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- CHUROS000
-
Scratcher
44 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Churro's Dailies #9
Dear diary,
Oh my gosh, I'd just been accepted to work in the Forbidden City! I cannot believe it! They only pick the best of the ladies to work there! And no matter what task I've been given, I'm going to do it well. If I am to sweep the floors, I'll do it. If I am to water the plants, I'll do it. Heck, if I'm supposed to feed the fish in the lotus pond, I'll do it, even if my robes get wet!
My mom puts those fancy dangly things in my hair, and wraps a fancy robe around me, stitched with lotus flowers. They're so beautiful, with those soft, pink petals, and float effortlessly in the ponds. “You will do great, my little Mei.” She tells me.
The Qing Dynasty was flourishing. The walls of the Forbidden City are red– disturbingly, blood red; but that dark crimson just adds to the majestic palace even more. The rooftops are lined with good-luck animals, made of solid gold. As I walk in the Wu Men (Meridian Gate) , there's the grand steps up to the Tai He Men (Gate of Supreme Harmony), the white marble shimmering in the sunlight. It is so big, so grand, so…. ah, I can't even describe it. For you to understand me, you're going to have to go there by yourself.
“The Emperor is Arriving!” A soldier announces. I see all the other workers around me bowing, so I do the same. None of them look up once, almost like you're not supposed to. But who could resist getting to see the Emperor?
I half-bend my legs, but keep my head up. I feel the presence of the Emperor, like there's a magnetic field around him, sort of. He draws attention, but no one can look. Maybe it's because they think no one is worthy of looking at him, except for his Empress.
As I'm gazing in awe at the Emperor, he turns sharply to look at me. I turn my face down, away, blushing. What have I done? I could tell there were many rules in the Forbidden City, like how everyone had to walk in straight lines at all times, and the courteous way everyone had to act. Perhaps… more likely than not… not looking at the Emperor was one. It was probably even a huge mistake. I've seen officials execute workers for committing crimes, and breaking rules. What was going to happen to me?
“Lotuses,” He says.
“W-what?”
Oh, shoot. I quickly cover my mouth. I'm not supposed to be speaking in his presence. Now I've broken two rules.
“Lotuses,” He repeats. “Xiao wa cheng xiao ting. Small child propped up inside a small boat.”
Oh, I know this one. “Tou cai bai lian hui. He returns after secretly picking the white lotus.”
The emperor stops reciting the poem. “She's literate.” He turns to the worker next to him. “I like this one.” He turns back to me. “From now on, you'll be named Maiden Mei. And I know you're new to the palace. That means you're going to get more servants and better housing.” He walks away, but not before a small wink.
I wonder if life in the palace is as good as they describe. I mean, now I'm a maiden, and I have more servants and stuff, but there's still so many rules to follow. And I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I'm not very good at following rules. The Emperor let me off this one, just because I know how to read. But next time… I don't think I'll be so lucky. Those lotuses saved me.
Now I'm sure all the other workers are jealous of me now. I'm probably in many of their radars.
I'm going to have to be more careful.
How long can I survive?
Dear diary,
Oh my gosh, I'd just been accepted to work in the Forbidden City! I cannot believe it! They only pick the best of the ladies to work there! And no matter what task I've been given, I'm going to do it well. If I am to sweep the floors, I'll do it. If I am to water the plants, I'll do it. Heck, if I'm supposed to feed the fish in the lotus pond, I'll do it, even if my robes get wet!
My mom puts those fancy dangly things in my hair, and wraps a fancy robe around me, stitched with lotus flowers. They're so beautiful, with those soft, pink petals, and float effortlessly in the ponds. “You will do great, my little Mei.” She tells me.
The Qing Dynasty was flourishing. The walls of the Forbidden City are red– disturbingly, blood red; but that dark crimson just adds to the majestic palace even more. The rooftops are lined with good-luck animals, made of solid gold. As I walk in the Wu Men (Meridian Gate) , there's the grand steps up to the Tai He Men (Gate of Supreme Harmony), the white marble shimmering in the sunlight. It is so big, so grand, so…. ah, I can't even describe it. For you to understand me, you're going to have to go there by yourself.
“The Emperor is Arriving!” A soldier announces. I see all the other workers around me bowing, so I do the same. None of them look up once, almost like you're not supposed to. But who could resist getting to see the Emperor?
I half-bend my legs, but keep my head up. I feel the presence of the Emperor, like there's a magnetic field around him, sort of. He draws attention, but no one can look. Maybe it's because they think no one is worthy of looking at him, except for his Empress.
As I'm gazing in awe at the Emperor, he turns sharply to look at me. I turn my face down, away, blushing. What have I done? I could tell there were many rules in the Forbidden City, like how everyone had to walk in straight lines at all times, and the courteous way everyone had to act. Perhaps… more likely than not… not looking at the Emperor was one. It was probably even a huge mistake. I've seen officials execute workers for committing crimes, and breaking rules. What was going to happen to me?
“Lotuses,” He says.
“W-what?”
Oh, shoot. I quickly cover my mouth. I'm not supposed to be speaking in his presence. Now I've broken two rules.
“Lotuses,” He repeats. “Xiao wa cheng xiao ting. Small child propped up inside a small boat.”
Oh, I know this one. “Tou cai bai lian hui. He returns after secretly picking the white lotus.”
The emperor stops reciting the poem. “She's literate.” He turns to the worker next to him. “I like this one.” He turns back to me. “From now on, you'll be named Maiden Mei. And I know you're new to the palace. That means you're going to get more servants and better housing.” He walks away, but not before a small wink.
I wonder if life in the palace is as good as they describe. I mean, now I'm a maiden, and I have more servants and stuff, but there's still so many rules to follow. And I don't know if you've noticed or not, but I'm not very good at following rules. The Emperor let me off this one, just because I know how to read. But next time… I don't think I'll be so lucky. Those lotuses saved me.
Now I'm sure all the other workers are jealous of me now. I'm probably in many of their radars.
I'm going to have to be more careful.
How long can I survive?
- minergold48
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Cabin Wars Character Swap | 326 words
Sage - @jalapeno9
Sage was helping her friends create a flag for their new club, sitting on the lawn outside their school. “What do you think of this, Sage?” one of them, Parsley, asked, showing her a potential flag design. It was fairly simple, with three horizontal stripes of different colors, and one black stripe going down the center. “That’s far too simple,” Sage sighed, her friend awkwardly shrugging and working on a different design. Sage began drawing a design of her own, containing an intricate triangle pattern on the left side, a circle in the center, and an interesting stripe pattern. As she began coloring it in, her other friend, Rosemary, peeped over her shoulder. “Ooo! Maybe you could have those stripes be blue, green, and white, like Parsley’s flag?”
“How about no,” Sage said, a little too sharply for Rosemary’s taste. “You know this is /our/ flag, right? Not yours?” Rosemary sighed, Sage glancing aside. “Yes, yes, I know.” She grumpily scribbled in her own set of colors. The three sat there awkwardly, doing their own flag-planning things, before Parsley offered Sage their bag of chips. “You want some?” Sage looked over at them. “I’ll…pass,” she said, a bit awkwardly. “You sure?” “Yes I’m sure.” Sage wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to take someone else’s chips, even though that someone was one of her closest friends. “How about this?” Rosemary said, showing the two their design, which consisted of Sage’s design, Parsley’s colors, and the club seal that Rosemary had designed in the central circle. “That looks great!” Parsley chirped, the two looking at Sage for her opinion. “Mm…looks good,” she said, now understanding the choice of colors.
Rosemary beamed. “Awesome! Now we can starting painting the fl-“
The bell rang, signaling everyone to go to their next class. “Wonderful timing,” Sage sighed, before the three of them packed up their stuff, said goodbye to each other, and made their way to their classes.
Sage - @jalapeno9
Sage was helping her friends create a flag for their new club, sitting on the lawn outside their school. “What do you think of this, Sage?” one of them, Parsley, asked, showing her a potential flag design. It was fairly simple, with three horizontal stripes of different colors, and one black stripe going down the center. “That’s far too simple,” Sage sighed, her friend awkwardly shrugging and working on a different design. Sage began drawing a design of her own, containing an intricate triangle pattern on the left side, a circle in the center, and an interesting stripe pattern. As she began coloring it in, her other friend, Rosemary, peeped over her shoulder. “Ooo! Maybe you could have those stripes be blue, green, and white, like Parsley’s flag?”
“How about no,” Sage said, a little too sharply for Rosemary’s taste. “You know this is /our/ flag, right? Not yours?” Rosemary sighed, Sage glancing aside. “Yes, yes, I know.” She grumpily scribbled in her own set of colors. The three sat there awkwardly, doing their own flag-planning things, before Parsley offered Sage their bag of chips. “You want some?” Sage looked over at them. “I’ll…pass,” she said, a bit awkwardly. “You sure?” “Yes I’m sure.” Sage wasn’t sure if it was a good idea to take someone else’s chips, even though that someone was one of her closest friends. “How about this?” Rosemary said, showing the two their design, which consisted of Sage’s design, Parsley’s colors, and the club seal that Rosemary had designed in the central circle. “That looks great!” Parsley chirped, the two looking at Sage for her opinion. “Mm…looks good,” she said, now understanding the choice of colors.
Rosemary beamed. “Awesome! Now we can starting painting the fl-“
The bell rang, signaling everyone to go to their next class. “Wonderful timing,” Sage sighed, before the three of them packed up their stuff, said goodbye to each other, and made their way to their classes.
- -WildClan-
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
(I worked with @cinammcnx.)
I’ll try to give as much detail as possible, but I apologize if this critique is a little rushed- I’m trying to finish it in time to add words for Cabin Wars. Starting off, I’m not sure if the strange grammar and sentence structures are intentional or not. If it is intentional, it does kind of create the sense that everything is not as it should be, that something is wrong in what would otherwise be a peaceful nighttime scene. Intentional or not, I do think the phrase “laying in her palms a small red creature crawled up her fingers” should be rewritten, or at least add “…creature, WHICH crawled up…” because it sounds awkward. Moving on to the next few paragraphs, they are very well-written. They have this fluid, almost ethereal, feel, due to the way the actions of the main character and the world around her are described. I also like how it is not revealed immediately what the main character is crying over, but gradually hinted at with the sentences “She always did love ladybugs, they understood her. They understand me now, too.” When her father enters the scene and begins talking about her mother, it is more clear what has happened. (Minor note: The “Your” in “Your soaking” should be “You’re.”)
I’ll try to give as much detail as possible, but I apologize if this critique is a little rushed- I’m trying to finish it in time to add words for Cabin Wars. Starting off, I’m not sure if the strange grammar and sentence structures are intentional or not. If it is intentional, it does kind of create the sense that everything is not as it should be, that something is wrong in what would otherwise be a peaceful nighttime scene. Intentional or not, I do think the phrase “laying in her palms a small red creature crawled up her fingers” should be rewritten, or at least add “…creature, WHICH crawled up…” because it sounds awkward. Moving on to the next few paragraphs, they are very well-written. They have this fluid, almost ethereal, feel, due to the way the actions of the main character and the world around her are described. I also like how it is not revealed immediately what the main character is crying over, but gradually hinted at with the sentences “She always did love ladybugs, they understood her. They understand me now, too.” When her father enters the scene and begins talking about her mother, it is more clear what has happened. (Minor note: The “Your” in “Your soaking” should be “You’re.”)
- _-Philip-Hamilton-_
-
Scratcher
1 post
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Hello I’m Pip :>
I have been working on a musical in collaboration with @punk_tiger11 about this kid named Annie who feels like a boy and becomes trans. But having a homophobic father was very bad for Annie. Annie feels that him and his friend Sam have been having a closer relationship, soon they start to date but every happy story has a down fall soon Annie’s father dies. Happy yet sad about his death, he has to learn to survive middle school as a trans boy.
The musical has only one song so far but me and my friend will help fix that.
I have been working on a musical in collaboration with @punk_tiger11 about this kid named Annie who feels like a boy and becomes trans. But having a homophobic father was very bad for Annie. Annie feels that him and his friend Sam have been having a closer relationship, soon they start to date but every happy story has a down fall soon Annie’s father dies. Happy yet sad about his death, he has to learn to survive middle school as a trans boy.
The musical has only one song so far but me and my friend will help fix that.
- theawesomemarbler
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
return to main post
November 12th Daily
Quote: “miss missy missed millie mission's mirror” (idk why but it stood out to me)
Minnie was standing outside the mansion. Thunder flashed across the sky, lightning illuminating the eerie mansion. She was sent here to investigate. There was a mysterious mirror in the mansion that belonged to her sister, Millie. Sighing, she stepped into the mansion's cold, embracing arms. The interior was as creepy as the exterior. Each step Minnie took, there was a creak of the wooden board in response to her presence. Minnie shuddered. Something about this place seemed odd. But she had to find it, find that artifact that means so much to her sister! She shone her flashlight, and shrieked. A ghost of a woman was meeting her in the eye, her eyes black and empty, uninhabited. But wait, no it's not a ghost. It's a drawing of a ghost, in the posture of the Mona Lisa. But the clothing of the woman in the drawing seemed like a nun, a nun that was badly scarred by evil forces, like the devil. Or maybe she was a witch. Minnie thought, turning away from the portrait of someone historical as she continued her search. An eerie aura fell upon the mansion that night. Minnie crept up to the study room, the place where the mirror is most likely to be found. The doors screeched their hinges out, and what Minnie saw made her unable to suppressed a scream.
“So, did you find it?” Millie asked as Minnie rushed back to the office. “No, sister. I saw a terrifying image. A girl from a horror movie was holding a knife, chopping off a person's limbs! And when she looked into my eyes, I felt my skin peeling off as I stare into those imposing, empty eyes. Like dolls!” Minnie said, in a voice too fast for Millie to catch up. “Sorry. So you didn't find the mirror?” Minnie nodded her head. "Yes, I didn't find it. I probably missed it somewhere. But I'm not going in there ever again! Never in my life!“ Millie agreed with the decision and decided to use another mirror instead of the one she had loved so much.
