3/1
Welcome, leaders, campers, fairies, and trolls, to the March ‘24 session of SWC! We hope you're as excited as we are for the exciting month ahead of us. To start us off, introduce yourself to your fellow writers and jot down your goals for this session. Who's your favorite author? How long have you done SWC? Give encouraging messages and compliment each other's intros - some of this might just come into play in tomorrow's daily. Have fun, and happy writing! <3
hii fellow mango-obssesians i’m faith, she/her, a christian tween who loves to write <33 my fave author is… shannon messanger? idk, actually, they are all pretty awesome… this is my 2nd session, my first being november ‘23- but this is my third if you count july ’23, where i completely forgot about this (isn't that sad?) i started really being in the scratch community in november, for swc, and i've been probably over-obsessed since.

i have a few works in progress, including ‘the river sisters,’ ‘moontail and the scavenger,’ ‘from the stars’ and an untitled one which i'm on chapter 15, along with many, many side projects, as i can never seem to finish anything. my scratch best friend forever is the amazing @dolphin786 otherwise known as Violet.

my goals for this session is to write
- half of my novel ‘moontail and the scavenger’ (as mentioned in the paragraph above) (not gonna be finished because I forgot about it hehe)
- complete at least 2 weeklies (done)
- and do 15 dailies, which is half of all of them (done)

a few of my many hobbies are singing, hopping from book to book to book (right now it’s Matasha by Pamela Erens), dancing, acting (i’ve been in Wizard of Oz as the Wicked Witch *evil laugh* i will steal your mangoes!), and many, many more!

i have enjoyed a few online camps, including scratch reading camp, january writing camp, and scratch inspiration camp! i am so excited to be in thriller this session. i love Keeper of the Lost Cities, Wings of Fire, mangoes, oranges, and sparkly alligators!

i had no idea what the one-thousand (abbrievated as ‘1k’- i can be a really bad speller sometimes) intro challenge was until i clicked someone's link. i thought it was a pfp contest or something… idk lol…

anyway, i don’t know what else to write about so i am going to rant on keeper… alright. I do not get why everyone is hating on fitz (oops i wrote keefe there for a second yeesh). he has a bad temper, sure, but he’s also a nice person. i am still on sokeefe, though, because i did read what there is of the series…

i’m just going to rant on how good mangoes are now. they are DELISH, i don’t see why anyone would be annoyed at me ranting on mangoes (anyone? lol), as that’s now one of the points of swc. uh… they’re awesome, cool, and unite people in one force. there should be a mango cabin. for the leaders and (g)hosts!! wouldn’t that be cool? i mean, it IS mangoes, after all. that can be a genre… right?

ok… i think i just created something… another thing other than the fantastic idea of a mango cabin… it is not as good, tho… it is, ohmymangoes- wait that was it lol!

i am going to go steal something from my profile ‘cause i don’t know what to say next. wait- this is funny but drastic- what if someone accidently reported or deleted the main cabin. oh. my. mangoes, that would be insane! Or what if scratch crashed and came back up on april 1st! That would also be iNsAnE. for some reason my computer doesn’t want to go to scratch omm (that stands for oh my mangoes) what if scratch DID crash? what am i gonna write about now? Let us go back and expand-

i’m a telepath- not that i can read your mind, that would be creepy- that is just my ability from most of the Keeper of the Lost Cities ability test results on scratch.

more about my untitled work in progress!! i sort of know what the cover will look like, and my favorite character is Teddy, the gnome who’s always hungry. my mc’s birthday is january twelfth. That’s all, not giving you any spoilers

now, more about moi! lol… i like my writing style, it’s interesting because after i read a book, i make up paragraphs in my head in that author’s writing style… or the character’s thinking style, if it’s in first person. i love to write dialogue, and write page-long descriptions of my setting- not like the prologue in the Lord of the Rings, though, that’s crazy! i do NOT like the Series of Unfortunate Events, as i have a very runaway imagination. so… i also don’t like lemony snicket.

i like to write in the early morning, in my bed chilling. occasionally, i listen to music as i do it, but my headphones are falling apart, so… angst over fluff, i like action. fluff equals *snore* lol… my favorite genre to read is… fantasy? also realistic fiction, though… same with writing. i do NOT like to read (or watch. or see.) horror. as i mentioned before, i have a runaway imagination, so i think things that are… uh… yeah. i also do not like to write historical fiction… it’s either fiction or non-fiction! i do like to read it, though…

i have a slow wpm *sob*, 20-30 (mainly 31). I am ok w/ romance in books, but if it distracts from the plot… g’bye! i’m also good with love triangles, they are in my favorite books! i am overly obsessed with fairy-tale retellings.

