I'll be using this, I guess. (I'll make this better later.)

November 14th Daily.
Getting rid of dailies would honestly get rid of what Scratch Writing Camp is here for. Scratch Writing Camp is to help inspire and motivate people to write, right? And the dailies do that, do they not? And how would cabins and members earn points? People can’t finish the weeklies for multiple reasons, so they’re losing out points there. Instead, they do the small and short dailies that still allow them to get points for their cabin! If I may even say this, this camp would become boring without the dailies. We’d lose dailies such as roleplay dailies, cabin wars, and so much more. Some of these dailies are the reasons why people come back every session! And it’s also what keeps this camp fun and engaging.
The prompts which the dailies provide help people come out of their comfort zone when having to write sometimes! I’ve gotten a lot better with having to use school prompts (because let’s be real, half of the prompts school gives us is so boring.) but the dailies have helped me to keep writing. There’s no way I’ll be able to control the daily prompts, and I can’t control the prompts that my English teacher gives me. The dailies give me a reason to write everyday and they make it less of me having to force myself, and more of me wanting to do it.
Also, if the dailies get taken away, then what if the weeklies get taken away too? What if the writing competition judges protest as well? Would we lose that as well? If all of this gets taken away, then is this really Scratch Writing Camp? There’s no telling what will happen once dailies get taken away. What if the leadership team protests? Would we lose the camp altogether? Just the thought of this is saddening and I’m sure so many people would agree with me.
I’ve seen so many comments in the main cabins where people have taken some of these prompts and have written stories. Without the dailies, this wouldn’t be possible. And back to the point I made about not getting points. Let’s all be honest, one of the reasons why this camp is so fun is because it’s competitive. It is nice to have some very friendly rivalry. This rivalry gets people to actually start writing, because they want to win. Without the points, this competition wouldn’t exist. And I know there’s some very competitive people in swc.

I hope the daily team changes their mind, because the loss of dailies would be truly saddening.

(most likely, the grammar and spelling is pretty bad in here. please excuse that.)

help i haven't used this in a year….sooo…we're fixing that.

“A picture paints a thousand words”

March 10th Daily:

picture: it's a p!n picture so i'm still figuring out how to import it. it's a moon with the words “i told the moon about you”

I told the moon about you. The ever-so-gleaming, white moon. And the moon, she listened. Her soft light shimmering, as if her gaze was soft, gentle almost. She had done this many times before. She was up in the sky, every night. Your story, the one I told, was just one of so many. But she would remember, I know she would. She would slightly change, matching the mood of my story. Every time my heart would ache, she would become paler. Her sympathy, her understanding, brought me so much comfort. Her words, left unspoken as she had no mouth, which were reflected through her changes, were so comforting. Almost like a warm hug.

I told her about you, and she stayed until I had finished. I told her about your smile, so sweet and charming. I described your comforting presence, which brought me so much warmth, so much comfort. The sparkle in your eyes, which I so fondly loved, and now missed. At the mention of it disappearing, she became paler, matching the slight tinge and ache in my heart. I talked about your laughter, how it was so sweet, like the taste of honey. The sound, so melodic, yet now bittersweet. I would do anything to hear it again, for the first time.

Now when I think about you, I feel a pang. I've lost you. The moon, she understood that. I asked about the rumor, about her and the sun. She couldn't respond, nor did she change. Perhaps she felt indifferent towards the loss of him, and I fear that may be how I become when thinking of you. She sensed the shift in my tone, tears forming in my eyes, my words being choked out. She could feel the absence I felt, maybe it was because she had felt it before. Her words, still so silent, yet so profound. She embraced me when the tears started falling, and I thanked her. I sobbed in her moonlight. I missed you. I truly did. But I could never have you again, and the moon knew that too.

For that one night, when I needed someone the most, she was my companion. She was there, not as a therapist, but there to help the lonely. The miserable. Ones who deserved love, and couldn't find it. And me, someone who found love, only to lose it. She acted like a dear old friend, but I didn't know her at all. Who knows the moon? A celestial being, a beautiful one at that, so complex and complicated, who could truly understand that? She reminded me of you in that aspect, she truly did.


When I was done, she stayed there. Hung in the sky, so beautiful, so pure. Her silence made me feel loved, only second best to yours. In her silence, I found solace. In yours, I found myself miserable.



WOOO NEW UPDATE:
I told the moon about you.

The ever-so-gleaming, white moon. And the moon, she listened. Her soft light shimmering, as if her gaze was soft, gentle almost. She had done this many times before. She was up in the sky, every night. Your story, the one I told, was just one of so many. But she would remember, I know she would. She would slightly change, matching the mood of my story. Every time my heart would ache, she would become paler. Her sympathy, her understanding, brought me so much comfort. Her words, left unspoken as she had no mouth, which were reflected through her changes, were so comforting. Almost like a warm hug.

I told her about you, and she stayed until I had finished. I told her about your smile, so sweet and charming. I described your soothing presence, which brought me so much warmth, so much comfort. The sparkle in your eyes, which I so fondly loved, and now missed. At the mention of it disappearing, she became paler, matching the slight twinge and ache in my heart. I talked about your laughter, how it was so sweet, like the taste of honey. The sound, so melodic, yet now bittersweet. I would do anything to hear it again, for the first time.

Now when I think about you, I feel a pang. I've lost you. The moon, she understood that. I asked about the rumor, about her and the sun. She couldn't respond, nor did she change. Perhaps she felt indifferent towards the loss of him, and I fear that may be how I become when thinking of you. She sensed the shift in my tone, tears forming in my eyes, my words being choked out. She could feel the absence I felt, maybe it was because she had felt it before. Her words, still so silent, yet so profound. She embraced me when the tears started falling, and I thanked her. I sobbed in her moonlight. I missed you. I truly did. But I could never have you again, and the moon knew that too.

I told her how I could never have you, no matter how much I fight. No matter how much I did.
You will never be mine.

