weekly 2
1412 words

Part 1
380 words

KYLIE (slowly creeping up behind Aurora): Do you want a banana Tootsie Pop?
AURORA (looking up from her homework, surprised): Aah! Kylie! First of all, you can't just go do that to people. Second of all, I'm allergic to bananas, remember?
KYLIE (shrugging): It's basically all artificial flavor.
AURORA (rolling her eyes): Well, then maybe I will take it. You definitely don't need any more sugar, Kylie, especially if it's artificial.
KYLIE: I'll pretend not to be offended by that. Do you want a Hershey's, or are you lactose intolerant too?
AURORA: Good joke.
KYLIE (grinning): I know, right? Well, have fun doing your homework!
AURORA: *absentmindedly gives a thumbs up as she returns to her homework*

———-THE NEXT MORNING————
KYLIE (tapping Aurora's shoulder as she gets her books from her locker): Are you allergic to strawberries? I brought you a Chupa Chup!
AURORA (smiles, amused at Kylie's persistence): Yep. Thanks for the thought, but sorry.
KYLIE (narrowing her eyes): I can't tell if you're being serious or not.
AURORA (shrugs): I guess you'll never know, unless you hack into the school's medical records or something. But I don't know how or why anyone would do that.
KYLIE (evilly grinning as she backs away): I don't know either…
————LATER THAT DAY—————
KYLIE (mutters under her breath when she sees Aurora): Liar.
AURORA (surprised): What did I do?
KYLIE (rolling her eyes): Isn't it obvious? I looked at the school's medical records and it said you aren't allergic to bananas OR strawberries! But, guess what?
AURORA (suspiciously): What?
KYLIE: You ARE lactose intolerant!

—————EVEN LATER THAT DAY—————–
AURORA (as her and Kylie wait in line for lunch): I still can't believe you actually looked at the medical records.
KYLIE (shrugging): I can. Besides, you shouldn't be mad! I just wanted to figure out what type of candy I could give you!
AURORA (turning away as she smiles to herself): Thanks, Kylie.
KYLIE: No problem. Now, I'll take any form of candy or money as payment, as long as it's worth at least 5 dollars and 19 cents.
KYLIE (whispering): That's how much I owe my little brother for doing my math homework.
AURORA (rolling her eyes, once again): You definitely don't need more sugar. How about I give you 6 dollars?

Part 2
Parody of Traitor by Olivia Rodrigo
“SWC Journey”
325 words

Bright thumbnail and hundreds of comments
I tried to resist but just couldn't
Leave, that first summer I tried it
Couldn't help falling in love

And ain't it sad
How I kept coming back
Though it took so much of my time

And ain't it funny
How I don't regret it
Still not sure why I keep going

I cannot stop
And I hope that I'll never stop writing
For the way I enjoy it, yeah
Dailies and weeklies
No other hobbies
Made new friendships
And that's all that matters

It took me two months
To reach my word goal
I say it's too bad
But I still come back next month

Now you make fun of me
And say it's pointless
Like you have a single braincell

And I know you're wrong
It couldn't be true
I've put so much work into this

Ain't it funny
All the writers block
All the things I've done along the way

Ain't it nice?
How the people I've met
Remember me every year

I cannot stop
And I hope that I'll never stop writing
For the way I enjoy it, yeah
Dailies and weeklies
No other hobbies
Made new friendships
And that's all that matters

It took me two months
To reach my word goal
I say it's too bad
But I still come back next month

God, I wish that I had common sense
Before I did everything for you
(Ah-ah-ah)
If I ever delete my account
I'll never forget the way

You changed me
And I hope that I'll never stop writing
For the way I enjoy it, yeah
Dailies and weeklies
No other hobbies
Made new friendships
And that's all that matters

It took me two months
To reach my word goal
I say it's too bad
But I still come back next month
(ah-ah-ah)
I won't give up

Ooh-ooh-ooh
God, I wish that I had common sense
Before I did everything for you

Part 3
707 words

Celia cautiously knocked on the door to the huge house, having heard banging and something splattering around for the past 20 minutes (not that she'd been standing there for 20 minutes…) Almost immediately, someone opened the door. A tall girl with long, brown hair opened it, smiling. There was strange yellow juice on her cheek, and it smelled almost like… mango?

“How can I help you?” The brown haired girl asked, almost not noticing the chaos going on behind her.

“Well, I was wondering-” Celia started, but she was quickly interrupted.

“Sorry, give me a second. HORROR AND FANTASY, FOR THE LAST TIME! STOP FIGHTING!”

Celia stepped back. “Sorry, if this is a bad time, I can leave, I didn't mean to-” Once again, she was interrupted.

“It's fine! Sorry if we scared you,” she offered a small smile.

Celia returned it. “So, I was wondering about that writing program, I forgot what it was called. I know deadlines are today, but could I still sign up? If not, it's totally fine.”

“SWC? Of course! Let me go grab you a sheet. Feel free to come inside and sit.”

As she quickly left, Celia took a careful step inside. She saw the huge couch and tried to find somewhere to sit down. Most of the spots were either taken by people deep in conversation or covered in sticky fruit juice. Again, was it mango?

A few seconds later, after Celia had found a spot to sit down, the girl appeared with a pen and piece of paper.

“Just fill out everything you can. The cabin descriptions are on the back. And, I checked, you're in luck! We have a few open spots available, so there's a good chance you'll get into one of your top three cabins.”

“Thanks!” She got to work on the application form and handed it to the girl when she was done. Celia left the busy house, excited to return next month.

—-A year later—-
Celia knocked on the door to the newly built “SWC Big House”, her hands full with trays of mango smoothies. “I brought snacks!”

Everyone welcomed her in, and before she knew it, the weight her arms were barely holding was almost gone. Celia smiled. She loved this community. It took so much time and effort, but she genuinely enjoyed it. These past 4 months, over the course of the past year, had been absolutely wonderful. The nervous girl last November was no longer there. Instead, her place had been taken by the confident one who was a part of something great.

Celia stood by the door, the brown haired girl who had helped her before- she had later learned her name was Olivia- next to her. They greeted the new campers, whom Celia saw a bit of herself in.

“Welcome to SWC! Here's an application form and a multi-color pen. We hope to see you next month!!”

Almost every smile she gave was returned, and it gave Celia a huge feeling of joy. She wanted to help people experience that same feeling she had that first year, that first session. That great feeling of inclusion and joy and pride.

——Halfway through the month——-

Celia stared at the daily. She had only completed 3 that month, and no weeklies. You'll do it tomorrow, you'll just have to hurry when you get home from practice! She told herself. Alas, it never happened. She greatly admired the people who set 50k word goals and then raised them to 60k when they went past them. She always told herself that would be her someday- but every session, no matter if she was a leader or camper, Celia knew she'd always be the one with a 10k goal who got to 9,999 words. What had she been thinking? Last July had been disastrous, and she thought she'd be better this November (spoiler alert: she wasn't). Regardless, she told herself she'd do it in March, and then July, until the process had repeated tens of hundreds of times. Celia didn't know why she loved torturing herself with SWC, but she sure didn't think about it on signups day when the joy of SWC had gotten to her for what felt like the very time.

202 words – could've done more, but don't have time.

Dear Daily Team,

As may you already know, the dailies provide a way to log on swc and get some writing done. However, without them, it may be difficult for some scratchers– as well as myself, to get motivated into participating in the camps' activities. Yes, there are many other things that you can do each day for your cabin, but this is one of the most easiest; as well as the most fun. Removing dailies may cause many new members, as well as the ones that have participated before, go inactive. Who wants a writing camp with not many scratchers on it daily? Keeping dailies will help scratchers stay active and interested in this camp. Instead of checking it every few days, users will most likely continue check it everyday; that's what the dailies are for! Not having any dailies will probably lose the users interests and purpose onto going on the studio! When users don't check this studio due to lack of motivation, they may miss important announcements or fun activities that the camp is hosting; which ruins the whole fun of swc. Now, please take a moment to reconsider removing dailies. I hope they can stay.