I did it! Well, sort of. It’s not 1k, but i’m too lazy to do the rest lol…

oh. my. mangoes. it's swc! peace out for… an amount of mangoes… <33

word count: 897

3/2
Hello, swc-ers, and welcome to our second daily of camp! Yesterday was world compliment day, and we all exchanged compliments on our introductions. Today, we'll use them in our writing! Take someone else's compliment and integrate it as a focal point of your story. How does the main character react to these compliments? How does it affect other people? Complete this daily with a minimum of 250 words for a scrumptious 300 points for your cabin, plus a bonus 100 points for providing proof!
‘your voice is SOO beautiful.’ -ziqing11
“Hi,” Anita said shyly. “I’m, um, here for the auditions.”
“Wonderful!” a sparkly, smiley young woman greeted her, with an outfit basically the opposite of Anita’s style. Bright jumpsuit. Lei. Crazy hair. Very-high high heels. Whereas Anita just wanted to blend in, this woman… this woman…“Come on in!” she yelled.
Anita sighed. This was going to be a long day.
“Now or never!” the woman piped in a sing-song voice. Anita rolled her eyes and followed the woman into the room, where she was instantly blinded by loads of shiny clothes and accessories. Anita rubbed her eyes, and the room was slightly dimmer, but she still had to shade her eyes to see straight.
“Awesome, right?” the woman squealed. “Take your pick!”
Anita’s eyes widened. “Uh, miss, I’m going to have to WEAR one of those? I’m already blinded.”
The woman chuckled, waving off the comment. “Aren’t they darling? I think this one would really fit you.”
And guess what? She pulled out the SPARKLIEST dress there was.
“Uh, I like…” Anita scanned the rack until she found one with black sequins. “This one!” she pulled it out.
“Whatever you say,” the woman said with a sigh, returning the sparkly one to its shelf, and Anita sighed with relief, letting out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding.
“Anita! Anita Johnson!” a deep voice announced.
“Oop, that’s you! Changing room, quick!” the woman shouted, and hurried Anita into the dressing room, where she pulled on the black-sequined jumpsuit. Looking at herself in the mirror, she had to admit, she looked pretty good.
“Anita! Nearly-last call for Anita Johnson!” the deep voice announced once again, sounding annoyed.
“Hurry!” the woman slipped a rainbow headband on Anita’s head, and pushed her into the staging area.
“You know, ‘nita,” One of the men at the fold-up tables grumbled. “We don’t like to be the waiters. You’re the server.”
Anita didn’t really understand, but she got the basic impression that she was late. She blushed. “Apologies-” -she peered at his name tag- “- Mr. Singhopper.”
“Forgiven. Now let’s see your talent.” He winked. “Singing!”
Anita took a deep breath.
And began.
For the first part, she was slightly overconfident, as she was pretending. But then she realized she wasn’t, and as she reached the chorus, the song started to mean something to her.
“…oh, I don't know what you've been told, but this girl right here's gonna rule the world! Yeah, that's where I'm gonna be because I wanna be, no, I don't wanna sit still, look pretty…”
She finished the song in a pose, and the judges clapped, writing down something in their notebooks.
“Acting!”
She dramatically made up a skit on the spot, as she didn’t have anything else to present but the song, and a few dance moves.
The judges noted something, and then the deep voice, which came from the name ‘Mr. Sparkleyelp,’ which was hilarious because there was nothing sparkly about him, announced the final audition piece, “dancing!”
Anita gulped.
This she wasn’t too good at.
“Uh… I like to move it?” she blurted when the judges looked at her for a song.
The tune felt familiar, as a bolt of energy danced through her.
And she- Anita, who got thrown out of the talent show for her bad dancing- danced better than she had seen anyone dance before. When the song ended, the judges were quiet.
And then- applause!
“Beautiful, beautiful,” Ms. Dreamhowser applauded.
“Your voice is soo beautiful!” Mr. Sparkleyelp announced. “You have star quality!”
“Thank you.” Anita said, blushing and bowing.
“We usually don’t give actors a part on the first audition, but, honestly, you’re perfect for the role.” Mr. Singhopper said with a smile.
“Does that mean- does that mean-” Anita could barely say the words.
The judges smiled, sticking out a hand.
“Welcome to show business.”

