SWC
March 21 ~ 207 words ~ 300 points
What’s the point, they all say,
Of being a writer?
It has no use,
A waste of time,
No money, no income,
Spending so much time,
On something so worthless.
As some people say,
Money doesn’t matter if you love your work,
But for others, it’s,
Make the money you need to survive.

It’s the feeling, they get told,
Of being a writer.
Open up a blank doc,
Start a new notebook,
Fill it by the end of the month.
You learn a thing or two,
Not completely worthless.
As some people say,
Reading is amazing,
But for others, it’s,
No one wants to read a stupid book.

That’s the work, someone needs to say,
Of a writer,
Creating stories,
Filling bookstores,
Happiness and joy,
Making memories,
It’s not so worthless.
As some people say,
Cherish all the memories you can,
But for others, it’s,
You can just make more.

What about the characters, asks someone,
Of a writer,
Hours spent with details,
Names picked wisely,
Personality reflecting those around,
Individual time taken with each one,
That time is not worthless.
As some people say,
Time should be spent on something important,
But for others, it’s,
Writing has no purpose, no meaning.
And I tell them.
NO.

SWC
March 22 ~ 257 words ~ 450 points
It was one of those moments, where you can’t be quite sure that you should be happy right now, even though everything around was begging you to be. That is what it was like for her. Just the girl and her fire, surrounded by hundreds of trees, trapping her deep in the forest. But she was careful not to set any branches aflame. Well, the girl was being as careful as she could with her faulty magic.
The fire was dancing around her. And the girl was dancing back. Circling around the fire, she imagined the cheers and chants that used to occur, celebrating at campfires. With these thoughts, the flames rose, and the cheering did too. The girl and the fire were dancing up a whirlwind together, smoke and ashes swaying with them. It was all to the tune of these thoughts, but this magic needed a stronger source. It could no longer feed on the girl, on her mindless ideas and wishes.
Suddenly, that girl’s thoughts disappeared. The fire started fading. But the girl willed it to stay. However, her magic wasn’t strong enough. Making the fire stay was easy, making the fire keep doing what it was doing, dancing, was the harder part. As soon as she wished for the fire to remain, it started weeping. Burning itself out, until slowly, all that was left was a thin trail of smoke flying up to the sky and ashes that followed behind. But those too were weeping, and soon, they started falling down, down, down.

Part 1 ~ 367 words
Exposition / Inciting Incident ~ 82 words
Thistle Primrose is a thirteen year old girl, whose birthday was yesterday. She was given a gift, a word, but she knew that the word already belonged to someone else. That word was fire. This morning when she woke up, she discovered that the only word she now had was fire. She then realized that fire had burnt all the others. Thistle was curious about why fire had burnt everything, and who had sent her the mysterious gift in the first place.
Rising Action ~ 65 words
Thistle decides to hunt for clues. She finds the old wrapping paper with no notes, but random letters and symbols written down. That evening, her older sisters, Leonora and Romilly come to her small treehouse to celebrate her birthday having not been able to make it the previous day, and both their gifts were wrapped in the same wrapping paper with more letters and symbols.
The Climax ~ 80 words
Thistle pieces the wrapping paper together and finds a note telling her to visit the ancient garden. There she finds more notes leading her on a scavenger hunt, and when she finally makes it to the end, she realizes that it was her parents who had sent her the gift. Even though they had perished nine years ago, they handed the gift to a post office before they died, the gift to be mailed to Thistle on her thirteenth birthday.
Falling Action ~ 50 words
As soon as Thistle figures out that the gift is from her parents, her word, fire gets stolen. Her word was taken by a member of the post office who had been protecting the word for Thistle, for nine years, just so he could steal it to become an arsonist.
Resolution ~ 90 words
She takes her word back in one final battle, saving the town from the doom those flames would have brought in the hands of the post office villain. She heads back to her treehouse and finds her sisters there. Surprised by their unexpected visit, Thistle interrogates them on why they came and the three girls start arguing. Thistle who doesn’t have full control over the power of fire accidentally loses it, and her treehouse burns down. Thistle runs into the woods with no idea if either of her sisters survived.

Part 2 ~ 254 words
Clue 1: The Wrapping Paper ~ 52 words
Thistle notices that her anonymous gift and the gift her sisters gave her are all wrapped in the same paper. After further examination, she sees that all three pieces of paper have symbols on them which end up spelling a secret message that leads her to the start of the scavenger hunt.
Red Herring 1: The Scavenger Hunt ~ 53 words
Although the wrapping paper led Thistle to the scavenger hunt, that doesn’t mean that the scavenger hunt is actually a clue. Solving the puzzles just distracts Thistle from finding out how she has the word fire if it belongs to someone else. “Surely no one would sacrifice a word merely for my birthday.”
Clue 2: Her Mother’s Scarf ~ 88 words
As Thistle continues on with her scavenger hunt, she sees a glimpse of the navy scarf with shimmering stars that her mother always wore when she was little before she died. Thistle remembers her mother telling her that the scarf was a one-of-a-kind and Thistle realizes that someone must have put the scarf there as a hint in the scavenger hunt which helped her solve both clues. After all, Thistle’s mother often said, she would sacrifice anything for her baby girls, which could mean, even someone else’s word.
Red Herring 2: Leonora, Thistle’s Sister ~ 61 words
Leonora runs into Thistle while she is on her scavenger hunt, and Leonora interrogates Thistle on why she is in the woods, near the fountain that used to be sacred to her family. Thistle asks the same questions back, but this ends up using a lot of Thistle’s time, and it makes Leonora seem guilty of something even when she isn’t.