Best Regards,
vv

❧ nov. 14: Dear Daily Team - 415 words

To the daily team:
Bruh you're so good at this you can't even quit your job!?!?! By quitting, you've given us SWC-ers a golden opportunity to write what might be one of the funniest dailies yet.
Here are some reasons you shouldn't quit, if you're not convinced yet. Which, by the way, you totally should be, because that one sentence should provide all the motivation you need. And if it didn't, you know, I don't need an essay to persuade you to keep making dailies all I need is a knife and a box of matches.
But, I'm a nice person, so I'll write the reasons out for you.
1. You really, really, really don't want to let the campers write the dailies. SWC would turn into the elmo fire meme for real. Like, can you even imagine? We'd write about bananas on the ceiling or something.
Oh, actually, that sounds awesome. Never mind that point.
2. We'd stop staying up until midnight to wait for the daily to change. We'd go to sleep at a reasonable hour. We'd stop worrying about turning our dailies in on time and hitting the word count.
Never mind, that point sucks too. Let me try again.
3. No one will be able to earn any points
Aha! The perfect point–literally, haha. Nobody will be able to earn any points. All of the teams will lose. SWC will wither and die. It will become a thing of the past. All of the SWC studios will die.
You don't want that to happen, do you?
Good! That should guilt-trip you into motivate you to provide more dailies.
If it didn't, I'll have to turn to my last resort.
I will bribe you with my (in)famous recipe, the one known and renowned everywhere, the one so many people love. I call it, “the burnt mango smoothie with some dead frogs thrown in for texture.”
Doesn't that sound delicious? Isn't your mouth watering just thinking about it? Well, if you keep writing dailies, you get one of those special smoothies–every single day!
If that doesn't convince you, I don't know what will.
Maybe a knife and a box of matches.
I hope you enjoyed this extremely well-written and totally fantastic essay. I know, I know, I'm so amazing, it's hard to believe. I mean, you have me to thank for ensuring that the dailies we all know and love will continue on.
Yours sincerely,
-Chuey

syrozenne wrote:

Purple
(229 words)
(school assignment / poem)

oo i love this concept, excited to read :0

1. repetition

Lilac, lavender, and purple hues

The lavender cascades down, waterfalls of ethereal beauty.

The darkening dusk pales to an almost velvet violet,

The misty lilacs start to spin,

etc etc

your story uses a lot of repetition, and while sometimes it may be interesting, you may want to use the words “purple” “lilac” and “lavender” a bit less to make them impactful.

also, you start a lot of sentences with the word “the”. that might feel a little boring and repetitive to readers, and removing the “the”s may make your poem more atmospheric. for some of the lines i believe you can just remove the “the” altogether.

2. purple prose

this is kinda ironic because the poem is about purple asdkjlfsdsadf
so i've noticed that you tend to cluster pretty words into lines, and while i love pretty words, it can be kinda overwhelming and hard to understand bc of the flowery language overload? so try to tone it down/spread it out a bit

3. structure + consistency

is there a structure to this poem? i see that all stanzas are 2-3 lines but i don't really see a structure.
also for some stanzas, you write in complete sentences, and for others, sentence fragments. possibly change all to one of them to maintain consistency.

that's all- this was a great poem and i'm sorry if my critique was bad asljkdsfasd

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⚓︎┊NOVEMBER 14 DAILY
✦ “NOTICE FROM THE DAILY TEAM: From today onwards, the daily team is going on strike! There will henceforth be no more dailies…unless, perhaps, you’re able to convince us why we should continue to supply dailies and activities. This is your last chance to salvage activities and have the daily team return! For 200 points, write a 400 word persuasive essay to get dailies back. You can earn another 200 points by sharing your essay. The future of the daily team now rests in your hands…”

⚓︎┊AUTHOR'S NOTES
✦ word count: 429

Daily Team of our beloved Scratch Writing Camp, I, Crystie, also known as PixelDucko, hereby request that you continue to supply dailies and other writing-related activities to the camp.

You see, dailies are quite the essentials to Scratch Writing Camp. Without our daily activities, Scratch Writing Camp would not be about writing anymore. It would, if I dare say, have a lack of entertaining things to do.

Without dailies and general activities, we would still have the wonderful community, which is a great aspect on its own, of course. However our fellow campers, co-leaders, leaders and everybody else with no inspiration, alongside those who dislike interacting with others, would severely struggle. For many, including myself, the dailies give us a reason to write. A reason to get back into the action of putting down words on a screen or paper in order to form stories. To put our thoughts into words and share them to everyone. The world have much less imagination if stories did not exist, you see. With less humans putting out tales every day, readers would eventually get tired of the countless outdated stories. Old slang in every book. It would get strange eventually, will it not? The dailies act like prompts, and prompts are able to give great boosts of inspiration to anyone, even those who already have ideas. All the ideas would build up such as building blocks, eventually forming a magnificent tower full of imagination and creativity, introduced to the world.

About everybody in Scratch Writing Camp would disapprove of this decision, too, see. Even those who do not write a lot would likely agree that Scratch Writing Camp is just not the fun, excitable Scratch Writing Camp without all the activities to do. The prospect of a new daily every day gives humans from around the globe to wake up in the morning and get out of bed quicker. Scratch Writing Camp was a spectacular feat created by the founder, you see, and it would be a waste of years of hard work to provide dailies just to suddenly stop on a random November day. You all have survived this long making dailies, have you not? You're sharing your beautiful ideas with the camp by writing a daily every day. Would it be a waste of talent and skill to throw all that away, would it not?

Henceforth, I, Crystie, once again, request that you would come back and bring more dailies to this beloved camp. I hope you shall consider my letter. Best wishes to you all. Have a fantastic day.

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go to main post

November 14th Daily (unsubmitted)

Marbles was restless, going into the main cabin every minute just to check the notice board at the largest wall in the main cabin. It was still the same, even after a minute or two. Marbles sighed and was about to leave the main cabin to continue doing his weekly when a yell of shock startled him, shivering down his spine. He spun around and saw his co-leader Mabel. “Um, Mabel? What's wrong?” Marbles approached her and saw what shocked her. The notice board had changed. The daily team put up the daily for the day as usual. But on the notice board, showing all the dailies and weeklies with other important information, the daily is something odd. Marbles leant forward to read what it said in a scrawny text.

“Wh-What? On strike?” He said, perplexed. Of course the daily team would be ok strike: working several hours a month but no pay, no rest and no satisfaction from their job. Marbles knew what to do: he must change the daily team's mindset on the daily.

Rushing back home, Marbles sat by his study desk, where he always write his writing pieces. And today, it's a persuasive writing, something he's pretty good at. The fate of dailies lie at his letter now. Taking a deep breath, he started writing.

Dear Daily Team,

According to the notice board, I heard you all went on strike. This is shocking news for everyone, as dailies are one of the important events of SWC. However, it appears its importance has not affected you guys. So I will help you all see the benefits of dailies to SWC and to you too.

Starting off with this point, dailies actually creates more fun in writing. Words are an important factor in SWC as more words equals to more fun in the session. Without dailies, SWC will be less interesting and people will have a horrible experience in SWC, especially first-timers. You don't want them to rant about how bad this session of SWC had been. Furthermore, dailies are a way to help us improve our writing. Being able to write stories and getting others to critique a writing, it can help improve our writing methods. However, you may think that weeklies are more useful. True, they help more in terms of critique. But some users, me included, don't like to critique long stories or sometimes critique too much. Therefore we will look for shorter stories for critique, and coincidentally dailies happen to be suitable.

