Daily 21st March
214 words

Music drifts through the,
Cold night air,
Stunning melodies,
Their beauty rare.

Lilting tunes,
From violins,
Heals broken hearts,
As they pluck the strings.

Clear and pure,
A shimmering flute,
You stop, enthralled,
Its glory absolute.

Deep and vibrato,
A silver drum,
Stops you dead,
With its shuddering thrum.

Delicate, intricate,
A grand piano,
Glossy wood,
Casting an inky shadow.

Golden, dazzling,
A great trombone,
Rich and low,
A heavenly tone.

Enchanting, alluring,
A glimmering harp,
Smooth, shiny,
Lighting up the world with a spark.

Harmonising voices,
A stunning array,
Of beautiful voices,
Sending all sorrow far away.

Forehead creased,
Lines so deep,
A serious conductor,
A flourish, a sweep.

You wander through the,
Bustling crowds,
Voices echoing,
Noisy and loud.

Heads nod,
Stamp to the beat,
The floor trembling,
With their heavy feet.

Heads tipped up to the,
Curtained stage,
Anticipation,
Elatedly they wave.

Smiles glow on their,
Radiant faces,
Warming up,
The coldest of places.

Musicians look up,
Applause thunders through,
The cavernous hall,
A wonderful view.

You take a seat,
Its hard and cold,
The metal biting,
Rusty and old.

You allow the music,
To flow through you,
Making you feel,
Not so sad and blue.

Music drifts through the,
Cold night air,
Stunning melodies,
Their beauty rare.

becoming
my writing comp entry
First comes the tingle in my spine.
I feel dislodged from my body, the human figure I was clothed in, that I was. The body’s dirty brown hair falls over brown eyes, eyes I see through but are barely mine. Its human hands grip the iron table, swaying on feeble legs, falling to the floor. Josi bursts through the door, sea-blue eyes scanning the scene. The body’s human heart fills with hope.
Josi grabs my hand. “You’re really hot,” she says. “Have you got a fever?”
I can’t make the body speak.
“Are you-”
The body’s bones crack, the battery that held the disguise in place gone. It can’t feel the store of ice-cold liquid down its spine anymore, just a distinct emptiness. The body’s skin stretches over the bones, growing a bit taller, its arms a bit longer. Josi’s hand flies off my skin. My skin.
My body isn’t human. My body has proper strength a human can’t have. My skin is a deep, dull red, my hair short and green like leaves. I look at Josi with all four eyes, her features so clear: her angular face, each freckle, clear enough to count, every crease in her pale hands. Her mind is chaos; thoughts whizz and fly, splayed all over. She stands on shaking legs, eyes running over me.
“What- what happened?” she whispers, her voice frail but clear to me.
Josi stands still, staring at my eyes, trying to find the old me in eyes bright yellow like the sun, in callused hands ending in short, brown claws, in the inhuman thing in front of her. Her mind pauses, ticking like a clock. Inhuman… inhuman-
Recognition hits her like a hammer.
She sprints out the door.
She shrieks through the street, but I don’t hear it. All I can focus on is the wave that hit her mind, her widening eyes and shrinking pupils, the sound that seemed to blast through the room. I can’t deny it. Terror, anger- hatred.
Hatred.
Next come the humans.
They stream in, pulsing with dark, dissonant hatred, eight hands on my arms, pulling me out of the room. I try to pull away, but I can barely pull off two hands before they’re on me again. As slowly as I can make them, they pull me to the door and outside. They drag me across the main dirt road in blinding sunlight, across multicoloured shops and past staring bystanders, the street becoming a cacophony. Josi stands back, but I hear her whisper above everything else.
“She’s a monster.”
Something tightens and seizes my chest.
My friend. My comfort for years. Gone. It digs deeper, clawing into my heart, tearing my shred of hope to nothing.
I still have to get out.
I kick out at the humans. They didn’t expect it.
Their hands loosen. I seize the opportunity and break free, peeling from their grasp, turning and sprinting back. My legs, fuelled with fear, don’t burn when I run. My feet don’t feel the sharp rocks jabbing them. My lungs steal air without stopping, every muscle aware of the thrums in the dirt, footsteps of a growing stampede. I fling open the blue door to the house, slamming it shut and leaning on it. They’re close.
Just three metres away is the back door, smashed between two lime walls, the door to the van-sized spaceship in my backyard. So close. I have to move.
The village comes at the door, and I push myself off. I run across the room, yanking the flimsy back door open. As the humans collapse on it, I sprint into the backyard. Their hatred compresses the air. My feet sink into hard, sandy soil, my legs brushing on knee-high grass as human shouts fill the air. Opening the door, I slide into the coal-black ship and push the acceleration pedal, my fingers leaping across buttons, Earth shrinking below me. Humans spill into the backyard, smaller than ants. The stars are flooding to meet me.
Last comes the feeling that I’m finally going home.

There exist some keys
That unlock the world
They can unlatch the window
Throw open the door
But it is up to you
To peer on through
And enter society
Wherever you choose
The world you find
After using these keys
Is like a web
Connecting you to me
This net can be tangled
And vast as the sea
But if you navigate right
It can set you free
There are many lands
Some big, some small
Communities in multitude
A niche for us all
The choices are endless
The opportunities, divine
To create and to learn
And to just pass the time
Grace the spheres with your presence
Spread your words far and wide
You can search for anything
Who knows what you’ll find
The world is a gift
Of which you are part
Set forth and become
What is true to your heart
All you need are the keys
And the item to which they attach
But I think you’ll find
These things, you already have
For the objects in question
Do not fit in a lock
They are buttons, for lights
And a screen, and a clock
Upon the very device
That you are reading these words
You hold in your power
The keys to a keyboard

Daily #21
3/21/2024
209 words

A/N: The writing process for this was very different than how I usually write poetry because it was a bit more forced and less of a natural flow, so it's not my best work by a long shot :]

The world has it's problems
And they crumble onto me
I don't want to be strong
I don't want to face the storm