Part 4 ~ 576 words
Thistle was walking through the woods, on her way to the fountain. This fountain, known simply as the fountain, wasn’t just that to Thistle. It was a family monument, where her family used to gather for picnics every Sunday. It was especially meaningful to her because she hadn’t been her in a few years after the death of her parents. As Thistle made her way to the fountain, she realized that it was a part of the scavenger hunt that had been laid out for her. She had been sent this way by the wrapping paper, with a note telling her that the first clue would be inside the fountain.
Thistle had always known that the fountain was hollow, with a room underneath, but she had never been there before. However, she was stopped in her tracks, by her mother’s scarf. It was as though the scarf had appeared out of nowhere, but Thistle knew that it was her mother’s. After all, her mother used to tell her and her sisters that the scarf was a one-of-a-kind, purchased by their father on their first date.
Thistle approached the scarf, gently pulling it off the tree it was balanced on, and wrapped it once, twice, around her neck like her mother always did. Wearing the scarf, Thistle realized how much of a comfort it was. However, wearing the scarf helped Thistle realize something else as well. But she couldn’t quite place her mind on what it was until she was through the scavenger hunt.
Solving the scavenger hunt was a waste of time, Thistle realized. But it was too late to stop now, she was finished. At least something had come of it. Still wearing the scarf, Thistle remembered how her mother had always told her, along with her sisters, that she would do anything for her little girls, and Thistle realized that meant that her mother might steal for them.
However, as soon as this thought reached Thistle’s mind, a streak of light flashed across her vision. When she opened her eyes again, she wasn’t next to the fountain anymore, but in a dark, dusty room with an angry person across from her. This person was a detective, Thistle realized, based on the badge across her chest. But Thistle didn’t know exactly what that meant. What was a detective, and what was she doing here? And as Thistle thought about these questions, new thoughts and memories popped up in her mind. Memories that weren’t hers.
The year was 2024, much later than where Thistle came from. Yesterday was her sister’s birthday, even though it actually had been Thistle’s. Yesterday Thistle was shopping for a gift at the mall and this detective or investigator had thought that Thistle had killed someone while at the mall. Thistle was supposed to prove that she was innocent.
“I wasn’t at the scene of the crime,” Thistle explained, unsure of how this type of investigation was supposed to go.
“Oh, I know, but I have my reasons for investigating you,” the detective responded.
This conversation continued on, the detective firing questions at Thistle while she tried to come up with a response, and all of a sudden, everything was circling around Thistle, whizzing by so fast, she shut her eyes. And when she finally opened them, she was back at the fountain.
“Well that was an adventure, but now I really need to figure out this mystery I’m trying to solve.”

A Girl Made of Fire

751 words
script cabin
SWC Writing Competition Entry

The story takes place in a world where words are a magical ability, and type of currency, something to be given and taken, though nothing comes without risk and a cost. The first part of the story, The Fire shows what happens when you lose control of your powers, an feat often enough when you barely have any remaining words. The second part of the story, The Girl is the aftermath of the event, where the girl who lost control of her powers experiences a wave of guilt.

The Fire

In the heart of the ancient forest, the air hums with secrets, the trees whisper forgotten incantations. A girl named Thistle conjures a fire. This girl is a mystery, her magic both fragile and fierce, like the delicate petals of a rare flower. Her existence, an exquisite balance as well. Thistle moves through the forest, her feet brushing moss-covered roots, her eyes alight with the flicker of something otherworldly. The trees lean in, their gnarled branches forming a protective circle around Thistle. They know her, revere her – the girl who dances with fire.

The flames are Thistle’s companions, swirling around her like eager spirits. They lick at her skin, leaving no trace of burns, for Thistle had tamed them. She knows their secrets, the way they hunger for stories, memories, the very essence of life. And so, she feeds them, whispering forgotten tales into their fiery tongues.

One evening, as the sun slipped beneath the horizon, Thistle finds herself in a secluded glade. The fire crackles in the center, its warmth cocooning her. She twirls, her tattered dress catching the light. The flames mirror her movements, leaping higher, wilder. She imagines the cheers of distant campfires, the laughter, the camaraderie. With each pirouette, Thistle’s flames dance up a whirlwind, smoke, and ashes swaying along.
But Thistle knows the truth. Her magic is waning, hungering for more, a deeper well to draw from. Thistle’s mindless ideas and wishes, no longer enough. She needs a stronger source, something ancient and potent. And so, she reaches beyond the veil of reality. The flames sense it, a tremor in the air, a pulse of power. They stretch, their tendrils reaching toward the heavens. Thistle was not alone in this dance, for I, Death, watch from the shadows, curious and hungry.

Then comes Leonora, the girl’s sister. She stumbles into the clearing, her eyes wide with wonder. Leonora is no sorceress, her magic untrained and untamed, and the flames sense her vulnerability, her untapped potential. The tendrils of smoke slither toward Leonora, wrapping around her limbs, claiming her.

Leonora’s eyes flicker with the embers of her sister’s fire as she remains caught between worlds, her existence split like a fractured mirror. At that moment, the forest holds its breath, the swaying branches slow, and I linger, immersed in the trees, a silent witness.