The girl sat on the windowsill of the mansion, staring into the pouring rain. ”Oh dear, another of our members has left, but a new one had joined. Let's all welcome our new host,“ The girl looked at the artifacts all around the house, using her doll-like fingers and picked up the portrait of the nun, ”Minnie. Let's all welcome her, shall we?“ Truthfully, Minnie had never left the mansion. The girl stole her soul and sealed it into the nun's portrait, taking the soul's place instead. ”It's so much fun to see you all having fun, right?“ she asked, too innocently. Her doll-like features lit up into a sneer. Actually, the portrait was not a drawing of the nun, it was a mirror reflecting the soul's physical image. And that cursed mirror was Millie's. If the nun were to return to the mansion with Minnie's body, Minnie would be free, but the nun will lose her soul for eternity. ”Now, whoever shall step foot into this mansion, will they see the light of day again?“ The girl asked, looking at the screen with her buttoned eyes. ”Oh yes, I'm talking to you~“ You shuddered. You are unsure how you got into the story. ”See you soon at my mansion." Was all you heard before the wooden doors squeaked shut, leaving you anxious and curious of the future events.
580 words
November 12th Daily
Quote: “miss missy missed millie mission's mirror” (idk why but it stood out to me)
Minnie was standing outside the mansion. Thunder flashed across the sky, lightning illuminating the eerie mansion. She was sent here to investigate. There was a mysterious mirror in the mansion that belonged to her sister, Millie. Sighing, she stepped into the mansion's cold, embracing arms. The interior was as creepy as the exterior. Each step Minnie took, there was a creak of the wooden board in response to her presence. Minnie shuddered. Something about this place seemed odd. But she had to find it, find that artifact that means so much to her sister! She shone her flashlight, and shrieked. A ghost of a woman was meeting her in the eye, her eyes black and empty, uninhabited. But wait, no it's not a ghost. It's a drawing of a ghost, in the posture of the Mona Lisa. But the clothing of the woman in the drawing seemed like a nun, a nun that was badly scarred by evil forces, like the devil. Or maybe she was a witch. Minnie thought, turning away from the portrait of someone historical as she continued her search. An eerie aura fell upon the mansion that night. Minnie crept up to the study room, the place where the mirror is most likely to be found. The doors screeched their hinges out, and what Minnie saw made her unable to suppressed a scream.
“So, did you find it?” Millie asked as Minnie rushed back to the office. “No, sister. I saw a terrifying image. A girl from a horror movie was holding a knife, chopping off a person's limbs! And when she looked into my eyes, I felt my skin peeling off as I stare into those imposing, empty eyes. Like dolls!” Minnie said, in a voice too fast for Millie to catch up. “Sorry. So you didn't find the mirror?” Minnie nodded her head. "Yes, I didn't find it. I probably missed it somewhere. But I'm not going in there ever again! Never in my life!“ Millie agreed with the decision and decided to use another mirror instead of the one she had loved so much.
The girl sat on the windowsill of the mansion, staring into the pouring rain. ”Oh dear, another of our members has left, but a new one had joined. Let's all welcome our new host,“ The girl looked at the artifacts all around the house, using her doll-like fingers and picked up the portrait of the nun, ”Minnie. Let's all welcome her, shall we?“ Truthfully, Minnie had never left the mansion. The girl stole her soul and sealed it into the nun's portrait, taking the soul's place instead. ”It's so much fun to see you all having fun, right?“ she asked, too innocently. Her doll-like features lit up into a sneer. Actually, the portrait was not a drawing of the nun, it was a mirror reflecting the soul's physical image. And that cursed mirror was Millie's. If the nun were to return to the mansion with Minnie's body, Minnie would be free, but the nun will lose her soul for eternity. ”Now, whoever shall step foot into this mansion, will they see the light of day again?“ The girl asked, looking at the screen with her buttoned eyes. ”Oh yes, I'm talking to you~“ You shuddered. You are unsure how you got into the story. ”See you soon at my mansion." Was all you heard before the wooden doors squeaked shut, leaving you anxious and curious of the future events.
580 words
Last edited by theawesomemarbler (Nov. 12, 2023 15:19:45)
- Amethyst-animation
-
Scratcher
1000+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
12/11/23
614 words
(I'm more into Fantasy and Fan-fics so doing Real-Fi is such a fun new experience)
The sun shines on the stop signs
Fanning her red face, Rebecca leant back on the seat. It was a hot summers day, and she was driving to the Gold Coast for the beach, where she would meet up with her friends. Can't believe Mum did this every week when I was a kid, she thought, blasting the Air-con to max coolness. It was difficult to juggle dealing with the boiling temperatures and regaining an 120kmph speed.
She made an angry hand signal at a driver who sped past her, and reached for her water bottle. At first she thought that Vi had been genius to suggest that each of them practice driving on their own for long distances. But driving more than 50km took a heavy toll on her, as a rather new driver. Mum's going to be FURIOUS if she finds out I went without Dad.
Even when her favourite song came on, she felt her bad mood persist. They still had half an hour of driving to do, and she wanted to do nothing more than take her hands off the scorching handwheel. How did people beside her casually speed past, heartfully singing along to the radio? Obviously, she wasn't doing something right. But she had no idea what it was.
Finally! Maccas! The sight of a fast-food chain gave her immense relief, and she pulled into the carpark. I should leave the Air-con on, otherwise the drive after I get my food's going to be even more terrible. She leapt out of her car and walked through the door of the restaurant. The Air-con blasted straight in her face, and she stood there, closing her eyes, absorbing the coolness.
“Stop being weird,” the worker grouchily called. She locked eyes with the person - he had brown eyes and was about the same age as her. An unclean badge announced the boy as “Dave”, He softened as he looked at her wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “My bad,” he quickly fixed himself.
Rebecca felt an immense amount of disgust. She hated when boys did that. “Double cheeseburger, large Coca-Cola, extra salt and fries.” She resisted the urge to say please - this guy deserved no respect.
“Coming right up, m'lady,” Dave said with a giggle. She glared at him, and he immediately subsidized. After a few minutes, the boy came back with a bulging paper bag. “I added another bag of fries,” he shyly added.
She fished through the bag and slammed down the extra food onto the counter. “Don't,” she said warningly, and strutted out of the shop as Dave gaped at her. Ugh, who raised him? What an absolute idiot.
Thankfully, the car wasn't quite as hot, and she sat in it eating her Maccas. Dave had gone all-out with the salt, and she felt her entire body cringing as she wolfed through the hot chips. The Coca-Cola was really refreshing - perhaps too much, as it chilled her to the bone. It was a nice change to the hotness. The sun blared onto a red stop sign, reminding her to look before she went back on the highway. She carefully entered the high-speed road and, feeling much better after the filling meal, sang along to some Christmas songs. Way too early. It's still November. Then again, the heat's decided to come sooner than later.
It seemed like no time at all that she was splashing into the ocean with her friends, chuckling like five-year-olds again. The heat and sweat was washed away with a huge wave, met with screams of delight. She grinned at her friends as she dove under another huge wave. Perhaps Summer's not so bad.
614 words
(I'm more into Fantasy and Fan-fics so doing Real-Fi is such a fun new experience)
The sun shines on the stop signs
Fanning her red face, Rebecca leant back on the seat. It was a hot summers day, and she was driving to the Gold Coast for the beach, where she would meet up with her friends. Can't believe Mum did this every week when I was a kid, she thought, blasting the Air-con to max coolness. It was difficult to juggle dealing with the boiling temperatures and regaining an 120kmph speed.
She made an angry hand signal at a driver who sped past her, and reached for her water bottle. At first she thought that Vi had been genius to suggest that each of them practice driving on their own for long distances. But driving more than 50km took a heavy toll on her, as a rather new driver. Mum's going to be FURIOUS if she finds out I went without Dad.
Even when her favourite song came on, she felt her bad mood persist. They still had half an hour of driving to do, and she wanted to do nothing more than take her hands off the scorching handwheel. How did people beside her casually speed past, heartfully singing along to the radio? Obviously, she wasn't doing something right. But she had no idea what it was.
Finally! Maccas! The sight of a fast-food chain gave her immense relief, and she pulled into the carpark. I should leave the Air-con on, otherwise the drive after I get my food's going to be even more terrible. She leapt out of her car and walked through the door of the restaurant. The Air-con blasted straight in her face, and she stood there, closing her eyes, absorbing the coolness.
“Stop being weird,” the worker grouchily called. She locked eyes with the person - he had brown eyes and was about the same age as her. An unclean badge announced the boy as “Dave”, He softened as he looked at her wavy blonde hair and bright blue eyes. “My bad,” he quickly fixed himself.
Rebecca felt an immense amount of disgust. She hated when boys did that. “Double cheeseburger, large Coca-Cola, extra salt and fries.” She resisted the urge to say please - this guy deserved no respect.
“Coming right up, m'lady,” Dave said with a giggle. She glared at him, and he immediately subsidized. After a few minutes, the boy came back with a bulging paper bag. “I added another bag of fries,” he shyly added.
She fished through the bag and slammed down the extra food onto the counter. “Don't,” she said warningly, and strutted out of the shop as Dave gaped at her. Ugh, who raised him? What an absolute idiot.
Thankfully, the car wasn't quite as hot, and she sat in it eating her Maccas. Dave had gone all-out with the salt, and she felt her entire body cringing as she wolfed through the hot chips. The Coca-Cola was really refreshing - perhaps too much, as it chilled her to the bone. It was a nice change to the hotness. The sun blared onto a red stop sign, reminding her to look before she went back on the highway. She carefully entered the high-speed road and, feeling much better after the filling meal, sang along to some Christmas songs. Way too early. It's still November. Then again, the heat's decided to come sooner than later.
It seemed like no time at all that she was splashing into the ocean with her friends, chuckling like five-year-olds again. The heat and sweat was washed away with a huge wave, met with screams of delight. She grinned at her friends as she dove under another huge wave. Perhaps Summer's not so bad.
- Amethyst-animation
-
Scratcher
1000+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Weekly 2
Part 1
407 words
(This was so hecking fun to write)
AMETHYST: (Leans back on chair, sighing)
MAYA: What’s wrong? You’ve been strange nowadays.
AMETHYST turns around with an exhausted face.
AMETHYST: You know how we basically live on the other side of the world to everyone else?
MAYA nods. She is very confused about where AMETHYST is going.
AMETHYST: Well, I’m practically the only one awake in my cabin during cabin wars. So I have foolishly decided to embrace the routine of a no-lifer and spend hours typing letters to try to win… uh…
MAYA: You don’t even know what you’re going to win.
AMETHYST: Bragging rights!
MAYA makes a skeptical face like a true has-a-lifer.
AMETHYST: (Turning back to the screen) You wouldn’t understand.
MAYA: Okay, sure. Whatever. I was going to head off to the shops. Do you want to-
AMETHYST: Nah, I’ve spent enough money today.
MAYA: (Face full of confusion) …You’ve gone outside today?
AMETHYST: (Pivots her head around to look at MAYA) What? No? I spent about $20 already buying a cape online.
MAYA: A… cape.
AMETHYST: You haven’t? Everyone wears one. And they’re so cool nowadays.
MAYA: Are you living in the twelfth century?
AMETHYST: Oh, you’re one of those capeless weirdos.
MAYA reaches for her phone. She’s considering calling 000 - this girl is out of her mind.
AMETHYST: That’s like the point of Sky Children of the Light.
MAYA bursts out laughing.
MAYA: Oh! Dude! I thought you meant in real life!
AMETHYST: Do you really think of me so lowly? Anyway, leave me alone. Mythical has dared to attack my cabin, and I will show them that SCRIPT BACKS DOWN FOR NO ONE!
MAYA: (Amused) Okay, tell me about what you’re doing.
AMETHYST pulls down a chair next to hers, beaming with pride.
AMETHYST: So Cabin Wars just started.
MAYA: Ah, yes, cabbage wars. Let me guess, you try to grow more cabbages than the other team?
AMETHYST: C-a-b-i-n. Cabin. We, as a cabin, have to write thousands of words.
MAYA: (Stares at screen) HEY! You’ve been writing our conversation down!
AMETHYST: (Sticks her lip out) Okay, hear me out. Mythical has held us at war-point and ordered us to write a few thousand words. Can’t be that hard, right? But, I have calculated that if we spend a couple of hours typing out a conversation that we’re having between-
MAYA: (Reaches for cup full of water to spill onto laptop)
AMETHYST: I mean, it’ll probably be- HEY!
Part 2
Americaway - Parody of Runaway by Aurora
250 words
(Quick note - this was meant to be a spoofy song where I talk about how remote Australia is in comparison to America - this is completely a joke so don't take any offence please <3 Thank you)
I had a dream I was American,
Ping strong and people awake,
I saw countless internet friends
Actually online, for goodness' sake
Everything was on the exact time
YouTubers uploading in the day
I didn’t even have to touch the
Timezone convertor, not even once, oh
And I was runnin’ to Wendy’s
Wondering whether it was good
Australians don’t know
Australians don’t know
And I was dancing in the snow
I felt alive but why is it so cold
But no take me home,
Take me home to the spiders
I can’t take it anymore, oh
What the heck are pounds?
Why is everything in miles
What’s the difference between cents
And pence? Tell me please, oh
Where are the Hungry Jacks?
What do you mean there’s none?
Hello officer, I’m driving on the correct side
Everyone else just, has it wrong
And all this time I’ve been lyin’,
Oh lyin’ in secret to myself,
I've been putting Hershey’s on the farthest place on my shelf
La-di-da
And I was runnin’ to Wendy’s
Wondering whether it was good
Australians don’t know
Australians don’t know
And I was dancing in the snow
I felt alive but why is it so cold
But no take me home,
Take me home to the spiders
I got no other place to go,
No take me home,
Take me to the metric system,
I got no other place to go,
No take me home,
Take me home where I belong
I can’t take it anymore
Part 3
1040 words
(Yep, Google Docs and scratch messed up the format again - sorry)
Amethyst collapsed onto her beanbag. She had frantically searched up songs that would fit with her idea, and Aurora’s song had entranced her. After that, it had been easy - almost as though magical hands had taken over. Whenever she was up, all her cabinmates were asleep, and the frustration and curiosity of American life had taken over even her weeklies.
