March 1 2024
Introduce yourself

Hello, it’s Rush aha. It’s my first time in SWC and I am extremely hyped! And I may have no idea how this works?? But apparently there’s a daily topic everyday so here goes.
I’m currently writing on the ground, because for some reason I enjoy sitting on the ground,( I guess I reverberate with people from the past ) that’s one thing about me! I’m an artist, voice actor and an committed (more like obsessive) bookworm. Sports, well, I like delving in the arts of swimming and badminton. (corks are satisfying as they fly through the air after getting vigorously hit by a racket, fight me) I love writing a whole lot, as do many of people in SWC I’m assuming, and I can’t wait to battle against writer’s block— I’ll get you this time you sneaky piece of mischief —and honestly get better! And I value emoticons more than emojis haha.

Favorite author??? Impossible to answer since I have no favorites. But I do like books like I have mentioned. Wings of Fire by Tui T. Sutherland is a favorite. I enjoy her humor and clever use of words, and the plot and character development is great! Rick Riordan, Cassandra Clare. The Dark Artifices by Cassandra Clare and Divergent by Veronica Roth are the most recent books/series I have started reading, and I’m thoroughly enjoying it! I recommend it. I love dark humor a whole lot. I read non-fiction too- I once read this book written by a guy who worked in the ER. It was fascinating, though I only knew like half the doctor terms and supplies. I also read graphic novels to get a feel of what a novel looks like in pictures. You can find me reading literally anything if it interests me- doesn’t matter if it’s over 1000 pages.

Recently, I have gotten into indie games and other video games. Omori, Dead Plate, Cold Front, Inscription are the most recent ones. Omori and Insryption, I promise you, are very, very interesting. Omori is a very unique and special world, the main character is mysterious and confusing even though you’re playing as him, the characters are one of my favorite gangs (no don’t remind me about Mari) and there are so many hidden meanings and interpretations I just- beautiful. Inscryption is a wonderful game too, the most intriguing aspect about it is that it isn’t just one type of game style- it’s indie, 3D video games, 2D and real life put together in one! The plot leaves you clawing for more, ( the Stoat is very sassy, I tell you, that naughty boy) the card game incorporated in it is absolutely original and unique! I strongly recommend it. Though I would advise you to look at the warnings before playing or watching the gameplay of those two games. Anyways, I have grown extremely attached to these four games- they have possessed my brain haha.

I can tell SWC is going to be a great experience! It’s my first ever time joining in a writing camp and I hope to find and form bonds with great people. This is the end of my daily, have a good day people!
-
(I was too lazy to continue iashdjkaf)
550 words

March 2 2024
“you're super mysterious and give off like cool-intelligent-people vibes xD seems like a writer artist cultured cosmopolitan individual who eats bagels dipped in ketchup bc you've got a touch of weirdness too” -Churro, thank you asdsadaf abh <3
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Fritura's House
She stifled a gigantic laugh, her eyes gleaming with mischef. “Oh,” She said. “This is going to be fun.” Her hands flitted against the papers on her desk, clumping them together in a neat line.

Astra next to her gave a ghost of a smile. “Oh dear, Fritura has gotten a bit notorious, should we be worried?”

Sem looked at Carmen then at Fritura, stuffing cheese in her mouth, a computer wide open in front of her. “Odas I don't know.” She said, staring at the screen once more, munching on cheese. “Oui, oui, oui.” She muttered, her eyes suddenly glued.

“Odas?” Carmen– who was leaning on the wall behind Sem and peering at the computer– looked at Sem, her eyebrows furrowed.

Sem shrugged and said, “I have created a new language.”

“Oh my god! It's a great idea!” Fritura said, her expression alight with glee.

“The new language that apparently Sem hasn't told us about?” Astra asked.

“No no- Listen!” She said, putting away the papers. “Chil is in the park right now right? The billboards!”

“Oh no.” Astra said. “I absolutely am not going to partake in this.” But her eyes were filled with a tinge of interest.

Fritura let out a laugh that made Carmen widen her eyes. “We won't get in trouble I promise!” She looked at Sem, who raised her hands in objection.

“Guys I have only a day to complete my final project-” Sem started when Carmen cut her off.

"I told you to start your final project a week ago!“ Carmen threw her hands in the air.

”I am a procrastinator. In fact, I have a professional job in procrastinating,“ Sem declared, munching on another block of cheese from who-knows where. ”You shouldn't expect things from me.“ Carmen was about to retort but Fritura had started talking.

”Come on Sem,“ Fritura said, sitting next to Sem, who was still staring at the computer. ”It's not going to be so hard, you're basically a genius. Do it for Chil!“

Sem shrugged and nodded and Carmen's eyes ignited. ”Oh no, you have to complete your project-“

”I am a professional procrastinator,“ Sem said, staring at Carmen with a certain darkness in her eyes. ”Project comes later." Carmen muttered something while Fritura clapped her hands and beckoned Astra to come closer.
The Park

Chil was seated on a bench, absentmindedly listening to classical music and staring at the greenery around her. Laughter and smiles filled the air, the sun and wind working together in a beautiful way, heat and breeze giving away pleasant shivers. Chil slouched on the bench, closing her eyes, then swiftly opened them when a surprised yelp reverberated in her eardrums from a few feet away.

The person who had yelped was a little boy, who was pointing to an electronic billboard. Chil followed his eyesight, her eyes suddenly glued to the screen in a mixture of horror and respectable amazement.

She shook her head and read it again,

"hey you! yes you Chil!
super mysterious and
give off like cool-intelligent-people vibes
seems like a writer artist cultured cosmopolitan individual who
eats bagels dipped in ketchup
bc you've got a touch of weirdness too
happy BIRTHDAYYYY!!!
"

Oh god. Chil thought.

-
539 words
haha

March 3, 2024

Utopian Starlands

The Starlands!
A great land in the strive of success
From the emboldening observatory
To the people sheltered in a world of unity
The Starlands!
Known for its stars that twinkle in ivory excess
That dares to shine differently in the darkness
Basking in the light of newfound openness
The Starlands!
The Starlands!
The Utopian Starlands!

City of Time

The constant playing nerve
Opens to a alternate universe
Of eyes that light with amity
Under a symbol of unity
Here is the city of time!
Endless ideas shroud the place
In beautiful cascades of database
The people who live
Live here with enlightened mindscapes
Here is the city of time!
The city of time!
Science-fiction!
-
Word count: 117 words

March 4, 2024
I got 3 for first and 4 for second I hope its right- Whoo
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Clem mouthed “perfect timing” to no one in particular as Rody's father gripped the table and stood up. In a second he appeared at the kitchen door and Clem yelped with surprise, how could a man in his late 40s move so swiftly? “I don’t think customers are allowed in the kitchen…” She called out to him, but he had already vanished. She quickly served a main to a chocolate-haired girl and stumbled over into the kitchen, her shoes clacking on the ground. // Rody was already apologizing, hysterical laughter sneaking in between his words, nervousness brimming in his words. A whirlpool of overwhelming fear was sucking Rody up, even though he was just on the outskirts of the water. He craved to give in its swirling depths, but he had to go on…for Manon. “I DON’T- DON'T- ‘' He forced his voice to a moderate level. “Haha…my /ear/…” He muttered hopelessly, trying to gain a sense of tranquility from someone he knew. This was his default response, a nagging feeling to call someone, /talk/ with someone— anyone really —about what was going on. Manon wasn’t responding, his family had ostracized him, and his friends were long gone, they had abandoned themselves to the embrace of the future…all he had was Vince. He pulled the blankets tighter around himself, rambling nonsense to the person mentioned. Maybe he was upsetting Vince… Vince was probably thinking of why Rody was even calling him- why he even /existed/. Rody’s voice faltered, shivering not from the cold but from the dark thoughts settling in his mind, he refused to acknowledge them, yet they still persisted. He had been running from these dark thoughts since he stepped out from the serene of what he thought was the endless comfortance of his family into the clutching arms of the world, which sent him on his way with a caressing taunt, a mocking welcome. He had refused to even look upon these dark desires, but now they slowly sank into his mindscape, hissing along like poison. He shook his head, but the former forlorn was still etched into his hands, his legs, his head, leaving him absolutely tired. Not to mention the newfound uneasiness of when he talked to Vince. “I don’t know what’s happening.” Rody’s voice quivered. “They said my ear was found next to my body and…and they said they could make an ear 3D shape or something and p-produce or grow or whatever skin cells over it and whatnot.” He laughed loudly, the sound reverberating through his room. “I can’t believe anything, Vince what is going on?”

-
432 words
This was for a roleplay and SWC together don’t ask.

March 6, 2024
Genre: Uneasy but serene unrealism??? WHtaesad
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Rain dripped from the sky, settling on the ground. He was soaking wet, but when he touched himself he couldn’t feel a drop of water. Light blue misty depths surrounded him, brightening his surroundings. He was sitting on solid ground but as he tried to set his hands on the ground it went straight through, reaching nowhere.

A book had popped in his hands, page forty-three opened in bright detail, the words mumbling and flickering. The words mutated into a shape of a classroom, and as he blinked the picture’s colors flashed between monotone black-and-white, the normal colors of a classroom, and quiet shades of dark navy and light blue.

He flipped the page as the rain skirted around the book, not daring to reduce it into a sloppy papery mess. The next page shone, it seemed like a warm spotlight had been pinpointed on the page, but when he looked above he couldn’t see any sort of light.

Music notes appeared on the page, and soft music began playing from an unfathomable source. He closed the book and breathed out a quiet sigh, a smile playing on his lips. An outline of a person…a teacher, fumbled in his sight. One blink and she was there, and the next, she was gone.

She seemed to be teaching, like her job suggested. Teaching something…he closed his eyes and listened to the music, laying down on the ground. Nothing that’ll matter I guess.

The water fell down in a systematic mesmerization, falling steadily on his eyes and mouth. He groped to get his book but again his hand went straight through the ground. He grumpily opened his eyes and reached out for the book that was hiding beside his head and held it close.

A voice was explaining something, and he ignored it, his headspace in total peace. Thoughts slowed and the pages between the book fluttered, he sat up again tilting the book between his hands as a new dark picture was brighted against page fifty-eight.

A boring silhouette of a textbook was printed against the page, and he moved the book away, refusing to acknowledge it. And before he could even think about it, he had already forgotten, laying down again with hands on his stomach.

The soft music stopped and he was sleeping now. Then after a few moment, he awoke, confused to why he did. Everything was so tranquil…so peaceful. He could live here forever. The book floated to him again, opened at page sixty-five.

An image of a familiar friendly face and a set of sentences flickered interchangeably on the page. He couldn’t read them, or recognize the person properly because it flashed swiftly. He assumed it didn’t matter.

Nothing matters.
-
454 words

Weekly 10th March

Part 1: Mythology
Genre Swap

Hades was absolutely enraged. Never had this ever happened, never. He had gone out in the mortal world for a small trot; pick up a slice of pizza in Italy to taste (it tasted ghastly, he had vomited for the first time in millenia.) , see how his old homeland Greece was doing and get onto what mortals had called “the tallest building in the world” in Dubai, that was his list. That’s all.

Alright…he was at a disagreement with that, he had also planned to punish all the mortals who had dared bring someone back to life, meet this Shakespeare person Apollo was so hyped about and probably send Thanatos on him, ( or was this Shakespeare character already dead? He could vaguely remember about a thousand or million more Shakespeares in the Underworld. ) and perhaps pay a visit to France and a few other countries.

It is the greatest time for me to take a small trot in the mortal world indeed, he had thought. For Zeus is currently incapacitated.

But irony had the stubbornness to fall upon him, it was gradually becoming the opposite of “the greatest time”. Hades pressed his lips in a tight line and changed shape into a black ram, and then an owl, then travelled to a park in Peru, under the dark shades of trees, and then changed to his normal appearance again. Then he tried once again, tried to change into a whirlpool of darkness, which was his way of travelling.

After a moment of fruitless attempts he stomped his foot on the ground in frustration. Why was it not working? Why could he travel to other countries and not travel even a foot into the Underworld? Was he expected to break into his own home?