In the dance of magic and power, sometimes even I can’t resist the allure of flames, their promise of eternity. Alas, I claim the girl. Not out of malice, but because magic demands its due. Leonora becomes one with the flame, a bridge between realms.

And so, Thistle dances on, her sister’s eyes forever burning in the heart of the fire. The ancient trees bow, their leaves brushing against me. For in the dance of magic and power, innocence is a fleeting concept, and choices issue consequences that echo through perpetuity, following into the next world and the next.

The Girl

In the darkness, behind closed eyelids, the fire dances, a relentless phantom. Thistle sees the fire that consumed the girl, leaving nothing but memories, burnt to a crisp. Regret coils around Thistle, tighter than the flames ever did, as she yearns from the film to rewind, a chance to alter Fate. Thistle wishes so hard, that the ending of that girl had been Thistle’s. That Thistle had been the one I claimed. But time is unyielding.

Leonora, Thistle’s sister, older by two years exactly, was the most precious thing to Thistle. Thistle cared for her so that sometimes it was as if she was the elder. Nory, as Thistle called her, was the smoke to her flame, the water to her life. Those were the words that bound them, whispered secrets between sisters.

It was the fire that devoured her. Thistle’s fire. She’s that girl with the raging fire, the inferno in her veins. Charred fragments of her and Leonora’s past scatter like ashes. Every spark Thistle ignites mirrors me, my duty. Each flame flickers with her inadequacy, thoughts of failure. Thistle wishes to have shielded Nory from the fire’s wrath, extinguishing the blaze before it consumed her, but hindsight offers her no solace.

In her heart, she could have altered destiny, rewritten the script. Yet replaying the scene in her mind yields no variety of outcomes. It was, of course, my fault, as I am the one who claimed Leonora, but that was merely my duty. The fire roars and Thistle remains, haunted by what she should have prevented.

SWC
March 24 ~ 410 words ~ 500 points
Through twisting hallways and interchanging paths, there lives a hobbit hole.
Bookshelves lined down every wall, in the hobbit hole.
Moss carpeting the floor, blankets woven of golden thread, comforting the hobbit hole.
Stack after stack of stuffed animals, each creature perching delicately, animating the hobbit hole.
Trays filled with desserts of all types, brownies and mille feuille, sweetening the hobbit hole.
Flowers growing side by side, up and down the walls, livening the hobbit hole.
A skylight on the roof, lamps all around, brightening the hobbit hole.
Rain pounding on the windows, keeping the storm at bay, protecting the hobbit hole.
Cozy chairs and comfy couches, softening the hobbit hole.
Writing desks with laptops and pens, inspiring the hobbit hole.
Markers and sketching books lining tables, enhancing the hobbit hole.
Pitchers of lemonade and water all set out to drink, refreshing the hobbit hole.
Rows of crafts laid out to be built, energizing the hobbit hole.
Stacks of LEGO blocks piled up into houses, constructing the hobbit hole.
Paintings line the walls, water colored by this artist, creating the hobbit hole.
Speakers and record players scattered ‘round the room, hearing the hobbit hole.
Pine trees standing by the door, branches reaching skyward, supporting the hobbit hole.
Sun always shining bright, other than the rainy days, illuminating the hobbit hole.
Secret passage ways leading everywhere, guiding the hobbit hole.
Refrigerator always stocked, snacks always prepared, nourishing the hobbit hole.
Door wide open, receiving guests, accompanying the hobbit hole.
Smiles on every face, frowns out the window, cheering up the hobbit hole.
Papers out on every surface, waiting for thoughts to be written on, shining in the hobbit hole.
There is clutter, but everything placed perfectly in line, straightening up the hobbit hole.
Ticking clocks appearing when wants, timing the hobbit hole.
Magic printers receiving your mind’s thoughts, personifying the hobbit hole.
Leaves and branches reaching out, swaying in the breeze, warming up the hobbit hole.
Storms every once in a while, electrocuting the hobbit hole.
Lots of room to roam outside, freshening the hobbit hole.
Laughter coming from every place, heartening the hobbit hole.
A fireplace teaming with warmth, kindling the hobbit hole.
A natural creak out in the forest, waiting to be swum in, flushing the hobbit hole.
Arms wide open, hugs delivered, delighting the hobbit hole.
Hobbit holes in the hobbit hole becoming one with the hobbit hole.
Fellow writer and artist, Toko, living in the hobbit hole.