It’s our fate, it’s our destiny. The two of us were like two stars. Ones that shared the same sky, but we’re forever separated by our fate.

We weren’t supposed to end up together, but it’s so cruel. How the world made us meet, made us fall in love, and now broke me and you. Our love was a lotus blooming in the desert. Unsustainable, but beautiful while it lasted. Delicate, fragile, short lasting love. So pure, but forever tense.

We knew we could never have each other, we had talked about it before. Argued about it even. There was only one way for us to be together, and I could never do what needed to be done. No matter how much I loved you, no matter how much you loved me, I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t make the decision.

And even now, I still don’t think I can make that decision. No matter how much it is that I long for you, I will never be able to make the decision and stay with you.

So maybe I deserve to feel this way. Deserve to spend my nights crying, my heart aching for you. How I would love to wake up to your face every morning. Even now, I cry for you. I’m starting to realize that you were truly never mine to have.

For that one night, when I needed someone the most, she was my companion. She was there, not as a therapist, but there to help the lonely. The miserable. Ones who deserved love, and couldn't find it. And me, someone who found love, only to lose it. She acted like a dear old friend, but I didn't know her at all. Who knows the moon? A celestial being, a beautiful one at that, so complex and complicated, who could truly understand that? She reminded me of you in that aspect, she truly did.


When I was done, she stayed there. Hung in the sky, so beautiful, so pure. Her silence made me feel loved, only second best to yours. In her silence, I found solace. In yours, I found myself miserable.

March 11 Daily

Hansel and Gretel

tw// people being blended (and k!lled)


Hansel and Gretel, two kids, very dumb and foolish, walked throughout a forest. Their stomachs grumbling with every passing step. They had long lost given up on finding food in this twisting, maze like forest.

“This is all YOUR fault,” Gretel yelled. “If you weren't so foolish and insistent, we wouldn't be lost, and starving.” Hansel turned around to look at her, his face flushed with annoyance and absolute frustration. His sister had been going off on him for hours, and wouldn't stop. Yes, it was his fault they were in this mess, but she could at least cut him some slack. If anything, she had been begging him to take her on some sort of adventure, and now she was twisting this on him?

“What do you mean my fault? You were the one begging to travel through the forest. It was you who wanted to take the shortcut. You've roped me into your mess as well! Give me a break!” he screamed back at her.

“If you had actually listened to me for once, we wouldn't be in this mess! Yes, I suggested the shortcut, but then you took the wrong turn! So who is that on?” she snapped. Hansel rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Hansel, I'm starving! It's all your fault!” He groaned, waiting for her to stop talking.

After what felt like hours of walking, they saw something orange and bright from a distance. They walked closer to it, hoping to find some food. “This is an…interesting house. Wait, is it made out of mangoes?” Gretel asked, dumbfounded by the design of the house. Beautiful, ripe mangoes adorned the house. The sun was setting, causing the mangoes to glisten and bask in the light. They seemed perfect, and so tempting. One mango each would be enough to end their hunger. They walked into the house, finding it open. They thought nothing of it, other then that it was weird, and oddly spooky. They grabbed a mango each and started eating away. When they were done, they walked out of the house quietly, and closed the door. Hansel led the way as they started their trek back home, hoping to get back before the sun set.

That was until, a sharp sound pierced through the air around them, a twig snapping underfoot. They jumped, the hairs on their neck rising as they began to instinctively start walking backwards. A voice, soft and familiar, yet still unsettling and worrying, spoke out to them, begging for them to come back. They kept walking back, until a woman emerged. Her grey hair, held together using a clip, gently, yet perfectly falling against her shoulders.

“Oh, hello dearies! Please don't be afraid. I know there are rumors circulating around me, for I am a witch after all, but I promise most are false,” she paused for a moment. “I don't know who is spreading rumors that I eat children?” she rolled her eyes, and then randomly started chuckling. “That's absurd. Now come in! It's getting dark and you children must be lost! I have plenty more… mangoes. And warmth for such tired little souls.”

Hansel and Gretel shared an uneasy glance. They were hungry, but their trail of breadcrumbs would be gone by the morning. Gretel sighed before smiling at the ”witch.“

”Thank you for the offer. It's so cold, and we're so hungry. That's Hansel, and I'm Gretel!“ she shrieked. Hansel covered his ears due to the horrid shriek from his sister. He obviously did not trust this woman. With a sigh, the two walked into the house. The witch offered them some more food, and after some time, she led them to a guest room. She left them for the night by themselves, as they requested for some privacy. They wouldn't talk to each other, as both were mad at each other. While Gretel was sleeping, Hansel couldn't. He was worried, he felt nervous about being in this house with the witch. A slight click echoed through the room, and he laid down, pretending to sleep. It was the witch, he knew she was up to something.

Suddenly, a loud click echoed through the house, followed by a soft, sinister hum. The door they had entered through slammed shut, the locks clicking into place with an unnatural finality. The walls seemed to close in around them, the flickering light of the fire casting an eery glow around the mango adorned house.

The witch's smile, now bitter and sinister widened. ”Now, let's see if you’re as sweet as they say.“

And in that moment, Hansel knew they had walked right into the trap they should’ve seen all along. Gretel awoke with a scream, being tugged by the witch. She smiled at him, ”Stay quiet now. You must know now to trust strangers, no?“ The witch dragged the two to the kitchen, for some reason they were too weak to fight back. The mangoes, they must have been laced with magic. In a surge of adrenaline, Hansel used all his might and shoved the witch into a smoothie maker, but failed. She laughed at the attempt.

”Weak, poorly executed attempt. You cannot stop me now,“ she chuckled. She shoved the two into her smoothie maker, one after the other. The two of them screamed, begging for mercy. She turned on the smoothie maker, after adding chunks of mangoes. The house smelt of burnt sugar, and mangoes. The smoothie maker had swallowed the two siblings whole.

”So…sweet..delicious. Children are so scrumptious," she muttered out, drinking her new, mango and child tasting smoothie.