Word count: 644

3/3

3/4
For today's daily we'll be breathing in the air of spontaneity! Start by grabbing a die and rolling it - if you get 1 or 2, write in present tense, 3 or 4, write in past tense, and 5 or 6 write in future tense. Now roll it again! If you get 1 or 2, write in 1st person POV, 3 or 4, write in 2nd person POV, and if you get 5 or 6 write in 3rd person omniscient POV. Using this tense and POV, write 300 words of a story to earn 250 points, and an additional 100 points can be earned for sharing proof!
The colors ran past me, the sounds swam around me, everything was all mixed up.
I opened my eyes, looking up into a man’s eyes, a man I found some sort of deep connection with, a love- not romantic, though.
He’s my father, I concluded after a few minutes of being alive.
“Hi, Violetta,” he whispered, rocking me in his arms with a warm, friendly smile. I tried to respond, but all that came out was a wail. “I have to go, but I’ll be back!”
I wailed. I didn’t want him to go! I had a bad feeling about this… I had a feeling that he wouldn’t.
“Too… dangerous!” I attempted to say, but again, all that came out was a wail.
“It’s okay, Vi, I’ll be back.”
But he never came back.
I sighed, closing my eyes as I set down my pen from writing my memoir- it was going to be a daily thing now. I had- and have- an amazing memory- that’s what my nanny says, anyways. I remember how she used to treat me.
The yells.
The shouts.
The narrowed eyes. She’s better at controlling her temper now, but sometimes I’m still afraid of her.
The days after my birth were lonely, filled with tears, black, and yelling. I was a baby, so it wasn’t like I could do anything to comfort anybody, though I desperately wanted to.
I was useless, back then.
Daddy was gone, and now I was just Nanny Jessica’s puppet.
“Violetta! Quit writing and come help me make dinner!” Nanny Jessica shouted from downstairs. She sounded like she was in one of her moods.
“Coming!” I mumbled, shutting my notebook, sliding my pen in the binding, and hurrying downstairs.
I stop once I reach the bottom of the stairs. Standing in the living room is-
“Daddy?”

word count: 305

3/5
spoilers ahead for those who have not yet read wings of fire, book six
Hey there! Today, word wars begin—ready for the adventure? Hop on over to this project (link) to begin clashing swords! Additionally, here's a mini-activity: read one chapter of a book, then write a continuation of it—perhaps Percy refuses to go to Camp Half-Blood, or Elphaba and Galinda defy gravity together! Write 200 words for 100 points, and an extra 50 for sharing proof <3
Moon rubbed her eyes, yawning. She was in a foreign-looking bed- how did she get here again?
It’s not your fault.
The voice was smaller now, distant, but even that was enough to get Moon to remember. Why are you so quiet?
I’m almost out of range. It whispered, sounding almost- scared? Surely it couldn’t- They’re moving you. Taking you far, far away. I’m sorry, Moon, I can’t- be careful-
And then her mind was quiet again, filled with her own thoughts, but it was somewhat creepy. Lonely. Lost.
Moon pondered over Darkstalker’s words over the seconds, minutes, hours, days she was lying there. Who was moving her? Why were they taking her? Where were they taking her? She shivered, frightened, yet ready for the days ahead.