SWC
March 25 ~ 510 words ~ 400 points
Everything around me was losing its color, losing its sheen. Except for the sky. Midnight blue, with stars shining through the veil of darkness. It was comforting, its sad color imitating my sad feelings. Through the skylight in the roof of my hobbit hole, I could see the sky. I was lying down on the floor, on a rug, trying to fall asleep. I really needed sleep, as I would have a big day tomorrow, or should I say, today, as it was past midnight.
Everything around me was fading into nothingness as my eyes flickered closed. As I finally fell asleep, the sky brightened to purple, the sun beginning to rise, and my nerves as well. I woke up to a purple sky too, thinking as though I was in a fever dream, butterflies flittering around my stomach.
Slowly, as I got up, I began to leave that fever dream, the rising sun dying the sky with a pink pigment, as I began to feel comforted, knowing that even if I messed up in the biggest event of my life, my family wouldn’t judge me, at least I hoped.
Flowers were blooming everywhere, from every crack, every pot. Their majestic colors varied, just like my emotions. There were even a few magic blossoms with their shades and colors changing, midnight blue for sadness, purple for fear, pink for comfort, and finally yellow for happiness.
I was back in my fever dream world, the sky so blue and bright, but it was covered by a yellow tarp, blocking my view. Only happy thoughts, I told myself. I had to think positively and be optimistic and everything would turn out alright. It’s okay, I told myself, don’t be nervous, as the tarp faded out to a thick violet purple. Once more, with strong deep breaths, the tarp turned back to its yellow shade, warming me to the core. I was ready.
I left my hobbit hole, eyes closed. I knew my way around, as everything had its place, and I made my way to the garden out front. Keeping my eyes closed was better, not having to see all those faces staring into my soul. As well, all I saw was the inside of my eyelids, the everchanging pink to purple, blue to red. The fast change calmed me as well as excited my nerves. And when I finally opened my eyes, all I saw was the yellow tarp, my happiness, blocking away the sad sky. After all, the sun shining bright warmed me up so much that I felt as if I had a jar of cheerfulness that was exploding, so much hope and patience filling it up. Small yellow seeds falling from the jar, digging themselves into the earth, as they grew at such a fast pace, lighting up the ground, the walls, the sky, anywhere I looked, I felt happy. Just like how I knew this day would be. Even if the nerves came back, I could push them away, the yellow all around working as super powers.

SWC
March 26 ~ 319 words ~ 350 points
Note: Hamilton portrays Burr as a villain even when he did some good things. I think that Alexander Hamilton is both the protagonist and the antagonist but for purposes of this daily, I’m writing Burr as the antagonist.
“Finally!” Burr smiled, “I’m in the room where it happens.” After a very tough election, Burr beat both Jefferson and Adams and was the new president. The third president of America. And lucky for him, Hamilton wasn’t in the room where it happens either. Burr was relieved but scared as well. He assumed that Hamilton would come for him. After all, they both had been striving for a spot in the room where it happens, and they both knew only one of them would get the spot. Burr hoped that Hamilton wouldn’t challenge him to a duel though. Living by their life mottos, Burr knew that Hamilton would shoot, and Burr, well, he wasn’t a villain. He didn’t want to be the cause of someone’s death. Because being the hero was not a justifiable cause for killing someone. So Burr would probably wait for it. Wait for death to strike him in the chest.
Hamilton sighed, aggravated that Burr had stolen his seat. He was enraged, but there was nothing he could do about it. Yet. All he had to do was wait a while, but waiting was not his favorite thing to do. Probably, because one of Burr’s mottos was, “Wait for it,” and Hamilton did not want to be associated with Burr. Sure, he knew Burr was supposed to defeat him, as Burr was the hero, but Hamilton hoped that there was a small chance that was wrong. That he was actually the hero, and he was the one who would defeat Burr. The only thing Hamilton had to do was challenge Burr to a duel and not throw away his shot, his motto. But sadly, Hamilton had to wait a few years for this to happen as Burr was the president, and Hamilton didn’t think it would be taken very well if he challenged the president of America, the nation he helped create, to a duel.

Part 1: Outline ~ 235 words
Echidna sits at their desk shuffling through papers. Completely out of monsters to send to hide under this little girl, Petal’s bed, Echidna decides to go discover why, becoming the monster that will hide under Petal’s bed tonight.
After her mother puts Petal to sleep, Echidna slides into the room and under the bed. They brush their fingers against Petal’s arm, once, twice, as Petal turns around whisper shouting that she isn’t scared of monsters. Echidna senses that isn’t true though.
At the sound of footsteps coming closer to Petal’s room, Petal slips underneath the bed. Petal’s father enters the room, intoxicated. The father sticks a hand underneath the bed and Echidna thrusts their palm out. The father is deeply confused and in shock. Echidna threatens him.
Petal’s father runs out of the room, screaming as Petal stifles a gasp, in shock at what Echidna did. She stares at them, happiness glittering in her eyes and hugs Echidna, catching them unaware. Carefully, Echidna hugs Petal back asking if she would like to be protected by Echidna.
As Petal nods, Echidna picks her up and slithers home to the dangerous, magical world where Petal will be protected daily by a parent who loves her so. She will grow up among monsters who become her friends and protectors and she will live a much better life than she would have, stuck at home with her abusive father.

Part 2: Exposition ~ 160 words
The head of monsters, Echidna, an agender creature sits at their desk shuffling through papers. Checking boxes on some papers, pulling others out of the stack, Echidna keeps searching until finally, they find the one paper they want. Sighing, they glare at the paper, looking it up and down, yearning for an answer. But, at last, when they think of an answer, it’s not the most accessible solution, though it is by far, the best.
Echidna’s job is to send monsters out into the real world, picking out beds for the monsters to hide under to scare children. This one girl, however, has caused every single monster assigned to her to quit. Completely out of monsters to send, Echidna’s solution is to go themselves, to discover why Petal has frightened every monster guaranteed to scare her. With one last glance at the papers, Echidna slithers toward the window, ready to become the monster that will hide under Petal’s bed tonight.