“do you… really want to touch that?” word war


"Do you really want to touch that,” my best friend's voice emerged from behind me. I turned to see her standing a few feet away, her arms crossed, eyes narrowed with that familiar look of concern. I glanced down at the object she was referring to—a tube of lip gloss. The lip gloss, that was lying on the ground. Incredibly expensive, yet tossed to the side. A little bit of cleaning would make it just as good as new, hopefully. Perhaps disgusting. Okay, very disgusting. The brand name itself stood out. It was expensive, gorgeously, but utterly expensive.

“Yes, of course I am! This is expensive! And girl, I'm broke. My part time job isn't helping me at all. A little cleaning would help it go a long way! Then I could use it until it was done, and maybe even sell it once I'm done. Who knows? Maybe it'll be the best decision I ever make. People go crazy for this stuff, just the bottle. Aeshethics are all the rage nowadays!” My friend looked my way, giving me a disgusted look.

“Just…don't get sick. It looks diseased. Plus, theres some chips and cracks in the bottle. What if it's not safe to apply or use? What if you get like…bubbles and stuff on your lips.” Her words penetrated my skin, and all of a sudden, I acknowledged that this may not be safe, or perhaps the person who lost this might be missing. Her words hit me harder than I wanted to admit. I contemplated putting the gloss back where I found it, or dropping it off at the lost and found. Instead, the clinking of the spare coins in my pocket brought me back to reality. The few spare quarters I had left, the ones I was saving for a bus ride, jingled as a reminder of how desperate I truly was. Desperate times call for desperate measures, I reminded myself. I gave one last glance at the lip gloss, the gold lettering now seeming to glow a little brighter in my mind. Yes, I felt bad for the person who lost their expensive lip product, but hey, finder's keepers, losers weepers! That's their problem. Maybe they shouldn’t have left an expensive bottle up for grabs. The world is so cruel, sorry to say. I'm desperate, and I know it. I wasn’t about to let something like a little dirt and a few cracks stand in my way. The bottle itself was vintage, chic, adorable. I already looked like a broke girl, but this lip gloss was all it would take to elevate my status at school. Yes, my life sounds like a cliche, and like a dumb movie plot. If I say I'm not like the other girls, that's also outwardly cringe. If anything, I'm just outwardly, broke. Like the brokest. So broke I see a cent on the road and I pick it up. To say the least, this lipgloss would be so helpful for my dry, chapped lips.




disclaimer: this is not at all factual or true to me, i saw a video while i was scrolling. in reality, im much more of a germaphobe

March 12th Daily

I Will Burn in This Theatre

The flickering lights and the hum of the ac was clear. The trailers for mindless, random movies had been going on for hours. Esme quietly shifted in her seat, waiting for the movie to start.

The premiere of her movie, the one she had worked herself to the bone for. Put all of her blood, sweat, and tears into it. Her movie, the one that would finally bring her fame. The one that would keep her name in people’s mouths, the movie of the century.

Her movie, about schizophrenia, about a woman trapped by her own mind. Like a mime, in an invisible box. Hallucinating, delusional, and a seemingly alone woman. She was isolated from society, something she had chosen for herself. Esme’s character was a reflection, or she hoped it would be, about the silent suffering of dealing with schizophrenia. She hoped her performance portrayed it well, she wanted it to be realistic. Or as realistic as it could be. People watched in awe, captivated by her performance, as she was of her own. Their eyes were entranced by her raw, enthralling performance. Every word that came out of her character’s mouth encapsulated the audience. She sat there, quietly reciting her lines she had worked so hard to memorize. She fiddled with a little paper in coat pocket, but never took it out. This was special, this was her confession.

The ending credits rolled as people applauded. Her performance, chilling, yet eerily beautiful brought awareness to the situation so many people silently and quietly struggled with. She dedicated herself to have a raw, feeling full emotion, to bring justice to those.

After everyone exited the theater, she sat there in her seat, staring up at the screen.

“What a way to go out,” Esme whispered. Quiet, and inaudible. The faint click, signaling the preemptive closing of the exits. “I told my story.”

She looked around, and grabbed the little slip of paper out of her dusty rose coat. There words she had written days ago, still fresh on the paper. “I will burn in this theatre.” Her confession, her unignorable truth.

She sat there, in the cold and empty theater, all alone as the fire of her very own creation consumed her, and left nothing of her.

just a little note here at the top but i absolutely love this daily. it's what created my love for flowers and the meanings of them, and to this day i'm still fascinated by them, so thanks swc! <3

Sebastian walked into the floral shop to grab the bouquet for his hopefully, soon to be wife. His bouquet, tied with a burgundy bow, her favorite color, and with roses he had handpicked for her. In his eyes, she only deserved the best, most beautiful flowers. “Hello, I'm here to pick up flowers. It should be under the name Sebastian Moore,” he told the lady at the front counter.

“Ah yes! Hello!” she went and quickly grabbed the bouquet before handing it to him. “Is this all right? I can make any possible last minute changes if we did mess something up! Let me know,” she responded, eagerly waiting to see if he needed anything fixed. He looked at the bouquet and smiled, his heart racing with nervousness and excitement.

“It's…perfect,” he replied. The flowers, all combined to make a beautiful, mesmerizing bouquet. He knew his Vivi absolutely adored flowers, but he also knew he adored the sweet, sappy, lovey dovey letters and gifts. His bouquet was made up of flowers she was to him. Flowers she reminded him of. And flowers of how he felt about her. The bouquet consisted of orchids, elder blossoms, dandelions, obviously roses and dahlias, carnations, ambrosias, and one singular pink peony, right in the center, but still concealed. That flower was the most important part. Orchids and elder blossoms reflected her rare beauty, and her compassion towards him and others. Dandelions reflected on both her and his faithfulness to each other, which was so pure and long lasting, and hopefully ever-lasting. The dahlia was a classic, but had to be kept in, as it symbolizes yours to the end. Roses, while common, was only fitting for their anniversary day, and also every day when it came for her. Ambrosias symbolized the love she had for him was returned for the love he had for her. And the carnation, how could he not add the carnation, it symbolized his fascination with her. Innocent fascination of course. And most importantly, the concealed pink peony. The pink peony would be how he would confess he wanted to marry her. The symbol of marriage, a peaceful one. “She's going to love it. You've really outdone yourself, it's amazing! Thank you so much!” He swiped his card on the card reader before he and the shop owner exchanged goodbyes.