However, you may object that dailies give the daily team more work but no benefits to them. But I believe you don't see the benefits that are available to the daily team. Do you know that writing dailies can give you a sort of satisfaction that you are helping out in the session? Do you know that seeing people using many unique ways to write a daily is so hilarious? Do you know how much effort you put in was appreciated by us? Do you know how much chaos dailies are whenever we write them? Do you know why that satisfaction is important? Satisfaction is a way to prevent strikes, but why do you guys have no satisfaction? Simple, boredom. The dailies are too boring for you guys to handle. I don't know what caused this boredom, but I believe is the lack of satisfaction you may have. But do you know someday I hope to be part of the daily team? You guys are our source of inspiration for SWC. So don't give up now. Fans are waiting for your next daily.

I hope I managed to convince you about your mind on dailies. If so, I will be awaiting your next daily

From a Mystery camper,
Marbles

Smiling that he may convince the leaders, Marbles sent the letter to the forums where the daily team resides.

408 words (the letter only)

( Please don't take it negatively, and this is only advice)
Before I get into the corrections I would like to say that the entire poem is soo good( written like a pro) The feel and the poetic devices you have used are soo good. I am sure that you will geta good score for this in your school. I just can't get over this poem, I have read almost 3-4 times.

So this is a grammar/spelling check critique and there some grammatical errors I've noticed in the poem and other things I would suggest you to make it better:

syrozenne wrote:

Their perfect arcs rising to the horizon.

So in the above line (I am telling this as you told it was a school assignment) you have two options to make sure that the verb used is correct so first option is to change rising into rise. The second option is to add the word, ‘are’ before rising.

syrozenne wrote:

The lavender cascades down, waterfalls of ethereal beauty.

In the above line, I think that if you add the word, “ creating or enchanting ” then it would make this line sound even better and it will create a visual imagery in the reader's mind.

syrozenne wrote:

mauves battling against crimsons,

In the above line, If would be better if you would capitalize ‘Mauves’ and ‘Crimsons’. As I giving a suggestion here, I also wanted to praise you for this line. I would say that this is one the highlights of your poem as it truly symbolizes the main theme of the poem and gives a good visual imagery for the reader(me).

syrozenne wrote:

the night returns with its lavender and lilac promise of more enchantment to come.

In the above line, I really like the end line of the poem( I have read it 6-7 times by now). I think if you would capitalize ‘the’ as it is the first letter then everything would be a hundred percent perfect with this last ending line.

I guess I am done with my short critique. I also wante3d to tell you that your idea for the poem was really good and each and every line of the poem was well written so Good Job!

Thank You!

short story, basically an extended/edited version of a daily where we used our cabin’s storyline to write a short story based off of.
potential writing comp entry, 1454 words i believe

Making my way up the twisting path to the grand abbey, my old friend Mara, or Daisy was standing there, gesturing inside the entrance. We used to see each other all the time, but we haven’t talked nearly as much since she… became more distant, and decided that she would now be called Mara. I liked the name Daisy, I thought it really encompassed her as a person. But now, she has decided to change it, and I guess I have to respect that no matter how much I wish she hadn’t changed it. She doesn’t like to talk about it so I don’t press her. It was nice to see her whenever I could, even if she was different to how I used to know her.

“Take a journey through this shrouded abbey, and discover the many mysteries as it takes you in its arms - come and join us to unravel the secrets lying hidden within the abbey’s ancient bounds,” gestured Mara, repeating her obviously rehearsed lines with a witchy expression loosely taped to her face. She reached both of her hands out and gestured inside the mansion.
“What’s with the rehearsed lines? Can’t you just write it on a sandwich board?” I jokingly asked.
“Well, the higher-ups think it adds to the experience. So I have no choice really,” she answered.
She seemed to now display a friendly expression, but I started to see through it like looking at someone through a pane of frosted glass.
At this point, I was not worried, but I wasn’t at ease either. Since Mara had changed, she had become more reserved, and seemed more dedicated to her job as an abbey tour guide. She only took one day off per week to come and see me at a café. I don’t know what else she really does with her life, she seems like she’s sworn to secrecy as she never tells me many details. Today, she seemed more on-edge and wary than usual, but we all have good and bad days, so I wasn’t getting too worried about her yet.
‘Come and join us… come and join us…’ kept circling round and round in my head as I stepped through the ancient creaking doors. Was she captured as part of some kind of cult? I was most likely overthinking, she was probably just told to say that. She’s fine.
I didn’t see a single sliver of life anywhere inside. It’s always a little freaky walking around inside an abandoned abbey, especially one this large. You never know when someone could jump out at you, or suddenly grab you. That might be a me problem though. I’m always overly wary like that.

After I’d gotten a little more comfortable with the place and had been around a few of the rooms, we climbed up the ominous-looking staircase, and came to a large hall with a singular long table placed in the middle. It had ornate, detailed paintings and sculptures of hands adorning the walls and shelves. An interesting style choice.
“This was the room where our ancestors used to dine. They used to have parties every fortnight,” Mara commented solemnly.
“Um, alright… why are you saying it like that?” I questioned.
“Well, I’m not really meant to say, but I’ll make an exception because it’s you.”
“Ooh, I feel privileged!” I remarked, trying to brighten the mood. I was seeing her more than once a week, this was a big deal in my book.
“Before every one of their parties, they used to handpick one of their enemies, who often had done something so trivial as simply looking at the family the wrong way. They would invite this person as a guest, and then would make them do all of the cooking for the party, and force them to do multiple chores whilst the real guests enjoyed the party. They were sent to the basement at the end of the party, and… well, you can imagine. All I will say is they didn’t come back out of the basement. Rest assured, we have moved on from this tradition now. I try to avoid talking about this because, well, you know, it… puts people off coming here,” she uttered, with the same solemn expression, “also, you won’t tell anyone I said that, will you?” A delicate, fleeting glimpse of the real Daisy I used to know shone through with a beautiful glimmer, as she gazed up at me with her timid little eyes, like a child who had stolen the teacher’s pen.
“No, of course not,” I assured her, smiling and angling myself towards her, reaching to pat her on the back. I didn’t want to seem too forward, but I wanted her to know how I felt about her.
She half-backed away and locked herself up again. If only I could find the key to unlock her again. The beautiful, innocent glow had now faded from her character, and it was back to Mara. I shivered as I felt the air in the room cool a little.
“By the way, do you know roughly when they used to do this? It’s just that I’m looking for a discontinued tradition to research for a proje-”
“No. We don’t know,” Mara interrupted, abruptly, averting her eyes from mine.
“Uhhh… we? I thought it was just you who did these tours? I didn’t think the higher-ups were involved in the actual tours?” I was getting more and more worried about her. She never spoke this abruptly to anyone that I know of. I started to wonder: was she being used or exploited for something? Was her boss nice to her? I just wanted to find out what was wrong with my friend.
“Oh, um, me and some, uh… historians and researchers. Yes, that’s it,” Mara stuttered, pointing upwards as she found her answer.
“Really? You sure?” I asked, trying to catch another glimpse of the real Daisy.
“Yes. Historians and researchers,” she affirmed.
I was still extremely suspicious that somehow, something, somewhere, wasn’t right.

