Daily 3: 2024-03-03
word count - 633 words

Fairy Tales:
From the spirits below,
the Archetypes have risen.
As Wanderers fall
from the world above.

Guided to safety
One by one.
Though only time will tell
what's truly to come.

The magical essence
that lies in its core.
Is rooted deep within its heart,
controlling the realms as we know.

Keys lay scattered
Hidden across the realms.
Whether it be a poison apple
or pixie dust, no one can prevail.

The light shines bright,
a fire's spark guiding the way.
The luminant glow's sight
is where the treasure may lay.

With three wishes to go,
and the guessing of names.
We stand united to get through
the day.

We stand united, with magic by our side.
And with that power we hold
We'll come back into the light.

Fantasy
Monsters may lurk
in surrounding areas.
But our hearts shine bright,
even in the night.

We are brave and bold,
yes we are ready,
To fight.
To fight 'till the end.

Fallen under attack,
one step after the other.
Preparations being made
as we make our way
Through the treacherous
forest.

Queen Este Dubyou Cee,
Queen Este Dubyou Cee!
We are here,
and ready for the war.

Monsters may lurk
in the areas surrounding us.
As their hordes make way
through the forest.

From the Creative Overlord.
Where No Time comes in to fight.
Lack of Confidence, makes its
way through the night.

Oh we are the knights!
Yes we are the knights
who will fight through the night,
as we make our way through
this endless nightmare.

Monster after monster,
day after day.
We stay strong for
our queen.

We stay strong
and we fight with all our might
for our
Queen Este Dubyou Cee!

Poetry
The wind blows
through the barren land.
The plants weep,
as the sun sets.

Why does the world
seem like its ending?
Why do the plants act
if all hope is gone?

Through the spring time,
with love and care.
We will grow back, and
Restore.

Through days and nights,
as the sun rises and set.
With the light of dawn,
and the darkness of dusk.
We fall.

But we pick ourselves up,
hand in hand.
We work together,
yeah we take our stand.

One seed at a time,
a little soil here and there.
Regrowth is not a one-person
Thing.

We work together,
each and every day.
We share our worries
in hopes of a better day.

Tomorrow is bright,
with a future not so clear.
But all we know,
that everything will be ok.

The flowers will bloom,
with the help of all of us.
We stand united,
undefiant,
we'll make it through this mess.

Not alone,
but together.
As a field of flowers,
that all come together.

Sci-Fi
One light shines
in the middle of the room.
It's vibrance,
strikes us with fear.

The world seems as if it's on fire,
as its power seeps through the cracks.
The AI has come,
and it's ready to take over.

We stand tall,
amongst our troubles.
From near and far,
here we've gathered.
Only time will tell,
if we, can get out of this mess
Alive.

Despite it all,
we stand,
yeah we stand together
to stay strong.
We're stronger together,
than we'll ever be alone.

So today is the day to take stand.
The power with us,
though it lies very deep.
It conceals us from evil,
although it glitches reality.

The battle has just begun,
a war is soon to come.
But we'll make it out of
there, together.

Our wits, our strength, our minds
work together,
One forever.
We never knew the world
would turn into what its become,
we'll hack the server.

And bring the light.
We'll bring the world back to
the way it was,
and set things right.

Phoenix's creativity

Daily 2 anthems

Hi-fi

Twixt the pages shall we roam
In the street great pinnacles of creativity
Loom over us and cry out for glory
Glory to this sacred cabin
The history of humanity
Empires and languages and the footprints they leave
We are a land of ideas and creativity
We will not be scared of the new
A challenge is set out before us
So pick up your quill because I know you have a story
Put on your boots, walk through this town with me
We’ll leave our footprints here
Pick up a chisel, we’ll carve up these rocks
And we will not be forgotten
Don’t forget your history
Good or bad, remember they were people
And one day we’ll be history too,
Legends they will sing of.


(disclaimer, this one is really depressing abou death and not being wanted)
Tragedy
sins

Come with us and you’ll be safe
But safety’s never been thing you knew
Your world threw you to the wolves,
Your only guides here are strangers
Find a hand that you can hold
Walk through these woods together
Be alone when you need but never lonely
The world seems black and dismal
You miss your homeland though you can never go back
And your sorrows outnumber the leaves on the trees
Take shelter in a story
Because real life isn’t what you hoped
Trace the letters and decipher their meanings
Make up a story so you can pretend you’re not here
Tell stories with happy endings because you’ll never get one
And lay awake wondering, does anyone miss you?
Does anyone tell your story? Or are you forgotten?
Climb to the top of a tree and scream at the world
What are you screaming for
Don’t you know it never listens?
You are not out of the woods and you never will be
Abandon all hope and lay in the dirt now
In the soil your body will wither
A seed will take root and a tree will grow in you
Bark growing over your mouth and taking the voice you’ll wish you used more
Quiet now so quiet now
So…quiet


Fairy tales

Timeless tales of magic
Lessons for the children to learn
Wicked queens and gentle princesses
Kindness rewarded and evil ones punished
That’s what we strive for in fairy tales
Lost in these pages, swimming in ink
A magical land all around us that we can never escape
Stand in front of the mirror upon the wall
And we ask it: will we be the greatest writers of all?
Run fast now and do not stumble
For the queen sent the huntsman to take your heart
But he is kind and he has told you to run
Follow the dwarves to the mines in the mountain
For riches and jewels you shall unearth with your pickaxe
But grab paper and pencil too so you may unearth stories
Deep in these woods we journey
To find happy endings