“Need some help sir?” A woman with paint splattered all over her clothes and face stopped in front of him and he disintegrated into snow in shock…it was strange to have changed into snow, he had not changed into it for ages. He righted himself and realized the woman in front of him. She had not seemed to notice he was snow just a second ago.

“I am not in need of assistance.” Hades replied, confused as to why she was covered in a horrible amount of paint. He couldn’t even discern where her face and hair started and ended.

“Assistance?” She asked, looking surprised for some apparent reason, which did not sit well with him. She was supposed to be surprised that he had turned into snow. This did not make any rational sense. “Sir, you don’t…I think you need a helping.”

“A helping indeed.” He replied, sarcasm dripping from his voice. Before he could comprehend, the woman had taken out a bucket of red paint from hold-on-now land and splattered it all over him as he stared in shock.

He remained deathly calm, his eyes ignited with terrible shadows. “What. Is the meaning. Of this?”

“Sir…I thought you asked for a helping?” The bucket was sagging in her arms and she set it on the ground, eyes warily never leaving his face

“A helping? I am afraid you have me at a fault, which I assure you, is infallibly nonexistent.” He hissed. The trees around them obscured the park and in turn obscured them from the mortals, a convenience for this crazy lady. “And what is this “helping” in exact words?” He could’ve just flicked his fingers and the paint would vanish, but this person needed to see the complete lack of respect he was receiving.

Just then a drop of rain fell upon his head and he wiped it away, holding up the hand to his face habitually. Instead of the expected drop of water on his fingers, a yellow flare shone in a mocking welcome. He looked above and there it was, not rainfall. Paint-fall.

Yellow and orange and red escaped through the narrow pathways in the leaves of the trees and settled on his monotone clothes…and then the revelation that the trees around them weren’t trees at all left him in silence as he stared at the green molded clay that looked so similar to actual leaves….where in the unholiness of Zeus was he?

This was perhaps not the strangest he had seen, but the fact that a mortal seemed fully aware that paint was falling down from the sky— she was disgustingly tasting the paint with her tongue —took the podium of top ten. He shook his head and cursed at the sky, and Zeus in turn.

He walked out from the shelter of leaves— clay-sculpted leaves —and stopped dead, one foot out in the park.

The entirety of the place gave the impression of a million worth painting. People walked to-and-fro in a frenzy, covered head to toe in acrylic paint, an inhumane aura about them. The sky was colored in brushes of pink, blue and purple. The sun looked unreal, a 2D picture cut briskly and pasted in the sky. The flowers tilted as the paint fell on its papery petals, the grass were huge swirls of dried paint. Origami birds flew and perched on the modeling-clay trees, a Plaster of Paris fountain sprouted blue colored construction paper as navy paint brimmed in its threshold, sitting in the middle of the park.

His eyes couldn’t even comprehend what else was there, he was busy enough clawing at rational reasoning in the midst of this monstrosity. His eyes burned from setting his eyes on much color, he closed them for a few moments and then opened them again, disappointed that he didn’t awake in the Underworld with Persephone at his side.

The woman had halted in front of him, she held out her colorful hands covered with spray paint, as if to beckon him to the sight around them. “Why do you look so weary?” Her lips turned up into two tight straight lines, an impression of a cartoon-smile. “Are you new around here? If so, welcome to Alokazilac!”

Alokazilac? I must be in hell.
-
1006 words ;0

Part 2: Historical Fiction
If These Walls Could Talk: The Events One Place Has Seen.

12:00 pm, Golden Delights

A group of laughing Sticks walked through the chiming door. One of them was a small Stick with short hair and large eyes who glanced at them with an exaggerated annoyed expression, though hints of a smile shone between her eyes and lips. That was what I had learned about a Stick's facial expressions, though I couldn’t understand their language.

One of the cashiers nodded at the new group of Sticks with a grin and said something, pointing at the pink-colored cream thing among the various creams that was able to be seen with a transparent window to pick and choose. The small Stick nodded and the cashier gave a thumbs up and picked up a cone-like biscuit and ladled some pink-colored cream thing on it. He handed it to her and her face enlightened with an ecstatic smile.

For some reason, most of the Sticks were happy when they were given the cream thing, some Sticks even took a whole lot more of the cream thing in a box or took and ate between my walls itself. I didn’t understand why they were so happy, but it was strangely amusing.

Some Sticks also came here with unhappy faces too, but were almost always happy when they ate the cream thing. I felt great to be a place where the Sticks could escape from their bad expressions.

But some of them came here with anger, and yelled at the cashiers, not because of the cream thing I assumed, but something else. Something I couldn’t understand. Something between them and the cashiers maybe. There have been a lot of different cashiers since I was built, but the current one is my favorite.

The small Stick went in the corner and ate the cream with a gleeful air around her while the group of Sticks ordered their own. I watched them as they walked outside, the cashier waved at them.

(Scratch won't let me add this paragraph, but I have the paragraph in this project here)

The door chimed again and I set my sight on the isolated Stick, she waved to the back and the cashier came out and spooned a green-colored cream into a bowl. She took it and smiled a…sad smile I assume? It was not an expression I had seen very often, the cashier started talking with a similar sad smile pasted on his face. I was now very confused.

They talked for a long time, with the other Stick gesturing at the walls around them and sighing. Other Sticks came and went, some of them looking happy as usual but many Sticks also talked with sad smiles again. This was strange, I had never seen this type of behavior before.

Now it was dark and the two cashiers were leaving, they pasted a big paper on the transparent door, bold in red. The letters looked ugly and sad, I wondered if it was related to the sad smiles on the Sticks who came here.

The shop was almost completely empty now, the cashiers picked up the remaining materials and put it in a big truck outside. The cashier with the long hair had a key which jingled as she locked the door. The door sounded its last chime for the day and thudded closed.

Then I realized with a jolt, this had happened to the buildings around me.
Am I ever going to be called Golden Delights when the light falls on the world again?
-
627 words

Part 3: Fairy Tales
Mixing in a Little Magic: Place Yourself in a Fairy Tale

I forgot Rapunzel’s tale help + I’m Rush in this.

Rapunzel sighed, looking out the window with mesmerized eyes. Green grass flitted against the wind, her very long hair shimmering pure gold in the sunlight, she held her hands out into the light, screaming when it scalded her skin. “What the h-”

“Salutations!” A medium-tone voice that didn’t give away anything said from above. Rapunzel didn’t know of any god or otherwise, all she knew was that a ghost had been conjured and was now speaking to her from its unholy demise…perhaps that was a bit far-fetched. “Yes, I did that. The sun.”

She popped up a frying pan in her hand. “What the f-”

“Nope. No.”

She held her hands out in a somewhat fighting stance, her eyes flashing with rage, frying pan at the ready. “Come out now!”

“You know, that frying pan reminds me of Hero.” The voice said thoughtfully. “I haven’t mentioned, I am Rush and I am basically the lord of this world now haha.”

“Lord of the world.” She exclaimed incredulously, she turned away from the window and faced her small tower. “Lies!”

“This world, not the world.” The voice said as if it were a matter-of-fact.

Her eyes darted to the polished table, a patterned tablecloth set on it and the two chairs strewn across the place, a set of stairs leaded upwards, covered in colorful paint: the work of Rapunzel herself.

“I am unable to comprehend a word you speak.” Rapunzel walked up the stairs, but she could still hear enough to fathom the voice, even though it was muddled. “And that has never happened before!”

“Well yes, it has happened before.” Asserted Rush.

“How so?” She said, and in her frustration she tried beating the hell out of the pillow on her bed but abruptly it floated away while she looked upon in disbelief.

“Poor pillow.” The horrible Rush mused. “As for your question, you always were never able to understand exactly why Gothel didn’t let you out of the tower. Hmm, I don’t remember your tale very well, I’m assuming that’s it.”

“I do know!” She said indignantly. “The world is a ugly place.”

“That’s why I mentioned “exactly”.” Rush said absently. “Anyway, it was nice popping into your world. I don’t really have a favorite fairy tale, nor have I ever read fairy tales in about four years or so until SWC you know. No kidding, SWC is magical.”

Rapunzel was quiet for a second, glaring up at the ceiling. “Where are you? And what is SWC? And what do you mean by my tale?”

“SWC is a beautiful way to tap into creativity.” She assumed Rush was shrugging.

“I am not satisfied with your answer.” She declared.

“I don’t have the energy to continue this.” Rush said.

“Then why are you continuing?”

“It’s fun. Humorous. Amusing. ”


“F-fun?!”

“Yes.”

Rapunzel began throwing her belongings around in a rage, books flying everywhere, pillows viciously plucked, cotton strewn around the floor. Clothes ripped and hanging, pink and purple fabric in streaks against the cold brown floor, she was a hurricane and the room was her victim.

“Oh, you’re going to get in trouble for that.” Rush observed.

“RAAGHHHH!”

“Okay, alright, fine, I’ll leave.” Mischief sneaked under Rush’s words.

The tower turned into flashing shades of red, blinding her eyes and sending her falling on the ground in shock.

The tower has turned wicked! She thought. Just like this Rush character.

“Goodbye!” Rush said, and Rapunzel felt Rush’s presence deteriorating. She sighed exaggeratedly, glancing at the tower and then hopelessly putting her head in her hands.

How will I explain this to Mother Gothel?
-
602 words

Part 4: Folktales
Write a Story With a Moral

I have no idea how fishing works so bear with me.

Solaie was fishing, a hook dissolved in water, ripples flitting against the transparent surface. The day was young, birds chirped and leaves ruffled, clearing the silence and causing to transform his surroundings into a soft tranquil ambience that lolled him.

The taste of saltwater was on his tongue, as it had been when he was near the beach yesterday and almost drowned had it not happened that Krory saved him. Ever since, the taste of saltwater had been agonizingly stubborn and refused to leave him.

Someone might argue, why had Solaie been in the deep end of the saltwater body when he did not know the slightest sense in the art of swimming? Well, they were partly right to argue. Solaie is a stupid cowardice idiot, at least, those were Krory’s words. He thought of himself more as a…daring individual with a competitive spirit.

But to be honest, he was scared, extremely, at that time. The pull of the waves had brought him under, and desperately he had reached for the sky, death hanging onto his legs like a vicious welcome to the world of unreality. He shivered, the image was etched to his head.

Abruptly, he felt a pull and he flinched, messing up the fishing rod. He missed it, again. No matter how much he tried after the beach incident, he kept missing. He sighed and put away the rod, lying down on the rock and tilting his head up to the world.

“Solaie.” Krory’s face came into view, blocking the view of the rising sun with his dazzling grin. “What are you doing? I thought you were dead for a second.”

“Oh so, if I was dead, you would think it’s funny?” Solaie said with a raised eyebrow.

“Is that your idea of a joke?” Krory asked skeptically.

“It was not a joke in the first place.”

“You already know the answer, considering yesterday.” Krory said, laying down beside him in a patch of grass next to the rock Solaie was sprawled on. And he was right, Krory’s eyes had been scarily shaken black streaks and had been rooted in place as Solaie disappeared in the depths of the water. Then he jumped down himself and saved Solaie.

He had been coughing horribly, his throat dry and parched, and then Krory had managed to get the water out of him. Solaie had raised up a weak thumbs-up to signal that he was alright, enough worrying. Their other, somewhat of a friend, Clarri, had then hugged him until he couldn’t breathe.

But the most perplexing of the situation was that Krory’s face was agonizingly unreadable when Solaie was up and standing. Solaie had given him a questioning glance and Krory had stared at him until Solaie felt like he was going to explode. Solaie had tried talking to him but Clarri and her older sister who is a healer in the village, Phao, had led him away.

Now in the present, Solaie glanced at Krory. He was wearing a black tunic which brought out his pitch-black eyes, his hands were behind his head and against his honey-skinned neck sat a silver chain. Solaie remembered where he had found it, a few years ago it had washed up on the beach and Krory had whooped in delight, which, to be honest, was something out of character for him.