She was busy humming the tune and clearing her tabs, so she didn’t notice the odor of Mythical waft over to her. Maya cleared her throat nervously.
Amethyst pivoted around, her humming stopping immediately. “Uh, hi. What are you doing here?”
With one door on the handle, Maya stepped back. “You kept talking about that Cabbage War-”
“Cabin war.”
“So I decided to look into it. And… I’m part of Mythology now.” She held out her badge for Amethyst to examine. “What were you singing anyway?”
Amethyst narrowed her eyes at the intruder. “You joined Mythology?” she spat.
Maya nodded proudly, and wordlessly she strode over to her laptop. Amethyst tried to tackle her, but missed and fell onto a cushion. “Americaway; A Parody of Runaway?”
She struggled to her feet with a curt nod. “Yeah. Remember? We were talking about how everyone’s asleep and I’ve got to defend Script?”
Amethyst tossed a deodorant bottle at her, and Maya dodged. “Dude, you really need to put some of that on you.”
“I’m good without any Script stench. You need it more. Anyway, what else are you writing?” Panic flashing through her body, Amethyst leapt upwards, but Maya already switched to another document. “Secret Light?”
Amethyst stared at the ground and nodded.
“Is this…” she scrolled through the hundreds of pages. “Woah.”
“It’s probably the longest story I’ve ever written,” Amethyst said shyly. “It’s what persuaded me to join Scratch Writing Camp, anyway.”
The sound of a Warhorn bellowed across the skies, and Amethyst leapt to her feet. “That’s my signal. Night!”
Leaving a bewildered Maya in her tent, she crept through the dark forest. Although most of the camp was slumbering, she knew that her sleeping pattern was of great use to Script. But it also meant she had to work twice as hard, trying to cover her cabin whilst also attacking.
Eventually, she stumbled across a small clearing. The moon shone brightly, useful but also traitorous at the same time. The eerie grayness did not suggest anything alive was close by, but Amethyst knew that there definitely would be. Keeping to the dark trees, she walked precisely twelve meters from the biggest tree clockwise and… there they were.
Her few awake cabinmates draped themselves in mesh-blankets covered in leaves, blending in perfectly with the ground. She remembered helping to weave the mesh and collect the leaves; it would be extremely useful for the Cabin War. The disguise was so good Amethyst couldn’t see anything but a few narrowed eyes, and she felt a distinct emotion of pride.
“The wolf howls at midnight,” she whispered. One of the people handed her her own mesh-blanket and she wrapped herself in it. It was scary how she couldn’t recognise anyone except Leader Recca, who held a whittled horn in her hands. She lifted it to her lips and blew again, trying to summon as many awake Script members to her as well.
The quiet murmurs of the wolf howls at midnight went on for a couple of hours, as more and more people began to join. By the time the Cabin War was about to start, there were about a dozen people and everyone had disappeared into the backdrop and were waiting for the first other camp soldiers to start attacking.
A few minutes before midnight, Recca handed to everyone a writer’s block - an ingenious mechanical invention that when hurled at someone would disintegrate all the motivation to write from them. Several people held rope to bind invaders from other cabins on the wrists and take them inside a makeshift prison that they had created with wood and glue.
“Three… two… one…” whispered Recca.
Fifteen different horns blew at the same time, and sounds of forces clashing filled the air. No one in Script moved.
Eventually, two people from Mythology crept into the clearing. One of them held a large piece of paper - they were the one who wanted to announce the war. A ray of moonlight shone onto her, and it took all of Amethyst’s self-will not to gasp. It was Em, and despite her cabin, Amethyst had always thought she was kind of cool. She’s not going to get away with that.
Holding her writer’s block, she crept closer to Em. Once or twice a twig snapped under her shoes and it was incredible that Myth didn’t hear her. This is close enough. Em was looking away from her… she should throw it… NOW!
It clocked Em straight in the jaw, and she pivoted around. Amethyst ducked down, praying that the mesh blanket would keep her hidden. “WHO WAS THAT?” roared Em.
At once, everyone from Script sprang into action, advancing towards the two Mythology people. Em, eyes livid, looked down at her paper and yelled the war before they could capture her. “Write 3500 words as a cabin in the next 8 hours or lose 800 points! And if you attempt to slay a fifty headed hydra - if you manage to write 500 words in 5 minutes - then you may collect 25 points.” She glowered at the Script people as they bound her wrists in rope. “My cabinmates will be back to rescue me soon,” she scoffed. “Consider this a gift from Mythology.”
Amethyst nodded at her fellow cabinmates, and sprinted back to her cabin. She planned to finish her weekly and help her cabin fight the war. As long as there were no Mayas invading her space.
I might do a script format, Amethyst thought as she sat down on her chair. She started to type, tired that there weren’t many people awake.
AMETHYST, she typed. (Leans back on chair, sighing)
Footsteps clattered on the ground behind her, and she turned her head around. Her eyes were starting to droop.
“What’s wrong?” Maya asked, popping through the tent entrance. “You’ve been strange nowadays.”
Conclusion
This was SUCH a fun weekly. Part 3 was definitely the hardest to write, but nevertheless really cool. Part 1 and Part 2 were definitely SO UNIQUE YET FUN! We need to do script-format weeklies/dailies more often.
Word Count Checklist
Part 1: 406 words
Part 2: 250 words
Part 3: 1040 words
Total: 1697 words
Thanks for reading <3
Part 1
407 words
(This was so hecking fun to write)
AMETHYST: (Leans back on chair, sighing)
MAYA: What’s wrong? You’ve been strange nowadays.
AMETHYST turns around with an exhausted face.
AMETHYST: You know how we basically live on the other side of the world to everyone else?
MAYA nods. She is very confused about where AMETHYST is going.
AMETHYST: Well, I’m practically the only one awake in my cabin during cabin wars. So I have foolishly decided to embrace the routine of a no-lifer and spend hours typing letters to try to win… uh…
MAYA: You don’t even know what you’re going to win.
AMETHYST: Bragging rights!
MAYA makes a skeptical face like a true has-a-lifer.
AMETHYST: (Turning back to the screen) You wouldn’t understand.
MAYA: Okay, sure. Whatever. I was going to head off to the shops. Do you want to-
AMETHYST: Nah, I’ve spent enough money today.
MAYA: (Face full of confusion) …You’ve gone outside today?
AMETHYST: (Pivots her head around to look at MAYA) What? No? I spent about $20 already buying a cape online.
MAYA: A… cape.
AMETHYST: You haven’t? Everyone wears one. And they’re so cool nowadays.
MAYA: Are you living in the twelfth century?
AMETHYST: Oh, you’re one of those capeless weirdos.
MAYA reaches for her phone. She’s considering calling 000 - this girl is out of her mind.
AMETHYST: That’s like the point of Sky Children of the Light.
MAYA bursts out laughing.
MAYA: Oh! Dude! I thought you meant in real life!
AMETHYST: Do you really think of me so lowly? Anyway, leave me alone. Mythical has dared to attack my cabin, and I will show them that SCRIPT BACKS DOWN FOR NO ONE!
MAYA: (Amused) Okay, tell me about what you’re doing.
AMETHYST pulls down a chair next to hers, beaming with pride.
AMETHYST: So Cabin Wars just started.
MAYA: Ah, yes, cabbage wars. Let me guess, you try to grow more cabbages than the other team?
AMETHYST: C-a-b-i-n. Cabin. We, as a cabin, have to write thousands of words.
MAYA: (Stares at screen) HEY! You’ve been writing our conversation down!
AMETHYST: (Sticks her lip out) Okay, hear me out. Mythical has held us at war-point and ordered us to write a few thousand words. Can’t be that hard, right? But, I have calculated that if we spend a couple of hours typing out a conversation that we’re having between-
MAYA: (Reaches for cup full of water to spill onto laptop)
AMETHYST: I mean, it’ll probably be- HEY!
Part 2
Americaway - Parody of Runaway by Aurora
250 words
(Quick note - this was meant to be a spoofy song where I talk about how remote Australia is in comparison to America - this is completely a joke so don't take any offence please <3 Thank you)
I had a dream I was American,
Ping strong and people awake,
I saw countless internet friends
Actually online, for goodness' sake
Everything was on the exact time
YouTubers uploading in the day
I didn’t even have to touch the
Timezone convertor, not even once, oh
And I was runnin’ to Wendy’s
Wondering whether it was good
Australians don’t know
Australians don’t know
And I was dancing in the snow
I felt alive but why is it so cold
But no take me home,
Take me home to the spiders
I can’t take it anymore, oh
What the heck are pounds?
Why is everything in miles
What’s the difference between cents
And pence? Tell me please, oh
Where are the Hungry Jacks?
What do you mean there’s none?
Hello officer, I’m driving on the correct side
Everyone else just, has it wrong
And all this time I’ve been lyin’,
Oh lyin’ in secret to myself,
I've been putting Hershey’s on the farthest place on my shelf
La-di-da
And I was runnin’ to Wendy’s
Wondering whether it was good
Australians don’t know
Australians don’t know
And I was dancing in the snow
I felt alive but why is it so cold
But no take me home,
Take me home to the spiders
I got no other place to go,
No take me home,
Take me to the metric system,
I got no other place to go,
No take me home,
Take me home where I belong
I can’t take it anymore
Part 3
1040 words
(Yep, Google Docs and scratch messed up the format again - sorry)
Amethyst collapsed onto her beanbag. She had frantically searched up songs that would fit with her idea, and Aurora’s song had entranced her. After that, it had been easy - almost as though magical hands had taken over. Whenever she was up, all her cabinmates were asleep, and the frustration and curiosity of American life had taken over even her weeklies.
She was busy humming the tune and clearing her tabs, so she didn’t notice the odor of Mythical waft over to her. Maya cleared her throat nervously.
Amethyst pivoted around, her humming stopping immediately. “Uh, hi. What are you doing here?”
With one door on the handle, Maya stepped back. “You kept talking about that Cabbage War-”
“Cabin war.”
“So I decided to look into it. And… I’m part of Mythology now.” She held out her badge for Amethyst to examine. “What were you singing anyway?”
Amethyst narrowed her eyes at the intruder. “You joined Mythology?” she spat.
Maya nodded proudly, and wordlessly she strode over to her laptop. Amethyst tried to tackle her, but missed and fell onto a cushion. “Americaway; A Parody of Runaway?”
She struggled to her feet with a curt nod. “Yeah. Remember? We were talking about how everyone’s asleep and I’ve got to defend Script?”
Amethyst tossed a deodorant bottle at her, and Maya dodged. “Dude, you really need to put some of that on you.”
“I’m good without any Script stench. You need it more. Anyway, what else are you writing?” Panic flashing through her body, Amethyst leapt upwards, but Maya already switched to another document. “Secret Light?”
Amethyst stared at the ground and nodded.
“Is this…” she scrolled through the hundreds of pages. “Woah.”
“It’s probably the longest story I’ve ever written,” Amethyst said shyly. “It’s what persuaded me to join Scratch Writing Camp, anyway.”
The sound of a Warhorn bellowed across the skies, and Amethyst leapt to her feet. “That’s my signal. Night!”
Leaving a bewildered Maya in her tent, she crept through the dark forest. Although most of the camp was slumbering, she knew that her sleeping pattern was of great use to Script. But it also meant she had to work twice as hard, trying to cover her cabin whilst also attacking.
Eventually, she stumbled across a small clearing. The moon shone brightly, useful but also traitorous at the same time. The eerie grayness did not suggest anything alive was close by, but Amethyst knew that there definitely would be. Keeping to the dark trees, she walked precisely twelve meters from the biggest tree clockwise and… there they were.
Her few awake cabinmates draped themselves in mesh-blankets covered in leaves, blending in perfectly with the ground. She remembered helping to weave the mesh and collect the leaves; it would be extremely useful for the Cabin War. The disguise was so good Amethyst couldn’t see anything but a few narrowed eyes, and she felt a distinct emotion of pride.
“The wolf howls at midnight,” she whispered. One of the people handed her her own mesh-blanket and she wrapped herself in it. It was scary how she couldn’t recognise anyone except Leader Recca, who held a whittled horn in her hands. She lifted it to her lips and blew again, trying to summon as many awake Script members to her as well.
The quiet murmurs of the wolf howls at midnight went on for a couple of hours, as more and more people began to join. By the time the Cabin War was about to start, there were about a dozen people and everyone had disappeared into the backdrop and were waiting for the first other camp soldiers to start attacking.
A few minutes before midnight, Recca handed to everyone a writer’s block - an ingenious mechanical invention that when hurled at someone would disintegrate all the motivation to write from them. Several people held rope to bind invaders from other cabins on the wrists and take them inside a makeshift prison that they had created with wood and glue.
“Three… two… one…” whispered Recca.
Fifteen different horns blew at the same time, and sounds of forces clashing filled the air. No one in Script moved.
Eventually, two people from Mythology crept into the clearing. One of them held a large piece of paper - they were the one who wanted to announce the war. A ray of moonlight shone onto her, and it took all of Amethyst’s self-will not to gasp. It was Em, and despite her cabin, Amethyst had always thought she was kind of cool. She’s not going to get away with that.
Holding her writer’s block, she crept closer to Em. Once or twice a twig snapped under her shoes and it was incredible that Myth didn’t hear her. This is close enough. Em was looking away from her… she should throw it… NOW!
It clocked Em straight in the jaw, and she pivoted around. Amethyst ducked down, praying that the mesh blanket would keep her hidden. “WHO WAS THAT?” roared Em.
At once, everyone from Script sprang into action, advancing towards the two Mythology people. Em, eyes livid, looked down at her paper and yelled the war before they could capture her. “Write 3500 words as a cabin in the next 8 hours or lose 800 points! And if you attempt to slay a fifty headed hydra - if you manage to write 500 words in 5 minutes - then you may collect 25 points.” She glowered at the Script people as they bound her wrists in rope. “My cabinmates will be back to rescue me soon,” she scoffed. “Consider this a gift from Mythology.”