Thriller

On gossamer wings we rise into the sky and shout:
We are here and we will never be crushed
We are the insect–people of Thriller
Our abilities should make you stare in awe
We have been here forever nearly as old as stories
We will be here much longer and isn’t that exciting?
Our voices carry loud and proud in the walls of our academy
We are scholars and we are soldiers and we are storytellers
We have poets and playwrights
and all sorts of writing to bring you to the edge of your seat
Oh Thriller you keep us on the edge of our seats
In the hallowed walls of this academy
Where strange things lurk unseen in the shadows
Our insect features will scare those cowards
But we shall know no fear
We’ll find what’s hidden in those shadows
And let our writing shock the world


daily march 5

Continuation of sword of summer chapter 5

Personally, I liked the idea of my life being spared. “Magnus, no,” Randolph ordered me. “You cannot let him have it.” Now kids, if anybody ever tells you to let Satan’s fashion consultant burn you alive for a hunk of river garbage, you should always say no, thanks, I’m good.
I looked down at the weird hunk of metal. “I mean…” I said to Satan’s fashion consultant– Dalton, that was a good name. “I know rich dudes like you love to steal from homeless people, but seriously, you could definitely get a much cooler sword somewhere else.”
Dalton seemed to burn hotter. “You are trying my patience, puny mortal.” The heat made me wince. I’ve got no problem putting out candle flames with my fingers and holding lit matches and coals. But this fire felt like it wanted to steal all the oxygen in my body.
“Randolph, I’m going to give him the sword,” I said, stepping closer to Dalton, the pain getting worse.
“No! Don’t let him win. Use the sword, fight him.”
“Are you crazy? Did you not see him melt those cars!?”
Dalton laughed. “He’s right, Dr. Chase. The child of Summer cannot possibly defeat me.”
“Did you just call me a sweet summer child?” I demanded. Nobody calls me that. “Wh-what do you want with it anyway?” I asked, hating how much my voice shook.
Despite the horrible insult, I was about ready to hand the sword over, when suddenly I heard a girl with a British accent. “Ha-wi,” she said, or something like that and Dalton winced as if struck. I looked at the girl, certain I hadn't seen her throw anything. There stood a girl with caramel colored hair, wearing a leather jacket and holding a staff and some weird boomerang thing. “Oy, get behind me, you two. Carter!”
A falcon swooped down and as if the day hadn’t been weird enough, it morphed into a boy.
“That’s not Egyptian,” the boy, Carter said.
“What’s going on?” I asked. “Can we please just give the nice man his toy and go home alive?”
“Magnus…I…I thought it wasn’t real. Just a rumor,” Randolph said.
“Thought what?” The two strange kids fought Dalton together.
“Hey, we need some of that Norse sword stuff here!”
“Magnus, we don’t just have the blood of Vikings. You and I are descended from an Egyptian Pharaoh.”

daily march 8th warning mentions abuse and murder


Dear Madame Alexe Katherina Popova, you lived over a century before I was born, in a time and place where societal rules and laws restricted your rights and the rights of other women. I live in a time and place when we boast about having come very far with women’s rights, and yet so many of us who are women or born as and seen as female, we come to assume that at some point someone is going to try to hurt us. And while the system we have in place today to help women and girls out if somebody is hurting or ab*sing them is not perfect, it is far better than what life was like in your time. Today we have ab*se hotlines, but for you and the women you helped, there wasn’t anything like that. There is a time and a place for words and conversation, but the women you helped were viewed as inferior to men, meant to be obedient and unable to escape. It is a big thing to take anyone’s life, and it is not something that should be taken lightly. I will not call you innocent, and I hope that if circumstances had been different you could have had better methods. but I have heard stories of the d*mestic ab*se that happens even in my own city and the d*aths. And at the end of it all, I am glad that when you died you knew you had likely saved so many women from similar fates.

In-Cabin Activities 002: 100 words, 1 story

i. 100 words, in-cabin daily
He’d been sitting like this for hours.
Tears had crusted and dried on his face, tears he hadn’t bothered to wipe away.
How could she? How could she do that? Say this?
He tapped the screen of his phone to stop it from dimming and scrolled down to her message again, hoping that maybe it would change, or maybe she’d corrected it with an explanation.
Nope. Nothing.
Maybe she really had meant it.
He’d thought they were friends.
Shoving the phone away, he watched it clatter to the floor.
It was probably just him being dramatic.
But still. It hurt.

(back to table of contents: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7831826/ )

Date UTC: March 3rd
Time Comp. UTC: 11:52
Prompt Sum.: Write 100 word national anthems for your cabin and 1-3 other cabins
Point Value: 100 per anthem
Extra Points?: n/a
Total Points: 200
Word Count: 200 exactly

Fan-fi: 100/100
Fanfiction is our pride
Order we must find
Canon is our sacred authority
All trespassers we shall bind

We condemn all who do not conform
We protect canon with our lives
We weave fanfiction well
It is toward order that we strive

We rebels hate being bound
Life has much more to offer
If canon does us wrong
If it slaps us in the face
We’re not afraid to challenge the author

Who cares about the canon?
Creativity is supreme
No matter what you think is right
No matter what you crown correct
We’re not afraid to oppose the regime

Fantasy: 100/100 (what are the odds-?)
Queen Este Dubyou Cee is in peril
Her kingdom is under fire
As knights of the kingdom
Our duty is simple
Protect the kingdom through all the myre

Our duty is simple
Protect the kingdom through every toil
Stand guard over our native soil
We shall never stop
We shall come on top

Our duty is simple
Defeat the monsters that siege
Should they breach our walls
We shall make them regret
We shall make them plead