We had gone down another set of stairs, walked through another wide corridor, and passed by a conspicuous door. It was small, just tall enough to fit an average-height person through without having to bend too much. But Mara didn’t even seem to notice it was there, oddly enough.
“Hey, Mara, what does this door lead to? It stood out to me,” I wondered.
“Oh, I’m not really sure. We haven’t been al-” She stopped herself before saying something, and then continued, “uh, we haven’t been in there yet. We can’t seem to find a key.”
“Hang on, come here! What is that odd, metallic, iron-like smell?” I asked, concerned. It didn’t smell safe, whatever it was.
“What smell? I’m not getting it,” Mara answered.
“Oh come on, Daisy!” I said, addressing her using her true name, “It’s really strong, how can you not smell it?! Let’s go inside and see if it’s something dangerous is in there - it doesn’t smell right,” I continued, edging towards the door to open it. I noted that it didn’t have a keyhole, so she was clearly making up the part about the key. She looked more and more uncomfortable as each second went by.
“Please do not call me that- and, uh, maybe you shouldn’t do that? I’m sure it’s fine!” she spluttered, sidling towards me and putting her palm up to make a stop signal.
“Enough with this nonsense, Daisy. I’m going in.” I swung open the door.

Hands.
They had not been there for long.
What she had described to me in the dining room instantly became one hundred times more vivid.
I stared in disbelief at the table.
It was as if the hands were moving, wriggling, trying to escape the cruel grasp of their captor.
I just stood and stared, stunned.

I heard the clatter and creaking of the ancient floorboards as someone ran down the squeaky hallways towards us.
“MARA! Whatever is going on!? You know you are not permitted in there!” announced the figure.
“Sorry ma’am. I was just conducting my duty. She opened the door,” Mara said, pointing at me.
The gnarled figure looked at me with an expression I couldn’t quite make out.
“Now that was silly, wasn’t it?” the witch-looking woman said to me, mocking me, “It’s an awfully harrowing view in there, so we don’t let anyone in. Now, I want you to come with me. We’re having a bit of a get-together, a party if you will, upstairs and we think you’d fit RIGHT in.”
She whisked me up in a tight grasp, and Daisy became more distant with every fraction of time that passed.

daily!

Scratch Writing Camp just isn’t the same without dailies and weeklies. Sure, you can still make inside jokes with the members of your cabin, you can still fabricate tense rivalries that are mostly not serious with those in enemy cabins, and there’s still the ability to write and add words.
But what are you to write? Without dailies and weeklies, there’s no fun prompts for you to follow. Without dailies and weeklies, there’s no chance of comparing what you wrote to what someone else wrote that, while based off the same idea or source of inspiration, could be vastly different from your creation.
And what if you don’t know what to write? In the past, dailies and weeklies have always been there to give you that extra boost of inspiration, a tiny bit of instruction, a structure to follow. This makes it easier to write something interesting even if you’re struggling to come up with ideas independently.
Ask anyone who’s ever been in SWC, what’s one of the most fundamental aspects of our camp, what’s sure to be immensely fun as well as immensely stressful, but in a good way? What’s the best way to bond as a cabin? What’s the best reason to pull an all-nighter? What’s the quickest way to give your word count a massive boost? These questions, as it happens, all have the same answer. Cabin Wars! And do you know what cabin wars is? A daily!
Without dailies and weeklies, we’ll still have word wars, the critiquitaire, and the writing competition. But who knows? Maybe judges and panelists are next to strike. After that, the hosts? And then the whole leader team? This is just the beginning. If we allow this to continue, it will snowball, and eventually every element of camp as we know it will be gone.
So let’s band together. Let’s start a protest against the protest and get our dailies back!
If any of those on strike are reading this, here’s an interesting thing to consider:
Have you ever managed to complete every daily and weekly in a session? I’m speaking from experience here, it’s an incredibly satisfying accomplishment and in addition to that you come out of the session full up on new ideas and stories to continue exploring.
And now for whats hopefully my most convincing argument.
Scratch Writing Camp is a competition. Campers are competing to have their cabin be the one that earns the most points. And where do most of these points come from? Dailies and weeklies presented to us by the daily team.
So in conclusion, if you, the daily team, insist on depriving us of the dailies and weeklies we deserve, the harsh reality is that Scratch Writing Camp must end. It simply cannot continue to exist without dailies.

november 14 daily
416 words

Dear SWC Daily Team,

First of all: HOW DARE YOU TAKE AWAY DAILES????? We have done absolutely nothing wrong to make you go on strike! I really, really, REALLY hope this letter makes you reconsider. I'm sorry to yell at you, but please hear my plea.

If the dailies, and probably soon the weeklies, go away, then so does the whole point of SWC. Us campers definitely don't want that to happen, so we'd most likely start making the dailies ourselves- and we all know we're too lazy to do that (I apologize to the kind, PRODUCTIVE, souls reading this). That would lead to no writing at all!! @Candylanguagegirl would be very disappointed in you. *angrily stares at you in an attempt to scare you into writing*

Second of all, taking away the dailies and weeklies won't just end badly for us. It'll also end badly for you. The most passionate SWCers among us will take charge and eventually track you down. Your loved ones (laptops, pens, pencils, paper, and any other writing devices) will be stolen from you and you'll be held in a secure spot (the library) until you're must write. We will STARVE you- of good literature- and force you to read cringy, uncapitalized Wattpad fanfics until you do what we ask. So please, dear SWC daily team, listen to my plea and bring back our (sometimes) amazing dailies. It will help all of us- you, me, God, and even our beloved mango farmers- live a happier life. And if your life still sucks after you bring back the dailies… *shrugs*

Ah. Okay. You're back. I don't know if this is because I don't have 400 words yet, or if you think I'm just a great writer and want to read more of my work, but I'm happy to keep going (optimistically, I'm choosing the second one. Realistically, I know you don't really care). You may be asking, why do we think dailies are so great? If I were part of the daily team, I wouldn't question it, but you might, so I'm going to give you a couple reasons.

One, they encourage us to actually write. Without them, we'd just be a mess of cell phone addicts and overdue homework! Two, it's because they're like the main reason everyone wants to come to SWC (besides from like, the “great” people)! Three, it's because dailies and weeklies- finally. I got to 400 words. Stopping here!!
If you don't listen there'll be consequences,
superdidi2012

*I did not mean to be offensive with any of this*

critique for mabel :)

winter comes, fall goes

The autumn vivid leaves rush down the trees with ease, winter confiscating them. The day was dead silent. The sun rose up in the middle of the bright blue sky, where dreary clouds would soon rush and descend crystalline liquid, snow. The wind brushed the air, filling it up with something to cool it down with. Piles of leaves mounded together, warm toned leaves covered the beige pathway.

starting with beautiful imagery really sets the scene and establishes expectations in the reader’s mind for a story about transition between seasons (in the year and in life). of the five sentences in the first paragraph, four of them start with “the” and though there is some variation in sentence length, they all have similar straightforward structures; try varying the structure and initial words in your sentences for greater interest. i’d also suggest choosing a central metaphor / descriptor to tie together all of the aspects of the changing seasons — consider what similarities the different actions of change have and how to convey those similarities in your description — particularly using descriptive language that you can repeat when it comes to the characters’ relationships.

autumn like Sophie, and winter like Raena

It all started with her, she was there for me. It's not like anyone else was. Right?

Memories flooded Alyssa's thoughts, all she had. Sophie's beautiful strawberry blonde hair in wisps as she flicked it through the wind, where they would stroll down the (add a modifier here) pathway. Sophie - was now gone.
But there was still something standing there in the depths, someone waiting for a reply: Raena. Now Raena's short black curly hair in the wind, on that same pathway they strolled.Their bare feet touched cold concrete and they watched the dense grass embrace itself, as it slowly turned yellow. Alyssa's emotion oscillated quickly, happy, or sad. It was a bliss at the moment, where Raena and Alyssa smiled at each other, joyfully dancing through the fields. It was imperturbable, and now - nobody could stop them.

characters, yay! my suggestions for wording changes are in purple — these are meant to improve clarity. i also moved the second two sentences around slightly for better flow from between the memories and split the different memories into two paragraphs.