But for a moment it
All slips
Away

Sucked into a world
Different but familiar
Living lives that I would have never dreamed

Solving cases, I'm a detective
Soaring and in flight, on dragon hide
Giggling and laughing, with siblings I'm lacking

The beauty of being stuck
In my mind, away from my world
The beauty of being someone
Who I couldn't be

The struggles of now slip away
Because the struggles for them
Seem easier for me to face

Sometimes it's easier

To fight against monsters in my mind
To slip away from time to time
To get away from everyone else
To explore through fictitious lives
That will never be my own

Watching characters

Work through problems with difficult and ease
Face challenging situations and find their way out stronger
Trudging through danger but making it out alive

Hope, inspiration
What a fictional escape helps me feel
Strength, dedication
To try and do it for real this time

Doesn't mean it's easy
Or that I will someday

But in my head, I can be a hero
And that somehow I'll make it all okay

Daily 021: 300 words, Writing (it's maddeningly magical)

The page is on fire.
Golden words,
Spreading, melting,
My pen can’t keep up.
Walking the wire
Dangling over disaster
Must write faster.
Inspiration strikes like lightning,
Mental storms are brewing
Ideas bubbling over, spewing
More than I can keep up with.
Characters laugh and cry
Are born and die,
I hold a universe in my palm
My very own.
I hold the key
To a golden city
Where only one may ever enter.
I hold the lock
Cradled inside my mind
Sheltered in imagination.
Fingers flying
Stalling, sighing,
They just won’t work right.
Tell me what’s wrong.
Left alone in a sea of confusion
Plots tangle, loop around each other
Can’t keep track anymore.
Time to try something else.
Grab new ideas, new characters,
Ooh, look, I like this one-
Hit a wall, fall down
Nope, not going there again.
Fighting through the pain
Just feels too hard
Sometimes.
Gotta keep going, keep writing–
Flimsy things, pretty, like butterflies
Crushed so easily it’s laughable.
Back to the drawing board.
What can you do
With someone who
Won’t
Work
Right.
Please do this, I’m begging you.
These characters, they’ve got to get together
Please just fall in love
Why are you walking away
Burying my face in my arms
Let’s try a different plot.
It’s maddeningly magical,
Enjoyably tragical
Like scratching at an itch
That hurts, stop-
Making it worse, maybe, but you’ve got to-
The words have to go somewhere.
Writing is
Like falling off a cliff
How do I get back up?
Like looking out the window,
Seeing where you need to be,
How do I get from here to there?
But first, how do I get out of my chair?
And yet
There’s something there
Something undefined
Something almost golden.
Momentary revelations.
My heart beats
For gold.

Daily 21
word count - 278 words

With one more breath comes another step,
To wonders of an imaginable world.
I seize the day and make the best,
despite what same may say.

With passion and pride
I walk full
of my stride.
Making every step count
One
By
One.

As if all worries have flown,
blown away by the wind.
I have come together again,
one apart
and forever closed.

It's as if the thoughts are freeing,
music swinging,
all live and bright.
Shining amongst the
very dark light.

Spotlights
To pinpoint.
Decide who to favor,
bow after bow,
applause just coming.

As few steps to the right
another to the left,
a commence has come,
once and for all.

The world knows the stories,
what one has carried,
far away from home.
All the memories,
encompassed in
One shaped as a dome.

Enclosed and covered,
fears lost.
Tears gone,
the hearts beats.

Thump.
Thump.

Eyes closed,
one last breathe.
It rises, revealing light.
Applause is met once more,
and a floating feather
I fly.

Memories fading,
visions swirling,
time is ending,
as it goes on.

One more step,
one more beat.

Thump.
Thump.

Twirling across with no signs of fear,
proud to bear the banner.
As soon as it starts,
once will come to the end.
Only to start again
one more.

Day after day,
night after night.
Joy is endless
for those ends meet.

Another time,
just one last breathe.
To cherish the glow,
and live through the shimmer.

The wonders of the world,
illuminate once more.
Light providing warmth,
a sign of new hope.

And thus the cycle continues,
time after time.
Never failing to revive,
the absence caused by mind.

I doubt I’m as good as ChatGPT when it comes to critiquing, but I’ll give it a go- xD My first impression was that it was very descriptive, and I liked the way you set the scene by highlighting details such as the light from the fires, the smell of rotten flesh, and the tears welling up in her eyes. It does a good job at capturing the fear present in this desperate situation. You could add more description to the characters’ first few lines of dialogue, though, as the word “said” was used three times in a row. Other than that, everything is nicely worded and the pacing is alright. I think the main thing that threw me off about this passage was that it wasn’t immediately clear that his point of view was the main perspective being focused on. It felt a little odd to transfer from what felt more like an omniscient narrator to what was definitely a subjective one. You might want to introduce him earlier on as the character through which the story is viewed, even in the first paragraph. Then, stick to that POV, describing everything going on through his eyes and thoughts, as you do in the latter two-thirds of the passage. Relatedly, I really liked the point of view presented by the character when he is feeling overwhelmed by trying to process what is happening. You emphasized the emotions he was feeling, but it might be even more effective if his thoughts were relayed directly in first-person: “There’ll be nothing left. I’ve lost my parents- I’ve lost everything!” However, if this doesn’t really match your writing style, that’s fine; it’s already plenty emotionally hard-hitting as it is. For the rest of the passage, I don’t have anything much to critique. I thought the visual of everyone collapsing under the oak tree was very impactful, especially in regards to the contrast between the current situation and the memory of how they “hung out in seasons past” at that location. It reminds the reader that the characters have led happy, peaceful lives up until this point, but now suddenly everything they have ever known has changed. Finally, I think the conclusion of the prologue provides a good lead-in to the rest of the novel, from the foreshadowing presented by the “glowing white eyes” (Herobrine? :0), to the looming question of what they’re going to do now, to the cliffhanger created at the end. Great writing!

Em's Writing Comp Entry

“my hero”

My
/mī/, determiner
Belonging to or associated with the speaker.