The queen is in peril
Our homeland is under fire
As knights of the palace
We shall raise a chalice
In victory eventually

129 words - sci-fi

A great world, a wonderful sight
The cabins stretch on through eternal night
Through violet and rose, poetry and prose
They all fall together under one plight

All footsteps are heard, all movements are known
And through our great database all is shown
In cabins and wars, in high and low scores
Oh, everything's here, not a piece is alone

A traitor is here, a traitor is seen
They try and disrupt our orderly scene
Our work is destroyed, we're left in the void
Of chaos and messes and what had once been

But we must not fret, for here we stand strong
Alone in the basement, our task stretches long
The AI shall fall, we'll reclaim it all
Until we can right what had once been put wrong!

tragedy 130 words

O come, come awaken,
The tragedy befalls!
O come, come awaken,
To terror, you're enthralled

The Chosen have been taken,
The rest are left appalled,
But you are one of many,
So many who've been trawled.

O come, come and walk here,
Keep walking to your doom,
O come, come and walk here,
Into this fatal room

The Chosen have been taken,
The rest are left appalled,
But you are one of many,
So many who've been trawled.

O come, come and challenge,
The death that beckons you
O come, come and challenge,
Maybe we'll make it through?

The Chosen have been taken,
The rest are left appalled,
But you are one of many,
So many who've been trawled.
But you are one of many,
The Taken take them all!

3/3/2024
anthem daily
THANK YOU AMERICA AND MALI AND ANDORRA!!

thriller

i bless my ancestors three
mantis, butterfly, and dragonfly
through the perilous night
oh, what shone through the dark?
but the wing of your mighty insect
flying swift through the skies
and the open valley of the mountains
above the seas and below the canyons
for i am the only remaining daughter of thrill
free and full of thrill for years to come,
free and full of thrill i will be
catching the wind and gliding through trees
dancing with the currents and singing with the breeze
free and full of thrill i will be
mantis, butterfly, and dragonfly
i bless my ancestors three

poetry

oh, the ink of my paper
and the sweat on my brow
at your call am i, great poets of old
the sweet song of your words,
carrying through the valley lost

the spring breeze tells that nature's first green is gold
drifting through the fields of flora, bold
my quill flickers across my parchment
telling of an once bright beauty
whose majesty was lost as quick as the tides go
at your call am i, great poets of old

we shall all be united one day,
one person, one goal, one faith
alas, my parchment beckons
and i must leave,
lost as quick as the tides go

Thriller
Somewhere far away
There is a place where we can stay
To train our skills and grow
To learn all there is to know
Where we proudly display
Our wings and our antennae!
This is why we’re here to say
We love the Academyyyyy,
The Academyyyyy! (Hey!)

Insect-humans we may be
Our unique society
Climbs its way up to the sky
With dragonflies zooming high
And mantises roaming free
Butterflies perch in ev’ry tree
We are all so glad to be
Here at the Academyyyyy,
The Academyyyyy (Whee!)

Far from the hateful eyes
And those who wish for our demise
Fluttering wings will all take flight
Together we'll soar, forever bright
The tension may rise
But our hope never dies!
So tonight, hear our battle cries!
Long live the Academyyyyy,
The Academyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy!

Fan-Fiction
(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh)
Stories are told again and again
Passed from parent to child, from friend to friend
(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh)
New versions are made
New tales are created
We must ensure they don’t become outdated!

Keeping the fandoms all in line
We never stray
We waste no time
Under our care, fanfics align
To diverge is a crime!

(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh)

(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh)

(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh)
Canon is sacred, the truth we guard
To preserve and protect, no matter how hard
(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh)
It’s our destiny
To shape creativity
Define the bounds of artistic liberty!

Keeping the fandoms all in line
We never stray
We waste no time
Under our care, fanfics align
To diverge is a crime!

(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh)

(Fanfiction Variance Authority, oh-OH-oh…)

Mythology
Through the mist, our hero stands,
In a world of silence, where fate commands,
Whispers in the fog, voices three,
Guiding our path, towards destiny.

Moonlit, Luna, and Reese we praise,
In their presence, our spirits raise,
Bound by destiny, through the haze,
In their light, we find our ways.

A labyrinth of dreams, a maze untold,
In curiosity's grasp, our story unfolds,
With silver aura, they beckon near,
To embark on quests, without fear.

Moonlit, Luna, and Reese we praise,
In their presence, our spirits raise,
Bound by destiny, through the haze,
In their light, we find our ways.

In the ancient temple, their voices unite,
Guiding our hero through the night,
Secrets revealed, mysteries unfurl,
In the embrace of the goddess trio's whirl.

Moonlit, Luna, and Reese we praise,
In their presence, our spirits raise,
Bound by destiny, through the haze,
In their light, we find our ways.

As we awaken, the journey begins,
With courage in our hearts, and faith within,
Moonlit, Luna, and Reese, forever we'll stand,
For in their guidance, our destinies are planned.

Script
From behind the stone skene, we stand,
In the Script Theatron, a theatrical land,
Excitement fills the air, hearts beating fast,
As we prepare to bring legends of the past.

With chitons donned and masks in place,
Together we'll weave tales, with grace,
Alia, Snowy, Pepper, our guides in the fray,
For the show of a lifetime, we're ready to play.

Amidst the amphitheater, crowds gather near,
Butterflies dance, as the hour draws near,
Alia's grin, Snowy's encouragement, Pepper's cheer,
Inspire us all, dispelling every fear.

With chitons donned and masks in place,
Together we'll weave tales, with grace,
Alia, Snowy, Pepper, our guides in the fray,
For the show of a lifetime, we're ready to play.