Amethyst nodded at her fellow cabinmates, and sprinted back to her cabin. She planned to finish her weekly and help her cabin fight the war. As long as there were no Mayas invading her space.
I might do a script format, Amethyst thought as she sat down on her chair. She started to type, tired that there weren’t many people awake.
AMETHYST, she typed. (Leans back on chair, sighing)
Footsteps clattered on the ground behind her, and she turned her head around. Her eyes were starting to droop.
“What’s wrong?” Maya asked, popping through the tent entrance. “You’ve been strange nowadays.”
Conclusion
This was SUCH a fun weekly. Part 3 was definitely the hardest to write, but nevertheless really cool. Part 1 and Part 2 were definitely SO UNIQUE YET FUN! We need to do script-format weeklies/dailies more often.
Word Count Checklist
Part 1: 406 words
Part 2: 250 words
Part 3: 1040 words
Total: 1697 words
Thanks for reading <3
Last edited by Amethyst-animation (Nov. 12, 2023 03:31:38)
- sophcamps
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
☾ a painter's life
583 words
i live the life of a painter. to the outside world, i am nothing but a meager insect, capturing pictures of things that have happened, of people that have been. yet i am so much more than what they think i am.
i once was a king, with a kingdom so vast no man could cross it, no matter how hard they tried. i bathed in my endless riches, never fearing that i would be poor. but one fateful day, death came, wrapping me in its boundless arms, whispers surrounding me. just as i was about to cross to the other side, he caught me in his cold, hard arms, kind to no one, and whispered to me, a hoarse sound that was barely audible. “your soul. your soul for a chance to live your life again.”
oh, how i craved for a chance to see the light again. to feel the warmth of the sun as it beat down on my shoulders. to watch the tide just one more time as its waves rolled rhythmically against the beaten shore. to cry the tears i hadn't yet cried. without a single rational thought, the words poured out of my mouth, “yes.”
like i'd been electrified, life began to pour into my heart, yet i felt nothing. my lungs began to breathe in the dank air of the underworld once again, and even though i knew i should've felt relief in that moment, to my horror, i felt nothing. i had become something straight out of a nightmare - simply a mere husk of a human with no soul, no emotions, and no sympathy.
the people of the streets call me old arthur - the painter who can't paint. “him? oh, he only pain's gibberish,” the town baker once said. “pain'ed me once and it di'n't even look like me.”
i live off of scraps of food, rummaging through the trash cans for anything edible like a raccoon, convinced that it's another attempt by him to dehumanize me. my minute amounts of money come from strangers who somehow have a shred of sympathy in their hearts, who are kind enough to give me some of their own life savings to aid me, a worthless thing on the streets, hardly even deserving of life.
regret plunders my soulless heart, every day, every night. why did i say that one word, that one word that had changed my life? why had i exchanged my soul for something worthless without it? why? those questions still haunt me, unwantedly whispering in my mind, driving me to the brink of insanity.
my broken eyes, withered with age, slowly drift towards the distance. a jolt of electricity seems to pass through my body, and suddenly, i feel something unexplainable. a sense of awakening courses through my body, and to my anguish, my hands, though lifeless, begin to jerkily move towards my paintbrush.
in a whirlwind of colour, the paintbrush begins to move, painting bright strokes of reds, yellows, and blues on the formerly empty canvas. “what am i doing?” i gape at my hands in horror. with all of my remaining strength, i manage to drop the paintbrush.
my eyes scan the painting, and i recoil in terror as i fully take in what i'm seeing. an innocent young boy, around nine years of age, being stabbed to death. and although i know it's impossible, in my heart, i realize what i'm seeing. the boy is being stabbed… by me.
tongue twister: painters paint plenty portraits portraying penniless people perfectly
Last edited by sophcamps (Nov. 13, 2023 00:48:33)
- MokshithaVedarsh
-
Scratcher
93 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
A small word dump for cabin war.
(533 words)
Based On My History Lesson–Colonial Agrarian Policies and Trade to Territory and ever since I have read that lesson, I just wanted to write a small fictional story so the Characters in this Writing piece are made up and is completely Fictional. Read this story filled with tragedy and let me know if you think this had a good ending.
To begin with there was town in Bengal( A rich Province in India) which faced a huge famine in 1770 CE due to growth of only Indigo cash crop which was forced by the EEIC (English East India Company) and they were bound to do this due to the Permanent Settlement policy. In Bengal, there was a young boy with the name Dev who was around ten years and was a tweeb. He had a curious mind which made him question the Authority of the English East India Company. When the workers were working vigorously regardless to the ongoing famine. The British Official Sir Arthur arrived at the Factory and saw that the labor and the peasants productivity was relatively less than the productivity of last year. Sir Arthur Started yelling at the poor peasants who were already tired and were starving with hunger. Then a voice spoke out that dazzled the entire crowd, “Can I propose a Solution?” and this voice belonged to Dev. Sir Arthur was astonished and asked him to continue. Dev proposed that the peasants were staring and were craving for food and if the peasants are given what they want then they can increase their productivity and after all trade is based on the economic theory of mercantilism. Sir Arthur yelled at Dev, “ You are just another poor little slave and your job is to work for the Great Britain and serve me” and said this with a smug smirk on his face. Dev said in a really low voice, “ Sorry Sir, I didn't mean to and I just..” Before he could complete his Sentence he was pushed to the ground by Sir Arthur and then he yelled once again, “ You can't back answer me and now get back to what yo were doing and everyone the Indigo Production won't do on its own” Dev was just a kid and had already suffered trauma because of Sir Arthur. He Captured Dev's Parents and sent them to prison for starting the Blue Revolution and now he don't know where his parents are and he feels like an Orphan. He is all lonely in the factory and no one dared to be his friend for one reason– Sir Arthur forbade anyone to talk to him and if anyone talks to him or helps him then they would be seriously punished. The Next day, When Dev woke up he saw Dev's parents by his side who said that Sir Arthur has bailed them put of prison which left Dev in a surprised state and also he heard that Sir Arthur listened to Dev's Advice and did some advancements in the Factory so Sir Arthur wasn't that bad after all. The End is just the beginning to another tragedy. Do you agree?
(533 words)
Based On My History Lesson–Colonial Agrarian Policies and Trade to Territory and ever since I have read that lesson, I just wanted to write a small fictional story so the Characters in this Writing piece are made up and is completely Fictional. Read this story filled with tragedy and let me know if you think this had a good ending.
To begin with there was town in Bengal( A rich Province in India) which faced a huge famine in 1770 CE due to growth of only Indigo cash crop which was forced by the EEIC (English East India Company) and they were bound to do this due to the Permanent Settlement policy. In Bengal, there was a young boy with the name Dev who was around ten years and was a tweeb. He had a curious mind which made him question the Authority of the English East India Company. When the workers were working vigorously regardless to the ongoing famine. The British Official Sir Arthur arrived at the Factory and saw that the labor and the peasants productivity was relatively less than the productivity of last year. Sir Arthur Started yelling at the poor peasants who were already tired and were starving with hunger. Then a voice spoke out that dazzled the entire crowd, “Can I propose a Solution?” and this voice belonged to Dev. Sir Arthur was astonished and asked him to continue. Dev proposed that the peasants were staring and were craving for food and if the peasants are given what they want then they can increase their productivity and after all trade is based on the economic theory of mercantilism. Sir Arthur yelled at Dev, “ You are just another poor little slave and your job is to work for the Great Britain and serve me” and said this with a smug smirk on his face. Dev said in a really low voice, “ Sorry Sir, I didn't mean to and I just..” Before he could complete his Sentence he was pushed to the ground by Sir Arthur and then he yelled once again, “ You can't back answer me and now get back to what yo were doing and everyone the Indigo Production won't do on its own” Dev was just a kid and had already suffered trauma because of Sir Arthur. He Captured Dev's Parents and sent them to prison for starting the Blue Revolution and now he don't know where his parents are and he feels like an Orphan. He is all lonely in the factory and no one dared to be his friend for one reason– Sir Arthur forbade anyone to talk to him and if anyone talks to him or helps him then they would be seriously punished. The Next day, When Dev woke up he saw Dev's parents by his side who said that Sir Arthur has bailed them put of prison which left Dev in a surprised state and also he heard that Sir Arthur listened to Dev's Advice and did some advancements in the Factory so Sir Arthur wasn't that bad after all. The End is just the beginning to another tragedy. Do you agree?
- MokshithaVedarsh
-
Scratcher
93 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
A small word dump for cabin war.
(533 words)
Based On My History Lesson–Colonial Agrarian Policies and Trade to Territory and ever since I have read that lesson, I just wanted to write a small fictional story so the Characters in this Writing piece are made up and is completely Fictional. Read this story filled with tragedy and let me know if you think this had a good ending.
To begin with there was town in Bengal( A rich Province in India) which faced a huge famine in 1770 CE due to growth of only Indigo cash crop which was forced by the EEIC (English East India Company) and they were bound to do this due to the Permanent Settlement policy. In Bengal, there was a young boy with the name Dev who was around ten years and was a tweeb. He had a curious mind which made him question the Authority of the English East India Company. When the workers were working vigorously regardless to the ongoing famine. The British Official Sir Arthur arrived at the Factory and saw that the labor and the peasants productivity was relatively less than the productivity of last year. Sir Arthur Started yelling at the poor peasants who were already tired and were starving with hunger. Then a voice spoke out that dazzled the entire crowd, “Can I propose a Solution?” and this voice belonged to Dev. Sir Arthur was astonished and asked him to continue. Dev proposed that the peasants were staring and were craving for food and if the peasants are given what they want then they can increase their productivity and after all trade is based on the economic theory of mercantilism. Sir Arthur yelled at Dev, “ You are just another poor little slave and your job is to work for the Great Britain and serve me” and said this with a smug smirk on his face. Dev said in a really low voice, “ Sorry Sir, I didn't mean to and I just..” Before he could complete his Sentence he was pushed to the ground by Sir Arthur and then he yelled once again, “ You can't back answer me and now get back to what yo were doing and everyone the Indigo Production won't do on its own” Dev was just a kid and had already suffered trauma because of Sir Arthur. He Captured Dev's Parents and sent them to prison for starting the Blue Revolution and now he don't know where his parents are and he feels like an Orphan. He is all lonely in the factory and no one dared to be his friend for one reason– Sir Arthur forbade anyone to talk to him and if anyone talks to him or helps him then they would be seriously punished. The Next day, When Dev woke up he saw Dev's parents by his side who said that Sir Arthur has bailed them put of prison which left Dev in a surprised state and also he heard that Sir Arthur listened to Dev's Advice and did some advancements in the Factory so Sir Arthur wasn't that bad after all. The End is just the beginning to another tragedy. Do you agree?
My failed 50-headed monstrous Hydra challenge (285 words)
Hi everyone and to all my readers, So I didn't really have any inspiration while writing this so I just taught of just writing about my experience in my first investiture ceremony so before me get into it let me tell you a short biopic about myself. I used to be an introvert but slowly started showing the talkative and chatty side of me to others and gradually became an extrovert but that has some limitations. Everything must have limitations to maintain a balance in the universe, am I right? So I can safely say that I excel in every exam and I'm really proud to tell about that. If you ask about what is an investiture ceremony( For those who don't know) Well, it is a tradition in my school and others wherein they select the student council( 9th - 12th graders) and house prefects( 1st to 8th graders) which consists of elections and interviews. I was really nervous while participating in this contest but gathered up my courage to do so. With the support of my friends, family, teachers and others, I won both the elections and excelled in the interview and was of course selected to be the next house prefect for my beloved house( also known as over populated house as our house has too many students than others so controlling it is also very difficult) I never though that I would become one but here I was proudly standing before a huge crowd and my parents while the chief guest( our school chair man) was giving me my badge and then I took my oath. I would say it was pretty good experience.
(533 words)
Based On My History Lesson–Colonial Agrarian Policies and Trade to Territory and ever since I have read that lesson, I just wanted to write a small fictional story so the Characters in this Writing piece are made up and is completely Fictional. Read this story filled with tragedy and let me know if you think this had a good ending.
To begin with there was town in Bengal( A rich Province in India) which faced a huge famine in 1770 CE due to growth of only Indigo cash crop which was forced by the EEIC (English East India Company) and they were bound to do this due to the Permanent Settlement policy. In Bengal, there was a young boy with the name Dev who was around ten years and was a tweeb. He had a curious mind which made him question the Authority of the English East India Company. When the workers were working vigorously regardless to the ongoing famine. The British Official Sir Arthur arrived at the Factory and saw that the labor and the peasants productivity was relatively less than the productivity of last year. Sir Arthur Started yelling at the poor peasants who were already tired and were starving with hunger. Then a voice spoke out that dazzled the entire crowd, “Can I propose a Solution?” and this voice belonged to Dev. Sir Arthur was astonished and asked him to continue. Dev proposed that the peasants were staring and were craving for food and if the peasants are given what they want then they can increase their productivity and after all trade is based on the economic theory of mercantilism. Sir Arthur yelled at Dev, “ You are just another poor little slave and your job is to work for the Great Britain and serve me” and said this with a smug smirk on his face. Dev said in a really low voice, “ Sorry Sir, I didn't mean to and I just..” Before he could complete his Sentence he was pushed to the ground by Sir Arthur and then he yelled once again, “ You can't back answer me and now get back to what yo were doing and everyone the Indigo Production won't do on its own” Dev was just a kid and had already suffered trauma because of Sir Arthur. He Captured Dev's Parents and sent them to prison for starting the Blue Revolution and now he don't know where his parents are and he feels like an Orphan. He is all lonely in the factory and no one dared to be his friend for one reason– Sir Arthur forbade anyone to talk to him and if anyone talks to him or helps him then they would be seriously punished. The Next day, When Dev woke up he saw Dev's parents by his side who said that Sir Arthur has bailed them put of prison which left Dev in a surprised state and also he heard that Sir Arthur listened to Dev's Advice and did some advancements in the Factory so Sir Arthur wasn't that bad after all. The End is just the beginning to another tragedy. Do you agree?