His chocolate— mmm…maybe he should make chocolate soon —hair was whizzing in the slight breeze, the rising rays of the sun igniting his brown streaks into a warm amber. Krory met his eyes and gave him a questioning glance as Solaie habitually shrugged, the rock rough against his shoulders.

“You know, it was scary.” Krory said.

“What was?” Solaie knew what he was talking about but he stalled anyway.

“The beach. You almost died, if you have forgotten.” Krory said bluntly.

“Why did you just stare at me like that?” Solaie blurted, his hands now dead at his sides and his eyes closed, Krory’s face flickering behind his eyes in a concealed mindscape. “At the beach, when Clarri and Phao were whisking me away to the healer’s hut?”

“I was in shock.” Krory said briskly. “And that’s a strange but stupid thing to ask.”

“I’ve seen you in shock before.” Solaie didn’t recount the horrible situations that had befallen on Krory. “That was nothing like it, you looked hopeless and regretful-”

“Because those guys had the nerve to push you in the water!” Krory roared suddenly, sitting up, fingers gripping a clump of grass. “Even after they knew that you couldn’t swim! And look what has happened to you now! Where is your usual extrovert-y self?”

“But I agreed to the dare-”

Krory’s eyes locked with his, a new darkness which Solaie had never seen before settling in the black depths of his eyes. “And that is why you are an idiot.” Krory hissed, he had always played around with that word, calling Solaie an idiot endearingly… but now it seemed to cut through him and twist his insides.

He felt dizzy, he was at a loss of words for once. Just then, the grass shook behind them, and a set of men appeared. Solaie was instantly on his feet. An arrow whizzed past and embedded itself in Solaie’s leg. He gasped, falling to the ground while Krory stared in horror.

The lead of the men, an ominous hooded person with his face covered with a mask laughed, the bow in his hands. Krory went beside Solaie, sitting him up and his eyes glued to the wound. “Oh no no no…” He whispered, looking at the hooded man furtively and covering Solaie from his view.

“Not…so…bad.” Solaie squeezed out, shaking and gasping. The pain was something he had never felt before and he bit back a scream.

The hooded man walked towards them, each step seemed to bring Krory tenser and tenser. “Don’t. Do. Anything. To him.” Krory warned.

“But Krory,” said the hooded man mockingly. “I thought you promised something.”

“I thought it will be on me!” Krory said desperately as the man inched closer, Solaie couldn’t see him coming because Krory’s back was to him, hiding almost everything from his view.

“Krory…what’s…happening?” Solaie’s eyes were closed and he was sweating, the wound pulsing through his veins. The warm blood was stained horribly on his hands.

“Oh, and you didn’t tell your friend?” The man said, fake disappointment dripped from his voice. “Hello Solaie, your friend Krory here has something to tell you.”

“I-I made a promise…I lost a bet against him-” he pointed at the hooded man ”-and he said if I promised that I would win a dare against those boys who dared you to go to swim in that deep end he would let go of it. And I promised it,” Krory’s voice cracked. “But then you took on the dare instead, Solaie, and now I’ve reached the deadline- i-it doesn’t make any sense, I thought that I would take on the punishment!”

“I guess you’re an idiot too.” Solaie said in dark humor, holding up his hands up to his ears to stop the ringing. Krory felt a jolt of reality. Those were a horrible set of last words to say to your friend, but maybe Solaie would live…

“Please, please just don’t hurt Solaie.”

“Nothing is fair and the deadline is over after all.” The man said absently. “You promised, and I promised that if you do not abide by yours, you will suffer a horrible demise.”

“You’re just playing with me!” Krory said, but the man looked unaffected. “Then let me suffer! Not-” Krory pleaded, he heard a zip and Solaie’s head lolled against his back, his loud scream abruptly silenced. He dreaded what was behind him as he turned around, catching Solaie between his hands.

An arrow was sticking from the back of his head, blood staining his pale hair a bold red, Krory stared in disbelief, a knot turning in his stomach. Solaie’s glassy eyes were wide open, his expression unreadable.

He set him gingerly on the ground, nothing was real anymore, everything was murky and muddled- and why did this keep happening to him? Why did everyone he liked were dead or missing? Tears escaped his eyes, he hasn’t cried in a long time.

He stood up shakily, his heart bleeding on the ground as he stepped over it, leaving it in the open. He stared at the hooded man as he left, as if looking for something that was impossible to find.

The hooded man caught his eye. “Oh, looking for last words of wisdom? Well first, it’s not totally your fault that Solaie died. I have a bit of a… grudge with his line of family let’s say. It was just partly your fault hah.” The man said, hints of grin sneaking into his words. He locked his eyes with Krory’s for the next line. “And second, don’t keep promises you can’t keep.”

Krory fell to the ground, head in his hands, imagining his life as a story in a book. He was a horrible person…he was a horrible person, he was a horrible person, he was a horrible person, he was a fricking horrible person.

He stumbled next to Solaie and stared at his face as if in a dream, not closing his eyes yet. His hair was a fiery gold in the sunlight, the blood pooling around his head a drastic contrast. “You’re going to be alive again Solaie. Don’t worry, you’re going to be alive again. Everything is going to be normal.” He picked him up and disappeared between the trees.
-
1605 word whoo

Part 5: Folktales
Oral Retelling: Show Characters Passing Down a Story

Too many fishers? This story is something I put this together in like 5 min ahddhas,

“There had once been a-”
I bolted, eyes shining.
In front of the bars
I was encased in,
Stood my favorite person
With her mouth hanging open,
Ready to recall a fixing story.
“Go on!” I beckoned, my hands
Suddenly waving wildly
In Newfound vitality.
She smiled, “There had once
Been a boy-”
“Like me?” I asked, her
Narrating presence always
Deteriorated the locked
Walls around me.
“Hmm…maybe a little different,”
She mused. He tilted forward
Eagerly, waiting, anticipating.
“He was a fisher. He loved fishing.”
Snorting, I said, “Fishing is not fun.”
“Well some people like it,
Like me.” Laughing, I said,
“I thought you weren’t boring!”
She shook her head. “Fishing is
Not boring.” As I rolled my eyes
She said, “Anyway, the fisher boy
Liked strawberries.” I snorted
Louder. She glared at me as
I tensed, “You will never get
Out of here if you are
Respectless.” Shakily, I nodded.
She continued, “One day, an
Animal, a snake in fact,
Promised the boy many fishes
And strawberries had he abided by
This one rule.” I raised a hand
In habit, “What was the rule!”
She gestured a waiting hand,
“She, the snake said-” Interrupting,
I said, “The snake is a she?”
She stared at me in expectancy
And finally I uttered a meek
“Sorry.” My favorite person
Continued, “She said
That his town had to never eat
Snakes ever again.”
I gagged, “His town
Ate snakes?” Shrugging,
She said, ”They like snakes.”
“Disgusting.” I muttered. Then
She said, “So the boy agreed,
But the snake warned
That had it happened
That the town ate another
Snake again-” She stopped for
The element of suspense.
He stared at her with bated breath
Between the bars.
“She and her slither
Of snakes would come
after him and the town.”
I gasped dramatically as she
Continued, “The boy readily
Agreed, and as the snake left
He remembered that there
Was a festival
Tomorrow, where the
Town would feast on snakes.”
“The boy tried in vain
To inform the town
Of the dilemma
That would fall upon them,
But they didn’t listen”
I muttered, “Bad town.”
She narrated, “Then he tried
To find the snake again,
But it was impossible.”
I locked my eyes with hers,
“Then what?”
She shrugged, “The snakes
Massacred the town the next day.”
I frowned, “That is a sad story,
And very vague.”
“Indeed.” She said, “It
Teaches you not to make
Promises on behalf of
Other people.”`He nodded.
Then after a little
Bit of chatting, she
Left. And I was abandoned,
Alone, in the darkness of the
Setting sun coming out
Flashing out of the window.
I whimpered and laid to sleep.
-
448 words.

Part 6: Mythology
Retelling

Apollo and His Glorious Hair

Eros’s Mindscape
Eros was playing with bows and arrows, trying them out, hitting target after target. He saw Apollo trot towards him with an aura of arrogant confidence. Eros grumbled, not Apollo again. The god was aggravating, stomping on the earth with his “great” feet, creating rhythms not of true power but of unashamed pride. Very similar to his father’s behavior, he observed.

Needless to say, but very evidently, Eros disliked him.

“Eros, my good companion.” Apollo said, slinging an arm around Eros’s shoulders of which he immediately shoved off. Apollo glanced at the bow in his hands and laughed loudly. “What do you have to do with the weapons of my occupation?” He asked mockingly, slingling a bow out of nowhere and abruptly shooting the piercing arrow into a target that Eros could scarcely see.

Suddenly they dissolved into light and out came them in front of the target. A perfect bulls-eye, Eros saw in disappointment. Apollo looked at him smugly, shrugging. “Leave those weapons for hands such as mine that have the skill to shoot down wild beasts with certainty and bring down my enemies with infallible ability.” He chuckled. Eros tensed, his head tilting with anger. “You should be content with your own stirring of the flames of love and your burning torch, not lay your inexperienced hands on my unlimited glories!”

Eros flicked away his anger and cackled in glee, his eyes flashing with mischief. “Unlimited glories? I cannot recall such a thing. Perhaps I am unable to strike all things such as you do, Apollo, but with an arrow of mine, I can surely strike your heart!”

Apollo looked at him, a smile curling on his lips. “That would be a first.”

Eros stared at him, “That is a threat,” He confirmed. “One I promise you will regret if you do not look upon it with a wary eye.”

“An empty threat.” Apollo mused, an arrow materialized in hands and he studied it exaggeratedly. After a moment he met Eros’s eyes and raised an eyebrow at his incredulous expression. “Why are you rooted to the ground? I recall that you were “threatening” me.”

Eros didn’t reply and left, scheming. Apollo looked after him as he walked away, amused.
-
Apollo’s Headspace
Apollo was sprawled on a rock, near Eros’s estate, waiting for his “threat”. He was playing with his instruments, trying out new ones and listening in nostalgia to the ancient ones. Something moved in the corner of his eyes and he squinted habitually, glancing at the peak of a nearby mountain.

Eros stood there and gingerly he took out from his quiver an arrow blunt and tipped with lead, drew the string and let it fly. Wind accumulated around it as it set itself into the sun-god, and he gasped in surprise. The arrow dissolved and instantly he felt a festering hatred. A hatred that dispelled all of his thoughts and swimmed around in his blood like poison.

Then Daphne, a nymph turned goddess, materialized in front of him and looked upon the situation in disbelief. Eros screamed in laughter as he spotted her, drawing an arrow of gold with a sharp-pointed shaft. Instead of engulfing itself into the sun-god, it flew towards Daphne, burrowing itself in her.

Apollo realized that the arrow of gold from Eros kindles love and he quickly turned away in disgust, his feet fumbling to sprint away. Unfortunately Daphne had already set her eyes on him.

With eyes brimming of love she ran towards him as he set off in the opposite direction. Eros watched with glee and a concerning lack of regret. Daphne cried out, “Apollo, you run as if I pose a deadly danger to you!”

“That is because you are!” Apollo declared, trying in vain to search for his chariot.

“I promise you no danger, all I desire is to spend my immortal life with you!” Daphne picked up the pace, her hair a beautiful wave of brown behind her.

And they ran, with Daphne pleading for Apollo, spurred by love, and Apollo dispelled of it, running as if he were running for his life. Meanwhile, Eros watched in amusement. “And previously he thought he had unlimited glory!” He exclaimed, barking out an uncontrollable laughter.
-
708 words

——-
Total word count: 4996 words :0000
Help done

Entry :00
I had to change it on April 1 because I put brackets instead of parentheses T_T
———————————————————————
Magnolia

Zinnia: (wistfully turns to the sun) Have you been running for a while? Running…running…running…Escape is a friend, a friend you can quickly confide in.

Lupin: Damfino.

Zinnia: Damfino?

Lupin: (mockingly) Dam if I know, friends…I’d rather eat.

Zinnia: You’re always looking at food, food here, food there.

Lupin: (tilts at Zinnia disapprovingly) Every flower needs food.