The first time she caught a glimpse of anyone else on board was a few hours after Darkstalker had gone out of range.
She had been half-asleep, half-immersed in a nightmare of Darkstalker thrust into a pit of never-ending darkness, falling, falling, falling, and calling her name, calling for her help. She was his only hope. She was fighting whether to jump in after him when she felt a push and fell, fell, fell… and that’s when she awoke. Behind her was a dark-cloaked figure about half her height, with only its eyes visible in the dark light. But when Moon looked into the eyes of the creature, she knew it wasn’t dragon- or anything natural at all. Shaking her head, it disappeared.
She assumed it was a dream, until a few days later, when a tall scavenger swept into the room, wearing flowing coverings and some petite jewelry, with a curved stick-like thing in her hair with each end behind a half-circle sticking out from the sides of their head that must of been its ear.
She felt a stronger radiation of emotions off of it, but she couldn’t quite read it. Sighing, she shook her head, but it was still there. And the scavenger smiled, then spoke.
“Hello, young one. Welcome to Two Moons.”

word count: 342

3/6
Get ready to stretch your imagination with this daily! Today, you'll be inventing a new genre. It can be anywhere from something like a Cashier Memoir to Sci-Fi. Get creative! What genre would you love to write in? Then, write a story in this genre that is 250 words long. Post it in the comments, and try to guess other people's made-up genres. You will receive 200 points for doing this daily and an extra 50 points for sharing proof!
Once upon a mango, in a mango-riffically far land, there lived a little orphan mango girl. She loved to tell stories of galaxies, mushrooms, and exotic fruits to the passerby on the streets she resided on, ever since her brother James and her mum had disappeared- her father had died years before. One day, she was taking a brief walk downtown, which she did daily to find inspiration from the variety of fruits upon the streets, when she came upon a strange old mango, hobbling along in an abandoned alley, hissing something under his breath, but the little mango girl couldn’t quite make out what he was saying.
“Hello!” she piped, with a smile, but the old mango just kept on mumbling, and didn’t even look up from the floor. Jotting down his response, she attempted once again. “Hi, Mr. Mango!”
The old mango looked up, and seemed to be disturbed for a moment, but was really quite surprised and pleased at someone coming down his alley. Then he smiled, looked up, and nodded politely, taking off his hat and bowing.
The mango girl watched, surprised, as the old mango came up as a young-looking gentlemango in his twenties or so, with a polished policemango uniform and hair neatly swept to the side. He looked… familiar.
“J-james?” she stuttered, stumbling back in surprise.
“It’s me, sis,” the gentlemango said, and he swept the little mango girl up and swung her round, round, round him. But when he set her back down on the stone-slabs of the dark, graffiti-filled alley, his face turned as dark as the night sky in the countryside.
“But we’re still missing one thing.” she pointed out, seeing the look on James’s face.
“That’s right.” he said, nodding. “And I need your help to find her.

word count: 299

3/7
Three word stories!!
word count: 134

3/8
Channel your inner gratitude for international women's day! Pen a 200 words thank-you note to a feminine figure – historical trailblazer or personal hero. dive into what makes her amazing, add a splash of humour and spread the love! This daily is worth 200 points, and you can gain an additional 100 points for sharing proof.
Dear Emma Watson,
Hii!! If I was seeing you in real life, I would probably have fainted- but why is that? Why are some people worth fainting over, while others you roll your eyes at? I guess it’s the stories of what they have done, the work they’ve slaved on to make a name for themselves in this world- but I’m getting off topic.
Hi, I’m Faith, and I have a few questions for you.
How do you do it? How do you wow a crowd with that charm of yours? I can never have the talent you have, but I try, oh I do try. You’re a women’s rights activist, a shining star, and another human on this planet- yet you’re different from the rest.
You’ve inspired me since I had to write a report on you in 1st or 2nd grade. I’ve always looked up to people like you, really, wishing I was that special, that I had the bravery to stand up for what I believe in.
But I’ll try, and maybe someday I can come as far as you have come. Thank you for your inspiration, for the hard work you’ve done. I hope someday we can meet face to face, though thats probably a fantasy.
A dear fan

word count: 213

3/9
CABIN WARS!
*cracks knuckles, shakes hands, then smiles* time for some procrastination on the weekly!