My failed 50-headed monstrous Hydra challenge (285 words)
Hi everyone and to all my readers, So I didn't really have any inspiration while writing this so I just taught of just writing about my experience in my first investiture ceremony so before me get into it let me tell you a short biopic about myself. I used to be an introvert but slowly started showing the talkative and chatty side of me to others and gradually became an extrovert but that has some limitations. Everything must have limitations to maintain a balance in the universe, am I right? So I can safely say that I excel in every exam and I'm really proud to tell about that. If you ask about what is an investiture ceremony( For those who don't know) Well, it is a tradition in my school and others wherein they select the student council( 9th - 12th graders) and house prefects( 1st to 8th graders) which consists of elections and interviews. I was really nervous while participating in this contest but gathered up my courage to do so. With the support of my friends, family, teachers and others, I won both the elections and excelled in the interview and was of course selected to be the next house prefect for my beloved house( also known as over populated house as our house has too many students than others so controlling it is also very difficult) I never though that I would become one but here I was proudly standing before a huge crowd and my parents while the chief guest( our school chair man) was giving me my badge and then I took my oath. I would say it was pretty good experience.
- quackity-camper
-
Scratcher
14 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
weekly #2!!! - 1304 words
***
part one:
LOLA (yelling over her shoulder): Hey Amelie, I’m going do get some chips. Would you like some?
AMELIE (eagerly): Yes please! I’m starving!
LOLA (turning to face Amelie and smiling): Ok! I’ll pick some up for you. Do you want anything on your chips? Chicken salt? Gravy? Guitars?
AMELIE: (giggling): I think I’ll pass on guitars, I’m not feeling particularly musically talented today. Gravy would be nice though!
LOLA (nodding): Ok! Sounds good. Would you like anything else with your chips? I can get you a drink too!
AMELIE (thinking): Well, I’m sure that the salt from the chips would make me thirstier than our old, beat-up truck! Do you think the chip store would sell gasoline too?
LOLA: Hmm, I don’t think so. I could check for you though! If they don’t, I could get you some cola though if you’d like?
AMELIE (grinning): Yes please! That sounds lovely. I’ll clean your room for you while you’re gone, make it less of a pigsty than usual.
LOLA (mock-offended): Hey! My room is cleaner than yours at least!
AMELIE (laughing): Yeah, yeah. Sure thing.
LOLA (walking off): I mean it! I’ll be back soon with some chips.
AMELIE (talking to herself): Well, while Lola’s gone, I’d better go see what I can do for her room. Perhaps I could just make her bed and put a load of her washing on. Her room doesn’t even look that bad anyways! It usually feels as though you’re wading though mud whenever you try to take a step. She must’ve somewhat cleaned it.
LOLA (some time later, walking through the doorway): Amelie! I’m home! Your chips are here!
AMELIE (grabbing her chips and cola): Ooh, thank you! Look’s like they truly didn’t have any gasoline after all.
LOLA: (shrugging) Nope, they didn’t! The cashier looked at me funny when I tried to order it. He said that the service station was just down the road, but I found that silly. Who goes to the service station for hot chips and a drink?
AMELIE: (laughing) He sure sounds like he’s off his rocker! What a silly man.
***
part 2:
song: all i want, olivia rodrigo
I found myself a best friend, she told me she’d buy lunch
it’s her turn, since I bought last week’s brunch
And she seems to be perfect, but she’s got a big flaw
Yeah, does she really think that I want a guitar?
And there's one more thing, I asked for a nice drink
But she says stores don’t sell gasoline, and that stinks
'Cause the second we order, they turn us away
Said the service station was back the other way
Lola, I forgave you, but this song's still for you
All I want is gravy, not a guitar
Is all I want going too far?
But I’ll take a side of gasoline
All I want is to have a chip
Just with some gravy as a dip
Guitars are fine, but what can I say?
Got no talent at the end of the day
What’s a gal to do for some plain gravy?
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
And I miss the days when I’d have sips of gasoline.
Oh how I thought that this cashier would sell it to me
Now happy ever after, it don't come so easily
All I want is gravy, not a guitar
Is all I want going too far?
Can I please have some gasoline? Oh, ooh
All I want is just a chip
To eat with gravy as a dip
Guitars are fine, but what can I say?
Got no talent at the end of the day
And all I want is my gravy today
***
part 3:
The main cabin was filled with the sounds of laughter and discussion. There were groups of campers around, all happily worshipping mangoes and seeing who got the least sleep the night before. Ducky sat at a table nearby, working on her latest novel and hoping that nobody saw the dark circles that sat under her eyes. She heard a small group of campers approaching, and set her notebook down with a smile. Nodding, she offered the empty seats at her table to the group.
“Hey, guys! How are you today?” Ducky asked, still grinning. A group of five people sat down around her, and she recognised a few, Wild who was always keeping her up to date about cabin wars and shields, and Icy, who she’d seen around in previous sessions. Three other campers also sat down, though Ducky didn’t know them that well. Coco, Skye, and Crystie sat down as well, smiling and waving.
“Hi! I’m doing well, how are you?” Wild replied happily. “I was just talking to Syz and these guys, but then we saw you over here and decided to come say hi!”
“Yeah! What are you working on?” Icy asked, leaning over to look at Ducky’s notebook.
Ducky laughed. “Oh, this? I’m just finishing off the weekly! Have you guys done it yet? It’s not too hard this time around!” She held her notebook up so that everyone could see the draft of her song parody. “Geez, all this writing about chips and gravy is making me hungry! Do you guys want to go get some food?” she asked.
Coco chimed in, “Oh yes! I heard that some people are handing out motivational mangoes, and mango smoothies!”
“Mmm, mangoes!” The group collectively said dreamily, before bursting into fits of laughter.
“Let’s go grab some before they run out! Quick!” Crystie suggests, jumping up from her seat and grinning.
The group of six travelled through the busy main cabin, smiling and waving to their cabin-mates, siblings, and allies. Ducky stuck out her tongue affectionately at an Adventure camper, one of her enemies.
It wasn’t too hard to find the source of the majestic mangoes, as there was a huge crowd around Poppy as she handed out mango smoothies to all the campers. Skye led the way as they pushed and squeezed through the masses of their fellow, mango-loving campers.
“Poppy! Hi! Do you happen to have six smoothies for us?” Wild asks, waving at the smoothie bearing girl.
Poppy smiled. “Hi you guys! Yeah, I have just enough for you guys. Lucky you! You’re the last ones,” she said, handing a glass filled with mango smoothie to each camper. “Enjoy it! They’re made from fresh, motivational mangoes, to help motivate you to keep writing! Finish that weekly guys, you can do it! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go war some more people. Cabin wars!!” She waved goodbye, and scurried off to go and challenge another cabin to a war.
Skye took a sip of her smoothie and smiled. “These are delicious! Poppy really is amazing at making these. I wonder how she does it!” she said, looking at the now empty glass in wonder.
“If I’m honest, I don’t think I want to know exactly how she makes these,” Ducky laughed, “knowing Poppy, it could be anything. And I mean anything! For all we know, we might use our mango peels from the scrap bins.”
“Ew!” Wild and Coco said in unison, before giggling. “Poppy really is crazy!”
“Well, at least the smoothie is delicious!” Crystie exclaimed. Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Well, guys, this mango break was absolutely amazing! But I need to get back to my weekly to help my cabin out,” Ducky said gratefully. “Plus, I can add these words for cabin wars! Poppy warred Sci-Fi again, too,” she giggled.
“Of course she did, that’s just Poppy for you. Well, we’ll leave you to it. Bye Ducky! Good luck!” Wild waved. She and the rest or the girls walked off into the distance, likely to go set the Megathread on fire.
Ducky sat back down, and reopened her notebook with a smile. She’d be finished with her weekly in no time.
***
part one:
LOLA (yelling over her shoulder): Hey Amelie, I’m going do get some chips. Would you like some?
AMELIE (eagerly): Yes please! I’m starving!
LOLA (turning to face Amelie and smiling): Ok! I’ll pick some up for you. Do you want anything on your chips? Chicken salt? Gravy? Guitars?
AMELIE: (giggling): I think I’ll pass on guitars, I’m not feeling particularly musically talented today. Gravy would be nice though!
LOLA (nodding): Ok! Sounds good. Would you like anything else with your chips? I can get you a drink too!
AMELIE (thinking): Well, I’m sure that the salt from the chips would make me thirstier than our old, beat-up truck! Do you think the chip store would sell gasoline too?
LOLA: Hmm, I don’t think so. I could check for you though! If they don’t, I could get you some cola though if you’d like?
AMELIE (grinning): Yes please! That sounds lovely. I’ll clean your room for you while you’re gone, make it less of a pigsty than usual.
LOLA (mock-offended): Hey! My room is cleaner than yours at least!
AMELIE (laughing): Yeah, yeah. Sure thing.
LOLA (walking off): I mean it! I’ll be back soon with some chips.
AMELIE (talking to herself): Well, while Lola’s gone, I’d better go see what I can do for her room. Perhaps I could just make her bed and put a load of her washing on. Her room doesn’t even look that bad anyways! It usually feels as though you’re wading though mud whenever you try to take a step. She must’ve somewhat cleaned it.
LOLA (some time later, walking through the doorway): Amelie! I’m home! Your chips are here!
AMELIE (grabbing her chips and cola): Ooh, thank you! Look’s like they truly didn’t have any gasoline after all.
LOLA: (shrugging) Nope, they didn’t! The cashier looked at me funny when I tried to order it. He said that the service station was just down the road, but I found that silly. Who goes to the service station for hot chips and a drink?
AMELIE: (laughing) He sure sounds like he’s off his rocker! What a silly man.
***
part 2:
song: all i want, olivia rodrigo
I found myself a best friend, she told me she’d buy lunch
it’s her turn, since I bought last week’s brunch
And she seems to be perfect, but she’s got a big flaw
Yeah, does she really think that I want a guitar?
And there's one more thing, I asked for a nice drink
But she says stores don’t sell gasoline, and that stinks
'Cause the second we order, they turn us away
Said the service station was back the other way
Lola, I forgave you, but this song's still for you
All I want is gravy, not a guitar
Is all I want going too far?
But I’ll take a side of gasoline
All I want is to have a chip
Just with some gravy as a dip
Guitars are fine, but what can I say?
Got no talent at the end of the day
What’s a gal to do for some plain gravy?
Ooh-ooh-ooh-ooh, ooh-ooh
And I miss the days when I’d have sips of gasoline.
Oh how I thought that this cashier would sell it to me
Now happy ever after, it don't come so easily
All I want is gravy, not a guitar
Is all I want going too far?
Can I please have some gasoline? Oh, ooh
All I want is just a chip
To eat with gravy as a dip
Guitars are fine, but what can I say?
Got no talent at the end of the day
And all I want is my gravy today
***
part 3:
The main cabin was filled with the sounds of laughter and discussion. There were groups of campers around, all happily worshipping mangoes and seeing who got the least sleep the night before. Ducky sat at a table nearby, working on her latest novel and hoping that nobody saw the dark circles that sat under her eyes. She heard a small group of campers approaching, and set her notebook down with a smile. Nodding, she offered the empty seats at her table to the group.
“Hey, guys! How are you today?” Ducky asked, still grinning. A group of five people sat down around her, and she recognised a few, Wild who was always keeping her up to date about cabin wars and shields, and Icy, who she’d seen around in previous sessions. Three other campers also sat down, though Ducky didn’t know them that well. Coco, Skye, and Crystie sat down as well, smiling and waving.
“Hi! I’m doing well, how are you?” Wild replied happily. “I was just talking to Syz and these guys, but then we saw you over here and decided to come say hi!”
“Yeah! What are you working on?” Icy asked, leaning over to look at Ducky’s notebook.
Ducky laughed. “Oh, this? I’m just finishing off the weekly! Have you guys done it yet? It’s not too hard this time around!” She held her notebook up so that everyone could see the draft of her song parody. “Geez, all this writing about chips and gravy is making me hungry! Do you guys want to go get some food?” she asked.
Coco chimed in, “Oh yes! I heard that some people are handing out motivational mangoes, and mango smoothies!”
“Mmm, mangoes!” The group collectively said dreamily, before bursting into fits of laughter.
“Let’s go grab some before they run out! Quick!” Crystie suggests, jumping up from her seat and grinning.
The group of six travelled through the busy main cabin, smiling and waving to their cabin-mates, siblings, and allies. Ducky stuck out her tongue affectionately at an Adventure camper, one of her enemies.
It wasn’t too hard to find the source of the majestic mangoes, as there was a huge crowd around Poppy as she handed out mango smoothies to all the campers. Skye led the way as they pushed and squeezed through the masses of their fellow, mango-loving campers.
“Poppy! Hi! Do you happen to have six smoothies for us?” Wild asks, waving at the smoothie bearing girl.
Poppy smiled. “Hi you guys! Yeah, I have just enough for you guys. Lucky you! You’re the last ones,” she said, handing a glass filled with mango smoothie to each camper. “Enjoy it! They’re made from fresh, motivational mangoes, to help motivate you to keep writing! Finish that weekly guys, you can do it! Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go war some more people. Cabin wars!!” She waved goodbye, and scurried off to go and challenge another cabin to a war.
Skye took a sip of her smoothie and smiled. “These are delicious! Poppy really is amazing at making these. I wonder how she does it!” she said, looking at the now empty glass in wonder.
“If I’m honest, I don’t think I want to know exactly how she makes these,” Ducky laughed, “knowing Poppy, it could be anything. And I mean anything! For all we know, we might use our mango peels from the scrap bins.”
“Ew!” Wild and Coco said in unison, before giggling. “Poppy really is crazy!”
“Well, at least the smoothie is delicious!” Crystie exclaimed. Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Well, guys, this mango break was absolutely amazing! But I need to get back to my weekly to help my cabin out,” Ducky said gratefully. “Plus, I can add these words for cabin wars! Poppy warred Sci-Fi again, too,” she giggled.
“Of course she did, that’s just Poppy for you. Well, we’ll leave you to it. Bye Ducky! Good luck!” Wild waved. She and the rest or the girls walked off into the distance, likely to go set the Megathread on fire.
Ducky sat back down, and reopened her notebook with a smile. She’d be finished with her weekly in no time.