Zinnia: Have you heard of Tansy, our friend? I don’t seem to sense Tansy. Where is Tansy?

Lupin: I don’t know where Tansy is.

-

“What are you doing here?” I asked, hands suspended in shock at my sides. The person stood there, his back to me, I couldn’t see his expression. He was staring at the bursts of colorful flowers set carefully inside a growing pod, from within the pod a light that acted like the rays of the sun glared at the soft petals.

-

Zinnia: Meadowsweet, have you seen Tansy?

Meadowsweet: Tansy? I am useless, why would you ask me?

Zinnia: (wounded) Tansy is our friend.

Meadowsweet: You are too soft.

Zinnia: (turns away) That I am.

-

He turned around, and I gasped. He had two-toned eyes, shining in the lights overhead. One was a stormy blue, and the other a plain gray, like mine. I backed up against the closed door of the room in a daze of confused fear, never have I seen two-toned eyes.

His expression was unfathomable, I couldn’t tell if he was glowering, shocked or bored. He looked down at his hands and feet, something faint touching his face.

“Why aren’t you answering me?” I demanded, nervous. “Are you going to…”

He looked up at me, his eyes inhumanely…but somehow vaguely familiar. I racked my head for why. He opened his mouth, then closed it. I detected confusion flitting across his face, which was strange…after seeing the flowers, he should’ve called The Humane Class, or at least the Magnolia. I was, after all, smuggling flowers illegally…he must have noticed.

-

Zinnia: I can’t sense Tansy anywhere! Oh, where is the poor flower?

Meadowsweet: Stop fretting, everything is useless. I am only but a flower.

Zinnia: We are all only but flowers, Meadowsweet!

Meadowsweet: That is truth.

-

I peeled away from the door, steadying my feet, waiting for him to utter something, anything. He tried to walk towards me, then fell down abruptly, his legs wobbling. I instantly appeared beside him and helped him up. He stared at me as I did, as if he couldn’t believe I was real.

His lips worked, trying to form words. “Who are you?” He asked.

“Me?” I asked incredulously, letting go of him. “Who are you?”

“I am…I am…” He looked like he was grasping for the right words.

“Aren’t you going to tell on me about the flowers? Why aren’t you calling The Human Class,” I stared at him, voicing my concerns. “Or at least the Magnolia?”

“Why would I do…that?” He asked.

“Alright uninformed sir, the world is dying, ending, deteriorating.” I explained, sarcasm lilting my tone. “Flowers and any type of plantation need to be given to the Magnolia, a government organization that has the task to collect plantation for the next planet the people of Earth will be living on. Basically, it is illegal to own flowers.”

Now confusion covered every inch of his face. “What?”

-

Zinnia: Hellebore, have you heard of Tansy?


Hellebore: (absently) No. Should have I?

Zinnia: What are you doing…?

Hellebore: (stretches towards a video camera on the table) Nothing!

Zinnia: You know that glass keeps us in, you can’t possibly reach the camera!

Hellebore: (laughs hysterically) And that is why I am the definition of insane Zinnia. And word of advice, stop fretting about Tansy, all he ever does is argue with us.

Zinnia: (mumbles) You’re the second flower who has told me that.

Meadowsweet: The first was me!

-

I had thought that this person had been just keeping up an act, but I came to realize that he genuinely didn’t know what I was talking about. The boy glanced at the flowers in the growing pod behind him, a faint emotion flashing across his face.

“You really don’t know?” I said, disbelieving. “That’s crazy.” But he was staring at the flower pod once again, I walked in front of him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Why are you just staring at it? By the way, you can call me Rody.” I smiled hesitantly, trying to improve the air. “Where…did you come from?”

He was grasping at words again, his lips tilting and closing, he pointed a shaky hand at the flowers. His eyes filled with newfound fear, and I lost my guard.

-

Lupin: (yells) There’s a human hand! A human hand is near!

Meadowsweet: Kindly shut up Lupin.

Lupin: (happily) Maybe we’ll get water, I can make food again!

Zinnia: (worriedly) Where’s Tansy? Flowers, don’t you know where Tansy is?

Hellebore: Damfino!

Zinnia: Oh Tansy…

-

I glanced at the flowers, trying desperately to understand what this strange boy was trying to say. I realized that my tansies weren’t in the growing pod, causing me to widen my eyes and turn to the boy sharply.

“What do you know about this?” I demanded, gripping my fingers, anger and panic building through my veins. “Where are my tansies?”

“Tansies?” He asked, bewildered. He really didn’t look human at all, I noted.

“Tansies! Yellow flowers!” I said, my voice growing higher, I skeptically toned it down. “Did you take them?”

He turned to me, his head tilted like a plant tilted to the sun, he looked suddenly overwhelmed. His hand nervously grazed over the growing pod, causing the flowers, lupins, hellebores, zinnias inside to flutter. “I-I…do you mean, tansy?”

“Yes! The species of flower, tansy!” I confirmed impatiently.

He locked his eyes with mine, this time his lips moved with purpose, a sense of foreboding set into the depths of his voice. “But… I come from here-” He answered shakily, pointing at the pod while I stared at him. “…I am Tansy.”
———————————————————————

Mar 14, 2024

“Are you cold?”

Solaie turned his head to look at Krory. “Of course I am you infallibly dumbo person.”

“Are you sure dumbo is a word?” Krory asked. They were at the seashore, the waves rising and falling in a steady, sleepy melody. The sun caught the transparent surface of the water and ignited it into a million various colors of blue, green, yellow and orange. Solaie felt his eyes droop, he hadn’t slept properly last night.

Krory was sitting beside him, his familiar silver chain wound around the olive skin of his neck. His brown hair was whizzing in the cold breeze coming their way and his pitch-black eyes looked both human but also unearthly. His hands were splayed in the chilling sand behind him, and he was squinting his eyes at the water.

“What are you looking at?” Solaie said, following his sight to the group of boys laughing and yelling in the water, Solaie disliked them. They were a bit too…haughty, let’s say. “Those guys are the worst.”

“You’ve told me that so many times that I can’t even keep count of it to inform you.” Krory stated.

“Can we annoy them?” Solaie asked, his eyes flashed with a mischievous glint.

Krory shrugged and grinned sideways at him. “Why not?” He stood up and helped Solaie up, an unmistakable flame in his eyes.

Solaie bounded towards the group of boys and waved vigorously, “HEY! HEY HEY HEY!” He yelled gleefully. “WHO’S UP FOR SOME OF MY GLORIOUS SINGING?”

The boys stared at him, then the person in the middle, their unofficial leader maybe, started towards him. He was very tall, Solaie realized as the leader came to a halt in front of Solaie. Krory stood beside him, ready to lash out if anything happened.

“Singing?” He laughed with no humor, a challenge in his voice, his blond hair was covered with streaks of algae and dirt.

“I’d like you to dare me to a challenge.” Krory said suddenly, his head tilted to the boy. Solaie glanced at him in shock, and then grinned, stepping in front of Krory.

“Actually, dare me.” Solaie declared and Krory shook his head at him, the universal meaning for “no”. Solaie briskly ignored him. “I like a challenge.”

“Alright puny boy.” The tall boy said, the other boys waded through the water towards their leader, forming a circle around them. “I dare you to swim to the deepest ends of the water and come back here, just in front of the border line that doesn’t allow us to go further. It can’t be much.”

“Swim?” Solaie gulped.

“Swim.” The boy agreed, tilting his head to Solaie with an air of arrogant annoyance.

“No, Solaie you can’t swim, you could drown.” Krory hissed, Solaie waved him away, a smirk playing on his lips. The tall boy laughed at Krory, who glowered at him with his black eyes, the laugh turned into quiet coughs. Krory had that effect, he may be intimidating to the people around him, but not to Solaie!

“I’ll do it, my mother has always wanted me to swim after all.” Solaie stepped into the water before Krory could utter a word. He could almost feel Krory’s deathly stare at the back of his head and he grinned, his smile slowly fading as he neared the depths of the sea.

He slowly put his head underwater, closing his eyes and taking a clumsy deep breath. His heart drummed in his ribcage, sending tremors all over his skin. The water was terrifying and unfathomably deadly. He kept going, regretting his decision. Salt water escaped into the lines of his mouth and it took his will to ignore it, the bitter taste was now embedded in his tongue. He pushed through, his feet kicking on the water hesitantly and wobbly. Panic was just at the edge of his frame, clamoring to force through him.

He made a sorry excuse for a swim till he could no longer feel the ground, and now irrational fears had overcome him, panic running through his veins in a wild frenzy. He kicked and squirmed as the water slipped through his stinging eyes like a killing machine and then he was gasping as pockets of air shone through. Then he was shoved down again mercilessly.

He shut his eyes which were stinging so badly that he couldn’t function. His hands flew towards the sky, legs kicking desperately. Panic and Fear were inside him, possessing him. Panic and Fear were the only elements keeping him going at this moment.

He let everything out as darkness clouded the sides of his vision, but not before he saw blurry black eyes and strong arms gripping him as he succumbed to a world of nothingness.
-
He spluttered and coughed to a start, the sunlight a bright threshold to the reality of the world, he sat up and instantly felt arms around him. He stared blurrily at the short cloud of black hair that covered his eyesight. Clarri, He realized. Why is she here?

She seemed to be whispering something to him, “Are you okay-” He shivered, his throat parched.

Then, she took a jacket from someone behind her and covered him with him…Krory’s jacket.

“Are you cold?”

875 words

Weekly 16th March

Part 1: Flowers

Zinnia: Have you been running for a while? Running…running…running…Escape is a friend, a friend you can quickly confide in.

Lupin: Damfino.

Zinnia: Damfino?

Lupin: * if I know, friends…I’d rather eat.

Zinnia: You’re always looking at food, food here, food there.

Lupin: Every flower needs food.

Zinnia: Have you heard of Tansy, our friend? I don’t seem to sense Tansy. Where is Tansy?

Lupin: I don’t know where Tansy is.

-

“What are you doing here?” I asked, hands suspended in shock at my sides. The person stood there, his back to me, I couldn’t see his expression. He was staring at the bursts of colorful flowers set carefully inside a growing pod, from within the pod a light that acted like the rays of the sun glared at the soft petals.

-

Zinnia: Meadowsweet, have you seen Tansy?

Meadowsweet: Tansy? I am useless, why would you ask me?

Zinnia: Tansy is our friend.

Meadowsweet: You are too soft.

Zinnia: That I am.

-

He turned around, and I gasped. He had two-toned eyes, shining in the lights overhead. One was a stormy blue, and the other a plain gray, like mine. I backed up against the closed door of the room in a daze of confused fear, never have I seen two-toned eyes.

His expression was unfathomable, I couldn’t tell if he was glowering, shocked or bored. He looked down at his hands and feet, something faint touching his face.

“Why aren’t you answering me?” I demanded, nervous. “Are you going to…”

He looked up at me, his eyes inhumanely…but somehow vaguely familiar. I racked my head for why. He opened his mouth, then closed it. I detected confusion flitting across his face, which was strange…after seeing the flowers, he should’ve called The Humane Class, or at least the Magnolia. I was, after all, smuggling flowers illegally…he must have noticed.

-

Zinnia: I can’t sense Tansy anywhere! Oh, where is the poor flower?

Meadowsweet: Stop fretting, everything is useless. I am only but a flower.

Zinnia: We are all only but flowers, Meadowsweet!

Meadowsweet: That is truth.

-

I peeled away from the door, steadying my feet, waiting for him to utter something, anything. He tried to walk towards me, then fell down abruptly, his legs wobbling. I instantly appeared beside him and helped him up. He stared at me as I did, as if he couldn’t believe I was real.

His lips worked, trying to form words. “Who are you?” He asked.

“Me?” I asked incredulously, letting go of him. “Who are you?”

“I am…I am…” He looked like he was grasping for the right words.

“Aren’t you going to tell on me about the flowers? Why aren’t you calling The Human Class,” I stared at him, voicing my concerns. “Or at least the Magnolia?”

“Why would I do…that?” He asked.