He walked to the restaurant and to the table he booked, where he laid the bag of gifts he had gotten her and the bouquet on the center of the table. She walked in at 7:30 sharp, so punctual, which was a reason Sebastian loved her. Her punctuality was so refreshing for him, considering his job as an accountant led to meetings where clients were horribly late. She smiled at him before sitting down, trying to contain her excitement to not make a scene. She set the bag of his gifts down on the table as well, staring at him silently.

He watched her smile, his heart pounding simply at the sight of her. Vivienne, or Vivi as he liked to call her, was the love of his life. She was so beautiful, kind, compassionate, she was the woman he wanted to marry. The way she took her time to make sure everything was just right, the way her eyes sparkled when she was excited, oh how he couldn’t imagine spending his life with anyone else.

“Well my heart, are you going to open your gifts, or are you just going to continue to stare at me?” he asked her teasingly, secretly filled with anxiousness and anticipation. He had spent all month trying to find the books from her wishlist, all the special editions versions, the art versions, you name it, he bought it. He bought her a simple, delicate bracelet, which he thought matched her perfectly. But none of those gifts were as important as the one waiting to be shared between them.

“Sorry, just baffled about how handsome my boyfriend is,” Vivi said as she nodded, her eyes gleaming as she reached for the bag. Her fingers trembled slightly as she unzipped it, revealing a beautifully wrapped book and the bracelet, both items she recognized with a smile. She looked up at him, her eyes filled with love. “Thank you, these are perfect! Now open the gifts I got you, honey!”

“I will later, I promise. But look at the bouquet, isn't it stunning?” he asked her, hoping she would like it. He had put a letter in between some of the flowers for her to read.

“Oh my gosh, this is gorgeous!” she squealed. She grabbed the letter and opened it. It was a love letter with the sweetest words, and a note written at the bottom. After reading what he said, she grabbed her phone and searched up what each flower in the bouquet meant, blushing even more at the meaning of each one. After some time, she found the beautiful pink peony, which she searched up. Her eyes widened, her cheeks now flaming. She turned around, “Sebastian honey, what does this one mean?” She looked up from her phone, only to find him not there. She looked around, trying to find him but he was no where around. Vivienne got up from her seat and pushed in her chair. She stood around looking before feeling a tap on her thigh. She turned around, only to find her lovely boyfriend of four years kneeling on the ground. Her eyes tearing up the moment she saw him. He looked up at her, his eyes filled with sincerity and love.

“My dear Vivi…”


edited for word count: 935 words!

word war

10 min timer. i wasn't able to do this piece justice


“that was the day i died”


That was the day I died. The true horrors of the world finally catching up with me. This world was cruel, merciless, and worst of all, it can't even be hated. The world offers only silence when you scream aid and as you beg, pleasure is taken from your pain. For who could even stop the world. You are forced to endure a life with constant tension. All I did was walk into school. The drills were supposed to help, that's the reason they're in place. Instead, they're useless, purposeless, unavailing. At this point, we were supposed to sit around, trembling and quaking in fear. We are supposed to be protected, and safe in such areas of constant knowledge and schooling, and instead, we were forced to go in fear, our hands shaking, our hearts pounding.

The threat had been made only last week, but the school paid no heed. They were going to do it. Of course they were. But instead, the threat itself was disregarded, cast away like it meant nothing at all. It was shrugged off as another “empty warning” but the problem is, that was what made this whole thing possible. The person knew admin would disregard it, they knew when to strike.


One cannot blame the administration, of course not. How could I blame my sweet, educating science teacher. What could she have done to prevent this? There was nothing she could do. She was forced to sit with us, panicked in the room. She tried to soothe us, ease our pain. She tried to assure us that help would come, that these drills were useful. I pitied her, I truly did. Still having to spew the same lies even in the moment of fear and death hanging around.There was no escape until help arrived, but when would it truly arrive?

I can tell you the answer to that. Too late. It arrived too late. By the time they had arrived, the room had gotten colder, the tears had stopped falling. There was hardly anything left to save. The only thing left of the place, was the building itself.

It only takes five minutes for a life to be lost. Not even just one. So many more can be fit in this time frame itself.

I am now dead, there is nothing I can do to change this fact. My fellow peers, friends, teachers, and I, all of our souls had left this abandoned school. They heard soared up above. The gates of heaven was backed up that day, which is such a sad thing to say.

Everyone has their time to go, that is the fate of us humans. But to go out like this? Especially when it could have been prevented? it's absolutely heart breaking. Heart shattering. This is our fate, but how can our fate be this cruel to us. How ruthless must the world be, to take our lives like that. In such a violent way. We were taken so young. We had so much to live for, so much to do. What more could we have done. We were failed, and it cost us our lives.

That was the day I died. The way my life was taken away from me by this cruel, merciless, ruthless world.

TROPES WEEKLY:

The five tropes I’m choosing are: Damsel in Distress, Rags to Riches, Amnesia, Fake Relationship, and Red Herring

Amnesia:
Pros: These stories itself make for suspense and mystery, as the person has to learn themselves again. Learn their personality and the people they love, who they may have forgotten, leading to new memories. It can also create a fresh start for those who were unhappy with their life before.

Cons: Mostly used for rediscovering and rekindling love, which is so cliche. It also tends to be focused more on romance, rather than character building and adopting a new personality. When used, simple and repetitive struggles with amnesia are used over and over, rather than unique and fitting for the person being described.

101 words

Fake Relationship:

Pros: This trope in books normally leads to a cute, blossoming love story. It also leads to tense, amusing moments as the two characters tend to find themselves in awkward positions. The characters also normally don’t tend to like each other at first, so the sarcasm and bluntness the two have for each other is entertaining to see, especially since it’s obvious the two will fall in love.