- theawesomemarbler
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
back to main post
Critique for @Eeveedonut
I love the way how you described Cassiopeia, showing us her bad side so early in the story could show us whatever dangers that she may face at the end of the story. I can see that Cassiopeia isn't a humble person through the thoughts people say to her. Although I feel the beginning should show more of her “unexcited” behavior with more contrast to what she thinks. Maybe a bright star shining in the sky but was blocked off by a dark, dim cloud. Something like that for a better effect on the reader. I mean, it's probably just me, I can't really see any relevant point from the start compared to the end. But overall these two paragraphs connect really well.
I'm not too sure about this part, but was the last sentence a usage of foreshadowing? If so, I would really think it's an effective method for this.
WOAH- I-I MEAN WOW. I sense chemistry going on, which is good for me to continue reading. But I feel there is a lack of detail. There is more telling than showing here. I don't really feel so imitated by this man (yes I know something fishy will happen but not much tension is created at the moment). Maybe try using some metaphors or similes or maybe pathetic fallacy could bring up some emotions for this man. It could be better, but this alone is engaging enough.
Wait- BOOMED? Oh * he's a powerful character. Creating a better image would include his voice resonated in Cassiopeia's head would have a better effect but I'm starting to feel unsafe about this guy right here. I don't trust him at all D:<
Okay, this is when the things get intense. I have no idea what is going to happen and I am terrified. You had done a very good job maintaining the image of this strange man by giving us events that shouldn't happen like that abandoned house. Although I feel a lack of imagery in this piece too. How was it furnished? Some info may seem unnecessary but it could reveal any secrets that could be out of place. Which brings me to my next point, the strange woman. I realized both of these individuals in the house are gorgeous-looking which makes me believe something isn't right. (or I'm just being insecure haha)
WOAH OKAY I AM CREEPED OUT WHY AM I REMINDED OF A JAPANESE HORROR GAME AAAAAAAAAA (a good way to show Hera's power)
Okay, the climax of the story! Obviously Cassiopeia still thinks she is all powerful as a queen, which is an element for resentment. This part shows the difference of two powers, the power of a queen and a goddess. Although I never knew Hera is more powerful than Zeus in Greek mythology but I don't really care about mythology as I am Christian! (yaay) Jokes aside, the climax is well built up and I now sympathize for Cassiopeia at the end of this paragraph. Honestly I feel a better impact if Zeus were to do something to stop his wife but BAM, a whole new conflict. But this is already good enough.
A sad ending to conclude a mean queen's life. Everything here is so contrasting to her human life and makes me feel pity for her, despite being a resentful character. Lonely, quiet, and isolated, it was so unlike her life as a queen. The impact of this hits hard though ;-;
Overall, this is a good story with a nice flow of events. However, I see a lack in imagery and somehow not enough to show much about the character. But I guess it's okay, since you want to conceal the information at the end. I really enjoy your version of the constellation but some minor flaws in some areas could be fixed. No errors in information and grammar, and everything else isn't too bad. Hopefully I will be able to critique other pieces of yours in future! (this is my second critique I've ever done so don't expect much from me)
680 words
Critique for @Eeveedonut
Cassiopeia stood on her balcony. It was dark, the only light in the sky were stars and the moon. The wind whistled in her ears as she gazed at the city that sat in the valley before her castle. The city she ruled over. She sighed. It was time for her to go into the city. She greatly despised these weekend trips down to see the people. Or that's what her guards thought.
In reality, she loved showing off her beauty to all of the men. Cassiopeia was still without a husband. She was being pressured to marry. The pressure grew more and more every time she ventured into the city. Faint whispers were said behind her back as she was paraded through the streets, forced to smile and wave. Although no one admitted it, she knew what her people whispered about.
I love the way how you described Cassiopeia, showing us her bad side so early in the story could show us whatever dangers that she may face at the end of the story. I can see that Cassiopeia isn't a humble person through the thoughts people say to her. Although I feel the beginning should show more of her “unexcited” behavior with more contrast to what she thinks. Maybe a bright star shining in the sky but was blocked off by a dark, dim cloud. Something like that for a better effect on the reader. I mean, it's probably just me, I can't really see any relevant point from the start compared to the end. But overall these two paragraphs connect really well.
And so it was. She went into the city as she did every weekend. She waved to the people who smiled and waved back, but the moment she turned the corner, they were whispering. She was tired of this but it was the way it had been and would always be.
I'm not too sure about this part, but was the last sentence a usage of foreshadowing? If so, I would really think it's an effective method for this.
But then she came upon a street with a single man. There was no one else. It was as if everyone was scared of this man. Glancing around, Cassiopeia walked up to the strange man. Clearing her throat, she spoke to him.
“Hello there, sir. How might you be doing? And why are you all alone?” she asked him, staring at his gorgeous face. No, the word gorgeous didn't describe him. He was more gorgeous than gorgeous.
WOAH- I-I MEAN WOW. I sense chemistry going on, which is good for me to continue reading. But I feel there is a lack of detail. There is more telling than showing here. I don't really feel so imitated by this man (yes I know something fishy will happen but not much tension is created at the moment). Maybe try using some metaphors or similes or maybe pathetic fallacy could bring up some emotions for this man. It could be better, but this alone is engaging enough.
“I'm fine, your majesty,” his voice boomed back. “I was wondering… would you care to come back to my room with me?”
Wait- BOOMED? Oh * he's a powerful character. Creating a better image would include his voice resonated in Cassiopeia's head would have a better effect but I'm starting to feel unsafe about this guy right here. I don't trust him at all D:<
The two went entered into a house that seemed to be abandoned but it was well furnished. It was as if it was ready for people to live in it, and yet no one did. Except for this strange man, apparently. The man said some jokes that made Cassiopeia smile and laugh, but the smile dropped off of her face as a gorgeous woman sat on the edge of the bed.
Okay, this is when the things get intense. I have no idea what is going to happen and I am terrified. You had done a very good job maintaining the image of this strange man by giving us events that shouldn't happen like that abandoned house. Although I feel a lack of imagery in this piece too. How was it furnished? Some info may seem unnecessary but it could reveal any secrets that could be out of place. Which brings me to my next point, the strange woman. I realized both of these individuals in the house are gorgeous-looking which makes me believe something isn't right. (or I'm just being insecure haha)
Standing, the slender woman rose to her full height, towering over the queen. “You're only here because he thinks you're pretty, you know. He wants someone more beautiful than I. Which, well, you're not”
WOAH OKAY I AM CREEPED OUT WHY AM I REMINDED OF A JAPANESE HORROR GAME AAAAAAAAAA (a good way to show Hera's power)
Cassiopeia laughed. “Madam, I assure you I am. I am more beautiful than any maiden in this city. I am more beautiful than every star in the sky. I rule over this kingdom and demand you to leave.”
“Darling, do you know who I am? Do you know who he is? I am Hera, queen of the gods. And that man who's arm you're on is Zeus, king of the gods,“ the lady, now identified as Hera, snapped. Cassiopeia is stunned. She can't form the words to say. All she does is stand there, looking from Hera to Zeus. Hera is glaring at her. And Zeus… he won't meet either of the ladies' eyes. Instead, he stares at his feet guiltily. Hera smirks. ”Not so talkative now, are you, honey? Because you disrespected me, I think I'll banish you to a place where you feel is not suited for your beauty- how about the stars?“
”No no no! Please don't! I am sorry! I apologize for my disrespect, I really do! Please don't!” Cassiopeia begged. But it was too late. She was already turning into stars. And then she was gone. Outside the window of the room, you could see a new constellation.
Okay, the climax of the story! Obviously Cassiopeia still thinks she is all powerful as a queen, which is an element for resentment. This part shows the difference of two powers, the power of a queen and a goddess. Although I never knew Hera is more powerful than Zeus in Greek mythology but I don't really care about mythology as I am Christian! (yaay) Jokes aside, the climax is well built up and I now sympathize for Cassiopeia at the end of this paragraph. Honestly I feel a better impact if Zeus were to do something to stop his wife but BAM, a whole new conflict. But this is already good enough.
No one ever found the queen. Instead they found a constellation. They named it Cassiopeia in her honor, not knowing they were giving Cassiopeia her name back. No star talks to her. She lives a lonely life. No longer can she boast about her beauty. All she can do is walk among stars.
A sad ending to conclude a mean queen's life. Everything here is so contrasting to her human life and makes me feel pity for her, despite being a resentful character. Lonely, quiet, and isolated, it was so unlike her life as a queen. The impact of this hits hard though ;-;
Overall, this is a good story with a nice flow of events. However, I see a lack in imagery and somehow not enough to show much about the character. But I guess it's okay, since you want to conceal the information at the end. I really enjoy your version of the constellation but some minor flaws in some areas could be fixed. No errors in information and grammar, and everything else isn't too bad. Hopefully I will be able to critique other pieces of yours in future! (this is my second critique I've ever done so don't expect much from me)
680 words
Last edited by theawesomemarbler (Nov. 13, 2023 11:11:57)
- tripIe-A-battery
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Nov. 12th daily, 703 words
tongue twister - ‘Could Peter’s passion prove apocalyptic?’
Peter was a normal man, or so he thought. His favourite hobbies were doing the daily crossword in the newspaper, watching daytime television and going for relaxed strolls to the park with his friend. All your regular stuff. But, he had a secret passion that he dared not to tell anyone about. If a single soul knew about it, he thought that people would avoid him, and he would be known as the crazy old guy who lives on the corner of the street, and kids would be told not to go near the dangerous house. He might even become an urban legend. He didn’t like to think about that though. At the moment he was just Peter Wilson, who lived at 42 Shipstone Crescent. No one needed to know about what he did in his spare time.
On this solemn and grey Monday morning, Peter could not muster up an idea of anything better to do. So he wandered over to the corner where no visitor was eve allowed to set foot, barely opened up the ancient, creaky door to his secret room, entered swiftly, and firmly shut the door behind him. It was as if he was stopping a journalist from reporting on him.
The view of an outsider of this would be fascinating. The fizzes and pops and sighs and laughs as he tested different concoctions of ingredients could be heard if you stood close to his lair, and the stenches and aromas emanated through the minimal gaps between the door and the wall, to snake their way slowly around the house. He made sure to never stay in there for over one hour, in case anyone made a surprise visit and questioned him about the smell. Sometimes the postman would come, and whenever the postman did come, Peter hoped that it wasn’t going to be a chatty postman, who would try to engage in conversation about the odour coming from the door.
Peter heard a faint knocking coming from the outside door. He listened more carefully to the pattern, “tap BANG tap BANG tap tap BANG BANG.” It was his friend, Alan.
“Oh my god, what am I going to do?!” cried Peter, as he knew that Alan would want to come in for a chat. He did this sometimes, unpromptedly showing up at Peter’s house for a friendly chat and cup of tea. Peter hurriedly put everything in an airtight container, sprayed a bit of air freshener around the house, and firmly shut the door to his lab. Greeting Alan warmly at the front door as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, the two came into the house and took seats on the sofa.
“Shall I make us some tea?” asked Peter, trying to not bring up the obvious unusual odour. It wasn’t one of the pleasant ones, so he could not pass it off as a new air freshener. It smelt strongly of burnt hair with a hint of cheese and cinnamon to it.
“Um, yeah, I might as well. By the way, Pete, what is this strange smell? Have invested in a new air freshener?” joked Alan sarcastically.
“Oh, that smell! I have been trying to make a new air freshener to make some money, but it isn’t going too well. I’ve been at it for months, but nothing good has ever come of it,”
“You know, Pete, I could give you a hand. The missus used to work for a perfume company, and I know a thing or two about making things smell nice. What do you say?” Before Peter had a chance to answer, Alan was already at his lab door, opening it.
“Um, maybe you shouldn’t? I’m fine doing it myself for now, I’ll let you know if I want any help!”
“Blimey, Pete! You’ve got some pretty dangerous stuff in here! Oh, what does this say?” wondered Alan, edging closer to the whiteboard with all of Peter’s plans scrawled down in his near-illegible forward-slanted script, “Theoretical chemical to something something all of hum… a.. nit- humanity? Theoretical chemical to… wipe out all of humanity? Peter, what are you really doing in here?” questioned Alan, worried. Could Peter’s passion prove apocalyptic?
i plan to turn this into an actual longer story because i got really into it and wrote way too much but i noticed a similarity between this and jekyll and hyde so i am now planning to make my own version of jekyll and hyde, we’ll see how that turns out!
tongue twister - ‘Could Peter’s passion prove apocalyptic?’
Peter was a normal man, or so he thought. His favourite hobbies were doing the daily crossword in the newspaper, watching daytime television and going for relaxed strolls to the park with his friend. All your regular stuff. But, he had a secret passion that he dared not to tell anyone about. If a single soul knew about it, he thought that people would avoid him, and he would be known as the crazy old guy who lives on the corner of the street, and kids would be told not to go near the dangerous house. He might even become an urban legend. He didn’t like to think about that though. At the moment he was just Peter Wilson, who lived at 42 Shipstone Crescent. No one needed to know about what he did in his spare time.
On this solemn and grey Monday morning, Peter could not muster up an idea of anything better to do. So he wandered over to the corner where no visitor was eve allowed to set foot, barely opened up the ancient, creaky door to his secret room, entered swiftly, and firmly shut the door behind him. It was as if he was stopping a journalist from reporting on him.
The view of an outsider of this would be fascinating. The fizzes and pops and sighs and laughs as he tested different concoctions of ingredients could be heard if you stood close to his lair, and the stenches and aromas emanated through the minimal gaps between the door and the wall, to snake their way slowly around the house. He made sure to never stay in there for over one hour, in case anyone made a surprise visit and questioned him about the smell. Sometimes the postman would come, and whenever the postman did come, Peter hoped that it wasn’t going to be a chatty postman, who would try to engage in conversation about the odour coming from the door.
Peter heard a faint knocking coming from the outside door. He listened more carefully to the pattern, “tap BANG tap BANG tap tap BANG BANG.” It was his friend, Alan.