“Alright uninformed sir, the world is dying, ending, deteriorating.” I explained, sarcasm lilting my tone. “Flowers and any type of plantation need to be given to the Magnolia, a government organization that has the task to collect plantation for the next planet the people of Earth will be living on. Basically, it is illegal to own flowers.”

Now confusion covered every inch of his face. “What?”

-

Zinnia: Hellebore, have you heard of Tansy?


Hellebore: No. Should have I?

Zinnia: What are you doing…?

Hellebore: Nothing!

Zinnia: You know that glass keeps us in, you can’t possibly reach the camera!

Hellebore: And that is why I am the definition of insane Zinnia. And word of advice, stop fretting about Tansy, all he ever does is argue with us.

Zinnia: You’re the second flower who has told me that.

Meadowsweet: The first was me!

-

I had thought that this person had been just keeping up an act, but I came to realize that he genuinely didn’t know what I was talking about. The boy glanced at the flowers in the growing pod behind him, a faint emotion flashing across his face.

“You really don’t know?” I said, disbelieving. “That’s crazy.” But he was staring at the flower pod once again, I walked in front of him, waving a hand in front of his face. “Why are you just staring at it? By the way, you can call me Rody.” I smiled hesitantly, trying to improve the air. “Where…did you come from?”

He was grasping at words again, his lips tilting and closing, he pointed a shaky hand at the flowers. His eyes filled with newfound fear, and I lost my guard.

-

Lupin: There’s a human hand! A human hand is near!

Meadowsweet: Kindly shut up Lupin.

Lupin: Maybe we’ll get water, I can make food again!

Zinnia: Where’s Tansy? Flowers, don’t you know where Tansy is?

Hellebore: Damfino!

Zinnia: Oh Tansy…

-

I glanced at the flowers, trying desperately to understand what this strange boy was trying to say. I realized that my tansies weren’t in the growing pod, causing me to widen my eyes and turn to the boy sharply.

“What do you know about this?” I demanded, gripping my fingers, anger and panic building through my veins. “Where are my tansies?”

“Tansies?” He asked, bewildered. He really didn’t look human at all, I noted.

“Tansies! Yellow flowers!” I said, my voice growing higher, I skeptically toned it down. “Did you take them?”

He turned to me, his head tilted like a plant tilted to the sun, he looked suddenly overwhelmed. His hand nervously grazed over the growing pod, causing the flowers, lupins, hellebores, zinnias inside to flutter. “I-I…do you mean, tansy?”

“Yes! The species of flower, tansy!” I confirmed impatiently.

He locked his eyes with mine, this time his lips moved with purpose, a sense of foreboding set into the depths of his voice. “But… I come from here-” He answered shakily, pointing at the pod while I stared at him. “…I am Tansy.”

999 words

Part 2: Constellations

Clarri sat down on a rock under the sky, her head tilted. The stars twinkled brightly in the ivory expanse overhead, welcoming her to the darkness of the night. She blinked, holding her hands wide to the uneven air. Breezes seemed to fly to and fro, and occasionally a strong wind, fluttering her hands by its force. The rumbling sea yawned in front of her, its waves rising and falling steadily in a lolling rhythm, and she felt her eyelids drooping. The night sky seemed to have spells of its own.

Someone sat down next to her on the large rock, and she turned her head absently. Her older sister, Phao, sat there, staring at the dark water’s depths. The moonlight caught her face, lighting up her features. Her sister had long dark hair tied into a braided ponytail and a butterfly-shaped clip holding one side of her bangs back, the rest of side bangs falling on the other side of her honey-skinned face. She wore a tucked beige collared shirt with long sleeves, an unzipped jacket with silver lining that reflected the dim light of the moon outlined on the jacket’s collars and a dark skirt that stopped at her ankles.

Clarri had always wondered about her sister’s clothing sense. Her sister was a healer, and all the healers she had seen had something in common- they barely cared about what they wore. In contrast, her sister wore clothes that were scarcely seen in the village and intended to look unique. Clarri liked that about her sister…but Phao rarely agreed to Clarri’s pleas for the secrets of where or how Phao brought her clothes.

She looked back at the water, but not before Phao ruffled Clarri’s short dark hair with a teasing grin. She fumbled to pat her hair down again and glared in annoyance at her older sister. Phao shrugged lightly, gracefully. Everything about her was graceful.

“What are you doing next to the beach at such an unholy time?” Phao asked, faint humor lilting her tone. Clarri didn’t reply, and Phao tried again. “Are you thinking about Solaie?” The name sent a sour shock through her.

“Well yes, he and Krory has ominously disappeared.” She said, a certain bitterness set in her tone. Phao’s smile faded, her lips coming to a tight halt. “And not to mention that yesterday Solaie almost drowned.”

“The village are still sending search scouts, you know how reckless those two are.” Phao said calmly, her rationality always seemed to calm Clarri…but not this time. “We’ll find them, not to worry.”

Clarri brought her legs towards herself, the rock was starting to feel uncomfortable to sit on. “Ha, I’m not so sure.” She muttered. “Reckless. That’s an understatement alright.”

Phao turned her head to the sky abruptly, her brown eyes ignited into a warm amber in the dim light. “Do you want to hear a story?” She asked, holding her hands out to the sea as if the water alone had the power to guide her. “To make you feel better?”

“I don’t know how a story can make anxiety fade away, but by all means,” Clarri declared, sarcasm dripping from her tone. “Go ahead with your life-changing story.”

“It’s definitely not life-changing.” Phao tilted her dark eyes on her. “But it’s something.” She crossed her legs and solemnly put her hands in front of her, facing Clarri in such a formal way that it was humorous, emboldening Clarri’s lips to twitch at the sides, the threshold of an annoyed smile.

“Once upon a time-”

“Classic.” Clarri mumbled, and Phao raised her eyebrows in warning. Clarri threw her hands up in a faintly playful surrender.

“Once upon a time,” Phao continued. “There was a fisher guy who liked playing instruments. A hooded man came to him-”

“Directly to the climax?” Clarri asked. “It’s just been one line.”

“Shh. The hooded man offered him something.” Phao said, her eyes lost in the wonder of storytelling. “He told him he had a new instrument, a powerful one. The fisherman said he would like to see it, but the hooded man refused and informed him that he had to do something in return for the instrument. The fisherman asked him of what, the hooded man told him that he had to kill the King of Powder-”

“King of Powder?” Clarri spluttered and Phao nodded as if it were a very normal situation.

“And the fisherman was so infatuated by his love of instruments that he agreed. He went and killed the King of Powder in his sleep, and cut off the King’s hand as proof-” Clarri made a gagging sound. “Then he went back to the hooded man and asked for the new instrument. The hooded man laughed in delight and gave him the first ever lyre. But the lyre was cursed to the bearer, whoever played the lyre would end up playing forever till they died.”

“He played and played and never stopped to rest, his hands stung and his feet screamed with pain from dancing around in a performance no audience would ever set their eyes upon. An entity took pity on him and instead of him dying, he was turned into the last star for the completion of the constellation Lyra, named after the fisherman’s lyre.” Phao pointed to the sky, “And that’s why you can see the fisherman’s constellation shining brightly in the dark of the night.”

Clarri’s head turned, eyes raking for the Lyra. “It looks like a fish.” She observed, wrinkling her nose.

Phao laughed, “I think so too.”

932 words

Part 3: Aesthetics

I did it in a project here

Part 4: SWC Fanfiction

The doors boomed open as I waited, fidgeting with my fingers. (My fingers were not long but not short either, I had realized. ) My head snapped up at the doors, the loud sound drumming and waving through my ears, emboldening anticipation.

In the doorway stood the remainder of the Ecrite team, excitement and fear co-existed through my veins, dancing in my blood. Yes- there was a representative from Myth, a blonde-haired girl with french braids and determined blue-green eyes. Another was from Fairy Tales, a long-haired brunette, she was tan-skinned and there were hazel eyes set in her cheerful but cautious face.

They walked together to the comfortable couches and bean bags set around the room, and I let out a relieved sigh, the Ecrite team was complete. One of the representatives from Fantasy cabin leaned towards the group scattered around the room, analyzing her surroundings with an anxious smile.

Once everyone was settled, she stood up from her couch, clapping her hands to dim the avid conversations around her. Sets of excited, nervous and anxious eyes set on her with undivided attention. She cleared her throat. “Hello all, I’m Herm, and I’m so glad you’re all here!” She grinned a genuine smile, her light green eyes sparkling and her wavy brown hair flitting, but lines of worry and anxiety faintly shone on her face.

“I think it would be best to get straight to the point as we don’t have much time.” Hushed whispers from the twelve people across the room arose at that. “As you all know, for these past few weeks the SWC community has been living in doubt and hesitation of an awoken threat. No matter how much we try to ignore this new festering disaster, it still lurks in the corners of SWC like poison…waiting to seep in.” She paused, taking a faint breath, quiet determination in her light green eyes.

“The leaders and co-leaders regret that such a threat had to show itself during this wonderful session… Indeed, we can all agree that this newly-declared Tansy cabin has caused SWC much trouble-”

The representative from Sci-fi agreed, anger beneath her words. I realized there was a name tag that spelled out Surf on her jacket. “Tansy cabin has almost ruined this session!” Surf said, and many people nodded. Herm dipped her head in agreement.

Herm continued. “They have. They believe in a totalitarian leadership for the SWC, and many other concerning beliefs. Tansy seeks to control SWC with fear and threats, and the community can never allow that. And so the leaders have come to an agreement,” She met eyes with everyone in the room, the motivation in her eyes fueling everyone. “And that is why you are all here, all here to fight back at the Tansy as a team, the Ecrite team.” She declared, and loud agreement and murmurs reverberated through the room.

She continued with a serious tone. “Tansy has declared a word war against us, thirteen people against thirteen people, and stated that if they win, they will take over SWC. But if we win,” She paused. “They will leave SWC alone in peace.” Whoops and determined cheers filled the air, and Herm waited until it quieted. “We have to note that the Tansy cabin is very motivated and vicious, and it is inevitable that they will do anything to win against us. Saying that, the war will start exactly in thirty minutes.”

Ave, the blonde girl with french braids from Myth cabin raised her hands with a flourish. “Let’s show Tansy cabin what we can do, people!” She said brightly.

Writing utensils, computers, and even an old typewriter were ushered into the room by River, the tan-skinned, dark haired with a lilac streak and brown-eyed girl from Tragedy cabin.

She waved her hands at the items in her cart and distributed them with a sense of purpose, her piano hands working. Everyone instantly got to work, sitting in groups and discussing a plan of how to write.

And then the thirty minutes passed quickly…

The war had begun.

Kiara, the representative from Fairy Tales with brown hair and glowing hazel eyes sat next to me without a word, our fingers flying across the computer keyboards, words appearing and disappearing. After a moment, River, the girl with the lilac streak in her hair came and sat in front of us with a pen and paper in her hands. We were familiar around each other.

Since the Tansy cabin had orchestrated this war against the whole of SWC, they had the task of choosing the requirements of the war. I had noticed the requirements were certainly different than usual word wars. There was no set word limit: which team did the most words won the war, which was very vague and unclear because the Ecrite team had no idea of what word goal the Tansy team was aiming at. The other info was that the war would go on for twelve hours, with two breaks with a duration of an hour each.

We absolutely had to step up our game.

An hour passed, and the large TV set in the middle of the room chimed, the sound sudden and eerie, ringing through the room. When the war started, there was a timer visible on the TV’s screen that took track of how much time had passed…Well, not anymore. Message from the Tansy team + 10 minute break blinked on the screen, and all thirteen sets of eyes stared at it.

Herm, who was sitting with Ave and Surf, stood up with furrowed eyebrows. “I guess there’s a break guys.”

Everyone gasped as the TV let out a scratchy voice, resounding through the walls as words appeared on the dark surface of the television. “Hello! It’s Rwea from the Tansy team.” The voice announced with an artificial and mocking glee. “We are issuing a challenge, the…Ecrite team has the task to collaborate a thriller story with 1000 words in the next hour or you basically lose the war. This challenge also applies to us.”