In the midst of the chorus, united we stand,
Collaborating, creating, hand in hand,
As we journey back to Ancient Greece's light,
Shaping the story, with all our might.

With chitons donned and masks in place,
Together we'll weave tales, with grace,
Alia, Snowy, Pepper, our guides in the fray,
For the show of a lifetime, we're ready to play.

So let the curtains rise, let the spotlight gleam,
In the Script Theatron, we'll fulfill our dream,
For in the realm of mythology, we hold the key,
To shape our destiny, for all eternity.

daily no. 4

4 and 4 (past tense and 2nd person)

you stared at the magical book floating ahead of you. it had a purple glow. hesitantly, you walked to it. you reached her hands towards it, and lifted the book. it was surprisingly light in your arms. you decided to examine the book, and you noticed ancient runes scribbled messily on the spine. it looked as if someone decided to write something at the end, something that wasn't planned. you squinted at the runes. you couldn't understand it. you decided to flip open the pages. there, there were words that you could finally understand. spells upon spells upon spells. things you could perform to others. at last, revenge. you continued to read the book, up until the very end, when you finally reached the end page. however, the building started to shake. bricks fell. you quickly closed the book and ran away.
you rushed back on the path you took before, step by step. you landed home, with the spellbook still clutched in your hands. you opened up your bookshelf. plenty of other old novels filled up the shelves, and you switched your newly attained book with another one. you sat down in an old, creaky chair, and read. this book talked about herbology. you realized that you were missing something for a potion of revenge that you just learned. you leave your house, and wander into the forest, walking along a bumpy trail. you picked up a dark purple leaf and several withered roses and stuffed them into a pouch. you continued to explore the forest, along with collecting materials. finally, you decided that you gathered enough, and walked back home. you stepped over the gnarly roots of the old trees, along with the eaves of the ancient plants.
after you walked back home, you noticed the book that you were reading about herbology earlier was missing. your heart dropped. you glanced at your bookshelf and noticed that the newly obtained book was also gone. you looked around and started to panic, and blood rushed to your head. who came into your house?

344 words <3

I looked back behind me, and still saw no one. Just my own muddy tracks. I let out a heavy sigh. I had been travelling for days at that point and was getting sick and tired of the loneliness and silence. When I looked ahead, the only thing I saw was the dirt road, stretching endlessly past the horizon. With hunched shoulders, I had continued forward. Not that I had a choice. I couldn't leave the road, there was some invisible barrier blocking me. And I was too far gone to head back. Walking along that road gave me a lot of time to think. I wondered how many others had fallen to the trap. The road that had seemed so inviting had quickly turned to a nightmare.
There I was, dragging my feet through the dirt, my head hung low. I felt so miserable and hopeless. I nearly gave up. But that was when I heard the sound of footsteps behind me. I remember turning, eager for the company of another human being. But the man behind me wasn't human. Well, he was but- he was so much more than that.
He placed a hand on my shoulder and spoke to me. He spoke so kindly. Maybe it was just because I was so starved for human interaction that I listened, but it was more than that. He had the kind of voice that when he spoke, you listened. He offered to take my pack for me and carry the burden. At first, I was hesitant but after a moment, I realised I had nothing to lose. Besides, he seemed trustworthy enough.
So I handed my pack over to him. He took it, letting out a grunt at the weight of it. But he didn't complain. Instead, he fell into step with me. As we walked, he talked. He asked about me. Why I was here and other similar questions. I answered with reluctance at first but as we continued on our way my tongue loosened and I found myself talking to him as I would have talked with an old friend.
After an hour or so of walking, he asked me why I was still here. I was confused and asked what he meant. He responded, asking how come I was still walking along the road, when all the riches and glory had faded away long ago. I told him how I couldn't escape it and tried to cross the edge of the road to the green grass on the other side to prove it. The invisible barrier held me back.
Then the man held out his hand and asked if I wanted to leave. Of course, I responded. Who wouldn't want to leave this place?
Take my hand, the man spoke softly. I took a deep breath and placed my hand in his. He started walking towards the edge of the path, where he halted. Do you trust me? He asked, staring into my eyes. I hesitated, unsure for a moment, before nodding.
He took a step closer to the edge, I mimicked his actions. He took another, I closed my eyes and followed, trusting him completely. When I opened them again, I was surprised to find myself standing in a beautiful flower field, surrounded by people clothed in flowing white tunics and gowns. The road was nowhere in sight.

hey

2 = present tense, 2 = first POV

This is some character-building for my character Collin in the most recent novel I'm working on

Daily #4 (469 words):

Today, I am alone. Like I've always been.

There's something about the cold that's unforgiving. Something about the way the gravestones seem to turn their heads to stare at me, mouthing the word ‘madman’ to their neighbors. Something about the way I locate the invisible trail like a minotaur's yarn, tugging me toward the unfinished business.

I have felt this yearly. Misery is everybody's unfinished business.

I trace my fingers around the epitaph of my mother's gravestone. ‘Harborer of knowledge, loving mother and wife. Lost in the Raid of 2225.’ The words are heavier than the granite slab separating me from her remains. The words were heavier than the coffin that was lowered into the ground 25 years ago. Behind me, the decaying willows shiver in the wind, as if shaking their heads in disapproval.

'What a shame,' the trees whisper. ‘Collin, you could’ve saved them if you hadn't run.' I glare at the willows, hands clawing into the dirt.

“They told me to run,” I cried. “They told me to.” Maneuvering my shoulder, I chuck the glob of soil at the trees. It comes up short.