Part 3: The Unedited Story ~ Marble Eyes ~ 1090 words
The head of monsters, Echidna, an agender creature sits at their desk shuffling through papers. Checking boxes on some papers, pulling others out of the stack, Echidna keeps searching until finally, they find the one paper they want. Sighing, they glare at the paper, looking it up and down, yearning for an answer. But, at last, when they think of an answer, it’s not the most accessible solution, though it is by far, the best.
Echidna’s job is to send monsters out into the real world, picking out beds for the monsters to hide under to scare children. This one girl, however, has caused every single monster assigned to her to quit. Completely out of monsters to send, Echidna’s solution is to go themselves, to discover why Petal has frightened every monster guaranteed to scare her. With one last glance at the papers, Echidna slithers toward the window, ready to become the monster that will hide under Petal’s bed tonight.
Just before Echidna leaves their office, they pause, realizing that they should collect more information on Petal before heading to her apartment. Echidna sits back down, once again sorting through papers. This time, however, it doesn’t take long before they stumble across the paper they need. It is a letter, and it reads:
Echidna-
I don’t have much time to write this because my next shift is soon, but here is some information you might need to
know. I’m sure you know Petal Meadows address, so I won’t write it down here in case this letter gets intercepted.
However, she lives with her mother, who is deaf, and with her father in apartment 321, on the third floor of the
building. Her mother works from home, her job unknown, and her father works late, arriving home around eight at
night, depending on the day. Petal’s mother always tucks her into bed around seven thirty and once her father
arrives home, he comes to give Petal a good night kiss, and then she’s left alone for the remainder of the night. I
hope this is enough information to help you with further planning.
-Cerberus

After Petal’s mother puts her to sleep, Echidna slides into the room, as silent as a mouse. They scurry under the bed and wait. A few minutes later, Echidna reaches their arm up onto Petal’s bed, brushing her arm with an ice-cold finger. With no response, Echidna repeats the motion.
Petal’s breathing grows stronger, deeper, as she shifts onto her stomach, head peeking over the side of the bed. Whisper shouting, she yells “I’m not scared of monsters!” But Echidna can taste the fear behind her words, knowing that Petal’s statement isn’t quite true. This is something that Petal is afraid of, some type of monster, but Echidna just doesn’t know who it is yet.
At the sound of footsteps coming closer to Petal’s room, she slips out of her covers and underneath the bed, hissing at Echidna to move over. Confused, Echidna does and Petal curls herself into a small ball whispering to herself, “I’m okay I’m okay I’mokay I’m- okay it’s okay I’llbefine.”
As Petal’s father enters the room, Echidna smells the alcohol in his breath. Realizing that he is intoxicated, Echidna also comes to understand that he must be abusive, and that’s the reason Petal is hiding. They know they have to do something, but time is running out, as the father approaches the bed. He sticks a hand under the wooden slats, surprising Echidna, but cautiously, Echidna thrusts their palm into his open hand.
The father jerks his hand back, a look of confusion scattered across his face. As Echidna pulls themself out from under the bed, they threaten him with words of, ‘Don’t you ever hurt my child,’ and, ‘You foolish man.’ As Petal’s father stands beside her bed menacingly, Echidna notices something about him. He’s a monster. Not a typical monster that you would find in a book about Greek Mythology, but one of the rarer ones. No wings, no scales, but marble eyes. X-ray eyes, Echidna thinks, they can see through any material. And that’s how Petal’s father saw her through the bed. But they do have a side effect. You can only see what you’re looking for, which is why Petal’s father didn’t see Echidna.
Echidna’s heart starts racing as they take in this information, and suddenly, everything around them fades. They plunge into a fever dream landscape, and as it morphs into the grayish brown colors of the past, Echidna realizes they are viewing a memory. The reason why they do not want to have any connection to the Marble Eyes.
The Marble Eyes walks across a field, a misty haze surrounding him, walking closer to where Echidna is standing. Echidna from the past.
As Echidna watches this scene, they realize that this Marble Eyes is the one who later became Petal’s father. In their mind, Echidna can’t hear what the Marble Eyes and past Echidna are arguing about, but they know. They’ve memorized this conversation that used to constantly replay. “
“What do you want?” Echidna sneers at Marble Eyes.
“You very well know the answer to that.”
“And you very well know that I can’t give it to you.”
“Fine, are we done here then?”
“I suppose.”
Echidna remembers the context of this scene as it ends, and they vow to protect Petal knowing further harm will come to her if they leave now. It appears that Marble Eyes recognizes Echidna as well.
However, instead of pursuing them, Marble Eyes turns away in fear, Echidna’s threats making their way to his brain. Petal’s father, Marble Eyes runs out of the room, screaming as Petal stifles a gasp, in shock that Echidna defeated her father. She stares at them, happiness glittering like stars in her eyes, and hugs Echidna, catching them unaware. Carefully, Echidna hugs Petal back asking if she would like to be protected by Echidna.
As Petal nods ‘yes, yes, one thousand times yes,’ Echidna scoops her up into a little ball, slithering home to the dangerous, magical world where Petal will be protected daily by a parent who loves her so. She will grow up among monsters who become her friends and protectors and she will live a much better life than she would have, stuck at home with her abusive father. Petal will become a finder of truth and justice vowing that when she returns to the Earthen World, she will do whatever she can to help children of abusive parents like herself.

Critiquitaire for @Scrollreader023 ~ 334 words
I really like the plot of the story, especially how Lucius interacts with everything around him. To me, Lucius seems power hungry and does not appreciate being underestimated. He also seems hungry for fights or battles, pro bloodshed. While reading this piece, I did not overtly think that Lucius had alexithymia, though once I knew he had alexithymia, I could tell where those pieces of the puzzle were written. Honestly, I feel like there isn’t much about Lucius having alexithymia or having difficulty feeling emotions, other than the fact that it does not mention Lucius feeling guilty about killing any of the elves and the pity he experiences from the dragon. However, I think the story is fine on that matter without the context of Lucius having alexithymia, but if that were a major part of his personality, I think the story needs a bit more details about Lucius not feeling emotions like you could add onto the line:

With a flash of his sword, two elves fell to the ground.”