River grumbled, her headphones were lowered on her shoulders. “Great. Tansy team just had to show up when I was about to hear the best part of the song.”

“Eat dirt Tansy.” I agreed, and we smirked at each other.

The screen darkened and the timer appeared again. Herm got a group of four people consisting of representatives from Hi-fi, Fan-fi, Dystopian and herself to collaborate for the word war. With an encouraging smile at them, she walked towards us with Ave and Surf.

“I’m depositing these two at your service, behave well.” Herm said teasingly and quickly glided back towards the collab group. Ave stared at us with her blue-green eyes and Surf fiddled with her fingers in silence. Then Kiara started laughing, me and River joined in, ushering them to grab a bean bag and sit. They grinned and did so.

After they had, I glanced at the timer and saw that there were seven minutes left for the break. River saw me looking and sighed, shaking her head in annoyance at the Tansy team. “I hate this so much.” She informed them.

“I know right!” Ave put her hands in the air, the bracelets wound around her wrists flitting. Surf and Kiara nodded without looking from the computers, their hands moving across the keyboard.

I nodded too, I was absolutely tired, and it had just been an hour. Other people were miraculously still writing, their dedication was as if it were tethered to them.

We kept on writing, a few words of conversation between the minutes. Surf and River let out a few sarcastic remarks, Ave fueled us with jokes and Kiara filled us with encouragement. We kept on.

It was just ten minutes before the challenge finished, and I kept looking at the collaborating group anxiously. Herm’s light green eyes were still filled with determined purpose. Then she finally looked up from her computer.

“We completed the challenge.” She declared as words of encouragement resounded through the walls. It was a small triumph for us. She smiled, everyone was already weary, but their eyes brightened with a light as Herm said the next words. “Don’t worry team…”

“Victory will be ours!”

-
1381 words
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Total words: 3312 oh gosh

Story

The leaves came aside, brushing over Asteria’s hands, the touch tingling on her palms. The loud colors of the city loomed in front of her, the neon streaks of light and lanterns illuminating the darkness. Streets and roads huddled in amazingly neat rows, bridges whooping to and fro. Buildings looked as if there wasn’t a possibility that anything could live up to it, towering brightly over the expanse of flitting people. The long line of swaying trees wound with fairy lights on the sides of the streets were the only objects that consisted of the wood that was usually used to make houses. In contrast, cement covered the city from top to bottom.

Now this was a city in all its wonder, sitting in the middle of a forest with no shame, cutting through large lands with a lack of heed, welcoming you under its spell. She was almost mesmerized. This city, considered with the name of Possibility, was nothing compared to the ramshackle buildings Are, Lynx and Asteria had passed. Even the large town they had walked by made of a mix of wood houses and ornate cement buildings was not in the slightest a competitor for this electric beauty.

Lynx squirmed behind her, his two-toned black and green eyes sparkling with an innocent excitement, his dirty blond hair whisking and whipping in the wind and his pale skin littered with patches of light under the narrow gaps of the leaves. His tattered clothes reminded Asteria that she had to buy new ones for him.

“Oh my, Ella, look, oh my gosh.” Asteria felt a joy mixed with a bit of sorrow watching the huge smile playing on the eleven year old boy’s face, he had never seen a lot of the world before. She longed to know more of his backstory, but he didn’t seem to remember his parents or even any human.

Are tumbled out from the undergrowth, he wasn’t very accustomed to deep forests like Lynx and Asteria was since he was mostly robbing houses and whatever else the heck he did. She watched impatiently as he carefully walked towards them.

“Ah,” He said lightly, panting a little, the arrogant cheer in his voice unmistakable. He stared at Possibility peaking before them, his mask a green wall to his expressions. There were a few leaves and twigs snagged in his hood attached to his cape. “And where might Madame Asteria bring us to?”

“Possibility.” Asteria said plainly, her knife a sharp glint in the lightbulbs and lanterns around the area, she placed it back in her holster. Then she walked directly towards the nearest gateway that marked the border of the city, electric cars and modern vehicles streamed behind its steel bars before her eyes could clearly catch a sight of them.

Lynx walked beside her, his head flitting, his heterochromatic eyes trying to catch everything. Are appeared beside her, his cape sending a dark shadow on the grass. He walked quite gracefully on solid ground, she had realized some time ago.

Are’s head tilted towards hers. “That’s a fitting name,” He said. “I feel it describes this booming beauty of light quite well.”

“The opposite goes for you.” Asteria said savagely.

“What?” Are said as he dramatically stared at her in mock shock. “I have a wonderful name that represents me quite well!”

“I wasn’t aware.” She said sarcastically.

She had been trekking the woodlands with a panting breath, feeling unusually warm and sweaty was not a good feeling. She stopped a few blocks away from the line of people in front of the steel gate, who were waiting to be admitted. “Alright old guy and Lynx-”

“I am not exactly an old guy.” Are stated, his lips annoyingly twitching into a grin.

“Anyway, we are about to meet the borderline of the city, Possibility.” She snapped a finger in front of Lynx’s face to keep his attention, and his egg-like…object named Ella gripped in his hands almost fell out due to his surprise. “The border-guards will not allow us through without an ID, and Lynx doesn’t need one since he’s obviously a kid. So, do you have one?”

Are rubbed his hands. “I- don’t have one. No.” He mused. “Maybe I had one a hundred years ago-”

Asteria tilted her head thoughtfully, “Well, you don’t have it now, which matters. We could as well trade with the border-guards, but that might be risking our entry.” She widened her eyes as Are immediately swept off, walking towards the line with an arched back, confidence streaming from him.

Lynx tilted his head at her questionably. “Should we follow him?”

Asteria exhaled a sharp breath. “Yes, otherwise he might do something much more stupid- Stupid, dumb idiot.” She muttered as she stormed towards him.

He had already cut through the line, his dark green mask illuminated in the streetlights. The border guard and the people waiting glowered and stared at him with unmistakably annoyed faces. Asteria muttered a “sorry” as she got through, clasping Lynx’s fingers in hers so he wouldn’t lose her.

She stopped in front of Are, her tinted hood allowing her to see a monotone image of him. He grinned at her, and she gritted her teeth. She let go of Lynx’s hand, beckoning him to stay put, and turned to the guard.

“Greetings,” She said to the border guard, who was looking at the group with no particular interest. Asteria pointed at Are sharply. “I am terribly sorry to deposit Are’s unlikely behavior in your post. I hope he hasn’t been causing much trouble.”

“I, in fact, have not been causing-” Are yelped as Asteria stepped on his foot.

“Sorry.” Asteria said once again, her lips turning into an artificial smile. Lynx watched, wide-eyed. “We’ll be off in the back of the line.”

The border guard exhaled an exasperated breath, his gaze skimmed over Are and Asteria and stopped in surprise as he caught Lynx’s heterochromatic eyes. “No problem,” He said roughly, his eyes locked with Lynx’s curious ones. Then he looked at Are and Asteria. “Let’s just get this over with. ID?”

“Well, I have mine, but Are-”

The guard sighed. “No ID, no entry. He can’t go.”

“Perhaps you’d like to trade then-” He cut her off.

“No. That doesn’t work here anymore.” The guard said firmly, crossing his large arms, his face set. “There are people waiting, I’d like you to get moving on.” An unmistakable warning shone in his tone.

She glanced at Are in despair, who was staring closely at the guard; she wished she could see his expressions. He can’t see mine well either. She reminded herself.

Lynx gingerly walked towards the guard, a small figure against the huge man. He looked down at Lynx with an unreadable expression and Lynx stared up at him, holding out the egg-like object, Ella, towards him.

What is going on? She hissed internally. Certainly I didn’t ask anyone to take over my task, nor did I ask anyone to address the guard.

She was about to touch Lynx’s shoulder lightly, to beckon him away so she could barter. But then Are held her shoulder gently but firmly, the meaning to wait. She stopped where she was for a moment, then shrugged his hand off.

Lynx was looking up at the man with wide eyes, the streetlights plastered against the walls of the gate illuminating the hesitant features of his face. Just when the border guard was about to shoo them away, Lynx stood on his tip-toes. “Sir…you can have… Ella,” Asteria looked at Lynx in horror. “Just please let friend Are go.”

“Ella?” The man repeated.

Lynx pointed to the egg-object in his hands. “Ella.” He confirmed shakily.

“No.” Are said under his breath, moving to stand next to Lynx, but the guard beckoned him to stay put. He begrudgingly did so, his dark-green cape whisking and turning in the breeze.

“What use would I have of…that?” The guard asked tonelessly, his eyebrows raised.

Then words started tumbling out of Are’s lips, rageful and exasperated beneath the surface. Asteria couldn’t help but glance at him in surprise. ”Lynx has lived alone for all of his memory. He does not and cannot recall any person’s face.” He stared at the guard, words said slowly and tightly. “He’s never seen a face before, so much so that he regards his possessions as living things-” He pointed at Ella. “Clearly a cruel outcome for the first face he has seen to treat him with open hostility.”

“Impossible.” The guard stated after a hanging moment. “A kid, in the forest? For ten years?”

“Eleven years, Asteria helped me count. I’m eleven.” Lynx said quietly, his eyes locked on Ella, he was stroking the object, patting it- her comfortingly on her head.

The guard’s mouth twitched, as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t. “You said you had an ID?” He said to Asteria, regret flashed in his dark eyes.

“Yes I do. My sister resides in Possibility after all.” She said, holding out the ID in question, and Are looked at her inquisitively at her mention of a sister. Lynx was gazing at the cars streaming behind the steel gate in wonder.

“Well…” The guard said slowly and Are’s mouth twitched as if he were about to smile. “There is no…set rule for all of a group to show an ID as a must. People in groups don’t come here often.” He hesitantly opened the door at the side of the large gate.

Lynx skipped and bounded towards the door while the guard muttered something like, “First time doing this, should’ve asked Arian.”

“Doing what?” Are asked innocently.

The guard inhaled a sharp breath. “Nothing at all.”

“It’s just a little quarter illegal-” Are loud-whispered, shrugging. “Considering we’re three people. I’m sure no one will bother looking twice.” She had a feeling he was winking. She sighed in relief as the guard begrudgingly let them through.

As they passed, she subtly pressed a gold necklace into the guard’s hand. “Thank you.” She said abruptly and turned away towards Lynx and Are, who had already advanced.

“Alright, that was close. Now,” Are rubbed her hands together as she walked towards them. “Fill me in.”

“Fill you in?” Asteria repeated, her eyes scouring for a taxi. A bright white car bearing the sign of a blue lynx stopped in front of them. Asteria chuckled internally at the unintentional pun.

“I mean like, I had absolutely no faith that there was a possibility that you could smile,” Are exclaimed. “However unauthentic.”

Asteria was about to answer when Lynx was suddenly giggling. “That’s a lynx!” He pointed at the sign. “Like my name.” He looked at Asteria. “What are those moving things though?”

“Cars.” Asteria said, ushering both Lynx and Are in the backseat and setting herself next to the driver in the passenger seat. She pulled her hood to shade over her eyes again, it was getting quite annoying to be doing that repeatedly, she realized.

Lynx was back to excitedly whispering, “Ella, Ella, look!” and Are was staring out the window, enchanted. His chin was supported on his hand, and he was unusually quiet, his dark green cape sprawled around him on the bright blue leather of the seats.

“Where to?” The driver next to her asked, her face unreadable. Asteria realized that compared to the driver’s clean navy jacket and trousers, the trio were filthy. Her dirt-stained coat, Are’s ripped cape and Lynx’s messy hair only added onto the fact.

Asteria had to admit that the driver had a good enough reason for the disgust in her eyes, save for the impression that it was a little harsh, but people in Possibility scarcely hid their feelings or opinions. She should know; her sister had lived here.

“Fairmont, next to Spectrum Street.” She replied, leaning back on the bright blue seat that contrasted against her dark coat. Lynx had taken out a small piece of bread from Are’s bag and was nibbling on it.

She raised her eyebrows. “Lynx, you can eat the whole thing now, we’re going somewhere with a lot of food. No point in saving it.” On their way to the Cloud, she had realized Lynx didn’t eat so much…which was probably a habit he had grown into because of his surroundings in the forest.