“Oh my god, what am I going to do?!” cried Peter, as he knew that Alan would want to come in for a chat. He did this sometimes, unpromptedly showing up at Peter’s house for a friendly chat and cup of tea. Peter hurriedly put everything in an airtight container, sprayed a bit of air freshener around the house, and firmly shut the door to his lab. Greeting Alan warmly at the front door as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened, the two came into the house and took seats on the sofa.
“Shall I make us some tea?” asked Peter, trying to not bring up the obvious unusual odour. It wasn’t one of the pleasant ones, so he could not pass it off as a new air freshener. It smelt strongly of burnt hair with a hint of cheese and cinnamon to it.
“Um, yeah, I might as well. By the way, Pete, what is this strange smell? Have invested in a new air freshener?” joked Alan sarcastically.
“Oh, that smell! I have been trying to make a new air freshener to make some money, but it isn’t going too well. I’ve been at it for months, but nothing good has ever come of it,”
“You know, Pete, I could give you a hand. The missus used to work for a perfume company, and I know a thing or two about making things smell nice. What do you say?” Before Peter had a chance to answer, Alan was already at his lab door, opening it.
“Um, maybe you shouldn’t? I’m fine doing it myself for now, I’ll let you know if I want any help!”
“Blimey, Pete! You’ve got some pretty dangerous stuff in here! Oh, what does this say?” wondered Alan, edging closer to the whiteboard with all of Peter’s plans scrawled down in his near-illegible forward-slanted script, “Theoretical chemical to something something all of hum… a.. nit- humanity? Theoretical chemical to… wipe out all of humanity? Peter, what are you really doing in here?” questioned Alan, worried. Could Peter’s passion prove apocalyptic?
i plan to turn this into an actual longer story because i got really into it and wrote way too much but i noticed a similarity between this and jekyll and hyde so i am now planning to make my own version of jekyll and hyde, we’ll see how that turns out!
Last edited by tripIe-A-battery (Nov. 14, 2023 16:42:03)
- oakfolk
-
Scratcher
7 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
(601 words written)
]My tongue twister was:
The tongue twister that inspired my story was:
So this is my story:
]My tongue twister was:
Fred dreads to spread butter on his bread
Windswept willow trees wept by the water
The tongue twister that inspired my story was:
bluebells bloom by the brook's banks
So this is my story:
As the battalion traversed the landscape, Syfyn began to notice them tire out. It had been a long walk. Driving transports would have been impossible here, no roads or even dirt paths. This also meant no roads for the cats, either, and he could feel his legs begin to ache. Malmuka had sent them on a mission to one of Ishnaar's towns, and scout out the place, looking for it's level of preparedness. If it was worth it, she would sent some of her legion to help him capture the place under Elgard control. It wasn't anyplace special, but it would advance their grasp of territory, and the local farming communities could prove helpful with growing food. Although, since after the last scout mission the group had attempted, The cat wasn't partially hopeful of this going well. “Captain Syfyn?” one of the soldiers asked “Do we know how much further it is?” Kricket, the second in command, spoke up to answer him “It'll be a while. but I'm sure we'll rest soon” They continued on through a forest of tall, dark and long-leafed trees, a scattering of disheveled grass clumps growing under their feet. They looked tiny compared to the landscape around them. An opening was in view, to a bright field, only visible through the small gaps between the plants.
Hanging willow trees waved in the light breeze, their leaves falling in the water. Blades of emerald green grass waved in the wind, their long tendrils growing from the ground. Throughout the area, blue, hanging, bell-like flowers were dotted around as a stream ran through the middle of the field. “Alright boys, let’s take a rest here” Syfyn called at the group, the cats walking off in different directions. Quill took a seat next to him “This is a nice stop, isn’t it?” Syfyn nodded “Nice not to have Ishnaar at our necks for once, hmm?” “Yeah. This kind of makes me wonder what the peace time was like”
“I was a cadet back then. It was more the start of the war than peace though“
“It's funny to think though, an Army during peace time” Quill began “Like, what does the country's protectors do when there's nothing to fight?”
“Sounds boring” He laughed
“Right?”
“But wouldn't it be nice to go off in the world, without the threat of violence for once?”
“Speak of the devil, it's time we get going” The captain said. “Come on guys, lets go” The cats began to form up behind him, Quill at his side. Making their way through the stream, the water reaching his elbows. Emerging on the other side, they soon lost sight of the bluebell patch as the battalion trudged on to their destination. The conversation with Quill had almost left his mind. almost.
Last edited by oakfolk (Nov. 12, 2023 20:59:57)
- -NightGlow-
-
Scratcher
1000+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Word war with Moonsy <3
word count - 406 words (didn't reall edit this, so please excuse the grammar + spelling mistakes!)
Dear diary,
I think I finally figured it out today…
As I held the book up to my face, the faint words in black ink lay on the fine pages of my diary. They were etched with such fine finesse, I couldn't even believe my eyes. My eyes remained wide open, as they fearfully gawked at this unholy scene - either I was hallucinating or someone else had managed to write in my diary. For the next couple of minutes, I remained in bed, trying to figure out what had happened. A part of me hoped that something, anything, would pop into my head to describe this phenomenon, but unfortunately, nothing did. Rather than crying or whatnot, I just grew more curious. The fear lurking inside me went down, as a growing feeling of pride and rebellion grew as if a mysterious fire had been lit inside of me. I knew exactly what to do! I began to start writing, about everything really. I wrote about my dreams, my aspirations, and what I was planning to eat that day. And then, I waited, waited patiently to hopefully find a clue as to who may have written in my diary - a chance to understand if my wayward theories were true. Nothing happened for a long time. With that wait, my anger grew.. I wanted to figure out what was happening so badly, that I simply threw the book across my room, hitting my lantern. As it tumbled to the ground, I noticed a crack in the wall behind it. Before I could reach towards it, the lantern fell, shattering into millions of pieces. Oh no- I was going to be in a lot of trouble afterward. Since I couldn't really handle the feeling of having to talk about this to anyone, I simply yelled that everything was fine and continued on with cleaning the mess up. I had to make sure that no one would walk in, to see me in this state. Which is why I also motioned to lock the door - oh, what a mistake that was. When I bent down to sweep up the minuscule bits of glass, I found another etching in my diary. And it wasn't finished! It was happening right in front of my eyes. I honestly thought I was going crazy, but instead, it told me not to worry. It consoled me, telling me that my secrets were locked and kept safe.
word count - 406 words (didn't reall edit this, so please excuse the grammar + spelling mistakes!)
Dear diary,
I think I finally figured it out today…
As I held the book up to my face, the faint words in black ink lay on the fine pages of my diary. They were etched with such fine finesse, I couldn't even believe my eyes. My eyes remained wide open, as they fearfully gawked at this unholy scene - either I was hallucinating or someone else had managed to write in my diary. For the next couple of minutes, I remained in bed, trying to figure out what had happened. A part of me hoped that something, anything, would pop into my head to describe this phenomenon, but unfortunately, nothing did. Rather than crying or whatnot, I just grew more curious. The fear lurking inside me went down, as a growing feeling of pride and rebellion grew as if a mysterious fire had been lit inside of me. I knew exactly what to do! I began to start writing, about everything really. I wrote about my dreams, my aspirations, and what I was planning to eat that day. And then, I waited, waited patiently to hopefully find a clue as to who may have written in my diary - a chance to understand if my wayward theories were true. Nothing happened for a long time. With that wait, my anger grew.. I wanted to figure out what was happening so badly, that I simply threw the book across my room, hitting my lantern. As it tumbled to the ground, I noticed a crack in the wall behind it. Before I could reach towards it, the lantern fell, shattering into millions of pieces. Oh no- I was going to be in a lot of trouble afterward. Since I couldn't really handle the feeling of having to talk about this to anyone, I simply yelled that everything was fine and continued on with cleaning the mess up. I had to make sure that no one would walk in, to see me in this state. Which is why I also motioned to lock the door - oh, what a mistake that was. When I bent down to sweep up the minuscule bits of glass, I found another etching in my diary. And it wasn't finished! It was happening right in front of my eyes. I honestly thought I was going crazy, but instead, it told me not to worry. It consoled me, telling me that my secrets were locked and kept safe.
- SarahHEW
-
Scratcher
8 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Nov 12th 2023 Daily
Tongue twister prompt: “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block”- @Starfox74
TW: mention of murder and mention of execution/death penalty
The heels of my boots clack against the cheap, crumbling stone wall that lines the small dock as I swing my legs. The dock in question can barely be called a dock in my opinion; it’s so small that I could probably touch the floor with ease, like most prisoners here, and if I were to swim it would only take 7 strokes (ten at most) to cross. So most people would most likely not call it a dock, but we do, us prisoners. It doesn’t really need to be big anyway, it’s only used to bring a small row boat in weekly – it carries whatever slop they feed us. Doesn’t matter to me anyway, it’s my favourite spot in this place.
I have to admit, I’m pleasantly surprised; ordinarily I would have been dragged off by now, back to my job of sweeping the yard. But I suppose that has something to do with the fact I’ll be dead within the hour anyway. Death sentence and all. I have to do something with what time I have left, so I’ll make the most of it and sit in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock- lovely right? I think so.
Why am I in prison, I would probably be asked by most. The simple answer is, I supposedly did a bad thing and now I have either a lifelong naughty step, or I end this very quickly. Yes that was right, I chose death. But it wouldn’t concern anyone anyway, it’s my business. I have to say though, I did tell them it was a wrong place wrong time kinda situation, which it was, but they didn’t listen; understandable really, when talking to someone arrested for murder with multiple witnesses of me moments before. So no hard feelings, even you Terry.
Oh yeah, Terry did it, for anyone possibly interested. Yeah, I saw the whole thing, and I have to say, it was slightly disgusting, even for me. Yes I did have my account of what happened, but with 3 against one I was kind of out voted. This is why, I tell myself, you don’t take the short cut to work through a lonely, dark, creepy alleyway that basically no one uses.
People would probably be confused as to why I’m so calm, but I don’t see the point of being anything else. Death is inevitable no matter who you are, I just so happen to have had the misfortune of bringing it upon myself earlier than most. Even if it wasn’t death sentence, it would have been a lifelong lock up for me. So really this is something to be happy about- I’ll never have to eat that slop again. But I will miss this dock.
Tongue twister prompt: “To sit in solemn silence on a dull dark dock in a pestilential prison with a lifelong lock, awaiting the sensation of a short sharp shock from a cheap and chippy chopper on a big black block”- @Starfox74
TW: mention of murder and mention of execution/death penalty
The heels of my boots clack against the cheap, crumbling stone wall that lines the small dock as I swing my legs. The dock in question can barely be called a dock in my opinion; it’s so small that I could probably touch the floor with ease, like most prisoners here, and if I were to swim it would only take 7 strokes (ten at most) to cross. So most people would most likely not call it a dock, but we do, us prisoners. It doesn’t really need to be big anyway, it’s only used to bring a small row boat in weekly – it carries whatever slop they feed us. Doesn’t matter to me anyway, it’s my favourite spot in this place.
I have to admit, I’m pleasantly surprised; ordinarily I would have been dragged off by now, back to my job of sweeping the yard. But I suppose that has something to do with the fact I’ll be dead within the hour anyway. Death sentence and all. I have to do something with what time I have left, so I’ll make the most of it and sit in solemn silence on a dull, dark dock- lovely right? I think so.
Why am I in prison, I would probably be asked by most. The simple answer is, I supposedly did a bad thing and now I have either a lifelong naughty step, or I end this very quickly. Yes that was right, I chose death. But it wouldn’t concern anyone anyway, it’s my business. I have to say though, I did tell them it was a wrong place wrong time kinda situation, which it was, but they didn’t listen; understandable really, when talking to someone arrested for murder with multiple witnesses of me moments before. So no hard feelings, even you Terry.
Oh yeah, Terry did it, for anyone possibly interested. Yeah, I saw the whole thing, and I have to say, it was slightly disgusting, even for me. Yes I did have my account of what happened, but with 3 against one I was kind of out voted. This is why, I tell myself, you don’t take the short cut to work through a lonely, dark, creepy alleyway that basically no one uses.
People would probably be confused as to why I’m so calm, but I don’t see the point of being anything else. Death is inevitable no matter who you are, I just so happen to have had the misfortune of bringing it upon myself earlier than most. Even if it wasn’t death sentence, it would have been a lifelong lock up for me. So really this is something to be happy about- I’ll never have to eat that slop again. But I will miss this dock.
- -NightGlow-
-
Scratcher
1000+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
word count - 594 words <3
“About losing a loved one, grief, and comfort…”
Death.
The one thing that we all have in common. We can contemplate for years on end, yet as evitable it may seem, it’s the one inevitable thing everyone eventually succumbs to and has to overcome. It’s the sole thing that connects humanity and gives us a reminder that although we have different beliefs, that maybe there is something rooted deep within us that makes us alike.
The idea of “what happens next” is one that has never failed to alarm me. It was as if we’re all destined for a certain ending. One that has been written as our fate from the moment we entered this world. No matter how hard someone tries to prevail, the light present in darkness overcomes their body – ushering them on a new journey. It’s hard to think that every little event, every single moment in life, and every memory we have either cherished or loathed, is a valuable stepping stone towards the end.
But – is it really the end? Or is it a beginning; a chance to embark on a new journey and take another shot at the way of life? A time for redemption; to amend past regrets and learn from previous mistakes. All of it works in unison, coming together bit by bit. Eventually, the illusion of darkness turns into light, creating a journey of hope.
Unlike other children my age, I always wondered where I would go after taking my last breath. It was often a thought that spiraled in my mind when I felt lost in the space of my room. Life itself felt like a dream – I was living in a sub-reality of what seemed like another being’s imagination. The world just seemed too surreal, too complex, to answer all my questions.
“Dad,” I finally whispered one night, “what will happen to me after this life? You’ve always said that there will be a day when you’re no longer around. Where will you go? Will I be able to see you again?” My eyes were puffed up and red after wiping away the tears that were endlessly dripping down my cheeks. I knew what he was going to say, and just being able to hear it repeated to me was a sense of
comfort I was able to reside in.