“Everyone around started screaming, and although they were frightened, Lucius didn’t feel a thing."
Lucius reminds me of Draco Malfoy in a cunning and vengeful way, and I wouldn’t describe him as calm exactly. There are aspects of the story that make Lucius seem as though he’s calm, but reading the story, I feel like he probably has thousands of thoughts rushing around in his head that he's trying to keep hidden. So even when he exhibits his strength in a calm way, it appears to me that he isn’t the calmest. Lucius is definitely violent as seen when he kills two elves, but it is clear that he only wants people to fear and follow him.
There’s not much more I can say, only that I like Lucius as a character, but I think he could use a bit more of a personal twist, like giving his thoughts more characteristics. But overall, I think both the story and Lucius were really well developed.

Part 4: Edited Story ~ 1308 words (218 words from editing)
The head of monsters, Echidna, an agender creature sits at their desk shuffling through papers. Messily checking boxes on some papers, forcefully pulling others out of the stack, Echidna keeps searching until finally, they find the one paper they want. Sighing, they glare at the paper, looking it up and down, yearning for an answer. But, at last, when they think of an answer, it’s not the most accessible solution, though it is by far, the best.
Echidna’s job is to send monsters out into the real world, picking out beds for the monsters to hide under to scare children. This one girl, however, has caused every single monster assigned to her to quit. Completely out of monsters to send, Echidna’s solution is to go themselves, to discover why Petal has frightened every monster guaranteed to scare her. Echidna knows their plan will work. They are the scariest monster there is, being the parent of all monsters, with sharp claws, and pointed teeth, what more to terrify a little girl? With one last glance at the papers, Echidna slithers toward the window, ready to become the monster that will hide under Petal’s bed tonight, whispering threats through the night, chilling the little girl to the bone until she admits, finally, she might be scared of monsters, just a little.
Echidna accepts the fact that they will be needed because finally, they get to use their fearfulness to terrorize a child. Being the parent of monsters can be a boring job with a lot of ordering around, but not much of using monster features to scare, which can be fun. Of course, even parents need fun sometimes, or just a small break.
Just before Echidna leaves their office, they pause, realizing that they should collect more information on Petal before heading to her apartment. Echidna sits back down, once again sorting through papers. This time, however, is much gentler, the papers left in better care, as Echidna does not take their anger out. It doesn’t take long before they stumble across the paper they need. It is a letter, and it reads:
Echidna-
I don’t have much time to write this because my next shift is soon, but here is some information you might need to know. I’m sure you know Petal Meadows address, so I won’t write it down here in case this letter gets intercepted. However, she lives with her mother, who is deaf, and with her father in apartment 321, on the third floor of the building. Her mother works from home, her job unknown, and her father works late, arriving home around eight at night, depending on the day. Petal’s mother always tucks her into bed around seven thirty and once her father arrives home, he heads upstairs to Petal's room, spending a few minutes there, and then she’s left alone for the remainder of the night. I hope this is enough information to help you with further planning.
-Cerberus

After Petal’s mother puts her to sleep, Echidna slides into the room, as silent as a mouse. They scurry under the bed and wait. A few minutes later, Echidna reaches their arm up onto Petal’s bed, brushing her arm with an ice-cold finger. With no response, Echidna repeats the motion.
Petal’s breathing grows stronger, deeper, as she shifts onto her stomach, head peeking over the side of the bed. Whisper shouting, she yells “I’m not scared of monsters!” But Echidna can taste the fear behind her words, knowing that Petal’s statement isn’t quite true. This is something that Petal is afraid of, some type of monster, but Echidna just doesn’t know who it is yet. They will find out. That is their goal after all.
At the sound of footsteps coming closer to Petal’s room, she slips out of her covers and underneath the bed, hissing at Echidna to move over. Confused, Echidna does and Petal curls herself into a small ball whispering to herself, “I’m okay I’m okay I’mokay I’m- okay it’s okay I’llbefine.”
As Petal’s father enters the room, Echidna smells the alcohol in his breath. Realizing that he is intoxicated, Echidna also comes to understand that he must be abusive, and that’s the reason Petal is hiding. They know they have to do something, but time is running out, as the father approaches the bed. He sticks a hand under the wooden slats, surprising Echidna, but cautiously, Echidna thrusts their palm into his open hand.
The father jerks his hand back, a look of confusion scattered across his face. As Echidna pulls themself out from under the bed, they threaten him with words of, ‘Don’t you ever hurt my child,’ and, ‘You foolish man.’ As Petal’s father stands beside her bed menacingly, Echidna notices something about him. He’s a monster. Not a typical monster that you would find in a book about Greek Mythology, but one of the rarer ones. No wings, no scales, but marble eyes. X-ray eyes, Echidna thinks, they can see through any material. And that’s how Petal’s father saw her through the bed. But they do have a side effect. You can only see what you’re looking for, which is why Petal’s father didn’t see Echidna.
Echidna’s heart starts racing as they take in this information, and suddenly, everything around them fades. They plunge into a fever dream landscape, and as it morphs into the grayish brown colors of the past, Echidna realizes they are viewing a memory. The reason why they do not want to have any connection to the Marble Eyes.
The Marble Eyes walks across a field, a misty haze surrounding him, walking closer to where Echidna is standing. Echidna from the past.
As Echidna watches this scene, they realize that this Marble Eyes is the one who later became Petal’s father. In their mind, Echidna can’t hear what the Marble Eyes and past Echidna are arguing about, but they know. They’ve memorized this conversation that used to constantly replay. “
“What do you want?” Past Echidna sneers at Marble Eyes.
“You very well know the answer to that.”
“And you very well know that I can’t give it to you.”
“Fine, are we done here then?”
“I suppose.”
Echidna remembers the context of this scene as it ends, and they vow to protect Petal knowing further harm will come to her if they leave now. It appears that Marble Eyes recognizes Echidna as well.
However, instead of pursuing them, Marble Eyes turns away in fear, Echidna’s threats making their way to his brain. Petal’s father, Marble Eyes runs out of the room, screaming as Petal stifles a gasp, in shock that Echidna defeated her father. She stares at them, happiness glittering like stars in her eyes, and hugs Echidna, catching them unaware. Carefully, Echidna hugs Petal back asking if she would like to be protected by Echidna. Even though Echidna is a monster, even they can have soft sides. After all, Echidna’s duty is to be the parent of monsters, and raising a little girl as a monster is still in the lines of their job. And it would hurt Petal further to be left here.
As Petal nods ‘yes, yes, one thousand times yes,’ Echidna scoops her up into a little ball, slithering home to the dangerous, magical world where Petal will be protected daily by a parent who loves her so. By a parent who teaches her to overcome the difficulties of life, when monsters are supposed to hurt. She will grow up among monsters who become her friends and protectors and she will live a much better life than she would have, stuck at home with her abusive father. Petal will become a finder of truth and justice vowing that when she returns to the Earthen World, she will do whatever she can to help children of abusive parents like herself.