The water is calm, still, and just like him. I hate that I notice that. I never thought it would end up this way, but with the two of us face-to-face, I know what I have to do. I step forward.

I had the pleasure of gracing his presence for the first time on a Friday. After a long day of work, why was I, out of all people walking down that dark alleyway? Something strange drew me in, and I was weak enough to let it, the only thing I was thinking about was what had been said and done earlier that day.
“You’ve never done a single thing in your life. How do you live with all this boredom? It’s no wonder you don’t have any friends,” One of my coworkers had sneered at me. “What’s the point in you living?” He had then thrown me across the floor, much to the ignorance of our boss, who was somewhere drinking his sorrows away.
Sometimes, I found myself admiring their lives. My boss, my coworkers, their lives, no matter how sad or tragic, were lives. Mine, on the other hand, could only be described as a shell of emptiness.
Back in the alleyway, a strangled gurgle came from a shadowed corner, knocking me out of my daydream. I leapt back, in a sudden surprise, “Help me, please,” a broken voice spoke.
I looked cautiously around, before spotting a quivering figure hiding behind a tattered box. Gingerly, I moved the box to the side, revealing a dirty and musty person. His eyes were full of hope as he noticed me, his hair full of dirt, his body smelling of rot, decay, and blood, and his hands weak and shaking.
“Can you help me?” He seemed as if he could faint at any second. There were scrapes and bruises on his side. I winced in sympathy. “Please help me,” he cried desperately. “Please.”
This was it, I thought to myself. This was where my life could become interesting, I could help someone! “Come with me, I’ll bring you to my home,” I told him excitedly.
The man started to speak but was cut off by exhaustion. He collapsed on the floor with a thud. It looked like he was on his last string of life.
I rushed to pick him up. He wasn’t heavy at all, on the contrary, he was thin. Perhaps he didn’t have much to eat, I mused. “I’ll bring you home,” I repeated. “Then we’ll see what we need to do.”
With the last ounce of strength he had, spoke in a ragged breath. “Thank you. You’re my hero,” before losing all consciousness.
Here he was, someone I’d just met, calling me “his hero”. A surge of warmth rushed through me. I’m his hero, I told myself confidently. I can fix this. I can make him feel better.
I brought him home, washed him up, and let him rest on a spare mattress I had. After a while, he woke up. “Thank you for your kindness,” he told me. “I won’t be in your hair for too long, but would you mind me staying for a while?”
I smiled and told him I didn’t mind.
That “while” turned into months, turned into years that he spent next to me. He was kind to me, he talked to me, and I felt as if I had a friend, something that I’d never experienced before. He always thought of me, always grateful for the little act that I did years ago.
He wasn’t only a good person to me, he helped others and saved others without any fear. Things I would never dare to do. Soon, people started calling him their “hero”. It was a well-deserved title. If you knew how much he helped a no-name town like us, you would’ve understood. Everyone understood who he was. A savior. A hero. Their hero.
Soon everyone wanted a piece of him, he would disappear during the day and only come home at night, with his face flushed and cheeks red. Soon he had hundreds of people waiting to talk to him, begging him to give him a second of his time. Who was I to argue with a person who I didn’t even deserve to be in the presence of?
“I got a few drinks, it was on the house. I was talking to a few friends, I hope you don’t mind,” he grinned, eyes as bright and full of life. He was happy, and I wasn’t.
They took him away, a whisper came from the depths of my brain. They took him away from you, just like everything else. He was yours, but now he will never be.
They were probably talking about how amazing he was, how brave he was, how lucky they were to have him. They were probably thanking him for defeating those monsters a few days ago on the outskirts of town. Everybody loved him.
I never understood why he chose to live with me for all those years, instead of someone better. Someone more worthy of someone like him.
But I loved him first. I took care of him first, so doesn’t that mean something? Doesn’t that matter?
Soon I wouldn’t see him at all, the townspeople begging him to stay at their house for a while, to meet their family. He had changed from that helpless quivering ball all those years ago, to someone everyone wanted around. To someone, everyone wanted a piece of. He barely even acknowledged me anymore. It wasn’t his fault, of course, he had better things to do than to worry about me. He was still there, coming in from time to time, but it didn’t mean anything. As if I wasn’t important enough. I understand, I was never deserving enough for someone that wonderful. I never would.
Then, everything changed. It was another day coming back from work, a Monday to be exact. Mondays were always bad luck. This day was no exception. I passed the pub on my way home, and a new poster was hanging from the town bulletin board. “WANTED: ALIVE OR DEAD”, it said in big bold letters, and it drew me in, just like that Friday all those years ago, the same power, pulling me closer. I stopped to look at it, and what I saw was “Hero’s” face, smiling, grinning, no smirking, with a fifty-thousand krut bounty below it. He’d always hated being called that.
“Did you hear? That man, he’s wanted in Theris, and now they’ve come here to search for him!” One of the passersby whispered to their friends. “It’s a shame that it came out this way, he was a good person. He saved my child from the flu after journeying such a long way to get it, he was my hero.”
My hero. Those two words again. They sounded the same as they were those many years ago, in that dark alleyway. But those words probably mean nothing to them, when they can say them so casually. Not me, never me. When I went home, there was no trace of him. All his belongings were gone. He’d probably already fled to somewhere else. There was no note, nothing, to thank me for my years of kindness. It made me mad, how easy was it for him to just disappear like that after he meant so much to so many people? Me, on the other hand, if I was him, I would’ve stayed and treasured my last moments here. I would find him and make him pay.
I gave up my entire life to travel, in hopes of finding him. I left my family, my friends, to find him, because he took something so important for granted. It’s strange, thinking back to my decision. Why did I do it?
But now, here I am, after years that could no longer remember, after I had grown old and wizened with the knowledge I collected from journeying the world, I’d found him. And now, standing here, it feels so bittersweet. Basking in the moonlight, standing on a cliff, and looking down onto the sea.
“Why?” I ask, choked up with tears. “Why did you leave?”
He sighs. “I’m not a good person. You are. You took me in, even though I was a robber, a criminal, a monster. I thought that if I escaped somewhere else, I could rewrite my destiny, help others, and pay for what I’ve done in the past. But the past catches up to you. So I ran from it. But now, it’s back. I know I can’t run anymore. My life is filled with loneliness and pain, so why continue?” He gives me a soft smile, weathered by age.
Heat rushes to my face, my nails dig into my palms so hard I know they’re going to leave an angry red mark later. I’d wasted my whole life on him, but now, this is the end. “Can I ask you something?” I whisper my question into his ear.
He smiles again and whispers back.
And then I push him.