Overtime, Alyssa forgot about Sophie, she spent all her time through seasons and seasons meeting new people every time. But Sophie couldn't.

great transition into a different character’s perspective by introducing a contrast in their experiences to pull the reader further in. the first sentence should be two instead, splitting at the comma “Sophie, she.” you use the word “time” three with few words between them; i’d suggest incorporating the concept of seasons more here, starting the first sentence with “Over the seasons,” then giving specific seasons in the second sentence: “all her time, spring to summer and autumn to winter, meeting new people.” and getting rid of the third use of “time” altogether.

In Paris, they stood by the Eiffel Tower, glowing up in the dark starry sky where the moon glanced at them, showing off its etherealness. Sophie collapsed onto the nearest ligneous bench. Wiping off the sweat on her forehead after a long afternoon traipse, sauntering from store to store, garden to garden. She used to be tranquil about the move, she knew moving on was hard; but either way, she would have to get over it, right? Sophie quietly wept in the corner, tears coming out of her eyes as she clustered herself up, gathering her mind as she leaned her head onto the edge of the bench. The noises of children laughing filled up her ears, almost making her feel better. The scents of pumpkin spice lattes filled up her nose as she quietly seized the smell, remembering when her and Alyssa used to do together. The late October gushes of air gently flowed, rolling back her shoulders Sophie couldn't take it anymore, so - she let it all out.

i have many of the same suggestions here as i did in the paragraph of alyssa’s memories. you should split this into at least two paragraphs. a lot of the words stand out as out of place; i had to google “ligneous,” which doesn’t add anything to the story that justifies it instead of “wooden.” with this piece being rather short and including various perspectives, i think sticking to one memory (or theme of memory, as the path and wind was in alyssa’s memory) would make each character stand better on their own, so including more detail and emotion about sophie and alyssa in paris rather than other random details would work towards this.

Meanwhile, it was now Winter, chills ran up Alyssa's spine as they all sucked on their hot cocoa, smiling at each other. Alyssa, May and Raena. The snowflakes gracefully tumbled down as piles and piles of snow toppled up on May's balcony. Holding their warm cups, Sophie - was basically forgotten as they sipped once more on their heated warm-covered snowflake cups. They all huddled up against the scorching fire, crackling as embers shot out to the sides of their fireplace. May's heated clothed couches warmed their backs, as they chittered and chattered about upcoming events. It was almost like a pumpkin, where its guts were ripped out and thrown out to the trash.
Just like how Sophie didn't matter to any of them anymore. But they mattered to Sophie.

ohoho the drama! i love the coziness of this scene, it really sells the idea that moving on and changing can lead to good things, even if it means leaving someone behind.

Winter in Paris was nice, walking around on the wet snow and sleet from overnight, Sophie covered up in layers and layers of clothing. She still sobbed from night to night, she was almost never okay these days. The crunch of the snow smiled at her, trying to cheer her up her hands dragged down the icicle-covered walls of facades. Every night, she could curl up in bed, quietly sob to herself and smile. Smile like everything was okay. It wasn't, but soon they would reunite. They had to, and nothing was going to change that part of Sophie's attitude.

aw sophie </3 i feel bad for her, and without knowing the reason for the distance between alyssa and sophie the reader sees alyssa as more of a villain for leaving her behind so terribly. i’d add more about their past, and maybe some about their future too to better resolve the story.

on the whole, i really enjoyed reading and thinking about this story. i hope any of my feedback was helpful!

Daily team! I don’t blame you for going on strike; in fact, I’m on your side with this one. Therefore, instead of writing an essay begging you to return, allow me to suggest a compromise. Perhaps an agreement can be made?
Scratch Writing Camp is a huge undertaking to run, and it takes a lot of work to create prompts for every day. And what are you getting paid for this? Nothing! Sure, you get the exuberant gratitiude of all the campers, but, as the saying goes, ‘thanks’ grows no mangoes. With no material reward for all the effort it takes to write the dailies, the time, energy, and thought you spend is, on your end, wasted. The campers benefit, but you get nothing tangible in return. It’s no wonder that you no longer want to write dailies! And, hey, it’s your lives. So long as it’s not causing harm, what you do with your time is up to you. I would never wish to force someone to do something they don’t want to do. On a deeply personal level, I believe that it isn’t right for anyone to encroach on that freedom.
However, as a SWC camper, of course I am saddened by the thought of no longer having dailies. They are what I use to practice and expand my writing skills, as well as connect with the other members of this camp. Therefore, the lack of dailies is indeed causing harm, albeit minor, to myself and other SWCers. In order to alleviate this, we need to rework the system so that both you, the daily team, and us, the campers, can be satisfied. You, the daily team, need to be properly paid for your services, and we, the campers, will receive and profit from those services.
Now, this sounds nice and all, but how would such a system work? Obviously, as Scratch is a kids’ site and SWC’s main appeal is that it’s free, a monetary payment is out of the question. I believe I speak for the majority of the campers when I say that we are willing to provide as many mangoes as you desire, but as our only connection is digital, there is no way to send such mangoes except via roleplay, and fictional mangoes are hardly sufficient reimbursement for a whole month of dailies. However, there is one thing every SWCer can do to repay you. In fact, this action is so simple, so intuitive, for a camp such as this that it quite simply got overlooked! That action, of course… is write! If every camper agrees to pay a “fee” by writing about the awesomeness of the daily team at least once this month, and then spread that information to those they know, then it will effectively function as advertising. With the hundreds of SWCers all singing your praises, you will get your names out into the world, where future employers may be impressed and hire you for your evident skill in writing and managing camps!
So, what do you say? I am more than willing to continue negotiating with you if this proposal still does not satisfy you. Are there any other demands you have before you’d be willing to resume writing and posting dailies? Simply make your requests known, and the campers will answer. You are an integral part of this camp, and without you, this community would surely crumble.

critique 11-14-23

If I had to sum up my thoughts about this piece up in one word, it would be “intriguing.” There’s definitely a sense of something odd going on even before it gets explained more in the second section. And even then, there’s still a lot that isn’t revealed- I’m sure there could be a lot more behind this whole story. I like the atmosphere of mystery and suspense. You also do a good job of characterizing your narrator through actions and inner thoughts. It all builds up to that ending, and oh my, what a cliffhanger- SOMETHING’S going to happen soon, that’s for sure.
As for sentence structure changes, I’d change “rises onto his stone-colored rental states placidly” to “rises placidly onto his stone-colored rental skates.” Also, “I am sure that at this moment he is fantastical” might sound better as “At this moment, I am sure he is fantastical.” That’s mostly just my personal preference, though, sentence structure can be done so many different ways.
The format of the essay is good- there is a bit of a disconnect between the first and second sections, though. You jump from one scene in one setting to a different scene in a different setting, without any way of bridging over other than saying that the second section happened “later.” I assume that if you expanded this fragment into a full story, you’d have a more easily-followable sequence of events.
My favorite aspect of your writing are probably the metaphors and similes. Phrases such as “move as if the boy was given the power of a god, only to try and hold it in his hands,” “the Dick’s Sporting Goods version of bubble wrap,” and “He is Tom Brady – though on defensive line – or a hero from Marvel's Avengers” are absolutely stunning, and make the writing much more colorful. They also speak to the things that the narrator is most familiar with in their society. I think “children are more like ravens than dolls” is my favorite phrase. The word “unbelonging” is just so perfect as well.

