matters worse, there’s a big splotch of orange paint on the shirt and a couple bits of red paint on the leggings. frankly, it’s a mess.
it gets worse though. oh, it gets worse. twelve-year-old me was a hopeless romantic. she spent hours online almost on a daily basis looking at the same pieces of percabeth fanart over and over and over again. she was obsessed with cliche words like peace and harmony and miracle and wrote them all over everything. and worst of all, she had a not entirely healthy obsession with one particular boy. present me is still friends with this boy and he’s an absolute darling, if a bit annoying at times. but he doesn’t warrant that kind of obsession, and neither does anyone else, really. but to twelve-year-old me, the planet had never been home to a cooler guy.
eleven-year-old me is experiencing…

having come to the end of the mirror of the past, present me decides she doesn’t have much of a choice except to glance at the mirror of the future. everyone inside this mirror is sort of fuzzy. like present me is not ready to have the details of their identities revealed to her.
“its okay,” someone from the mirror of the future, present me can’t tell which one, says.
“what is?” present me asks.
“the future,” the person in the mirror responds. “it’s going to happen, and that’s okay. don’t be afraid of new memories.”
and then they’re all gone.