The inconceivable past where I can no longer stray on.

“Hey! I didn’t quite catch your name!” A blurry face is talking to him as I watch from afar with jealousy. “I wanted to thank you for helping me pay my debt!”
He looks at the face with a strange expression. “The name I was chosen for had high expectations for me. Unfortunately, I have not lived up to those expectations. Only then will that name be worthy of me. I hope you understand my strange request.”
The blurry face nods. “I won’t pry further if you don’t want me to.”

Back to the ruined future, which I could never change.

I’d asked him, “Who are you? What is your name? After all my time with you, I still don’t know a single thing about you. It’s funny, isn’t it?”
As if he’d already known what was going to come, he looked up at the stars, his eyes shining as brightly as them. “I am a person just like you. I have done many terrible wrongs, and no matter how hard I try to be good. I know I never will be. My future was laid out for me before I could decide. I am no Hero, as my name claims to be. You were a better person than me, you were a better Hero. But it didn’t do you any good to save me, did it? It caused you misfortune, didn’t it? It left you for others, I was never truly grateful to those who were truly kind to me. That’s why I don’t deserve all the praise, that’s why I understand what you’re going to do.”
I was surprised. How did he know? But before I could react, my body chose to move on its own, and now he was gone, six feet underwater, no way he could come back. And so I sit there, on the soft ground, staring up at the sky, clenching my fists, unclenching them, and clenching them again. Thinking of what I did. I couldn’t let the guilt gnaw at me any further. It was always what I was supposed to do.
In the night, I think I saw a misty image of him, fading away before me, grinning with that all-knowing smirk I knew too much. The one that had haunted my sleep for such a long time. All-knowing till the end. He knew that none of us were heroes, no matter how hard we tried.
To this day I am still confused. What truly is a hero, and what makes a person one, when someone who seemed that wonderful, wasn’t a hero?

Hero
/hirō, hērō/ noun
a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.


But he was my hero first.

Total words: 1997

Thank you to @criminal-intent for critiquing my piece <3

Churro's Dailies #21- 3/21/2024

Taro, matcha, oolong, mango
oh how i love you so-
when someone offers bubble tea
how could i say no?

so many different flavors, colors
can't wait to try them all
your tapioca's chewy and sweet
your tea awaits my call

when i feel really down and meh
only you can lift me up
even on the very worst days
a sip makes everything better, yup

When i walk into a boba shop
i feel right at home
with freshly brewed tea wafting through my nose
my imaginations roam

now you know my love for you
is truer than even the bluest sea
I'm drinking you in, every sip
reserved just for my bubble tea

now i'm just writing random words
for swc because i don't know what else
to write but other than express my love
for you, more than there are shells

and out of all drinks, from Starbucks to Prime
you're the only one that catches my eye
if bubble tea didn't exist at all
i don't know, i may just very well die

then the sounds of slurp, slurp
bring me right on back to earth
the sweetened taste of bubble tea
make it more than it is worth

Daily #21
2024年03月21日

Nature's Solitude
In the night's embrace, I find my solace,
As raindrops dance upon the leaves, a gentle promise.
Their pitter-patter whispers, secrets to the Earth,
A symphony of solitude, a melancholic birth.

Each droplet, a tear shed from the sky,
Mirroring the sorrow within, as it passes by.
They fall like silent messengers from above,
Echoing the yearnings of a heart that longs to love.

Beneath the moon's soft glow, I wander,
Through the misty veil, my thoughts meander.
The clouds, like solemn guardians, drift overhead,
Their shifting shapes reflecting the turmoil I've tread.

In the gentle rustle of the trees, I hear,
The murmurs of the wind, drawing near.
It caresses my skin with a tender touch,
A fleeting comfort, yet it means so much.

Within my chamber, a fortress of dreams,
I retreat from the world, or so it seems.
The walls, like steadfast sentinels, stand tall,
Shielding me from the chaos beyond the wall.

Surrounded by pillows, a sanctuary I've made,
Where nostalgia and memories gently cascade.
They wrap me in a cloak of bygone days,
A tapestry of moments, in which I find my ways.

With manga and novels, I lose myself in tales,
Of heroes and villains, and epic trails.
The characters, like old friends, beckon me near,
Their stories a refuge from all that I fear.

The scent of snickerdoodle boba fills the air,
A taste of sweetness, a moment rare.
It lingers on my tongue, a fleeting delight,
A reminder that joy can still alight.

Sketching by candlelight, I let my mind roam free,
Capturing images both dark and carefree.
In the strokes of my pencil, I find release,
A canvas for my thoughts, offering vacant seats.

Laying my head, I reminisce,
Of days gone by, of moments I miss.
The shadows, like specters, dance on the wall,
A silent testament to the memories that call.

But it's the music that truly sets me free,
A symphony of emotions, a melody.
The notes, like cascading waters, wash over me,
Carrying me away on a tide of near ecstasy.

In its crescendo, I find my metaphorical fleece,
A cathartic journey, a sense of peace.
For in the depths of night, amidst the rain,
I find comfort in nature's solitude, its bittersweet refrain.

So in the tender embrace of the night,
I find the strength to face the fight.
For amidst the rain's soft, rhythmic refrain,
Nature's solitude, my eternal gain.