Cons: The trope either ends in a cliche love story where the two fall in love. Or worse, one of them dies and the entire thing becomes a sob show, because it’s devastating for the other character. The love between the two characters also just seems purely forced, or an extremely slow, slow burn. It’s always either too fast or too slow. But if executed correctly, it makes for a cute story.

Damsel in Distress
Pros: The female lead, who is the ‘damsel’ finds love as the person who comes to their rescue is normally who they fall in love with. It also shows vulnerability for the character, causing readers and other characters to connect more with the female lead. Normally, this is a distressing and tough situation, where help is needed.

Cons: I honestly hate this trope so I’m biased against it. The trope itself portrays a woman needing help. It implements the ideology of a passive, weak, innocent woman, who needs a “knight in shining armor” to come to her rescue. Don’t get me wrong, sometimes it’s needed and cute, but when the damsel is infantilized or just portrayed as extremely weak, for no reason, as sometimes the damsel grows up sheltered and without a need to be strong, it’s pointless.

Rags to Riches:
Pros: The character is normally from a humble background, who works tirelessly to gain fame and earn money, if for themselves or for someone else. Normally, it is for someone else, which shows selflessness as the character is dedicated to doing this just to make the other person's life better. They’re sacrificing their time to gain riches. It also leaves room for character development.

Cons:
Normally, this trope showcases an unrealistic, extremely quick progression of someone going from rags to riches. While possible for some, for many this is not the case. Some character’s backgrounds don’t match this unrealistic progression, and many authors still do it due to lack of ideas. Some of these stories also portray that financial success leads to personal growth and fulfillment, which most of the time it doesn’t.

Red Herring:
Pros: when done properly, this trope can cause suspense and a change in the plot. If the character is one that’s not expected, or is but the red herring is unexpected, then it causes the reader to pause for a moment and take in the sudden change. Red herrings create a satisfying twist on the story, and causes the readers to also try to solve the new puzzle that's now occurred .

Cons: this trope is predictable as some authors cannot execute it properly. The misdirection and twist may seem forced and just not fit properly. This trope just does not fit certain mystery books, it doesn’t make sense. It is also commonly used in many mystery books to the point where it’s overused, and audiences grow unbothered by them. If not executed with interest, a red herring risks making the story feel convoluted or manipulative, rather than clever and engaging.


Part 2:

It has been two and a half years since Fea Sinclair had gone missing. As the sole heir to the Sinclair estate, and all its worth, the courts were troubled as to whether to take the estate back, or to wait, to see if Fea would return. The public’s obsession with this case had grown, as a two million dollar reward was posted for someone who could find meaningful clues, as the Sinclair family had been renowned in the town. They were the biggest patrons of supporting the arts and educational facilities, and the people needed her back, to carry on the legacy. To make the town reach its full glory. The case had gone cold since week two, not a trace of her leaving willingly or unwillingly could be found. The unrest of everyone caused the police to bring in their last hope, Detective Vince Gallagher. (Thank you big hero six for the last name)

When Vince had arrived at the Sinclair mansion, there was no salvaging the scene. He could only go based off of pictures, but appreciated being able to walk through the house. He could get a feel for the mansion. Fea was an only child, so she was the sole heir. She remained unmarried at the age of 22, which was surprising for someone with her status. Now, at around 24, maybe 25, her date of birth varied from place to place. He walked through her closet, comparing it to the pictures. In there, laid her prized violin. She was a skilled violinist, one whose talent was endless. He found it odd, as many others did, that if she had willingly disappeared, she would’ve taken it with her.

This caused many to think she had been forced out of her home, out of the town. And there was something off about the scene. The house had been left untouched, no signs of forced entry, no indications of a struggle. It didn’t seem like a kidnapping.

Vince then focused on Fea’s inner circle. One name stood out: Harrison Gray, an old family friend and Fea’s personal lawyer. He had been seen at the estate days before Fea disappeared, discussing legal matters with her. According to some, they had been in the middle of a heated argument, but no one knew the details. Vince decided to look into Harrison’s background. It didn’t raise any flags, yet another dead end. But his alibi on the day of Fea’s seemed suspicious. He stuttered with every word, which was unlike him as he was a lawyer. Everything added up, how he had done it. Why he had done it. Everything. Vince arrested him on suspicion, and called it a day.

When writing up his report, he noticed something odd in Harrison’s office. Checks, a bunch of them. He assumed it was for the money laundering scheme his family had been a major part of, but he was very wrong.

Passports that had been dated back to months before, in..his bag?? But they were for a woman, not a man. Who was he producing the passports for? Could she have perhaps have killed Fea? Vince’s heart raced as he flipped through the passports, each one bearing a woman’s name…anagrams of Fea’s name. The dates, the stamps… it was all wrong. How could Harrison have these? The last passport was for a flight overseas, one that was scheduled the day Fea disappeared.
Vince’s mind spun. If Fea wasn’t the one who had disappeared, then who was? He slammed the drawer shut and stood up, the realization hitting him like a freight train. Harrison wasn’t the key to the case, he was just another pawn. Someone else was pulling the strings. And they were still out there.





Part 3:

This is a twist on the story “I Am Not Jessica Chen”

Jenna Chen went to sleep, the paint smeared on her self portrait. She could only wish to be like her cousin, Jessica. Perfect, smart, beautiful Jessica. But she could never be her, she was just plain Jenna. Artistic, smart, but averaged compared to Jessica.