Lynx shook his head. “Dunno, just in case.” He muttered, back to gazing out the window.

Then Are perked up, his eyes alight with an excited eagerness. “Is there a possibility that we will be served with lemon tarts?”

Asteria blinked at the absolutely spontaneous question, processing. “Lemon…tarts?”

“What?” Are said, he had assumed that Asteria was looking at him incredulously. “Certainly our journey will never be bearable without lemon tarts.” He said, as if it were a matter-of-fact. Asteria noticed the driver’s eye twitching, and she was pleased at Are for once.

“It’ll probably be served.” She shrugged.

“Not good enough!” He pouted, then he not-surprisingly asked, “You mentioned a sister?”
“She lived here, yes, but she died a long time ago.” By a long time, Asteria meant, was fifty years ago. Asteria should’ve been dead by now, humorously; Are looked at her knowingly. The driver went on driving, though her eye had unfortunately stopped twitching. “Possibility provides a resident’s immediate family with IDs, the reason as to why I have one.”

“Ah-” Lynx cut Are off.

“What is that! What is that?” Lynx said, pointing wildly at the large cement building that was shaped like an open book, it was sitting on the ground as if the ground were a desk, the pages open to the sky. Neat thin lines of glass panes fitted into the pages acted like an impersonation of words, reflecting the stunning lights and lasers of blasting colors that were shone on the pages. The cover of the book-shaped building was painted with a shining gold color. Asteria recognized this beautiful construction very well.

“That’s the library.” Asteria said, her voice filled with an overwhelm of nostalgia as they passed it. “Makteca Library, me and my sister went there often when I came to visit.”

“What’s a library?” Lynx asked, and Are answered for him.

“It’s a place made specially for books, where people can come and read them.” Are smiled. “Books are great.” He paused, then changed the subject. “I can’t believe I’ve never heard of Possibility before, considering…”

Considering you’re literally two hundred years old. Asteria thought. Like me…or at least almost like me.

“Well, Possibility was made sixty years ago.” Asteria said, and the driver nodded in agreement.

“Wow, that undoubtedly explains it.” Are said, his voice dripping with sarcasm, looking out the window. The bright lights of the city shined on his mask, turning it into a warm cascade of red, pink, blue and green.

Possibility was that one rare thing you could never stop staring in amazement at; Asteria had concluded that the last time she had been with her sister. The buildings were impossible and towering, the highways and bridges twisted and turned till your eyes were blurry, and the stores and shops were bustling and vivid. In fact, she always felt a strong irrational excitement everytime she stepped into this wonder of streets and lights.

And she was glad to be sharing that excitement with new people.

…Well, perhaps Are didn’t fit into the definition of people exactly.

She tilted her head back to glance at Lynx. He was opening and closing his mouth as if he wanted to ask a question, then he pouted because he was unable to ask it as they had already gone past it, then his eyes brightened again and his mouth opened and the cycle repeated. It was undoubtedly endearing; the little boy was adorable, and she would protect him with all her life.

She doubted the same for Are though. The man in question was currently looking out the window in a concerning silence. (Who was this and what have they done with Are?) He looked at her as she glanced at him, and a teasing smile played at the corners of his mouth. Rolling her eyes, she looked out the window in front of her. Bright cars were hustling their way through the streets.

She was glad that Are scarcely asked questions about her past, and in turn she returned the favor. There were a few times that Asteria felt the jolt that this was not a regular joking twenty-year old guy, but in fact, was a century old man— someone who had experienced the same things as her, who had seen the sunlight and felt its warmth, who had seen flowers bloom and trees sprout, someone who understood the refusal to acknowledge the past and the strange bitterness that seemed to possess you as you gazed at the present world.

Are certainly didn’t act his age, but there were times when his teasing demeanor had slipped and then he had radiated a sort of aura, informing her that this was not a normal person— she couldn’t have explained it…It was something subtle; just for a moment his jaw set with quiet wisdom, his tight lips and knowing smiles suggesting a man beyond the laws of nature, and the slightness of his movements indicating unimaginable years.

The car suddenly stopped in front of a large towering building, halting her thoughts. The driver was looking at her. Asteria placed a spare but expensive necklace Are had picked up (stole would be a better word, Asteria had argued) in the driver’s hands, who stared at her surprise.

“I don’t have any currency, if you were looking for that.” Asteria explained, confused…because in actuality, people in Possibility often traded anything valuable.

“Oh.” The driver said, then she pointed at Are, who had already stepped out of the car and was helping Lynx. “He already paid, I assumed you knew that, unless you're giving me a tip.”

Asteria choked out a chuckle, surprised into laughing. “Oh no, I’m not.” The driver begrudgingly handed back the necklace, and Asteria stepped out of the car. Are was already looking at her in either apprehension or amusement, or possibly a mix of both. His lips were brought into a growing smirk.

“How did you manage to pay her?” Asteria asked. “Oh, let me guess, when we stopped at a store to buy snacks and a much needed bathroom break?”

“Ding ding.”

“Well,” Asteria said, her lips twitching. Lynx was looking between them, experimentally munching on chili-flavored chips. Asteria found it baffling that he could eat that without his eyes watering, and also that he was surprisingly gobbling the whole packet up. “Such an advantage for me.”

“Not even a thank you?” Are asked.

“No.”

“The epitome of a disgrace.” Are said bitterly, and Lynx patted his back in comfort, staining his cape with red chili flecks. “Anyone can see that a person like me deserves a well-thought thank you, preferably with a serving of lemon tarts.”

Asteria ignored him and beckoned to the building, and Are stopped suddenly, staring at the stunning mass before him.

A man wearing a formal bright purple suit came to a stop in front of them, a smile plastered on his face. “Welcome to Fairmont hotel.” He said, Possibility’s accent lilting his words.

Are whistled, tilting his neck and squinting his eyes in vain to try to make out the impossibly towering building in front of them. Lynx had stopped chomping on his chips, staring at the hotel in awe.

“You said it was a good hotel,” He said, addressing Asteria. “But you never told me it was a phenomenal one.”


3280 words the hell

I didn't change it to italics in places where it should be because I'm lazy
WEEKLY 4

I chose ingredients of:
New POV
New Character Introduction
Genre Swap
Introduce a Symbol
Open Ending ( because I didn't finish it T_T )

Outline
-Lives in a world created by fear traits and bad deeds, an extension of the real world, hovering below, encompasses humans somewhere, they don’t know where.
-Kwelling is captured/called to the real world to a woman because he is the epitome/symbol of torture Kwelling is baffled and horrified to see what can be made of his trait.
-Sent through a door of lightbulbs and stuff and dizzying colors and whatnot, it’s scary and exciting.
-He appears like a sort of angel hovering over a human’s back, let’s say this human is uhhh some woman who seeks to torture someone random.
-Kwelling’s family is Angust, his dad and he has no mom because he’s basically a bad trait, not a human.
-Kwelling first persists being called to guide the woman, but it is impossible for him to do so, he has to do it anyway.
-He meets a good trait and neutral trait next to the woman, the good trait’s name is Fanor, he is a trait for forgiveness, and a neutral trait called Ray, she is a trait for guilt.
-The traits try their best to convince the woman of forgiveness, torture and guilt. Kwelling, the trait for torture, encompasses the woman and Ray and Fanor turn bitter towards Kwelling. Kwelling has succeeded in bringing his world into a small victory against the neutral and good world again, but he feels guilt.

The story

Eyes were open, they were always open. Black fading into white, into gray into…

Get up. A gray bubble appeared before his face like smoke, the words on top of the gas white and eerie. He narrowed his eyes in annoyance. They would seem eerie to the normal person…but he wasn’t a person. Kwelling. Get up.

Kwelling was already up, but the words were said by someone who never used get up in a literal sense. He looked behind him. There he was, his dear father, never ceasing to exasperate. The bubble automatically appeared in front of his eyes again, as it should; whoever you were addressing could see the bubble alone. A good old perk for malicious privacy and gossip, everyone knew.

His father spoke again, the words spelling out an order. You are to leave for Highland. The words shone on the smoke-like gas. His father was always direct, Kwelling knew. What he most disliked about his father, though, was that he was a trait of Anguish, with such a creative name of ‘Angust’. Unfortunately, this meant that his father radiated pain and suffering wherever he hovered: Kwelling did not find any enjoyment in this fact.

Then he realized the words Angust had said…Highland? He thought, It can’t be possible. He stared at his father for more elaboration. Black eyes and a gray-skinned face stared back at him. Angust had neatly set shining black hair and was wearing a formal monotone suit that made him look more plain and annoying.

What do you mean by Highland? Kwelling asked after a hanging moment, a communicating bubble of gray gas— a different shade than Angust’s communication —formed in front of him, his words changing into white lines.

I mean what I mean. Angust said firmly as Kwelling’s words faded away. Wear something new for the event.

Kwelling flicked his fingers and in a split second he was wearing a trash bag over his shirt. He raised his eyebrows as Angust’s glassy eyes looked him up and down in inspection, his face betraying no emotion whatsoever.

That is not fitting. Angust said, he snapped his fingers and abruptly Kwelling was wearing an identical suit and trousers. You know what the Neutral and the Righteous will think of us.

You said, “something new”. Kwelling told him, as a matter of fact. Kwelling always thought his father’s face looked like something gradually turning into stone, and though he had never seen his father show any emotion, he could feel in flashes and blinks a screaming and howling face instead of his father’s. I don’t want to go to the Highlands. He said after a hanging moment.

You must. Angust told him, turning away, his translucent feet flickering. He hovered at a white door set in the middle of the void of Kwelling’s room. The knob shined pale and bright.

Kwelling flitted towards his father, placing himself in front of the door. Could I negotiate?

You cannot. Angust said steadily, the words appearing clear and evident in the smoke. His glassy black eyes were swirling with gray and white streaks.

Kwelling felt the first twitches of despair, he gripped his hands and rubbed them in an effort to keep calm. My trait- my trait scarcely gets summoned, why now?

Angust shook his head. Your trait is summoned more than you think. Angust looked regally down at him, his face monotonous, and his hair the color of ravens perfectly set. Kwelling looked down at his gray hands, like his father’s, but toned a bit paler. And you are the one with that trait, now called to the Highland, it’s an honor.

Then Angust snapped the knob open and disappeared behind the closing door, his translucent feet swirling in air. Kwelling’s ears were numb, like they always were, and his fingers were restless, and so he forced them at his sides. He looked down upon his suit in inspection, and his legs ended in translucent feet like his father’s and there was not a spot of stain.

Then he gritted his stark-white teeth and twisted the knob.


♗

He was almost there, every hover he took gradually filled him with anxiety. As he flew outside his void of a room, he noticed traits of Chaos and Toxic Perfectionism “talking”, which in reality meant they were arguing or causing havoc. As he watched, the trait of Chaos— a girl with chilling white hair —flicked her fingers. The white doors in midair around them and the bright light bulbs hanging out from a non-existent ceiling started wobbling.

The trait of Toxic Perfectionism narrowed his eyes in annoyance and waved the flitting doors and lightbulbs back to balance. The girl smiled, a cold insane grin, and lightbulbs detached from their thin wires all around them, the lights flickering as it all fell into oblivion under their floating translucent feet. One lightbulb hit the Toxic Perfectionism trait’s head and shattered horribly.

But Kwelling could still see the black background around him; it was ironic that the darkness acted as light here in the Malicious world, while in contrast, the opposite worked in the Righteous world. His world— Malicious world —was similar to the ‘space’ the people of Highland called, but there were no stars or galaxies or any space matter. Just a large dark void where he floated against, waiting for something that was nothing.

It was clear that food, light, drink, sleep nor any of the various basic needs were needed here. Only white doors to get through.

He flitted towards the two traits, the girl looked at him with glazed eyes and the boy looked upon in pent-up anger. Hey, Torture. The girl said to him, her communicating gas a bright white and the words a pitch-black compared to Kwell’s gray smoke and white words.