Written by Astropheira Phaed Starfall

Daily 22nd March

415 words

I twirled through the gnarled trees, sunlight dappling onto the lush mossy floor. Wild mushrooms peeped from behind bushes, vibrant and colourful. Birds chirped amongst the emerald leaves, their song drifting through the clear pure air. The sky was a stunning sapphire blue, dotted with fluffy white clouds.

I flopped onto the peaty ground and closed my eyes in elation. This was the dream I had always wished for. Peace. Peace in the midst of the bustling city. Peace in the midst of honking cars. Peace in the midst of furious people. Impossible. Yet here I was, the midst of the city, in a forest. A tingling sensation ran up my arm and my eyelids fluttered open to reveal a deep amber butterfly nestled inside my fluffy jacket. I grinned. Flowers blossomed, twining around my pale wrist, vibrant and pale pink.

I opened my eyes groggily, sirens wailing. Shouts echoed around me, anguished and heart-rending.
“I’m sorry…”
A blurred face leaned over me, wavering at the slightest breeze. As I came round, I saw a shiny badge on a radiant neon jacket.
Julie
Police Inspector
Happy to help!

“Em.”
I braced myself, ready for the worst.
“Your father… he was involved in an accident… I’m sorry… he died.”
I collapsed, the ground sodden with my salty tears. A hand stroked my back. Rain trickled down my face, mixing with a torrent of sadness. The flowers drooped and blackened and thunder screamed with me as I cried for my father to come. Come back.

Lightning struck through a gnarled tree, splitting and splitting it into two halves. A broken heart. Leaves spiralled to the wet ground, the last fragments of the tree leaving, deserting it as my heart shattered into a million pieces. Julie crept over and cradled me close. I wanted her to leave me alone. I wanted Dad to cradle me instead.

I toddled up to Dad, smiling stupidly, beaming from ear to ear like sunshine on a summer’s day. He grinned and took my pudgy hand. We splashed through puddles and I squeaked in excitement as the water cascaded into the air, crashing back to the earth.
“Happiness, Em, is the key to success.”

Sorrow washed over me. How could I be a success with this burden weighing me down? I gulped, swallowing back tears and stood up. The world spun around me and I fell back down. I shut my eyes tightly and sleep embraced me with open arms.

Critique
445 words excluding the quotes!

Overall, I love the creativity and imagination that has gone into this! I love the way it flows and it is very clever! Here are a few points you could improve on!

ziqing11 wrote:

Head slumped against the desk, trying to block out the world.

Ooh, what did you get for the test, a Z+?

Ignore.

What's that dress you're wearing??? I know! It's yellow for YellowNana!

None of your business.

Ooh, raise your head from that desk, you're gonna squish it even flatter than it already is!

Blablabla…

I really like your use of italics in this section and to be honest, there’s nothing you really need to improve on. I love the way you have the taunting in the italics and it swaps between her and the taunts!

Yllona shut her eyes tightly, as though it would help to block out the sound of the voices. When would the teacher come, for heaven's sake!? She wasn't a favourite among the staff, quite the opposite, but the start of class would bring some order, at least. Then she would be at peace. Well, not really, better than her situation now, anyway. Not that the others would stop harassing her just because there's a grown up.

I think on this paragraph, instead of having the exclamation mark and the question mark, just have one because even though that adds more emphasis, it would make it look tidier and the punctuation would be correct. This flows very nicely! Maybe add in some adjectives or adverbs to make it a bit more interesting!

After what seemed like an hour, class began. Boring. Life had become monotonous for Yllona. Nobody liked, let alone cared for her. Her classmates didn't, that part was obvious; her teachers didn't, she was invisible for them. She wondered if her parents would if they were there. But no good imagining things, because that was not the case.

“The Great Depression was the longest and deepest downturn in the history of the United States and the modern industrial economy lasted more than a decade, beginning in 1929…”

Again, a bit more description! I really like the speech and how you thread it into the piece. I would suggest changing ‘invisible for them’ to ‘invisible to them’! Other than that it flows really nicely again!

She only caught passages of what the teacher was saying. Not that she didn't want to listen, it was just too difficult to concentrate with all the stupid paper notes her classmates were throwing at her, carrying insults in every form. At first, teachers tried to control the note-throwing, but it was no use, and of course they didn't want to waste that much of their time for Yllona. Nobody cared for her anyway.

After hours of supporting the mockery, Yllona found herself on her way home. As always, she put on her hood and walked quickly with her head down. As she crossed the street, she noticed a dark, hooded figure approaching her. A prank from a classmate, she thought. It wasn't as though she wasn't used to this sort of thing. But nonetheless, she couldn't resist to steal a rapid glance at the person. No way, they were way too tall for her classmates. Curiosity mounted in her and she stopped to have a good look at the strange figure. Suddenly, without warning, the mysterious person grabbed her with a pair of white, bony hands. Yllona almost jumped in fright as those abnormally cold hands, or rather claws, touched her skin.

I really like this part! I think that if you added a bit more about how she’s feeling like ‘daggers pierced her heart’ when people insult her! Other than that, I wouldn’t change anything about this!

“My dear girl… The Hooded Man, for it is I, the Hooded Man, is only here to inform you that you, will reach your end soon… Oh pretty soon indeed, my dear girl!” A raspy voice came out of the hood, for if there was a face, it was hidden by the cloak. A sudden breeze of wind passed, and the hood fell off, suddenly revealing a colourless, sharp angled and rather deformed face. His pale, misty eyes fluttered and met the girl's, and without a sound he slid quietly away to the opposite side of the street, gone from view.

Yllona felt her heart pounding inside her chest as her eyes followed the Hooded Man, was it his name. Reach your end? Does that mean… Death? As she came to the realisation of this, she felt a gigantic throb going through her body, and her legs menaced into turned into rubber, only to find that she was still in the middle of the street. She hurried as fast as she could, and almost ran back to her apartment, knocking into several people one her way. She pulled on the door, forgetting it was locked. And when she finally managed to get inside, she plopped down on the couch, panting heavily. Death? Dying? No way!