The comparison had always stung, even if she tried to hide it. Jessica had everything Jenna wanted, her confidence, popularity, and a life everyone envied. Jenna spent most of her days in the background, blending into the shadows of her cousin’s bright, flawless life. Jenna, even as a small child, by her parents and relatives was told she was Jessica’s shadow. As a child, Jenna had found it a compliment, but now, it stung. She wanted to be Jenna, not the Jenna living in Jessica’s shadow.
That night, as Jenna drifted off to sleep, she felt a strange, tingling sensation run through her body. It started at the tips of her fingers and spread, creeping up her arms, her legs, and finally to her head, like an electric pulse. It was uncomfortable, dizzying, and just when she thought she might scream, it all stopped. The room was quiet. Too quiet.
When she awoke the next morning, to her surprise, she wasn’t in her house. Her parents were no longer her parents.
When she stumbled out of the room, she caught sight of herself in the hallway mirror, and her heart skipped a beat.
This isn't me.
The reflection staring back was not her—it was Jessica.
Jenna gasped, hands shaking as she touched her face, her hair. She wasn’t imagining it. She was inside Jessica’s body. The body she had envied for so long.
Astounded by this, a smile came upon her face. She could be perfect, she could live as Jessica. She could be perfect, and not be compared to her perfect cousin. She could have the break she needed, the one she so deserved.
She enjoyed her next few days as Jessica, she was enthralled. She had friends, she was rich, she had the respect and admiration of all the teachers.

I wouldn’t trade this for the world.
Every night she went to sleep and awoke as Jessica, she was thankful. This body swap, or whatever it was, made her happy. She felt important, like she was someone. She would never change this, not for anything or anyone.

One night as she went to bed, she screamed, sweat pooling down her forehead as she woke up. A nightmare, that’s all it could be.

But it wasn’t. Jessica was trapped in the body that Jenna now controlled. Jessica’s consciousness gone, what could she do? The skin on Jenna felt tight, weird, eerily unfamiliar.

This wasn’t her. And she knew it. She had to let Jessica out. She had to return to her life.

The choice was excruciating: would she let Jessica back into her own life, sacrificing everything she had come to love about being Jessica? Or would she hold onto the perfect life she had always dreamed of, knowing the cost of her selfishness would be Jessica’s soul?
As Jenna continued to wrestle with the dark, tangled web of her desires, the most haunting truth surfaced: sometimes, the life you want most is the very one that will destroy you.


Part 4:

Lady Evelyn Moreau sat in the shadowy study of her family's vast estate, a mansion that had once been filled with laughter and vibrancy. Presently, the only sounds were the crackling fire and the rustle of the pages in her book. Since her father's passing two years prior, she had found herself alone in this magnificent yet desolate home, with her only companions being her remote guardians and the staff who seldom spoke to her.

One evening, while a storm raged outside, Evelyn observed something strange. The study window, which was always secured, stood slightly open. Her heart raced, she had not touched it, she had refused to. Cautiously, she moved closer, peering through the curtains. There, under the flickering lamplight of the garden, a figure was stirring, casting elongated shadows. The shape appeared to halt and then disappeared into the mist.

Before Evelyn could respond, a sharp knock resounded from the door. Her heart raced. “Lady Evelyn,” a smooth voice called, “I need to speak with you. ”

It was Lucien Hawke, her father's former business associate. He had been visiting more frequently since her father’s demise, claiming to assist with the estate. However, Evelyn had always doubted his motives. He seemed too polished, too manipulative, and there was an unsettling aura about him.

As she opened the door, Lucien entered, his expression inscrutable. “I trust all is well? ” he queried, his gaze sweeping across the room before settling on her. “I’ve come to discuss your inheritance and the future of this estate. ”

Evelyn hesitated. “I was just about to take a stroll in the garden. Is this urgent? ” She endeavored to keep her tone light, yet the discomfort in her stomach gnawed at her.

Lucien smiled, but it lacked warmth. “Actually, yes. It appears there are issues that need your immediate focus. ” He moved closer, his voice dropping to a menacing whisper. “There’s someone in this house you haven’t been made aware of. Someone observing you. ”

Evelyn’s breath caught in her throat. “What do you mean? ”

Lucien’s expression turned colder. “You’ll understand soon enough. I’m not your adversary, Evelyn, but the individuals you trusted. . . they have their own agendas. ”

His words lingered in the air, resembling a threat, yet Evelyn was unsure how to interpret them. “What are you implying? ” she questioned, her voice quivering slightly.

Before he could answer, a voice from behind interrupted. “Lucien, that’s enough. ”

Startled, Evelyn pivoted to face a figure standing in the doorways, James Hawke, Lucien's cousin. She had only met him recently, and their interactions had been laced with cordial niceties and hints of something more profound. A so-called family friend, James had been “keeping an eye on her,” or so he had claimed. Evelyn had placed her trust in him, but now. . . something felt amiss.

“James, what are you doing here? ” she asked, confusion clouding her thoughts.
James entered the room, his gaze fixed on Lucien. “She no longer needs you, Lucien. You’re just wasting your time. ”
Lucien's lips twisted into a smirk. “Do you really believe you can protect her, James? She has already made her decision. ” He faced Evelyn. “You’ll soon discover who your true enemy is, Lady Moreau. ”
Lucien's remarks unsettled her, and Evelyn sensed a rising discomfort, but before she could respond, Lucien had turned and exited, leaving them by themselves in the room.

Evelyn glanced at James. “What’s happening, James? I don’t understand. ”
James smiled, but the warmth didn’t reach his eyes. “Lucien is attempting to manipulate you, Evelyn. He’s had his sights on this estate for years. ”
“I, I don’t know who to believe anymore,” she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
James stepped closer, his presence reassuring. “Trust me,” he said gently. “I’m the one who has been watching over you all this time. I’ll shield you from whatever games Lucien is playing. ”

Yet as James extended his hand to softly grasp hers, an icy tremor traveled down Evelyn’s spine. Something about him, the way he spoke, the manner in which his gaze lingered just a second too long..it felt as if he was playing a character.
Her thoughts raced, and a new notion began to form: What if James wasn’t the supporter he seemed to be?
A sudden insight hit her, James had been too conveniently present, too flawless in his timing. Was he part of the scheme from the beginning? Had she been unknowingly ensnared in a manipulation game between the two men?
As the tempest raged outside, Evelyn realized she was caught in a tangle of deceit, uncertain of who was genuinely on her side and who was her foe. She had played the role of the damsel in distress, but she was no longer certain who the actual villain was or if they were all simply playing their assigned roles.