3/10

3/11
I kept this one private

3/12

3/13
Ominous or lucky, thirteen has a variety of attributes – there are 13 loaves in a baker's dozen, 13 lunar cycles in a year, including a blue moon, and 13 cards every suit. Today, 13 happens to be a host's favorite number - for 350 points (and a bonus 100 for sharing your creations), you'll be writing at least 300 words using any line or comment from a host or daily team coordinator's profile as inspiration! Best of luck, and have fun <3
I used ‘you asked me why i wasn’t saying a word i'm naming the stars in the sky after you :)' from Starr's profile.
Title: Thirteen Lives, Thirteen Wishes
“Hey, Princess, you asked me why I wasn’t saying a word,” he smiles, clutching your hand tighter when you try to pull away. “I’m naming the stars in the sky after you.”
You finally succeed in pulling your hand away, your pale cheeks rosy in the moonlight.
“All 200 billion trillion of them.” he says, swinging at your hand once again, but missing as you pull away.
“Tomorrow I’ll be thirteen,” you whisper, staring down at your bare feet, penned with dragons and fairies, so many it seems to be a world of its own, in still motion. Your toenails are painted sky blue, and your eyes tear up thinking of all you’ll have to go through- again- once you reach tomorrow.
“Why do you look so glum?” he says, sitting down in one of the fold-up chairs your dad had set up for you two. ‘Your first date!’ he had exclaimed with a Dorito-stained grin. You had given him a massive hug after he said that, knowing it would be one of the last times you would see him. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere.”
“I am,” you whisper, getting all the more interested in your toenails. Your right pinky toe had a smear onto the skin, and your left big toe’s polish was chipping. Just like your thirteenth life was peeling off, and soon you would start all over again, as a baby somewhere else.
“What do you mean?” he says, leaning in closer to you. You blush, and turn away, staring at the billion trillion times two hundred stars that he had named after you, not wanting to see his face when you told him.
“I-I’m going to be gone tomorrow.” you say, gulping, and trying not to look at his face. His face that you might as well never have seen, as you’re never going to see it again.
“So… you’re running away?” he says, a quizzical look on his face when you finally give in to the urge to look back.
“Not exactly…” you say with a sigh, gazing back up at the stars. Then you begin to tell him. From your life as a princess in Medieval Europe, to your last life as a child prodigy actress. And how you always seemed to drift away on your thirteenth birthday, into another life, and start all over.
“W-wow, I-I-” he begins, blinking rapidly, but you cut him off.
“I understand if it’s a lot to take in, but I promise you, I’m not going mad,” you say calmly. He nods, his eyes tearing up.
“Princess, I don’t want you to go,” he cries, then dries his eyes quickly, looking around, then leans down to whisper something in your ear.
“We’ll fix this together.”
word count: 456

3/14
Happy Pi Day! Although pi doesn’t have an ending, our stories (well, most of them) do. Try writing a story that begins and ends in the exact same way, but throughout all the events occurring in between, gives it a much different meaning by the end. Write 500 words for 400 points and an extra 100 (plus a free pi pie!) for sharing proof. Happy writing <3
Planting the seeds, she cried. All hope had been lost, and all of this was just lies. Little lies sprinkled throughout her life. And now it had all come crashing down around her, the horrifying truth.
She needed someone. Someone to tell her it was going to be okay, like they all did. They were wrong, though, and now she needed them to be right. She needed them to fix this. But no one cared about her anymore. No one cared.
The town around her house was busy with cheery people strolling about, nobody seeming to notice the pretty young woman, whose soul was as old as the town itself. They never seemed to truly notice, her children seemingly older than her, at first glance, just telling her that it was going to be okay, that she wasn’t really going to outlive them, that she wasn’t really cursed, not really destined to be alone for the rest of her life.
They were gone, now, had up and left the small town one day, without a word. She assumed they had married, had kids, and lived the rest of their lives without her. Not wanting to face the truth. They never did. Not even the woman herself.
“Are you okay?” a voice whispered, after a few minutes of the woman’s silent sobbing, tears strolling down her face, so anxious about everything that she didn’t notice the chubby face peeking around the corner, watching.
“Um, yeah.” she said, seeming to regain her senses. “Uh…”
But the child spoke for her. “Granny said this is where her mommy lives. You look like my older sister, Gemma. Am I in the right place?”
“I think so? Who’s your granny?” the woman said, and mentally patted herself on the back. It seemed she was regaining her ‘social skills,’ or whatever people called it nowadays, after all these years.
“Jasmine Teresa Simpson.” the boy said confidently. “If I’m in the wrong place, I-I can go, I mean-”
“No, no, that’s her,” the woman said with a welcoming smile. “I-I never thought she would be back.”
The boy’s face fell. “Uh, she passed away, um, a few days ago, she was taking care of me and Gemma after my parents- my parents-”
The woman’s smile faded for a moment, then forced another one onto her pale face. “It’s alright, come in.” She gestured to the screen door.
The boy nodded, hands in pockets, eyes on his worn Nikes as he clomp, clomped up the porch stairs.
“Gemma, pleased to meet you,” a voice said from behind the woman once the boy had disappeared into the house. The woman jumped, spinning around, to find a regal-looking teenager in a stained sleeveless pink dress. She had her hand outstretched, and the woman meekly shaked it. The girl smiled politely. “Apologies for Nicky- he’s, well, difficult in that sort of way, if you know what I mean…”
The woman nodded, attempting to process all that had just happened in her overclouded mind, filled with worries and thoughts from years of depression.
“You can stay here, uh, for some time, if you know what I mean, given,” the woman gestured. “Everything.”
The girl nodded, smiling. “Thanks, ma’am.”
“No problem.” the woman said. “And don’t call me ma’am. It’d be a pleasure to be known as Aunt Grace.”
And over the years, the children grew up, never truly leaving their Aunt Grace, staying as close as possible, treating her like a sister when they were adults, and never leaving her as her children had.
On one quiet night, the woman reminisced on the years that had come by, from the sudden beginning one average day to the years of smiles from her new children, who had become accustomed to calling her ‘Mom,’ to everyday life with her adopted children and her little nieces/granddaughters.
Planting the seeds, she cried.
word count: 647