daily 14
a message to the glorious writing camp daily team (which i may or may not be affiliated with);
greetings dear friends - it has come to my attention that you all are on a strike? i am not aware of all the reasons behind this, but from what i have seen, the motives are not something which i agree with (change my mind, perhaps?).
first and foremost, what does SWC become without its dailies and weeklies? as rephrased from your main cabin description, one of the camp's methods to improve skill is through fun challenges and other tasks worth points. the absence of the daily team erases this aspect, and takes away the main source of earning points. without having points, the competitive aspect is dramatically lowered. as many know, competition is one of the most iconic parts of our beloved camp. so far, most of the things making SWC what it is have been erased, which leaves the question of what purpose it now has - well, from personal interpretation, it looks like a system of adding words available only three times a year, with the added bonus of talking to a wonderful community (who all would be left a bit confused). a bit pointless, isn't it?
this trails into a second point: our lovely community is left without motivation. a lot of us (including myself) use the dailies to help us write. they're nicely written and serve as a handy source of inspiration, which we can use to get out of writers block. the points attached to them motivate us to write something, anything, and even a bit of bad writing is good for our health, and for building habits. lots of great writing comes out of the dailies, as some of the pieces have earned a place in the competition in the past. and while it may not seem like it during the moment, some of us enjoy the rush of adrenaline that comes with speedrunning things before midnight utc.
so you say, why not put “cool writing prompts” into the google search bar, and use those? there are plenty of first sentence generators, and worldbuilding bits floating around on the internet. why not write the dailies ourselves? we could post them into the comments, yes, but it would be chaotic (in a bad way, ooh), and hectic. the system the daily team uses is nice and organized, and runs everything smoothly. sure, it could work eventually - but it wouldn't be special. we appreciate the prompts that the daily team provides for us, and we like the way they're different every day, every session. some of them circle back, which makes them more loved and classical. it's just different, better, when the prompts are a part of SWC, something that real, young people have dedicated their time to.
i'm hoping that you guys see my point here. we love the dailies and we would love to have you all back. you make SWC, well, SWC, and it could never be the same without the daily team.
from your former (hoping to change that) admirer;
me <3

critique
(435 words)

Aria was breathing her last breath when she chuckled softly at me and said her final words, “ Take good care of yourself Carmi.” I started crying and sobbing as My sister went to heaven just to save me from those awful and devious Hawk.

no space before the word “take”. try using a comma before “Carmi”. also, the correct grammar would be “just to save me from those awful and devious hawks.”

Oh wait, Let me start at the beginning and Let me Introduce myself properly. Well, I am Carmi- A Fourteen-year-old girl and I live in Storm woods( A place in the United states of America) . Me and my sister Aria were best sisters and friends.

no need to repeat yourself - simply write “let me start at the beginning and introduce myself properly”. you need to add a comma before “and” in the second sentence. “woods” and “states” should also be capitalized.

We started our own little organization wherein we protected the helpless and citizens from the evils of the world and clearly( A gulp in her throat), in this venture I lost my Older sister Aria who was not only a noble hero but also a noble sister who set up example to many young people and children in this world.

add a comma before “and” and “Aria”, as well as after “venture”. the correct grammar would be "who set up an example“. also, it may be unnecessary to add the ”a gulp in her throat" - i suggest removing it completely ^^

Now it is my duty to continue my sister's legacy and live up to her name and also Lead to the team to victory. I called Vick( A tech genius) and informed him about the loss and told to pass it down to all the people in the Organization as I was not able to still admit that my older sister was not there with me anymore.

add a comma after “now” and instead of “it is my duty to..” you can simply say “I must..”. capitalization of “lead” is unnecessary, and so are the words “also” before and “to” right after. “told to pass” can be changed it “told him to pass”. remove the first “and” and replace it with a comma. remove the word “still” in the sentence “i was not able to still admit”. “as I was not able to” can be changed to “I could not”.

A few months have passed since this tragedy. Some robberies have been taking place all across the town and I'm not really sure what is causing them but I will get to the bottom of this as I am not the same Naïve and innocent girl but a fierce and formidable girl.

comma needed before the word “and” in the second sentence. the word “really” is unnecessary. there needs to be a comma before the word “but”.

We went to the site where all these robberies have been taking place and I found a strand of hair inside the bank's locker. I carefully picked the hair strand with my special tool and kept it inside the package and sent it to Rose for testing.

there needs to be a comma before the word “and” in first sentence. you can use a synonym for “special” such as “unique”, etc. try rephrasing this sentence - eg. “I carefully picked the hair strand with my special tool, kept it inside the package, and sent it to Rose for testing.”

After an hour of research, Rose came with results and said the most Shocking thing, “ That hair strand that you bought belongs to none other than Aria–your older sister; I have triple checked and it is indeed her and the hair had fallen out maybe a few hours before only”

instead of “said the most shocking thing”, you can use the word “announced”, and also, there is no need for the S of “shocking” to be capitalized. there needs to be a comma before the word “and” in the last sentence (both times used). close the sentence with a period after “the hair had fallen out maybe a few hours before only”. add a hyphen between “triple-checked”. No need for the semi-colon, change it for a period.

I thought to myself, This is impossible Aria died in my lap and how can she still be alive and that too is revealed when she is trying to steal from the back.

there needs to be a comma before the word “and”. you also used/created a comma splice by connecting two independent sentences which can be fixed with either a period or semi-colon (after “this is impossible”). not to mention, this whole sentence is also a run-on sentence. I suggest splitting it up as “I thought to myself, this is impossible; Aria died in my own lap, how can she still be alive? That too is revealed when she is trying to steal from the back”.

I was indeed in a dilemma .

most likely a typo, but no space needed before the period

Churro's Dailies #14
“Okay… what is going on?!” You suddenly appear in a room with high ceilings and gothic architecture. You peer around, marveling at the church-like dark-academia-style setting. You look down, and notice your clothing is constantly changing: it is pink leotard once, a doctor's scrubs, another; edgy, black yoga pants, a poofy Elizabethan dress decked with jewelry.
You walk over to a mirror standing in the middle of the room. Your looks are constantly changing too: your skin, tan once, then chocolate-brown next. Your hair is many different colors too, with dyed hair too.
“STOP!” You shout, and then all the flurry of the fast changing clothing and hair styles stop. They slow down, and decide on one for you.
The mirror doesn't lie, does it? Because now your hair is black with blue streaks, your skin darker than night. A black turtleneck comes up to your neck. And jeans with many rips cascade down your long legs. And your eyes are a sort of sparkling gold.
This is what you chose. You felt the impulse to say “stop” right now. This is your character. This is your destiny. There's no author to direct you.
An old-fashioned scroll magically appears in front of you, calling you over. Entranced, you walk cautiously over to the levitating scroll. There's a quill laying right next to it, and the words WRITE YOUR NAME are written in a swirly script on the scroll.
Oh, right. You just appeared here, without a name, without a destiny, without any characteristics. Well, the latter two were sorted out; what was your name?
You waited for the crafter of your story to suddenly poke their head out of the cloud and tell you your name.
Nobody does.
Oh, yeah. You run your story now. You write it yourself. No one else will command you.
What is my name? You think.
Ah. You pick up the quill and write in the blank space: Luna Mystique.
That sounds like a cool name, does it?
Now that you have an appearance, and you have a name, what do you do first?
What do you want to do with your life?
Remember, there's absolutely no one to dictate you anymore.
You're on your own.
You silently walk towards the doors of the church-chapel and push it open. What does the outside of your world look like?
You close your eyes and… step through.
Nothing. Nothing is there.
Oh. You smack your forehead. It's because the author hasn't created an outside yet. You write it.
A notebook appears in front of you, with a pencil.
You write down a descriptive passage about a lush forest right outside the church. And with a bang, a big forest drops from the sky of infinity.
You smile.