2685 words ! <3

EDIT MY GRAMMAR IS KILLING ME..

oh and credits to my friends for the names in the stories, however they probably got them off of google or something. no clue. :,)

hi! critique for @/Lili-in-the-valley

I just wanted to start this off by saying this piece is so detailed, and I love your descriptions of items and colors. It's so pleasant and everything just flows! i absolutely loved reading this!

We have watched you, for humans grow nearly as slow as humans.

I can't tell whether this was a literary choice or if it was just a mistake. You're comparing humans to humans, which doesn't make for a good comparison. I would suggest comparing this to an animal. However, I would say comparing this to something else, like technology would be much more powerful? This line reminds me of AM from I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream, so perhaps that's why I'm bringing in technology.

These are the good memories, the ones I am happy to carry on. I have worse ones, whom I would not feel bad if I forget, but I never will.

You referred to the memories as “whom” which normally is for people. Changing this to' which' may be more fitting, as memories are things.

Sometime soon, though, I will leave the place you call earth and all of the memories, the good and the bad and the horrific will go too.

Your commas here are slightly placed wrong. I would say to do this ‘Sometime soon, though, I will leave the place you call Earth, and all of the memories, the good, the bad, and the horrific, will all go too.’ I may be wrong, but this is how I've been taught. Of course, this is up to you, but you mentioned grammar being something to focus on, so I thought I would mention this. Also, I changed ‘earth’ to ‘Earth’ as planets are capitalized! I do really love this sentence though, this is so beautiful from the tree's perspective!

When I fall, whether it be by storm, man or else, where will they live?

I feel like instead of just the word else, you should say, “storm, man, or something else.” Leaving it as just “else” makes it sound off, and doesn't fit the flow of the sentence. Of course, this is just a suggestion, you do not have to take it. I just feel like this makes it sound a flow a lot better!

All I know is my branches began to turn towards the sun many generations ago.

This could be grammatically phrased better. Something like, ‘All I know is that my branches began to turn towards the sun many generations ago.’ This sentence doesn't flow as nicely as the others, and I think the use of ‘that’ will help!

I will leave this place you call earth

Personally, I feel like the word leave doesn't fit your earlier use of vocabulary you've used before. I think you could say “depart from this place you call Earth.” Also, not to be annoying, but Earth is capitalized! I know I pointed this out earlier but still.

This is a beautifully written piece of work! I just think your grammar needs a quick look over! There's also some words you could change to make this sound more poetic or artistic, but this is completely up to you.

critiquitaire for my piece that i want to use in the writing comp!

links here:

https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/808229/?page=2#post-8424215 (scroll a bit)

Kyron sat on the hard mattress tilted his head to watch it’s movements.

I understand where you're going with this sentence, but it doesn't make sense. Maybe something like ‘Kyron sat on the hard mattress and tilted his head to watch its movements.’ also, ‘its’ in this case has no apostrophe! You could also say, ‘Kyron sat on the head mattress, his head tilted so he could watch its movements,’ or something like that!

They were all empty except for rowdy teenagers getting drunk

A comma is needed here after ‘They were all empty,’ as it gives grammatical clarity.

Jealousy burnt in his gut but he pushed it far down it drowns alongside his fear and guilt

I have no idea what this sentence means, you probably have to edit this for clarity. A comma is needed after ‘gut.’ I don't understand what you mean by “pushed it far down it drowns alongside his fear and guilt.” maybe add a filler word of some sort??

The memories of before Kyron was this are covered in a thick fog.

This sentence needs to be edited for clarity. I don't have any suggestions as I don't understand what the point of this sentence is, as it doesn't make sense. If you need help with this sentence, let me know! I just need some background information or what it is you're trying to get at!

“Zara you're dead.”

Comma needed after Zara!

Boo hushed him

'Hushed' doesn't make a lot of sense here. Instead, I would go with ‘shushed’ even though it doesn't match the vocabulary use from earlier parts of your story, but ‘hushed’ refers to the way you speak, or a group of people. Of course, you can leave it as this, I just don't think this matches as much.

He made a habit of watching the headlines, not so interested in the increasing global tension but on the grisly crimes.

A comma being added after tension makes the sentence sound a lot more interesting. It also just sounds better!

They stood for five minutes. The wind blew the leaves, making them rustle. It was warm enough that Kyron could bath in the remaining light. A few animals passed by. Bugs began to crawl up Zara's ear, her body, and make it their feast. Other bugs, flies and worms came and went, never the same one twice.

This is a beautiful paragraph! I really like the details, but it sounds choppy, as does the rest of the story. Also, I believe ‘bath’ should be changed to ‘bathe’ ! Also, saying “Zara's ear, her body, and make it their feast” doesn't sound write. The use of commas here needs to be slightly tweaked. I think “Bugs began to crawl up Zara's ear and body, making it their feast.” or something of the sort.

Your sentences are very detailed, but they're also choppy. It's just full thought after full thought. Of course, if that's the vibe you're going for then that's great! I just thought I would let you know in case you didn't realize. You also tend to change what tense you're writing in, but I do have to run (at the time i'm writing this) so i'll continue critiquing later <3

Under the Moonlight, She Listened

I told the moon about you.

The ever-so-gleaming, full moon. And the moon, she listened. Her soft light shimmering, as if her gaze was gentle, delicate almost. She had done this many times before. She was up in the sky, every night. Your story was just one among many told to her. But she would remember, I knew she would. She would slightly change, matching the mood of my story. Every time my heart would ache, she would become paler. Her sympathy, her understanding, brought me so much comfort. Her words, left unspoken as she had no mouth, which were reflected through her changes, were so comforting. Almost like a warm hug.