3/15
"Beware the ides of march…” In typical Julius Caesar fashion, a character has just been informed by a mysterious cloaked figure that they're going to die. How are they going to spend their last day? Will they heed the warning - or try to escape their fate? Ponder this peculiar turn of events in 400 or more words, and perhaps you'll escape with 400 points, an extra 100 for proof, and your life <3
“Beware the Ides of March.”
It’s early morning, and you are in your Christmas pajamas that your kids have given you. You don’t know why you’re wearing it in March, but it’s cozy, and it’s surprisingly cold, for March. You jump at the voice coming from outside your window.
“Beware the Ides-”
A scream, then a few seconds of silence. Some moans, and a rustling noise. You hurry to the window, but before you can get there, your kid Elijah blocks you, holding up your keys.
“School.” he says simply. You roll your eyes, waving him off as you pluck the keys from out of his hand.
“Take the bus today. I’m tired.” you say, and Elijah groans, tossing his head back dramatically. No wonder he got the lead in the school musical. This kid has skills. But now’s not the time.
Elijah groans. “I have theater practice today.”
“I’ll take him.” a deep voice volunteers. It’s me, your husband.
“But you have-” you begin, protesting. I’ve been working long hours all week ever since your job fired you on account of money troubles. But I won't let you finish.
“You need rest. You don't have any interviews today, and your job was making you work almost all the hours that I am now. Get some rest. I’ll be back at noon for lunch break. Love you.” A peck on the cheek. You smile at me, kiss your kids good-bye for the day, and go off to inspect what’s at the window.
Frozen solid when you see. A black cloak figure is lying on the bushes. Weakly whispering something. You rush out the door and into the side yard, barefoot. You can’t see the face of the figure, but it appears to be human, and is whining from the pain that the rose bushes you’ve tended so much to are inflicting on it.
“Beware… the ides… of March…” The figure panted, and as you lean closer, you realize two things: one, the figure’s fading out of sight, so you have to ask it anything you need to soon and two, it’s not just repeating ‘Beware the ides of March’ over and over, it’s saying something else too. You lean in closer, to hear it better, and you can just barely make out the words. “Things are not… always as they… seem…”
“W-what do you mean by that?” You manage to get out. “Who s-sent you?”
“My master… does not wish… to let you know… his identity…” the figure replied wearily. “You can’t… keep it a secret… for too long… or you’ll… you’ll… go… tomorrow morning… no more…”
It faded away, out of sight. You hacked around the rose bushes for a few more minutes, but found nothing. It must have just been your imagination, you might have just hallucinated from the exhaustion of the past few weeks- you need to go to the doctor soon anyways. You still tell me when I get home for my work break, just to be safe.
My face turns dark. “Heed the warning, my dear. Did it say anything else?”
You shake your head. “He was in some rose bushes, fading away, so he didn’t really have the time.”
My face scrunches up in thought. Then my eyes widen once I realize it. “It’s symbolism. Meaning someone you love will betray you.”
“But… you wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” you say warily, backing up.
I shake my head. “Don’t be silly, Jasmine. I would never do that to you. And… there’s other people that you love…”
You nod, eyes widening as your head fills with all the people you care for. Your friends, your parents, your cousins, your sister, your… kids.
The word somehow sends a chill up your spine. You gulp as you think of all the ways they could do it to you, by accident, of course, trying to be funny.
That night, you enjoy a sweet dinner with your family- though the noodles did taste a little funny. No one else seemed to notice, so you pretended they tasted normal and went along with the average dinner conversation. Elijah practiced a song in theater, Willa learned to write capital ‘M.’
“For Mwah-ch.” she says, in her overconfident four-year-old kind of way, and you all laugh at that.
Later, you kiss your kids good night, sweeter than usual, sweeter than you ever have, knowing that this will be your last time. At least you know- at least it won’t be a heart attack in your sleep with no warning whatsoever. At least you can say goodbye.
“Love you, Mommy,” Willa says with a smile, oblivious to everything as her sweet self.
“Night, Mom,” Elijah says, somehow seeming to know, deep down, and not mumbling, half-meaning it like he does every other night. “I love you.”
I come into the room at the perfect time, having eavesdropped through the wall and knowing it is the perfect time for one last family hug.
“I love you guys,” you say, your eyes tearing up as we embrace. We share one last kiss, and you decide to head off to bed, saying goodbye for the last time.
You're content and peaceful as sleep pulls you away.