(lol first time writing in 2nd person)

for critiquitaire!

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

Daily Nov. 14th
418 words

She all but stomped her way home, deliberately forcing herself to take every step. She had to, or else she would never make it - she knew that. She was a coward.
This time she couldn’t be, though, this time she had to face her problems head-on or else she would never fix anything in her messed-up life. It would be hard, it would be painful, it would be horrible - but she had to do it. It almost felt like fate was shoving her along this path, and straying from it would be…wrong, in some way. Deeply and terrifyingly wrong.
She was a coward, though. She realized, with a sick feeling in her gut, that she could not go home.
She turned off her path.
All of a sudden, it was like…reality slipped away from her. Like she was a ghost now - not real, not physical, but an…idea. A concept that wasn’t supposed to exist. She did exist, though - in an unreal way. To herself, at least.
So she went to the park.
Everything was absolutely silent. There was no one in sight, not even any animals. There was no wind blowing, and no sound of cars in the distance. It felt like she was in a video game world, where everything was static and only made to walk around in.
An indescribable hollowness began to eat at her. She had done something wrong - she’d made the wrong choice - and now she had no purpose. Reality itself had stopped caring about her, simply leaving her to wander in the nothingness of her new, still planet.
She made it to the park, and slowly walked over to the bench. She sat down, staring at the absolutely still grass. It wasn’t even growing - it wasn’t obvious, or even visible, but she could tell.
What could she do now? Nothing she did mattered. The universe - existence itself - had given up on her. She could explore, she supposed. See all the places she’d always want to see. But what happened after she saw everything there ever was to see? If she had forever, how long would it be until there was nothing left that was new because nothing was changing? She wondered if she could die, or if she would only live as an imprint of something greater for the rest of eternity, long after she had gone insane?
None of it really mattered, though, did it? Not to anyone but herself.
She screamed as loud as she could, and no one heard.

go to main post

Prologue for context (not counted as words but recommended to read it

Marticon High was situated at the eastern part of the city. Like magic, even though they were in a Western country, it felt like the area the school's in is situated in Japan. However, the pink cherry blossoms guarding the school aren't blooming as bright as usual, like the colors were drained out from them. Marbles had just managed to escaped the epidemic with Weren with the help from Luna. “Guys, this way.” Luna whispered, passing by a group of infected people who were wandering aimlessly around the school. They crawled under a tunnel beneath the school that Marbles never acknowledged before. The tunnel was small, but big enough for all of them, including Weren, who was very tall, to stand in the passageway. It was humid in there. The smell of blood, sweat, sewage filled Marbles' nose that it became a sickly miasma. “Luna, are you sure it's the right way?” Weren asked, anxiously. Luna smiled, “Of course! The principal actually told me about this.” By the end of the tunnel, Marbles was greeted with a bright flash of light as they emerge from the supply closet. “What the…”

The school had changed. The area was filled with the smell of alcohol for sterilization. The walls were painted white and classrooms were filled with beds instead of desks. It became a refuge area. It was no longer a school, it became a hospital. “We need to be efficient when an epidemic happens, so we renovated everything!” Luna explained to her baffled-looking friends. “How long did it take?” Luna thought quietly, something about her thinking looks stirred something in Marbles. “Around four hours.” Weren's eyes widened in shock, “So much in four hours??” But Marbles was only half listening. “Um, what? That's so efficient! Hehe…” Luna continued, not noticing Marbles fumbling over his fingers, “Anyways, you two should get ready, as you guys are required at the science lab tomorrow. They will tell you everything they know about the virus. You got it?” They nodded as Luna prepared to leave, “Wait, Luna! Did Martin survived the epidemic?” Marbles ran up to her with his face entirely flustered, wishing for his answer to be what he'd not expect. Luna answered flatly, “Hm, no. He and his gang didn't make it.” That wasn't what Marbles expected, “Really? Yes! I'm finally free from their grasp!” Weren smiled, but something was off about Marbles. “Marbles, are you okay? Your face is entirely red…” Marbles blushed, making the red dark crimson. “H-huh? I-I…” Weren approached him, his eyes concerned, “Do you have feelings for Luna?” Marbles turned his gaze away from Weren's, who were somehow making him lose focus, “Maybe a little…”

Morning shone onto Marticon High. But the atmosphere was different. No one was out on the fields, and blood splattered all over the grounds. In this day, Marbles woke up to see the scenery. He remembered. The events yesterday. When someone suddenly went on a rampage in the park and killed almost everyone, and infecting some others with his disease. He remembered the faces of those killed by their loved ones. The girl who fell off the roller coaster; the kid who was killed by the rampage. On this day, Marbles will stop the madness. “Marbles, are you ready?” Weren asked, in his lab coat. Marbles, adjusting his buttons on his coat, replied, “Not yet, I must look good for-” “You're not going for a date.” Marbles flushed, “Luna's gonna be there…” Weren rolled his eyes, clearly frustrated. “Let's just go.” Trekking down the polished hallways, Marbles eventually found himself in the science lab, where the research was carried out. The moment the doors opened, the noise inside resonated their ears. Everyone was busy and extremely dedicated, even some, to Marbles' surprise, lazy students. “What the-” “We require everyone talented to cooperate in this research, which includes the both of you.” The principal said, approaching them. “We need your help at the research station, Marbles. They'll explain everything to you. Weren, you're required for field missions.” The procedure was so sudden that Marbles hadn't said goodbye to Weren as they each headed to their respective stations. Sigh, I'll miss him.. “Marbles! You're here! Quick, we need your help…” Luna came rushing over, all thoughts of Weren were immediately replaced with Luna's smile. She handed him a sheet, “This is all the information we know regarding the virus. After lunch we will observe the patients and their behavior to observe any symptoms.” Marbles barely had time to say “Okay” before she left for other tasks. She's so dedicated… Marbles thought as he looked at his sheet.

Species: varicellovirus violetta
Source: unknown
Method of transmission: UV light
Symptoms: Purple blisters all over the face, erratic behavior
If left untreated: Patient will lose all neurons and will die

Marbles understood now why Luna was so shiny when they met her. But he didn't understand why the virus hadn't attacked him. Weren probably hid in a shady area, but Marbles was exposed to the Sun. It was odd. “Well, at least I'm alive.” Marbles thought before he followed Luna.

The virus is weird, like a mutation… Marbles thought as he exited the room of patients. No new information was obtained except the patients are calmer when loved ones are nearby. But what's the need for that information? “Luna? What are you investigating?” Marbles asked, seeing Luna peering into a microscope, “Hmm, it's weird… The virus keeps changing forms, but the shape of each form is similar…” she said while showing Marbles a diagram she drew. “You're right… They all take the shape of some letters… Kr?” It struck something in his brain, “Isn't Kr the symbol of the element krypton?” Marbles said, surprised. “But that means the virus may have been made from krypton! If we study the virus more, we can find out its backstory! Then we can discover the cure!” Luna hugged Marbles, making him blush, “Good job! You're so smart!” Marbles blurted, “U-Uh, thanks…” Luna straightened herself, “Tonight, I'll create a footage regarding the virus' past. So get ready by then!”

Tonight came pretty quickly. Everyone from the research team was looking at the footage Luna prepared. “Get ready, guys. It's on!” Instantly, everyone's faces became happy, then shocked, then angry, facing Marbles, who looked miserable.