I told her about you, and she stayed until I had finished. I told her about your smile, so heavenly, so charming. I described your soothing presence, which brought me so much warmth, so much comfort. The sparkle in your eyes, which I so fondly loved, and now painfully missed. At the mention of it fading, she became paler, matching the twinge and ache in my heart. I talked about your laughter, how it was so sweet, like the taste of honey. The sound, so melodic, yet now bittersweet. Oh, how I would do anything to hear it again, to feel it for the first time.

Now when I think about you, I feel a pang. I've lost you. The moon, she understood that. I asked about the rumor, about her and the sun. She refused to respond, nor did she change. Perhaps she felt indifferent towards the loss of him, and I fear that may be how I become when thinking of you. She sensed the shift in my voice, tears forming in my eyes, my words being choked out. She felt the absence I carried, maybe because she too had felt it before. Her words, still so silent, yet so profound. She embraced me when the tears started falling, and I thanked her, missing you in a way where I would only let the dark sky, and the bright moon witness. I missed you with every breath I took. I truly did, but I could never have you again, and the moon knew that too.

I told her how I could never have you, no matter how much I fought. No matter how much I tried,
You will never be mine.

It’s our fate, it’s our destiny. The two of us were like two stars. Ones that shared the same sky, but were forever separated by our fate.

We weren’t meant to end up together, but it’s so cruel—how the world made us meet, made us fall in love, and now broke me and you. Our love was a lotus blooming in the desert—so fragile and unsustainable, but beautiful in its fleeting existence. Delicate and pure, yet forever strained under the weight of what we could never change.

We knew we could never have each other; we had talked about it before. Argued about it even. There was only one way for us to be together, and I could never do what needed to be done. No matter how much I loved you, no matter how much you loved me, I wasn’t strong enough. I couldn’t make the choice.

And even now, I still don’t think I can make that decision. No matter how much it is that I long for you—I will never be able to make the choice to stay with you.

So maybe I deserve to feel this way. Deserve to spend my nights crying, my heart aching for you. How I would love to wake up to your face every morning. Even now, I cry for you. I’m starting to realize that you were truly never mine to have.

For that one night, when I needed someone the most, she was my companion. She was there, not as a therapist, but there to help the lonely, the miserable. The ones who deserved love, and couldn't find it. And me, someone who found love, only to lose it. She acted like a dear old friend, but I didn't know her at all. Who knows the moon? A celestial being, a beautiful one at that, so complex and complicated, who could truly understand that? She reminded me of you in that aspect. She truly did.


When I was done, she stayed there. Hung in the sky, so beautiful, so pure. Her silence made me feel loved, only second best to yours. In her silence, I found solace. In yours, I found myself miserable.


Author's note: Hi! So, this is just a story of someone having to process the breakup of a forbidden relationship. I tried to convey a sense of emotional turmoil, of the relationship ending because of someone having to make a choice—one that was really not theirs. I personally feel like I like my use of commas, but the em dashes in that one paragraph, which may seem odd as they were suddenly added, and that's why I'm pointing it out, are necessary. That’s my most emotional paragraph, I believe. I recently learned that em dashes help create a sudden, more impactful pause than a comma, and I felt it was needed there, but not in any other paragraph. To make it sudden, to make it more emotional.

I first wrote this piece for the March 10th daily and then loved it too much to let it rest as something unfinished. I decided to use it as my writing competition entry. The prompt was so beautiful, I had to try and do it justice!

759 words, author's note 171

There’s a thud at your front door, releasing you from your thoughts. Your entire kitchen counter has some various amounts of flour sifted on it, and you have frosting and buttercreams on your cheeks. You could only hope that someone could save you from this misery…the misery that is well, baking for your thanksgiving party.
You open the door, a soft creak becoming audible. There, an envelope, and a box…of some kind..lays at your feet. Weird, you didn’t have any packages for the day. You open the letter..and it’s a recipe? For the chocolate chip cookies, which was going to have a good amount of frosting on each one, and an additional cupcake recipe. Just what you needed. The recipe reads..

“Dear untalented baker,

Your attempts at baking are both…humorous and also terrifying. It should not be so hard to sift flour into a bowl, truly. Please explain to me how you’ve ended up with flour all over your kitchen countertops. But fret not, for your fairy godmother is here, and with two recipes and a box full of ingredients. You truly cannot mess this up now..but I wouldn’t put it past you.

Cookie + Frosting Recipe:
Should yield about 35 cookies, but then again…you really are something. And I see you’ve already made frosting…so go with that. It’ll be painfully sweet, but you don’t have time to whip something else up.
2 eggs, with the shell carefully cracked off. But of course, if you don’t like someone, sprinkle in egg shells, specifically for their batch. It’ll make them cry…with well choking.
2 cups of unsweetened or semi sweet chocolate chips
2 teaspoons of vanilla extract, more if you want to give someone an experience they’ll never forget
1 teaspoon sea salt, yes SEA salt dear. Not your plain salt..yours is inedible.
1 cup of unsalted, soft at room temperature butter.
1 cup of brown sugar
3 cups all purpose flower, truly for all purposes. Might get the stain of the frosting dye out of your cheeks.
1 teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder, and yes darling they’re two very different things.

Instructions:
Preheat the oven to 375 degrees now. Do it right now, I’m watching
In a bowl, pour in your dry items, such as baking powder, soda, and flour. Mix it all in and leave it to the side
Carefully mix in the butter and sugar together.
Again, very carefully, beat in the eggs and vanilla extract, just a dash. Unless you hate a certain someone!
Mix the two bowls (dry and wet ingredients) and add in your chocolate chips.
Shove them into the oven and start hoping that you didn’t mistake the salt for the sugar.

And you’re done…
But by the time you see this you won’t have the time to make cupcakes, so I’ll come with them ready. And salt instead of sugar in three of the cupcakes, for the people you dislike. Ooh..and eggshell bits. Very yum.

See you there in a bit, and I’m sure you can guess who this is, can’t you?

Goodbye untalented baker,
See you in 45 minutes, even though the party starts an hour and a half from now. You need all the help you can get."