word count: 872

3/16
One of the best things about SWC is its ability to connect young writers across different countries and cultures, which is absolutely incredible :D In today’s daily, we’ll be embracing our community’s uniqueness by writing about life from another swcer’s perspective! What would their average day look like? What hobbies, interests and activities do they engage in? Answer these questions and more in at least 300 words to claim 200 points for your cabin, plus an additional 100 for sharing proof!
Dear Diary,
Today is the first day of SWC! SQUEE! That stands for Scratch Writing Camp, and hopefully I’ll be able to keep this diary throughout the sessions- it’s pretty thick. Today’s daily (a daily challenge, basically) is to introduce yourself in the main cabin. No points, though. Sad… A bunch of people are doing this in one thousand words, but I don't know what to write for all that. My sister, who’s also in SWC, rolled her eyes when I mentioned that to her, and went back to writing her- probably amazing- novel, which she has already put in 5000 words for. Take a break, sister!
Dear Diary,
Today’s daily is something about compliments. Oh, right! Apparently, it was world compliment day yesterday, and everyone gave out compliments in their introductions…. Wait. I forgot that. Darn it. I didn’t give out ones… or receive any, that I saw. Oh, well. I’ll ask for a compliment in the main cabin. That's a little odd though… but yet, it’s worth FOUR HUNDRED points. Definitely doing it, even if it costs me my pride. Sob. So I must work on it! I’ll write later!
Dear Diary,
March fourth. Darn it, I didn’t get to do yesterday’s daily. It looked fun, making an anthem for cabins or something… today’s daily, you have to roll a dice twice to get a point of view and a tense (past, present, or future), and then write! Oops, I have to go… I’ll write later! Bye!
Dear Diary,
Oh. My. Gosh. I didn’t realize how many days I’ve missed! It’s March thirteenth now, for goodness sake. I was busy, though, with theater and school and church choir… It’s been tiring. The dailies I missed look awesome, too! Maybe I’ll just do them for fun… I’ll get some words in, anyways. I don’t think I’m going to be able to do today’s daily, as my sister has a lacrosse game, I have a mathletes meet, and I’m not going to be back until much time after the daily changes… oh, well. I’ll write later! Bye!
Dear Diary,
Sigh. I missed YESTERDAY’s daily, because there was school, I slept in, and had TONS and TONS of homework. Today’s looks absolutely AWESOME, though. I think I’m going to use my OC Frida, basically a modern-day version of Frida Kahlo… I have SO many ideas! I’ll write later, my inspiration is slowly fading- and I have to stop writing before it completely disappears! Bye!
word count: 413