What’s going on? He asked them, and the girl mutated her lips into a sweet smile. And don’t call me torture.

Comic relief. She said with the hazy smile on her face, and the boy glowered at her, picking glass out of his gray hair. Kwelling would’ve been amused if it weren’t for his future. Torture is your trait after all, Kwell, She said to him. Why shouldn’t I?

He shook his head, then left them to their mayhem. He was pleased that he had delayed his trip to The Gate— The Gate was the door into Highland —but he was unfortunately just delaying it, not halting it. He was only given an hour to reach the border of The Gate, and so he had to hurry since it was far from his room.

On his way, he spotted a silver chain hanging in midair, and he suddenly stopped in confusion. The silver chain was shaped like a necklace, a simple cube-like charm decorated with overlapping circles and lines dangled from it. He picked it between his fingers, and put it on without a second thought.

He turned around and a pair of white eyes stared at him. Kwelling stumbled back and looked at them in horror. White eyes? He thought. Never seen- what? Cannot be- He swallowed.

It was a boy in front of him, Kwelling realized. He looked young, and was wearing a neat white jacket and gray pants. His face was gray-skinned, he had chilling and unreal white eyes set into his round face and…

If he could scream, he would’ve.

The—the boy’s hair, a dark color- not of black or gray or white, it was…Kwelling couldn’t describe it. He shuddered and hovered a step back, his eyes wide. He cursed internally. Who in the Highland are you?

The boy didn’t reply and disappeared around the bend of a nearby white door. Kwelling stood there, shaken… He must’ve been hallucinating. His eyes were seeking to mess him up, that was all. Illusions. Only Illusions. He shook his head and cleared his thoughts, resuming his journey.

After a while, he stopped at a white door, no different than all the others that flashed in midair around him. He hesitated, a bitter hatred directed at his father twisting through him. He was suddenly panicked as he placed one of his shaky hands on the doorknob.

The door flew open without the command of his hand, and he fumbled into the room, his eyes adjusting. The first thing he noticed was that the void in this room wasn’t black, it was white. His eyes burned at his new surroundings as the door behind him snapped close. The expanse of white forced his squinting eyes wide open. He swallowed- he shouldn’t be afraid of this, Malicious had a running streak against Righteous and Neutral. He shouldn’t be scared, he shouldn’t be scared.

A large rectangle mirror in where he assumed was the middle shone brightly against the white void, standing imposingly in front of him. He could see rows upon rows of black lines— the Highland had called it ‘train tracks’ —on- no, in its reflective surface, an infinite pattern. Ironic, and strange, though was that the ‘train tracks’ was evidently not a reflected image, it was like a picture was plastered onto it.

Black outlined light bulbs that shed no light hung from midair, shrouding the sides of the mirror, contrasting boldly against the white background. They gave a sort of illusionistic impression, it didn’t look real. Beautiful and ugly designs lined the mirror in a tangle of twisting lines and curly shapes, the designs increased its revolting presence. He realized that the mirror was huge, almost towering over him— this was because he had somehow hovered closer to it as if in a daze.

His eyes completely adjusted, and he realized the cloaked figures next to the mirror, wearing elaborate robes of black. Silver lined their clothing in swirls of diamonds and circles, creating the impressions of adorned necklaces and bracelets. Some of them had their hoods down, their faces clear and regal and their eyes a cold black. A repeating question formed in his head, Where is The Gate?

One of the figures glided towards him, but she herself didn’t move so much as a jerk, she was a display of a hovering anomaly. Kwelling, trait of Torture. She stated indifferently, her white hair shrouded around her face. He stood frozen, his hands hanging at his sides.

He found himself absently sending her a communicating bubble, still staring up at her blank face. Yes.

She floated over to the mirror. It was just a few hovers away, he realized, no matter how far he wanted to be away from it, it was just a few hovers away.

The honor has been bequeathed upon you, She said. And so you are entitled to cede your possessions. Your belongings will be provided to you for once you return.

Possessions! He exclaimed incredulously, his thoughts blurting through his lips. He stared at her, and her features remained chilling, betraying nothing of emotion or something as small as a flutter. Why?

For the guarantee that you will not fail in your task. She said, her black eyes bore through him, and he shifted on his unsteady feet. It is expected of every trait who leaves Malicious for the journey of honor and glory.

I do not intend to go at all. He said. Though nothing even faint touched the woman’s face, he felt regret thrum through him nonetheless.

You will go. She said, There is nothing that can override that order. Give up your possessions so that we might return it once you come back.


Why is there a mirror? Where is The Gate? He asked insistently. He fought against the urge of running his hand through his black hair. The cloaked figures stood silently, huddled around the mirror.

The Gate is the Mirror. She said, and he looked at her in disbelief. He suddenly felt the temptation to force a feeling out of her— annoyance would be a good one, he thought. If so much as a worry line shone on her forehead, he would deem it a victory.

He shook his head, what was he thinking? He was about to step into unfamiliar territory, assigned to a random person in Highland he would be expected to persuade to commit an act of Torture, and was supposed to consort with the Righteous and Neutral and defeat them. What was the temptation of causing annoyance compared to this situation?

I have to go through that? He said, laughter bubbling in his throat. That’s impossible. You can’t go through a mirror.

The Mirror is not an ordinary one. She said, You will be able to pass after you provide your possessions.

What might happen if I don’t? Suddenly she jerked in a single motion, appearing in front of him. The mirror stood tall and ugly behind her. He stumbled back in surprise, losing his footing for a moment.

You will pass through and complete your task. She hissed. You will give up your possessions and you will continue the glory of Malicious victory. Your outcome will not be a good one if it happens that you refuse. Her hair didn’t even flutter a breath from the sudden motion, and he found himself rooted in place, a confused fear opening a small festering void inside him.

She hovered back elegantly, and he swallowed and nodded, twisting his fingers. His possessions rained down around him, an assortment of necklaces, paper, clothes and trash bags…One of the cloaked figures flicked his belongings away with a wave of his hand. He stared at the place where all his belongings had been a moment ago.

The woman beckoned to the Mirror. He obeyed, standing next to it…he couldn’t see his reflection. What if I fail? He asked. A cold tendril twisted through him. What if I fail to persuade the person I’m assigned to?

You will be banished. She said.

He held up a hand to the Mirror, the black lines were set endlessly, ending in a black dot at what he assumed was the horizon. Suddenly something was coming— it was coming towards him, riding across on the black tracks. He widened his eyes, paralyzed, he couldn’t decipher what it was.

It was a few moments away from him now, and he was finally brought back to his senses. He made to turn away but his hand gripped at an invisible wall, the cloaked figures stared at him through black shrouded eyes.

The word came to him, it was a train coming at him.

Here in Malicious, Kwelling turned back to the Mirror in wonder, his hand on its opaque surface.

♖

Somewhere in Righteous, Fanor turned back to the Door in wonder, his hand on its smooth knob.

♘

Somewhere in Neutral, Ray turned back to the Gate in wonder, her hand on its steel handle.

♗♖♘

They all slid through as black covered their sight, leaving them in a world of nothingness and void.


♘

Ray forced her eyes open, a bright light— nothing that she had ever experienced before —shone down on her eyes mercilessly. She found herself blinking hard while her eyes burned. Her eyes adjusted and she looked around in awe. This is Highland. She thought giddily, looking at the buildings around her— she didn't think they'd be so tall and towering.

It was all made of cement too— she knew that because she had attended Highland classes in her hometown: Neutral. She tilted her head up at the large glass building in front of her, her neck hurt and she turned her head down, rubbing the back of her neck. The streets were brimming with Highland people, they were all flitting around with laughter and smiles, some of them were arguing and some looked downcast. The colors were a shock to her eyes, that was because Neutral only had dull shades and colors like blue, green and black.

A smile played its way onto her lips, never had she seen Highland before. She saw a neon store and she walked towards it, peeking inside, the colors mesmerizing her. Nobody noticed her, that was expected, she was a trait after all. There were an assortment of clothes that brought a bright splash of color to the white walls inside it; she had never seen something like them before.

Suddenly she moved without her will, her feet walking on the cold sidewalk, the cars thrumming on the roads beside her. She panicked, then realized that she was tethered to a human now, wherever her human escort went, she had to follow. She zipped around, searching for the human in question. She wanted to see how far she could extend being away from her escort.

She walked for a few blocks and stopped in front of a bustling restaurant. She saw a young woman with warm gray eyes and wavy brown hair pulled into a bun walking out of the doors. She instantly knew this woman was her escort. As she moved closer, she noticed earrings tinged with gold clasped into her ears.
There was also someone talking with her, a boy, and he was gesturing wildly at her.

“Alright Arian.” The woman said, waving Arian away. “I have to be off now. It’s getting late.”

“Okay miss.” Arian said dejectedly, walking away and waving. The woman waved back at him with a smile, and he smiled back, his hands in his pockets.

“What.” A voice muttered behind her, a low male voice. She shrieked, stumbling a step. Whipping around, she saw a boy who looked around her age. He had elegant hair the shade of ravens hanging carefully over his gray-skinned face. His eyes were empty and black, gray streaks swirled around in them like a whirlpool. He was pretty, pretty like a statue to be admired, something that had the impression of but not quite a human. He was wearing a formal black suit, and his legs ended in translucent feet like hers.

“You’re from Malicious.” She snarled. “My opponent I assume.”

He raised his eyebrows. “And you are from Neutral. I did not intend to be here.” He said. “I am very confused— I don’t understand how…” He pointed at his lips, and then his throat. “I am…talking?”

“Don’t play dumb.” She said, but his voice did sound like he was using it for the first time. “This is my victory.” She noticed he was blinking his eyes swiftly, like the colors hurt his eyes.

“Hmm.” He said, something faint touching his tone. He pointed at the woman who was now walking on the sidewalk towards who knew where. “I suppose that’s our escort?”

“Ding ding~!” A sing-song voice confirmed, and she felt a hand on her shoulder. She shoved it off, glaring at the newcomer from Righteous. He was dressed in robes of white with yellow and light blue outlining the collars and sleeves. His bright blue eyes were set in his stark-white face, messy blue hair that was a few shades darker than his robes hanging in his strangely glinting eyes, which made her wonder if he was hiding himself behind his beautiful smile. “I’m Fanor, trait of Forgiveness. And what might be your names and traits?”

She stood in silence, her arms crossed, but he ignored her. He was grinning at the boy from Malicious, as if searching for something to burst on his emotionless face. “Ray, trait of Guilt.” She said anyway.

“…Ding ding?” The boy from Malicious asked at last.

Fanor held his head to the sky and let out a loud laugh, so much that it echoed throughout the streets. “Mhmm.” Fanor confirmed, his arm was still slinged around the other boy’s shoulders.

“…Kwelling, trait of Torture.” The monotone boy said, walking a step away so that Fanor’s arm slipped to his sides. Fanor didn’t seem to notice, he was already walking towards the woman they were tethered to.

Kwelling glanced at her, his face still a mask, then walked towards the woman. She followed, looking at the stores near her. One was filled with a dizzy amount of books, another with shiny art supplies and another with packets of— food, she assumed.

Exposition

Kwelling, trait of Torture, has been sent to the Highland against his will. His trait world, Malicious, that resides under the Highland was already quite enough. Consorting with the traits of Righteous and Neutral was scarcely his dream, never mind that he had to defeat them and persuade a human to commit an act of Torture for some non-existent glory.

Fanor, trait of Forgiveness, isn’t happy to have been called to the Highland— really, the only reasoning that won over him was that he would be able to meet traits from Malicious and Neutral! They were both so pretty, he had thought when he met them. He couldn’t wait to hook one of them up— oh and also defeat them both so he could be allowed back into Righteous. That was a problem, but a little one at most.

Ray, trait of Guilt, upon hearing the news of being summoned to the Highland, was thrilled. She couldn’t wait to see Highland in all its glory— but other two traits she had been tethered to were obnoxious, especially the trait from Righteous. It was going to be a long visit, but she had a chance to get rid of the other traits and enjoy her visit by simply defeating them at a play of persuasion—

After all, how hard could it be?

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