'Collin, there's a reason you're alone.' The wind begins to pick up the pace, and the willows oscillate with greater conviction. ‘You’re just like a cuckoo. Killing others to save yourself.'

The first scraps of snow tumble down from the clouds. Accumulating in my unbrushed hair, the snowflakes burrow until they stab my scalp. Reaching for the sheath in my belt, I retrieve my calstone dagger and strike it against the gravestone.

“I'm not a killer. I'm not a madman. I'm not, I'm not, I'm not…” The friction against the granite finally lights the dagger. Against the icy backdrop, the calstone dagger glows an incandescent orange. “I don't think I'm crazy! But that doesn't mean I'm okay, I'm…”

'You're worthless.' A cascade of hail blinds me from the graveyard scene. ‘You’re nothing but a convict, always running, always looking behind your back, always…' Wisps of ice twist in circles, forming a frigid whirlwind around me. ‘Always wanted on the posters, but never wanted by the masses.’

I wave the dagger in the air, trying to melt the avalanche of frost entrapping me, but it's no use. “I'm not a convict. I didn't do anything. I didn't do anything…” Ice flutters into my mouth, and soon, a glacier is shoved down my throat. Gasping for air, I croak out a visceral scream:

“IT WASN'T MY FAULT!”

I blink the tears away. Hyperventilating, I look around the graveyard. The trees are still. The skies are clear. Lowering the dimming dagger, I sheath the weapon and gradually rise.

“It wasn't my fault.” Calming my breathing, I place one hand on the gravestone and wait for my mother's assent.

She does not respond.

She never does.

Daily - March 4th, 2024
308 words
Present Tense, First Person POV

I pull in a shaky breath, forcing myself to wrap my fingers around the smooth, worn doorknob. Every blood vessel in my body pounds, and my stomach rides a self-constructed rollercoaster of flips and flops. I’m terrified of what I’m about to do. I only decided to do it a few days ago, and I don’t think I’ve entirely processed all the ramifications of it.
Opening this door is going to change my life. But maybe, given the state of my life as it is now, I’m perfectly okay with that.
I pull my arm back, wincing as the door creaks much too loud for my comfort. I’m trying to be stealthy. Creaking isn’t exactly conducive to that.
Slowly, gradually, I step into the room. It’s a library, with shelves reaching up to the ceiling that are absolutely filled with books and scrolls. My mom liked the mystic academic aesthetic of it all, when she was alive.
There’s a window on the far wall, giving me a beautiful view of the moon and stars. I’m on the top floor of the manor, so the moon rests comfortably at eye level. It’s staring at me, in a way, with its big, white, empty eye. I stare right back at it.
My target sits in a glass case right in front of the window, resting on a polished pedestal of marble. I step across the thickly-carpeted floor to get to it. It’s a short distance away, but with how much pressure I’m under to get this done quickly, it feels like a mile. At last, I get my hands on the glass case. I pick it up and set it on the floor, careful not to break it.
I fix my gaze on the thing I’m here for. The book.
“Just what are you doing?”
I wince. I’ve been caught.

I got 3 (past tense) and 6 (3rd person). Shoutout to @opheliio for helping me come up with a plot!

It was the weekend, and Newtgnash was, as she always did, going into her cuboards to make one of her spells. She specilized in making spells out of food, mainly jellys and jams, so she was mortified to see she had used up all her jars! She quickly ran downstairs, slipped on her boots, and grabbed a jacket. She quicly sort of ran, sort of walked to the market, since they, thankfully, open on Saturdays. She quickly paced her way through the stands, peeking at them all. The smell of fried dough and and butter-covered delacasies filled the air, and Newtgnash could see all the fresh weirdly shaped fruits and veggies, and greasy savory meals. She turned her head away from the food stands, as to not get distracted from finding jars. There were lots of stands out today, so working her way through the rows took a while. Eventually she found a stand where a glassblower stood, polishing one of their creations, which was an elegant glass crane with magnificent detail.
“Ah, hello, may I help you?” They asked, bringing their delicate and slightly damp cloth away from their crane and turning their head to look a Newtgnash. The glassblower had large calloused hands which contrasted with the miniscule detail of their crane. They also wore a pair of glasses with leaf-like detailing on them, and their outfit consisted of some leggings and a turtleneck.
“Yes please!” Said Newtgnash hurriedly. “I'm looking for some jars? Ones that are well sealed enough to keep jams.”
“Of course, of course.” Said the glassblower, who had took one look around their stand to search and then crouched down on the floor to look at what they had put under the table. “Oh good, I still have some left. Will these do?” They questioned, bringing up a couple jars with what looked like their own signature carved into it.
“Perfect!” Exclaimed Newtgnash. “How much would a dozen be?”
“Oh, for a dozen… eighty” They said.
Newtgnash quickly payed (Thankfully she hadn't forgotten her wallet, it had already been in her jacket) took a bag the glassblower had kindly offered because they couldn't carry a dozen large glass jars with just their arms, and walked backed home.

Daily 3

First roll:
4
Second roll:
1


I wandered through the dense forest, the rustle of brittle leaves underfoot echoing in the quiet stillness of the woods. The canopy above cast dappled shadows on the forest floor, the golden sunlight filtering through the lush green foliage in a dance of light and shadow.

As I walked, memories flooded my mind, taking me back to a time long gone—a time of youth and wonder, when every step was an adventure waiting to unfold. I remembered the days spent exploring these woods with my friends, our laughter echoing through the trees as we chased each other through the underbrush, our imaginations running wild with tales of hidden treasures and mythical creatures.