“Uh, the virus is not dying off…” Marbles said quietly, examining the sample of the chickenpox virus the teacher gave him. “Guys, it's the right time, he's alone. Attack!” Immediately, Martin barged in with his gang, “Wh-” They beat him up, leaving Marbles with bruises all over his body, “Ow…” “This is what happens when Weren isn't around. You're just a pathetic nerd.” With that, they left. Marbles struggled to stand up, “Oh, shoot!” He knocked over a beaker of krypton into the sample. “It's okay… Let me sterilize it with UV light…” Marbles said as he shone UV light onto the sample, staining blood all over the lens of the lamp. “I better treat my wounds… I don't want to get caught by the disease…” But he didn't know, because of the blood and UV light, the virus mutated with the help of krypton. It escaped into the Sun through the lamp, and infected the Earth.

“N-No…” The footage has been taken. Everyone in the research team stared at Marbles, eyes filled with hatred.
“So, the person who caused all this mess is Marbles?”
“Honestly, it's pretty obvious. We've gotten so much productive since he joined us.”
“I bet you he planned to create the virus to kill Martin and his gang.”
“What an absolute menace.”

So many insults came in at once. So many biting remarks hit Marbles like a bullet in the stomach. No matter how much he tried to justify, they brush it off. At once they threw anything in the room towards him. Chairs, their goggles, even the laptop. Marbles desperately tried to look for Luna. She wasn't throwing things at him. She was doing nothing, staring at him in shock. “J-Just kill me already…” was what he managed out as things collided with his fragile body. That's why. The virus didn't want to kill their creator. It hit him. All those who died to the disease. That girl who was the first casualty; the kid who was barely half his age. All dead, all gone. And it's all my fault. There was one way out of this: infect himself and die. Dashing out of the room, with people still chasing him, he found it. The sample. “Goodbye, Weren, Luna. I'd never see you again.” He shone the UV light onto his hand, making it blister. Everyone staggered away from him as he approached them. Just like how I want it…

Days pass. Then weeks. Marbles was confused. Why am I not dead? Of course, the virus didn't want to kill him. “Argh!” Marbles screamed, knocking over his bed. He was moved to a quarantine zone to prevent infection, or he volunteerirly isolated himself from the world. The cure was administered, but no one revealed who caused the disease. Why didn't they do it? Why did they conceal it? Just let everyone hate me, even in death… The door squealed with a creak, Marbles looked at the figure standing at the doorway. The person he needed. “Luna.” Luna sat down beside him, not in any protective gear. “Marbles, I'm sorry… I should've defended you, but-” Luna stopped abruptly. Marbles wanted Luna to continue, but at the same time, he didn't. “Geez, it's so awkward. I've never done this…” “Then don't.” Luna looked at him in shock, seeing him out of the shadows. Scratch marks all over his face, blisters oozing purple pus, but calm eyes. “Marbles! Have you been harming yourself? Don't do it! It's bad for yo-” “Shut up!!” Luna jerked back, but Marbles hated the way she spoke. It didn't feel like friendly talk, but somehow like a lecture from a guardian. He didn't like Luna, he never did. “Oh- Um, I’m sorry…” With that, she left the room, leaving Marbles to weep alone in a corner. Why? Why am I such a monster? The door opened again, Marbles turned away from it, “Go away, Luna. I’m not in the mood.” But the voice told him it was someone else. “It’s okay, Marbles. You can trust me.” Marbles gasped silently. “Weren, what are you-” Weren placed his finger on Marbles’ lips, motioning him to be silent. “Helping you.” Weren said, “You can tell me anything.” Anything?. Anything was a lot for Marbles. “Do you know who caused the disease?” he asked, anxious. He never felt so comforted to have Weren by his side. “No. We don’t know. But it was confirmed it was caused by someone, but they never said who it was. Well, whoever it is will be dead by now, right?” Weren smiled encouragingly, but it made Marbles uncomfortable. “Anyway, I was supposed to give you this.” Weren said as he handed Marbles the notes he wrote on the first day. “The infected appear more calm around loved ones?” Marbles read as he saw Weren’s eyes, they were gentle and loving. Marbles knew before he could say- “Wait, I want you to think before you say it. After all, you discovered the cure: love. You deserve something good for that.” Weren smiled, the tingling feeling in his stomach rose again, this time it was genuine. Was that why Weren was so troubled seeing Marbles liking Luna? But the whole time Luna was an excuse for Marbles to not admit that the person he really loved was- “Weren…” He is the only person whom Marbles can trust. Everything about the source where the disease came from, to the reason why he liked Luna. The purple blisters were disappearing as his eyes became softer.
“I need to tell you something…”

1977 words

finn's critique page 1



Critique for silverlynx-

I’m going to start by doing notes the way I do it in my class.
On the surface this play is about a girl named Sophie who hears strange noises in London and finds a sort of new world, seemingly made visible with this bolt of lightning, though there’s also the possibility that it’s something completely different from lightning. As for what it’s about under the surface I’m still figuring that out, and maybe there aren’t hidden layers to it for all I know. There’s something in the way you structure your sentences with several very short sentences in a row that I would describe as static almost, but I’m not saying to get rid of them, because they work well for creating this atmosphere of unease and tension. And like static electricity, they’ll often leave you with a little shock. Honestly, overall, you’ve created an amazing atmosphere for this story, but… I’m not seeing a ton of a story. Your descriptions paint vivid pictures, and you have some great passages with characterization of Sophie and we see that she seems curious and intuitive, but I feel like we need a lot more of that. We don't really get to know Sophie enough or see any sort of character arc which is a very vital part of most stories. Yes, we did see her make a choice, but I still strongly suggest focusing more on plot and on character. You could still end it with her finding out that the whispering comes from the clock, or you could add more afterward, your choice entirely, and of course all of this is your choice, but I really do think this story will be a lot stronger if you have more stuff in between. And your piece is currently very short so you’ve got the ability to work in at least another paragraph or two, maybe a more in depth interaction with another character. I think you’ve got the bones of what could be a very intriguing story and now you just need to work on fleshing it out so that it feels more whole. I didn’t pay too much attention to the grammar but I did notice this for example: “Destroy. Destroy. Destroy.” the voice echoed menacingly In this section, it seems that the voice is echoing the word destroy, and in that case the action of echoing is part of the sentence, so it would be written like this: “Destroy. Destroy. Destroy,” the voice echoed menacingly. Also in the second block I noticed that sometimes you refer to a singular voice, and other times you refer to voices, plural, and I was wondering if that was intentional. I hope this helps.


for yume

The first thing I notice is that you’ve chosen some great words to end the lines with and the last word of a line is often the most important so good job with that I think they really resonate in the mind of the reader. I don’t really like the line about the pain in the disco because it doesn’t really fit with your poem or the themes and emotions you seem to be trying to convey. In the last two stanzas of the first section I feel like the “so’s” are unneeded, or they could be replaced with stronger words. Or maybe it’s just the fact that the so is its own line which seems not to fit. I like the idea of this poem with the self-confidence and the hope of it, believing in yourself when other people might not, but even more than that I like that we don’t exactly know what’s going to happen as even in the perspective of the future self, the subject is still really the present self which I think speaks to the truth that no matter how much hope we have, we can’t really say anything about the future with any certainty. Your poem is straightforward, it’s easy to read and the message is clear but it’s also a message that has depth if the reader chooses to dive into it more. Speaking of diving into stuff more, I’m curious about what would happen if you dove into some of your stanzas a little more like the one about being lonely, because a poem is really supposed to expose somebody’s psyche, and tell their truth and that’s one thing that makes poems so special. Obviously don’t say too much of the truth lol, but I think diving into the emotions and the questions of this poem more will really help it be stronger. Now my last bit of advice to you, read the poem out loud. After all, the poem is meant to be heard. So speak it and use your judgment of any changes that should be made.