This part is really really good! The description is great! Look out for the punctuation at the part where he is saying ‘you, will reach your end’ because the coma doesn’t work. Also, a gigantic throb is a bit confusing. If you put an aching throb or something instead, it might be a bit clearer!

Why was Yllona convinced by a stranger's so-called prediction? She, who normally wouldn't even blink facing an insult from her fellow classmates. She wondered as she laid on the couch, her chest rising and falling quickly. It just sounded so real. Like as though, as though a part of her knew that the Hooded Man wasn't lying.

She closed her eyes trying to shut off the thoughts of that mysterious encounter, only to find blurry pictures of the Hooded Man swarming around her head.

What if, what if the words were true? Really true? What if she only had a few days, a few hours to live? For the first time ever, she was desperately hanging on to her life. Her one and only life. Images of her boring, unmeaningful past formed in her mind, and all of a sudden she was regretting all her wasted life. Why didn't she stand up to the bullies? Why didn't she really try to pay attention in class? Why didn't she consult her teachers and tell them what was happening? Why did she give up hope right at the beginning? She burst out sobbing, tears flowing onto the pillow she was squeezing so hard a few feathers were popping out. She pictured, for the first time, what her life might have been if she had known to stand up for herself. If she had just known to do that…

Amazing! It flows beautifully and I wouldn't change anything!

The principal entered the meeting room, where quite a few teachers were already sitting down. All eyes fixed the newcomer, who said, “Shall we begin? We have no time to loose.” The room became deafly quiet as the principal drew a chair and sat down in the middle.
“As we all know, we are here to discuss the matter of Yllona Wagner.”

An hour passed.

The principal arose from his chair, and before turning to leave, said, “So it is agreed. All members of the staff are to help and support her, and those students who continue to harass her will be punished severely.” Pause. “It is a very serious matter, harassment. It can lead to extreme consequences if not treated on time.”

As the first shock gradually came off, Yllona realised the mysterious figure was probably just a farce. After all, who could predict the future? As she tossed and turned in bed, she rethought the matter of death. It didn't seem that scary anymore. She didn't really have anything to loose anymore. Her parents were long gone, and nobody cared for her. She was as good dead as alive. I might even be better dead. Nobody would bully me then. She said out loud to herself.


A circle of doctors standing around a hospital bed, talking gravely with a grey-haired man in a suit.
“Is there still… any hope?”, the man asked.
“Yes. There is always hope. But the real question, is if the patient wants to live or not.” A doctor answered.
Silence.
“So you mean the choice is not in our hands, but in the hers.” The principal said, jerking his head towards Yllona's lifeless form.
“Precisely.”

‘Deafly quiet’ doesn’t really make sense but I assume this is just a typo and you meant deadly instead. You write ‘loose’ but it is ‘lose’ that I think you’re trying to say, because loose and lose have completely different meanings. I love the way you end it with the hospital scene, and I get a chill at the last word!

I hope this helped you improve your piece! Overall, I really enjoyed reading it, and all you need to do really is add in more description! Thank you for letting me critique this!

Daily 022: 300 words, Scandal

It was one of those uncertain gray days that looked as though the clouds couldn't make up their mind whether to pour rain or scuttle away and let the sun through. It was early spring, and the air was still cool and moist, the grass fresh with dew, disturbed only by two pairs of shoes. There was no sound in the park other than birds chirping and two people giggling.
The girl arranged her old-fashioned skirts and petticoats, her trim boots leaving little dents in the grass. Her companion smiled at her from over a ruffled white shirt and high collar, his eyes focused on the only bright thing he saw, although several spring flowers nodded their brilliant heads over the green swathes of the park, and the occasional butterfly swooped by, unheeded by the two lovers. The trees overhead whispered and rustled as the gossiping wind wove through their branches, and the flowers bent in the breeze as though murmuring to each other.
If there were any witnesses other than the wild things it would have caused a stir, for sure, because the man was the heir to the vast estate they were walking on, and the girl’s possessions amounted to nothing much beyond her fresh young beauty. Yet the love between them was beautiful, fragile, like a rose unfurling its petals in the sun to reveal a rich, crimson heart, beating underneath the green leaves.
The giggling continued, and as the sun crept higher into the sky, he bent down and kissed her crimson lips, as the breeze picked up and tossed leaves around them, whirling around them like so many clacking tongues, heralds of the upcoming rumors that would soon trickle through the town.
No matter. It was yet to come, and right then, it was perfect.

Weekly 003: 1623 words, Spiders

Merry Christmas is a young girl undercover trying to expose some strange happenings at a school in a city for the elites. turns out that things aren’t entirely what they seem, and someone’s been dabbling in things they shouldn’t have…
. Merry C. is assigned to a school after a report of something strange going on in the city occurs. Power outages, glitches, unreliable networks…Since it’s winter, it would look suspicious if she were investigating during school hours, and the organization behind her is fearful of even tiny bits of suspicion. Her false identity is crafted, and Merry C. is enrolled, with a little bit of string pulling. Her cover story is that her family recently moved, explaining her sudden appearance in the middle of the school year.
. Merry’s cover is successful, but no matter how hard she looks, the electricity fickleness is totally unpredictable. There seems to be no rhyme or reason to what’s happening–hackers are baffled, experts are dumbfounded, and no one knows what’s going on. There have been rumors of tech being banned–and things only get weirder when news of a disappearance hits the news. A famous entrepreneur who had been known for his experiments with AI technology has vanished, and the only clues left behind are enormous spider webs covering his bedroom.
. Merry continued investigating, but the organization is starting to talk about pulling her to keep her safe. She protests that she can do it, but then she’s woken in the middle of the night by something clacking in a corner. Keeping her cool, she switched on her flashlight, but saw nothing. At least, not until she shined it in a corner and saw the same giant spiderwebs that had been found covering Killigeree’s bedroom (the entrepreneur). Something’s out there, and it’s after her. She’s about to call backup when the flashlight flickers and dies, the clacking returns, and she’s faced by an enormous spider, veined with pulsing blue energy. Merry manages to evade it, and the next day she finds critical evidence in the form of some of Killigeree’s files, which were recovered by the organization. Killigree went a step too far with his AI–going beyond just computers. Killigree wanted to create living things from tech, but his experiments went awry, and now the AI spiders are loose on the city.
. Armed with the information, Merry manages to shut the spiders down, and finds the entrepreneur, who luckily is still alive, although very weak. He’s hospitalized, his punishment to be decided later. It’s a complicated tangle–he didn’t mean to cause harm, but the city is in total chaos, and he knew at least some of the consequences that would happen if his creations got loose. The police round up the spider corpses and lock them away in case they ever activate again, intending to destroy them as soon as they figure out how to safely.
. Happily ever after, right? Except…maybe not quite. Because deep in Killigree’s manner, a cluster of eggs pulses a brilliant blue, and the building has been closed down for later inspection to destroy any of Killigree’s other dubious dabbling. But will they find the spiderlings in time? Or will things spiral once more?
That remains to be seen…