But those days were nothing more than far away echoes now, fading into the recesses of memory like distant whispers carried away in the wind. Time had marched on, leaving behind only traces of the carefree days of my youth—a bittersweet reminder of the passage of time and the inevitable march towards adulthood.

Yet, as I wandered deeper into the heart of the forest, a sense of nostalgia washed over me, filling me with a longing for the simplicity of days gone by. I closed my eyes and breathed in the familiar scent of pine and earth, allowing myself to be enveloped by the tranquil embrace of nature.

In that moment, surrounded by the breathtaking beauty of the forest, I felt a sense of stillness wash over me—a reminder that no matter how much time may pass, some things will always remain unchanged. As I continued on my journey, I carried with me the memories of those carefree days, a beacon of light to guide me through the ever-changing and ever-growing forest of life.

With the familiar wind whipping my hair past my face, I was still. Time is cruel, I thought. It takes our youth away, and eventually, our life. I sighed. My soul had not aged, only my body. Life is short. Time is endless, although it seems quick. Everything dies one day, I thought.

Time is running out.

march 4 daily - 356 words
i rolled a one (for present tense) and a 5 (for third person)
writing in present tense is so hard asdfghjklwef

Raelyn sits criss-crossed everyday on the mat of the shelter, listening to a small and creaky radio and hoping for news. With her ear pressed against the old box and her brow furrowed in concentration she wishes for a sign, any sign, that they are still alive.
Today is no exception.

“And that is the end of our broadcast today. If any extra information is wanted about the missing people please contact our services on 0800-9…”
Of course she can't do that. There is no phone in existence in this refugee camp, or ‘a safe haven’ (with extra sarcasm) as they call it. Even if, it's been so long that she doesn't even know if there's still any chance that they're still alive…

“Raelyn?” It was Juan, her temporary guardian, poking his head through the flimsy flaps of the tent. “You ok there? Any news?”
Raelyn shakes her head, the hollow feeling that she felt on a day to day basis beginning to envelop her. She decides to pick herself up and go where she goes.
Juan watches her leave, a sense of concern showing in his face. He feels sympathetic towards her, yet she never seems to care much. Raelyn just wants to be left alone.

Meanwhile, Raelyn begins to walk towards her favourite thinking place, an old oak tree far from the sleeping site. It was a long way away and her feet ache. Her mind tunes out everything, including the pain in her feet and her life. In her world, it's the only way to survive.

It has been 529 days and counting since her life had changed. Of course, she isn't ready to go back to it just yet. Looking at Juan, being around Juan, reminds her about them. Her family, dead or alive.
Is there still hope? she asks herself. The empty thought came: but he still calls himself temporary… maybe no-one knows.

Raelyn doesn't have any friends at the shelter. Everyday she instead climbs the big oak tree and wishes to the stars that they are still alive. The only thing she hangs onto is hope.
Today is no exception.

03.04.24
Daily #4
Epistolary


The death of Lura - 1,022 words

The night hung heavy with the weight of unspoken tensions as I slipped out into the darkness, the chill of the evening air cutting through the fabric of my coat. My mother's harsh words still echoed in my mind, a relentless barrage of criticism and scorn that had become all too familiar.
I had to escape, to find solace in the silence of the forest, far away from the suffocating grip of her disapproval. With each step, the trees loomed larger, their twisted branches reaching out like gnarled fingers, threatening to ensnare me in their grasp.
But still, I pressed on, driven by a desperate need to flee the suffocating confines of my home. The woods stretched out before me, a labyrinth of shadows and secrets, each step bringing me further into the heart of darkness.
Darkness had always been my home just as mystery had always been my ego. The eerie air of the trees just swallowed me as if I were a pill that they had taken so many times before — we were one, united, and whole.
As the hours passed, the world around me grew still, the only sound was the soft crunch of leaves beneath my feet, occasionally a rustle of leaves in the breeze. It seemed as if a layer of mist had begun to form. It was almost peaceful. But then, a voice shattered the silence, a haunting echo that cut through the stillness like a knife.
It was my mother's voice, filled with scorn and contempt, each word a twisted dagger that pierced through the fragile veneer of my resolve. I tried to block it out, to focus on the path ahead, but her words clung to me like a dark cloud, casting a pall over my thoughts. "Why don't I just leave you on the streets? You don't ever do so much as look at me, so why do I even bother taking care of you?" Her words were flooding in, poisonous spears piercing my mind. I had to get out.
And so I ran. I ran despite the bitter air on my cheeks. I ran despite the warnings in the back of my mind. I ran despite the fog blinding my eyes. I ran until there was no more ground, but rather, a gaping hole. I lost my footing, tumbling down into the darkness below. The impact was brutal, the pain searing through my body as I lay crumpled on piercing rocks, my breath coming in ragged gasps.
As darkness slowly closed in around me, I felt a sense of peace wash over me, a release from the torment of my past. It all faded away, washing over me like a fountain.
But even in death, I could not escape the memories that haunted me, the echoes of my mother's cruelty ringing in my ears.

. . . Three days later . . .