SWC
March 27 ~ 320 words ~ 350 points
We are free to wear the crown. There are six of us, rulers of the kingdoms. The six kingdoms of this world. Joined as one council, but we’re not a monarchy. We’re all different, there is no single genre or category.
Although we rulers come from different places, we rule as one world, one people. Our association was established, and together we shall stay until the end of time. Just five more minutes until the world ends, I’m told. But now, everything depends on my trip to Prussia.
“What needs that?” someone asked me. I was confused until I looked down, and in my hands, I saw the poem Henry sent me about the green arm.
I replied, “It’s for a friend, Shakey P. He’s going to change a few words and add a painful beat to the poem. It will become a song that will touch them.”
The random stranger smiled at me, “It’s such a shame.”
A look of confusion spread across my face, but the stranger didn’t elaborate, walking into the distance.
I went home to Holbein’s house, to my home in Prussia. Everything depended on this trip, so I decided to make the best of it.
“Ah, ah, this is so much fun, guys!” my friend told me, and I smiled back. There are six of us, the rulers, at Holbein’s house in Prussia.
“Wow, we’re six years old,” another friend added.
“Nothing is certain, nothing is certain, we may not be six years old for much longer,” said the wise old man, no longer six years old.
“But now we are a species, not a category. We will stick together and join us one. Because we are free to take the crown. Once the world ends in five more minutes, years will be lost to history.”
My friend’s riddles were stumping my brain, spurring total chaos into my mind. That is, until I blacked out.

SWC

Thank You Notes

Note: These are not in a particular order. I was trying to go from the biggest group to the smallest but there is no ranking.

Before I get into individual thank you notes, I would thank all the hosts for hosting this session of SWC. This was my first time participating in SWC and it completely exceeded my expectations. I met so many new people, had so much fun, and learned a lot more writing techniques. So thank you to everyone who made that possible.

Thank you to all the people on the daily team, or anyone who tallies all the points and words. From what I’ve seen, it’s a tremendous amount of work and I try to show that I understand by thanking every ‘added’ comment. I know that gives a lot of notifications, and I’m sorry if they are unwanted, but I hope they cheer you up as well whenever you need it. Thanks for donating your time to the endless hours of scrolling down to add up points and words.

Thank you to everyone in script. Although we’ve only talked for a month, I feel like I’ve created friendships that have lasted a lifetime and will last for another lifetime. When I’m old and on my deathbed, I’ll remember how much fun I had this march and I will cherish the memories I made forever. This is only my first session, but it might be my last for reasons beyond my control, so I want to thank everyone in script for welcoming me and giving me the best experience possible.

Thank you to my cabin leaders, Pepper, Snowy, and Alia. I’ve only known the three of you for a month, but I feel like it’s been years. Thank you for answering my questions, motivating me with congratulations, and the hardest task of all, adding up all the words. As this is only my first time doing SWC, I don’t know exactly how is supposed to go, but I know that I had a great time and that the three of you helped me feel very welcome. Although I never talked to Pepper or Alia before, I had always looked up to Snowy and her amazing writing which is one of the reasons why I was motivated to join script. Thanks to the three of you for giving me a great first experience.

Thank you Bella and Mousey. Although you two are very different people, I feel like you guys are an iconic duo, and this thank you note wouldn’t feel right unless I grouped you too together. I never really talked to either of you, other than a few of my questions you answered, but I wanted to thank you for creating your podcast mangoes and mayhem. When the first episode came out, I was feeling really uncertain about my writing and I was experiencing a difficult part of life, but your podcast convinced me to join SWC where I made tons of friends and had amazing experiences which cheered me up so much! Thank you for being there and helping me.