“Renata, you don’t have to worry about that right now. I’ll always be here with you, watching over you.” He tapped my shoulder in an attempt to reassure me, but it just added to my worry. I was incredibly thankful for everything I was given in life and would consider myself a pretty lucky person. I had a loving family, friends who adored me, a great education ahead, and passion for dance - a hobby that I held very close to my heart. Everything was even better than I could have ever imagined. Though, the one thing stopping me from living in that fulfillment was the constant doubt that clouded my mind.
“Ok, you don’t seem pretty convinced.” Looking me directly in the eyes, it was as if he was waiting for my response. The deep “fatherly” stare with a big smile plastered across his face made it even harder to ignore it. Even if I wanted to tell him - tell him what was going on in my mind, I’m not sure if I could even translate my complicated thoughts into words. Yet, somehow he understood - even without a single sound coming out of my mouth. The glistening look in my eyes told him everything.
“About losing a loved one, grief, and comfort…”
Death.
The one thing that we all have in common. We can contemplate for years on end, yet as evitable it may seem, it’s the one inevitable thing everyone eventually succumbs to and has to overcome. It’s the sole thing that connects humanity and gives us a reminder that although we have different beliefs, that maybe there is something rooted deep within us that makes us alike.
The idea of “what happens next” is one that has never failed to alarm me. It was as if we’re all destined for a certain ending. One that has been written as our fate from the moment we entered this world. No matter how hard someone tries to prevail, the light present in darkness overcomes their body – ushering them on a new journey. It’s hard to think that every little event, every single moment in life, and every memory we have either cherished or loathed, is a valuable stepping stone towards the end.
But – is it really the end? Or is it a beginning; a chance to embark on a new journey and take another shot at the way of life? A time for redemption; to amend past regrets and learn from previous mistakes. All of it works in unison, coming together bit by bit. Eventually, the illusion of darkness turns into light, creating a journey of hope.
Unlike other children my age, I always wondered where I would go after taking my last breath. It was often a thought that spiraled in my mind when I felt lost in the space of my room. Life itself felt like a dream – I was living in a sub-reality of what seemed like another being’s imagination. The world just seemed too surreal, too complex, to answer all my questions.
“Dad,” I finally whispered one night, “what will happen to me after this life? You’ve always said that there will be a day when you’re no longer around. Where will you go? Will I be able to see you again?” My eyes were puffed up and red after wiping away the tears that were endlessly dripping down my cheeks. I knew what he was going to say, and just being able to hear it repeated to me was a sense of
comfort I was able to reside in.
“Renata, you don’t have to worry about that right now. I’ll always be here with you, watching over you.” He tapped my shoulder in an attempt to reassure me, but it just added to my worry. I was incredibly thankful for everything I was given in life and would consider myself a pretty lucky person. I had a loving family, friends who adored me, a great education ahead, and passion for dance - a hobby that I held very close to my heart. Everything was even better than I could have ever imagined. Though, the one thing stopping me from living in that fulfillment was the constant doubt that clouded my mind.
“Ok, you don’t seem pretty convinced.” Looking me directly in the eyes, it was as if he was waiting for my response. The deep “fatherly” stare with a big smile plastered across his face made it even harder to ignore it. Even if I wanted to tell him - tell him what was going on in my mind, I’m not sure if I could even translate my complicated thoughts into words. Yet, somehow he understood - even without a single sound coming out of my mouth. The glistening look in my eyes told him everything.
- oakfolk
-
Scratcher
7 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
—— ━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☽【❖】 Weekly 2 【❖】☾━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━——
PART 1: to be continued
PART 1: to be continued
- unhinged_musings
-
Scratcher
46 posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
Daily Nov. 12th, 582 Words
I crouched down over the rock, staring with bated breath at the horizon. It would only be a few more minutes until they came.
I’d hiked for miles to get out here, and hadn’t packed nearly enough water. I was also getting sick of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. In fact, even thinking about eating another one made my gag reflex act up. Whatever. I would just deal with it later, after I got what I came for.
I took a swig of my last water bottle, deliberately blocking any trains of the thought along the lines of you won’t have enough water to get back, you’ll die out here, sad and alone and in the middle of nowhere -
I smacked myself. I couldn’t afford to be pessimistic now. It was about to happen.
Any minute.
I stood up and stepped closer to the edge of the overlook. I squinted as the first of the sun’s rays shined all but directly into my eyes. Where were they?
I paced back and forth, keeping my eyes on the sun as much as I could without damaging them. I didn’t want to miss any of what was coming. It was important to me, for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.
Wait - there was a rumbling. Or was I imagining it?
No. I could feel it now. The ground was gently shaking, and my ears could pick up a deep noise - the sound of hundreds of very large feet. Specifically, three-hundred and eight of them.
I stared even more intently at the horizon, if that could be believed. I couldn’t believe I did the things I did, sometimes - and “sometimes” was happening more and more, lately.
I was distracted, then, because they were there - I could see them. I could see what I could only imagine for so long. I could see what had driven me here, in a desperate, futile attempt to be happy.
The seventy-seven benevolent elephants.
It was a stupid name, given by some entrepeneur who thought it was great. They’d tried to start a tour business based off the phenomenon - it had quickly flunked, though, probably in no small part thanks to the name. I’d found an old and faded business card, and had become enchanted. I’d began planning immediately, and a few years later, found myself here.
Watching the elephants.
They were a truly majestic sight, just as wonderful as I’d imagined. They ran perpendicular to me, storming their way across the open fields, determined and unstoppable. No one knew where they came from, or where they went. It was only known that they could be seen here once every year at sunrise, and if you asked anything of them, they would give it to you. If you were courageousness enough to stand in front of them as they ran at you, of course.
I had to do it. It was the only thing left I could do.
I raced down the rock I was on, giving my bruised and battered feet no regard. I ran, and the wind rushed past me. I ran, and rocks tumbled down the hill. I ran, and the elephants didn’t stop.
I made it onto their path, stopping in the center. I held my arms out, letting them approach me.
They showed no signs of stopping.
I still stood. I had no choice.
They were only a few yards away now.
I still stood.
They were closing in.
I still stood.
They hit me.
I fell.
I crouched down over the rock, staring with bated breath at the horizon. It would only be a few more minutes until they came.
I’d hiked for miles to get out here, and hadn’t packed nearly enough water. I was also getting sick of peanut-butter and jelly sandwiches. In fact, even thinking about eating another one made my gag reflex act up. Whatever. I would just deal with it later, after I got what I came for.
I took a swig of my last water bottle, deliberately blocking any trains of the thought along the lines of you won’t have enough water to get back, you’ll die out here, sad and alone and in the middle of nowhere -
I smacked myself. I couldn’t afford to be pessimistic now. It was about to happen.
Any minute.
I stood up and stepped closer to the edge of the overlook. I squinted as the first of the sun’s rays shined all but directly into my eyes. Where were they?
I paced back and forth, keeping my eyes on the sun as much as I could without damaging them. I didn’t want to miss any of what was coming. It was important to me, for reasons I couldn’t quite understand.
Wait - there was a rumbling. Or was I imagining it?
No. I could feel it now. The ground was gently shaking, and my ears could pick up a deep noise - the sound of hundreds of very large feet. Specifically, three-hundred and eight of them.
I stared even more intently at the horizon, if that could be believed. I couldn’t believe I did the things I did, sometimes - and “sometimes” was happening more and more, lately.
I was distracted, then, because they were there - I could see them. I could see what I could only imagine for so long. I could see what had driven me here, in a desperate, futile attempt to be happy.
The seventy-seven benevolent elephants.
It was a stupid name, given by some entrepeneur who thought it was great. They’d tried to start a tour business based off the phenomenon - it had quickly flunked, though, probably in no small part thanks to the name. I’d found an old and faded business card, and had become enchanted. I’d began planning immediately, and a few years later, found myself here.
Watching the elephants.
They were a truly majestic sight, just as wonderful as I’d imagined. They ran perpendicular to me, storming their way across the open fields, determined and unstoppable. No one knew where they came from, or where they went. It was only known that they could be seen here once every year at sunrise, and if you asked anything of them, they would give it to you. If you were courageousness enough to stand in front of them as they ran at you, of course.
I had to do it. It was the only thing left I could do.
I raced down the rock I was on, giving my bruised and battered feet no regard. I ran, and the wind rushed past me. I ran, and rocks tumbled down the hill. I ran, and the elephants didn’t stop.
I made it onto their path, stopping in the center. I held my arms out, letting them approach me.
They showed no signs of stopping.
I still stood. I had no choice.
They were only a few yards away now.
I still stood.
They were closing in.
I still stood.
They hit me.
I fell.
- -WildClan-
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ☾ november 2023
(I used the tongue-twister “cherish cheery cherries or challenge childish chickens” by @opheliio. My tongue-twister “Weathered whispers wend and weave, wind whisking the words where'er they please; we wish wantonly within these weeds, a woeful wrath we wistfully wreak. We will wither, weakened, when winter warms; the war well won, but our whiskers worn.” was claimed by @ChueyTheCat.)
This is your first migration, is it not, little one? Well, be patient, for we still have several days of flight yet ahead of us. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. The days will pass quickly enough, and soon, we will reach warmer lands. Here, let me tell you a story to pass the time. This one’s about a migration, much like this one, but many years ago…
It was late spring at the time (the flock’s migration had been delayed by a few weeks due to the unusually rough weather), and we were making our way over the Lowlands, where the farms sprawled nearly from one horizon to another, those human-made fields forming strange patterns when viewed from above.
Now, the sun was getting low in the sky, and we decided it was about time to roost for the night. Farms make good resting-places, being full of food and places to perch, so we descended upon one such farm. We settled in a grove of cherry trees, their fruit ripe and good for eating, which we planned to do in the morning. As the sun set lazily behind the barn in the distance, I settled in, tucking my beak beneath my wing and getting ready to sleep.
However, I had just dozed off into a dream of juicy cherries when a terrible noise startled me awake again, along with the rest of the flock. Our feathers ruffled, we looked around in alarm. The sound came again, and this time it was clear that it was coming from the direction of the barn.
“That’s a rooster,” someone noted.
“What a nuisance,” another replied. “Aren’t they only supposed to crow at sunrise?”
“Well, chickens are dumb,” a third chimed in. “Do they even know sunset from sunrise?”
“They’re also just downright obnoxious,” the first squawked.
“Hush, let’s just ignore them for now,” one of the elders said, trying to calm the others’ twittering. “We can block out the noise. They won’t bother us here.”
Unfortunately, these chickens turned out to be unlike anything we had ever seen before. Somehow- don’t ask me how- the chickens knew we were there, and before we knew it, they HAD come to bother us.
A rustling from below warned us of their presence even before their rude clucking did.
We blinked down at them with surprise as they strutted towards the trees where we perched. They looked right back at us, their eyes glittering with malice.
Now, I had seen chickens before, so I could tell right away these ones were… wrong. Their wings were longer, their gait faster, and they didn’t have the plumpness of those raised by humans.
“Those are OUR cherries!” the chicken said, pecking at me.
“Ownership is a human construct only,” I responded, flapping out of range of that vicious beak. I gave a caw of laughter. “Don’t tell me you believe what those mammals say?”
I could cherish what was left of the fruit, appreciating the cheery taste of the remaining cherries, or I could challenge those dumb birds, those childish chickens who didn’t even deserve the feathers in their tail.
The chickens were stupid. And immature.
“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “Well, I dare you to
I supposed this was for the best.
Now, I still don’t know why there were so many chickens, or why they were such extraordinary flyers. But to this day, the flock always avoids that particular farm when we migrate.
This is your first migration, is it not, little one? Well, be patient, for we still have several days of flight yet ahead of us. Oh, don’t look so disappointed. The days will pass quickly enough, and soon, we will reach warmer lands. Here, let me tell you a story to pass the time. This one’s about a migration, much like this one, but many years ago…
It was late spring at the time (the flock’s migration had been delayed by a few weeks due to the unusually rough weather), and we were making our way over the Lowlands, where the farms sprawled nearly from one horizon to another, those human-made fields forming strange patterns when viewed from above.
Now, the sun was getting low in the sky, and we decided it was about time to roost for the night. Farms make good resting-places, being full of food and places to perch, so we descended upon one such farm. We settled in a grove of cherry trees, their fruit ripe and good for eating, which we planned to do in the morning. As the sun set lazily behind the barn in the distance, I settled in, tucking my beak beneath my wing and getting ready to sleep.
However, I had just dozed off into a dream of juicy cherries when a terrible noise startled me awake again, along with the rest of the flock. Our feathers ruffled, we looked around in alarm. The sound came again, and this time it was clear that it was coming from the direction of the barn.
“That’s a rooster,” someone noted.
“What a nuisance,” another replied. “Aren’t they only supposed to crow at sunrise?”
“Well, chickens are dumb,” a third chimed in. “Do they even know sunset from sunrise?”
“They’re also just downright obnoxious,” the first squawked.
“Hush, let’s just ignore them for now,” one of the elders said, trying to calm the others’ twittering. “We can block out the noise. They won’t bother us here.”
Unfortunately, these chickens turned out to be unlike anything we had ever seen before. Somehow- don’t ask me how- the chickens knew we were there, and before we knew it, they HAD come to bother us.
A rustling from below warned us of their presence even before their rude clucking did.
We blinked down at them with surprise as they strutted towards the trees where we perched. They looked right back at us, their eyes glittering with malice.
Now, I had seen chickens before, so I could tell right away these ones were… wrong. Their wings were longer, their gait faster, and they didn’t have the plumpness of those raised by humans.
“Those are OUR cherries!” the chicken said, pecking at me.
“Ownership is a human construct only,” I responded, flapping out of range of that vicious beak. I gave a caw of laughter. “Don’t tell me you believe what those mammals say?”
I could cherish what was left of the fruit, appreciating the cheery taste of the remaining cherries, or I could challenge those dumb birds, those childish chickens who didn’t even deserve the feathers in their tail.
The chickens were stupid. And immature.
“Oh yeah?” I challenged. “Well, I dare you to
I supposed this was for the best.
Now, I still don’t know why there were so many chickens, or why they were such extraordinary flyers. But to this day, the flock always avoids that particular farm when we migrate.