When I awoke, I was no longer among the living. Instead, I found myself trapped in a limbo between worlds — in other words, a ghost. I rose, lightly floating over my decaying body. My limbs were snapped like twigs, and my neck bent at a disturbing angle.
Well . . . That's what I get for being so obsessed with morbid threats, I suppose.
I sighed and glided upwards, elegantly making my way out of the ravine. I examined the woods around me, noticing that it was morning. The light filtering through the canopy shone on the forest floor, revealing the crumbling ground.
As I floated above the forest, I couldn't shake the eerie feeling of detachment that accompanied my newfound state of being. My body lay below, a grim reminder of the horrors I had endured.
With a final disapproving glance, I turned away from the ravine and began the journey back home. The familiar sights of the forest blurred past me as I moved with an ethereal grace, my feet never touching the ground.
Eventually, the dense canopy gave way to the outskirts of town, and I found myself hovering outside the familiar walls of my home. Peering through the windows, I watched as my family went about their morning routines, unaware of the tragedy that had befallen me.
Taking a deep breath, I phased through the walls and into my bedroom, careful not to disturb anything. My bed lay empty, the covers rumpled from my restless sleep a few nights prior. It was a surreal sight, seeing my own room from this new perspective, knowing that I was no longer a part of the world I once knew.

I continued to attend school and carry on with my daily routine, all the while concealing the truth of my death from those around me. It was a delicate balancing act, pretending to be alive while grappling with the reality of my spectral existence.
But despite the weight of my secret, there were moments of solace and even pleasure — although very little. There were perks to being dead; invisibility, phasing, cloning, and possessing were all very useful tactics to toy with the minds of the unsuspecting.

And so, I persisted, navigating the delicate charade of existence with the precision of a chess master. Every interaction, every move calculated to conceal the truth of my spectral nature. It was a tiresome game, fraught with uncertainty and deception, but I played it with the cold determination of someone who knew they had no other choice.
In the shadows of the classroom, I observed my peers with a detached curiosity, analyzing their every word and gesture for signs of suspicion. They were oblivious to the truth that lay hidden beneath the facade of my false existence, and I intended to keep it that way.
But beneath the mask of indifference, there lay a gnawing sense of isolation — a constant reminder of the chasm that separated me from the world of the living. And yet, even in the depths of my solitude, I clung to the hope that someday, I would find a way to reconcile the contradictions of my existence and find my rightful place in the world.

DAILY 4
311 WORDS

You sit still, trying to empty your thoughts. Will this ever work?
You try, though. For the past week, you’ve tried to empty your thoughts properly so you could try to be more organised, get on with more tasks and assignments. That’s what the website said, anyway. It told you of a luxurious one-pot solution to everything. And that was to empty yourself.
So you try to discard your thoughts like debris, put them in the bin one by one. But it never works. You always get distracted by the flap of a bird’s wings – I wonder what that is, it sounds so pretty. Ooh- maybe it’s got rainbow feathers- no, maybe it’s a Pegasus, and that’s why it’s so- GET BACK ON TRACK. Nothing. Nothing at all. Just you and your surroundings. Not even your surroundings. Just you. Just you in a blank- not even that. Just you. Nothing else – but there is something else, isn’t- Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
A bird squawks next to your ear, plunging you into alert.
Stupid bird. Can’t it go off and do something else? You sigh. This is never going to work, is it? Never. You’ll sit here every day for twenty minutes, each dragging on like hours, trying to throw your thoughts out of your mind, all for the stupid promise of a solution. You’ll grow tired of it, restless and tired, and you’ll sit back and think of what a failure you are. Can’t someone point to reality for once? Can’t someone say what everyone’s thinking? It’s useless. Utterly useless. And there’s no-one to bargain for you because they’re too busy fighting for themselves.
You get up with a sigh, taking one last look at the stone block you sat on and the trees that rustled in the wind around you. You glance at the squawking bird.
And then you turn away.

return to main post

March 4th Daily
First person in present tense

I wake up from my bed, but I didn't want to leave the comfy embrace of my blanket. A new day is arriving, which means I have my exams to do. I sigh to myself, looking at the alarm clock just beside my bed. It is 8am. School starts at 9. I still have plenty of time. I want to rest my head and start to snooze again, but I have my exams to do. Oh screw your exams. I thought you said you gave up? A thought in my head suddenly show up to me. I just sit there, wanting to move to get ready, but however my mind commands my body to move, they refuse. I don't want to take the paper. I don't want to take exams. I'm losing interest in everything. I want to skip school… “Mark, what is wrong with you?” I say to myself quietly. Against my will, I remove the blanket still clinging onto me as I begin to dress for school.

The bell ring for 9am the moment I step into my classroom. The room was silent. We anticipate the moment for our exams to end. But the moment seems like eternity as the teacher has yet to arrive in our classroom. I take my breaths slowly, anticipating the moment where we can finally rejoice on our freedom. Thud. Thud. “Guys, the teacher's here! Get back to your seats!” Our monitor shouts, but everyone was already seated, reading our books or trying to calm down. My eyes notice the huge sheets of paper she was carrying. “Oh no…”

“Class. Your exam starts in 15 minutes. Please pack away your school bags and textbooks. We will begin soon.”

I hadn't really studied yet… Oh no… I start to panic. Being so depressed I lost motivation to study, I totally forgot everything I learnt. I take deep breaths again, but I seems that it doesn't work now. I'm getting more nervous. My teacher approached me and placed the paper in front of my eyes. Don't panic. Just try your best. That's what your parents would want…

“Everyone, you may begin.”