Clue 1: Kilgiree’s disappearance
His disappearance and his involvement with tech should lead the reader to assume it has something to do with him, since the mystery from the start is set around tech malfunctioning. Readers at this point should probably assume that he broke something about the internet, or something like that. It’s not until they find out that he specializes in AI that they’ll be lead to thinking this centers around a rogue AI.
Red herring 1: Schoolmate
Merry has a techy schoolmate, but he’s kind of suspicious! He doesn’t talk a lot, he keeps to himself, and rumor has it he’s a hacker. She’ll suspect that he’s been messing with things and try to follow his “clue,” but in reality, he’s just really shy and while he likes coding, his main passion is video games.
Clue 2: Killigree’s occupation and files
Later, we find out that Killigree specialized in AI, but before he was a computer scientist, he was a doctor. His file will tie this together, and reveal some important clues: the culprits are AI, and Killigree is messing with things he really shouldn’t.
Red herring 2: Killigree has a rival
Giantom Corps. is a well-known computer company, and a long-time rival of Killigree. Merry (and the readers) will theorize that they’re behind the disappearance, and try to discover a reason for the spiderwebs and whether they’re just a red herring to throw the police off track.

Merry flopped onto her bed with a sigh of relief. The school normally had students in shared dorms, but it had only taken a little bit of string-pulling to get Merry her own private dorm, instead of having to share. That would have been really inconvenient for investigating, after all. She lay on the bed for a long moment, trying to relax. Well, as much as a detective could ever relax–and one who wasn’t full grown, either. Sometimes she was tempted to just leave everything to the adults…but then she’d remember how good it felt to solve a case, and she’d shake her head, smile at herself, and wonder how she could ever want something else. Being normal was boring, and Merry hated boring.
She also hated homework, and school had homework galore. With another sigh, this time of boredom, she reached for her math homework and forced herself to try and focus on the textbook.
It was hard, though. The mystery wormed through her thoughts, eating her away. What had happened to Killigree? Where was he now? And how was he linked with the tech malfunctions? She knew he did computer stuff, but she hadn’t bothered to read up on him much–his disappearance had occurred after her initial investigation was outlined, and although the team back HQ were working around the clock to get a file pulled together for everyone on the case, it was still maddeningly slow. She couldn’t wait to get her hands on it. But right now, she needed to keep her cover up, and while Merry Christmas was an accomplished sleuth, Merry C. was a mundane student who excelled in her subjects, although not so well as to attract suspicion.
Merry pouted a bit. Merry C. was boring. But boring was safe, and as antsy as she was, she was just a kid. She couldn’t do everything on her own.
Finally, the enormous stack of homework had been reduced to a few sad pieces of crumpled notebook paper, and Merry groaned as she got ready for bed, stretching her sore muscles, which had threatened to cramp after being in the same position for so long. She shivered into her pajamas–the school had been having problems with the heater, and now the dorms were freezing–and collapsed onto her bed once more, wriggling under the covers and closing her eyes, preparing to get some well-earned rest.
It was midnight when she woke up. Her eyes flew open to darkness, and for a moment she strained her ears, trying to figure out what had woken her. For a heartbeat, she thought it had just been a nightmare and closed her eyes to seek sleep again.
Then the noise started.
Clack, clack, clack.
Her eyes shot open again, and she fumbled for her flashlight, clutching it to her like a safeguard. Realistically, she knew it really wouldn't help if she was attacked, but it made her feel safer somehow. It was a way to combat the dark.
Silence had fallen, but she still took a deep breath and turned the flashlight on, swinging it around. If anyone was sneaking up on her, they’d be blinded by the sudden light.
Nothing. Just her room.
Merry slid out of bed and swung it around a few more times just to be sure, but relief had already taken over. It was just a night sound. Maybe a bug hitting the window and making an odd noise.
Then her gaze snagged on something moving. She pivoted, shining the flashlight on it, heart back in her throat.
Above her, in the corner, gently swinging, hung a giant spider web.

link to partner conversation: https://scratch.mit.edu/users/ChueyTheCat/#comments-320211546

Daily #22
3/22/2024
261 words

The thunder boomed, barely seconds after the flash of lightning that lit up the dark room. My blood boiled, the constant pitter-patter of the raindrops fueling the fire beneath my skin. I woke up in the dark room alone. Of course, I was left behind.

It's not like I expected them to, I don't know, continue to stick by my side once all my past actions were laid out on the table. I continued to glare daggers through the window, watching the black sky as it changed in an instant. I let out a dry laugh, musing over how fast the tables had turned.

Just yesterday, they said that nothing I would ever say or do will be able to truly separate them from me. It couldn't have been farther from the truth.

The storm continued to rage, the lightning glittering and the thunder growling in response. I got lost in the persistent drops of rain beating against the roof, my thoughts like the repetitive rhythm of the beats, coming to the same conclusion over and over and over and over…

It mellowed down to a light shower, the dark curtain of clouds parted and the sunlight streaming through. Finding myself at the end again and again, I grew to compile with my current circumstances. My blood boiled down to a simmer, humming in the background, but not urgent.