Thank you Poppy. I still don’t really know you, but I want you to know that I look up to you and because you participated in SWC this session you helped me have a great time. I wish I could have gotten to know you better, but as I was going through a difficult time in my life, I was trying to balance swc as best as I could and I didn’t want to spend too much time online. I hope to get to know you better in the future. Thank you for participating in SWC and I hope you had as great of a time as I did.

Thank you Chuey. As I’ve mentioned multiple times, if you read all the other notes, this season was hard for me because I had a lot of things going on in real life. Thank you for being there, even if it wasn’t on purpose. I read your thank you notes and because of the reveal that you are Grumpy the Troll, I would like to thank you. Your amazing plots helped cheer me up and helped me get back on my feet. I had a better session than I ever could have imagined and you are to thank for that. Once again, thank you.

Thank you Chloe. I did not talk to you that often, but you definitely deserve all the thank yous in the world. You had such a great SWC spirit, with handing out motivation mangoes, your silly writing prompts, and your whole detective getup. Thank you for motivating me and cheering me up with your goofiness, even if it wasn’t intended. You helped me have a great time in SWC and for that, I owe you more than I could pay you back.

Thank you so much, Tilly, Vicky, Luna, and April. The three of you played a big role in my amazing experience and you deserve so much for your amazingness. It feels right to group you three together even though you are all very different, so I’ll start off with some mutual compliments. The three of you helped me get through tough times in my life. Yes, if you’ve read the other notes, I’ve said this to almost everyone, but the three of you helped the most. From making me laugh with all the ‘SCRIPT FTW’s to motivating me with all the ‘yes toko!!’s I had an amazing session because of the three of you. Now let me split this into individual thank yous.

April - I never got to know you as much as I wished I could, I feel like us both being in script helped us form a bond. I hope we get to know each other better in the future. Thank you for helping me have the best session of SWC ever. I’m sorry this is short, most of what I was going to say is written right above. Thank you one more.

Vicky - Like April, I never got to know you as well as I wanted to, but you seem like an amazing person so I hope to get to know you more. Thank you for motivating me. All you did helped me have a great session, and for that, I am eternally grateful. when I signed up for SWC, I wasn’t sure what I was expecting. I was also going through a harder part of my life but this session helped me so much. Thank you for being a part of SWC this session.

Tilly - I don’t know what to say. Thank you so much. I am so grateful for you participating in SWC this season, more grateful than you could ever imagine. Like I’ve said to many others, you cheered me up during a hard time, and your messages helped me laugh a lot. I hope you had as great of a session as I did, and I hope that we will continue to talk outside of SWC. Thank you for being there.

Luna - I feel like we formed a strong sort of friendship, and the fact that we aren’t as close as we could be is my fault because I was also busy with my life. Enough excuses though, I would like to say that we are still able to get closer and I hope that we continue chatting outside of SWC. You were sort of an immortal presence to me. Whenever I was typing something, especially in the script cabin studio, I could imagine you on your end laughing at what I wrote and sending me back another funny message. Imagining that, and you actually sending me all sorts of messages helped me a lot and for that, you deserve so much more than I could give you. Thank you.

Thank you Alana. I never really got to know you, and I wish I had, but I wanted to thank you. I had a lot of questions this session, as it was my first time in SWC, and you were the person who answered most of them, so thank you for that!

Last but definitely not least, thank you ______. I was not able to put everyone in SWC on this list so please, if you are someone I neglected, insert your name in the blank. This message is for you: thank you for all you did for me. I might not have gotten to know everyone as well as I would have liked but I still met tons of new people. Thank you to every single person who gave me motivation mangoes this session. They really helped me. And once again, thank you to the hosts. This was a difficult time of my life and SWC helped me through it. So thank you to everyone for being there and helping me whether it was on purpose or not. I hope to be at the next session and to make new memories that along with the ones I made this session, I will cherish forever. Thank you!!

WUC
April 2 ~ 132 words ~ 200 points
My favorite snack is fresh fruit! Whether it is berries and yogurt, slices of pear, or juicy mango, I love them all. I like fruit so much because although it is healthy, it is also sugary. I only have this snack while I am at home because the fruit doesn’t taste as good if it’s cut and sitting in a container for a while, but that helps me enjoy fruit more when I eat it. I don’t have one favorite fruit, but a few of my top favorites are mangoes, tangerines, and strawberries, especially when they are all juicy and fresh. Some of my close seconds are purple grapes and blackberries. Although these are the fruits I like the most, I will eat almost every fruit because they are all so good!

WUC
April 5 ~ 103 words ~ 200 points
Frolicking through the woods on horseback to find a magical portal.
Accepting the unknown and inconceivable as guaranteed.
No clue how to defeat an evil witch, but magic is allowed and helpful.
Tasting sights and feelings like a cloud enveloping you, wrapped in its warmth.
Anywhere, your mind can take you if you bother to look and trust.
Seeing amazement in the mundane, wonder in the overlooked, hoping for happiness at the end of the quest, true love, or a family to return home to.
Your powers are as real as you and me but use them wisely for great dangers may arise.

'wow' so intresting

WallydogChoppychop wrote:

'wow' so intresting

what do you mean?
the frolicking through the woods piece is supposed to be an acrostic for fantasy, so those seven lines are basically describing fantasy.