356 words

Daily 4
(I rolled- one - present tense
three- second person)


You're tossing and turning in bed, unable to sleep. Counting sheep and reading books haven't worked. Frustrated, you decide to leave your room and head into the corridor. The soft tapping noises from your brother's computer draw your attention, and you press your ear against the door.
You open the door and step inside, declaring, “I want to go for a walk.” Your brother looks doubtful at first but then nods, agreeing to meet you outside.
Back in your room, you grab a coat and start putting it on. Once ready, you make your way down the stairs and wait for your brother. After a few moments, he appears. “Come on,” he urges.
As you both walk together and laugh, you hear a sound. “What is that?” you ask your brother. He shrugs, but you insist, “Let's learn more.”
“I don't know,” your brother replies. Undeterred, you persist, and both of you investigate the sounds. The words become clearer, “Help, help!”
Both of you run towards the source of the sound. Shining your flashlight around, you discover a hole. You yell, “Anyone in there?”
“Yes,” says a voice. You flash the torch into the hole and see a girl. Your brother grabs a nearby tree branch and gives it to the girl, saying, “Take it up.”
The girl explains, “I hurt my leg; I can't climb.” You turn to your brother and say, “Climb in, take her up. I think I am strong enough to carry both of you.”
You lower into the hole and carry the girl in your arms. “Ready,” you say. Suddenly, you're hoisted up, firmly holding onto the girl.
As you and your brother help the girl out of the forest, she says, “Thank you so much.”
“I am so sorry for the inconvenience,” she adds.
“That's okay,” you reply.
The girl nods and extends her hand. “You're Jen, right?”
You smile and confirm, “Yes, I'm Jen. This is my brother, Chris.”
The girl, Charlie, smiles at all of you and then heads in one direction, while you and your brother go in the opposite direction.



Weekly 1
i do the weekly in this one too
Mythology
Genre Swap
hi-fi
“If These Walls Could Talk: The Events One Place Has Seen” (281 words)

Have you ever wondered whether walls could talk? Well, we do. So, while you're here, let me take you into a story that happened that I so fondly remember. It was about eight years ago when the owner of my house's daughter, Janae, broke her leg - the first time. I recall that she walked to the door, and poor Mr. Door banged into me, giving me my what? 342nd crack, but hehe, no one's counting, anyhow.

I could see that she was limping, but I obviously couldn't help. Then I saw her older brother, Dylan, walk in. Dylan is nice; he doesn't draw on me. But wait, let's stop getting distracted. Dylan makes her sit down, say some words which I don't remember, and leaves. Young little Janae gets up the moment he's gone, rubs her hands, takes out her phone, and pings her cousin Bianca (who I don't like because she has made half the cracks on poor old me; that girl throws too many fits).

Janae and Bianca start talking rapidly, both not hearing what the other one is saying. Janae, starting with something called an apple, which is long and yellow and has a peel. She removes the peel and tosses it on my good friend, the floor (which was very disrespectful). She starts walking backward to impress Bianca, and as luck has it, she slipped on the peel and fell, breaking her leg. She was rushed immediately to the hospital in tears.

Now, it's been eight years, and she has broken her leg another two times after the first time, but she's a lot nicer (to me, at least)
fairy tales
Cinderella sat in front of her mirror, combing her luscious golden hair and tying it into a bun. She got up, put on her glass slippers, and decided to go for a walk outside. Gracefully, she strolled through the green trees, which became thicker and more abundant the further she went. As she ventured on, she started to wonder where she was.

Suddenly, she heard loud footsteps. She looked and saw a girl in a red hood running quickly in her direction. “Hey!” Cinderella yelled, and the girl stopped. “Sorry,” she said apologetically, “I'm trying to run away from someone. Last year, I met him when I had to bring a basket of goodies to my grandma, and I got him in a lot of trouble. I love visiting my grandma, so whenever I come, I always run because who wants to face a tough situation? Oh, and by the way, my name's Red Riding Hood.”

The words flew over Cinderella's head, but she still smiled and curtsied at the little girl. “I'm Cinderella,” she said, smiling brightly. “Oh, I've heard of you and the ball with Prince Charming and your fairy godmother,” Red Riding Hood continued, taking a deep breath. “Well, I better go; I don't have all day.” She gave a nervous laugh and ran off.

Cinderella was taken aback but continued walking. Soon, she encountered a house made of candy. “Wow,” she thought, “how marvelous!” Then, two kids ran out, yelling, “Run, Hansel!” and “I am running, Gretel!” They both saw Cinderella and shouted, “run away!”

Cinderella looked shocked but took their word and retreated to her place. It was a good decision because otherwise, Cinderella and the witch would have become a new fairy tale.
Story with a moral

Chris found himself named the captain of his team, brimming with confidence due to his talented teammates, Lily and Emma.
Excitement filled the air as the team huddled together to discuss their strategy. Lily suggested practice to sync better, but Emma, confident in their strength, dismissed the idea. Chris agreed with Emma, leaving Lily unconvinced.
As the days passed, Lily observed the other team's rigorous practice. When she approached them, they insulted her, casting doubt on her team's chances of winning.
On the match day, Chris assigned positions, but Lily expressed concern about the lack of practice. Chris, firm in his belief, urged her to comply.
The game began, and the opposing team took the lead, exploiting Team 1's lack of coordination. Internal conflicts arose as Chris, Emma, and Lily blamed each other for missed opportunities.
At halftime, Chris called for a strategy change. The other team taunted them, predicting their defeat. The team decided to collaborate, realizing their individual strengths could shine when combined.
With a new plan in place, the team shouted “ball” to avoid confusion. The game turned around as they communicated effectively, catching the opposing team off guard.
Frustration grew among the opponents, mirroring Team 1's earlier struggles. In a thrilling finale, Lily's strategic throw secured the winning point.
After the match, the rival team admitted jealousy and apologized for their earlier behavior. Team 1 shared their secret – trust and teamwork.
As the sun set on the sports field, Chris, Lily, and Emma stood victorious, proving that indeed, teamwork makes the dreamwork.
moral - teamwork makes dreamwork