I knew how to ignite the fire again, but I kept the sparks alive and hungry.

The flames didn't need to burn me today; I would know when I need them again.

SWC daily: 22/03/24

I was standing next to the big oak, hands in my pocket, sky gazing. The breeze runs through my hair and the sun’s rays warm it up. Dawn falls, wrapping me in a beautiful golden aura, casting a sort of happiness to my physique. I give a light chuckle; taking my hands out of my pockets, spreading them out to catch the wind.

“You’re having fun, aren’t you?” a voice from behind calls.

I don't even have to look behind me to figure that it’s king.

He came to stand beside me, embracing the sun's retreat.

“You know I was thinking,” he started “I was thinking how important the sun is-”

“Yeh, without it the whole world would be cast in darkness,” I responded

“No human could escape the tremor from within the earth itself.” he finished

I smiled to myself.

“What are you thinking about?” he enquired

“I'm thinking that, if the world was mine, you would be my sun.” I smirked, proudly.

“And if the sun was mine, you would be my earth.” He wisely replied.

After that we simply sat down in the tall, wet grass, in complete silence. Comfortable silence. The type of silence where you and the other persons brains just collide, you know everything that the other person is thinking about without having to say it out loud. We watched the smiling sun peacefully set as we stood there, hands clasped together, knowing that in this dark world, we had each other…

Just before sunrise.
The first pale rays of dawn pool shyly upon the landscape, trickling down the mountains and flowing into the rivers. The rain was subsiding, only the faintest mist still drifting lazily down from the sky. Tiny droplets settle upon your glasses and blur your vision. An unfocused, subtle haze over everything, no sharp lines, no clearly-defined edges. No end.
You absentmindedly strum your guitar as you wend your way among the sleeping trees, sending a few wondering notes into the crisp, dewy air. The sky is heavy today, but it is a comforting weight, and one you do not mind bearing.
Reaching the old railroad, its once gleaming rails now weary, corroded by time and weather, you turn and walk along it in parallel, a wanderer, forever moving, passing through. Weeds sprout up between the bars, and wildflowers patiently await the rising sun.
The tracks lead up through the hills, and you follow. The dewdrops glitter on the grass, liquid light and golden air. The world has not yet woken up, the birds themselves only just beginning to open their beaks and chirp the morning into existence. But maybe there are others out there, quietly hiding from sleep, residing in daydreams, walking their own roads. This is an in-between time, neither day nor night, here nor there. It belongs to the drifters, to the ones who make the horizon their home. To the ones who keep going.
Your mind wanders with your feet, never really sure where you’re going. You don’t need to know. You are who you are and that is all that really matters. Made of light and shadow and calm, deep waters. And memories, yes, but not regrets. Faded and bittersweet, a shelter built of old photographs of younger days and long-forgotten words and stars so close you could touch them.
They carry you onward and you keep moving, a never-ending journey.

pathetic fallacy daily
274 words

who am i?
am i the sun who sits in the corner
lounging in its throne
the center of attention
that shouts to let you know?
am i the trees that dance in sunlight
reaching far away
leaves vibrant, shining, beaming
in one place they never stay?
am i the wind that tousles life around
and plays between the leaves
am i the gale that cheats and rages
or the gentle, curious breeze?
am i the ground that feels so dead
but it's bursting and alive?
am i the clouds that float, so freely
through the smiling morning sky?
who am i, if not these?
am i the possum eating pawpaws
or the magpie's perfect nest
or animals that hide their beauty
rusty tools that struggle at best?
maybe i'm none of these
maybe i'm them all
no.
–
i'm the glowing band of moonlight
when all else is scared to shine
i'm the crescent shrouded in darkness
i am hope, this thin white line
but i'm survival, an endless cycle
gone.
and come.
and gone again.
chaotic normality, endless fatality
let another
take the reins
while i sit in the corner
- the stars are my throne
and mock the fickle order
of the place i call home

no.
i don't want to do that.
i'm not the moon.
–
so i'm the single weeping willow
in an endless show of joy?
so i'm the shovel long forgot
in all these years
I'm just a
toy?
so all that's left to play is
tumbleweed
so small
so lonely
so lost.
at least it's something
and i'm something
is perfection real?
or is there
a cost?

-lxve-bug- wrote:

pup's thread (boy am i late :skull: )


AYYYY IM 100TH LMAO

daily for 3-22-24, 231 words

tw/cw: depression is a very prevalent theme so just be warned <3 (not my best work TT)

The branches of the huge tree drooped and swayed as the sky poured buckets. The weeping drops of rain knocked against my window as I sat staring. The sky was equally as dismal, the lackadaisical black clouds drifting across gray streaks passing for the heavens. I sighed, and blinked sleepily. I really should be in bed. I checked the clock, the numbers dancing in the dark. It was two in the morning. I turned my attention back to the frowning branches of the tree in my yard. The leaves dropped from the branches slowly, taking their time, finally laying down in a bed of grass. The rain droplets slithered down my window, like the tears tracking their way down my face. I sniffed. I really should get to sleep. I got up from my perch on the window seat, and dragged myself over to my bed. I pulled the thick, soft blankets over me, letting them hug me. I sighed contentedly, wondering why I didn’t retreat to my cave of comforters and pillows earlier. The leftover tears wet my pillow, seeping into the plush fabric. I closed my eyes, the lids tired and sticky from all the crying. I wished I could sleep more, I wished I could cry less, I wish I could be happier. Oh well. All I needed was my bed and my pillows and my blankets. I knew I’d be lying there for another hour or two before I actually drifted off, but for now, I would be content. While I’m sleeping, I’d be content. I’d sleep till about 12 to 2 in the afternoon, and wake up grumpy, cranky, stressed, and sad like I always do, and then I’d do it all again. Not like I ever did much. But it’s alright. Because right now I’m sleeping and this is all in my head. It’s just a dream. I hope so. I think I’m going insane.