3/17

3/18

3/19

3/20

3/21
Happy World Poetry Day! There are many types of poetry, from haikus to odes, but they all have one thing in common: they are written about something the author is passionate about. For today's daily, it's your turn to write a poem about one of your passions! Whether it's ballet or world peace, poems can be about anything that you enjoy. Be creative with poem style, wording, and topic. You can earn 200 points for 200 words, along with an extra 100 for sharing. Good luck, (tortured) poets!
it’s every writer’s fantasy
to offer their tales to the universe
and it may seem
on some days out of the question
but it is every writer’s dream
to spill their stories to the world
and it may seem
on some days like it’s, on all account, never gonna happen
but it will come to validity
and maybe even in your days of adolescence
the fantasy will come true to life
and someday you can inspire another
another younger one, like you were when
you began to dream
and began to hope
someday you’d be one of those ones who
shared their love, their truths, their writing
with the lost and lonely to transform them into
a writer
an author
a creator of beautiful things
a maker
a world builder
a creator of beautiful things
and they will grow up to become
a writer
a maker
a creator of beautiful things
to inspire another
as it goes on and on and on…
as it did before, leading to you
from the beginning of who scrawled
the first pictures
on the cave walls
inspiring another and creating
something new, a story, a beautiful thing
spiraling from one to another
all of them
a writer
word count: 203

3/22
The willow leaves really did seem to be weeping as it rained, and Natalie sat under the willow resting drowsily in her grandparents’ backyard, trying to block out the crowd of thoughts attempting to push their way in her mind. Trying not to think of the thing that made it rain, the event that conveyed the universe itself to misery.
She wondered, lonely as a cloud, if she would ever see her parents and siblings again. Why did they have to have such a volcano-like temper, suddenly erupting on her, yelling what she thought she had kept secret for them? Sure, they had been slightly quiet the evenings previous to the outburst, but they were busy people, and she hadn’t thought much of it at the time.
Now, why hadn’t she seen it before, in the beginnings of yelled words, the red eye glimmers, the fast eating- her family were usually slow as a slug at eating. Tears came to her eyes as the memories fought their way through the blockade she was trying to build up. Finally it came crashing down and the tears erupted into sobs. Sobs of joy and sadness. Her tears dancing in the rain, she slowed her breath and held out her hand to catch two drops- one a tear, one a drop of rain, and her skin slowly absorbed it until it was gone. Feeling a power in her body, she stood up, now feeling an odd sense of confidence. A flash of lightning nearby, and Natalie shivered from the jolt of energy she felt hit her.
A blast of light shot out from Natalie’s trembling hand. She flinched, confused and frightened. Magic was banned from this world- that’s why she had been sent to her grandparents’ after her magic had been removed. Removed. Why had it come back to her, a twelve-year-old who wanted to live a normal life, and at the same time, well, didn’t. A tween who felt outcast in a world that banned people like her. A girl who just wanted everything to be easy.
A kid.
Sighing, Natalie realized something. She didn’t have to hide who she was. If they were against her, she didn’t care. At least she could be herself.
At least she could be Natalie.
_379/250_

3/23
CABIN WARS
Faith has been watching all the other SWC-ers make plans that were decent, but she pridefully thinks hers was the best. The plan was to pretend to be on Gurtle’s side- who would believe that but the silly turtle himself?- and then attack at the perfect moment, yet she wasn’t sure how soon that would be.
She hears a roar behind her, and swirls around swiftly. Standing behind her is the ten-foot-tall Gurtle, flaming procrastination potatoes at the ready.
“Hi, Gurtle,” Faith says, trying to sound brave but her voice is quivering.
“ROAR RAWR.” Gurtle states in reply.
“Okay? Anyways, Gurtle… I have mangoes!” Faith says, thinking up a plan as soon as she can, even though she has no idea where the nearest mango is- that isn’t burnt, anyways.
“WHERE.” Gurtle demands, then tilted his head and added some more flair. “ROAR RAWR!”
“Um… in my room!” Faith comes up with this idea quickly, but she knows she has a stash of mangoes somewhere… for cabin wars, of course, but she isn’t sure where exactly.
“GIMME NOW.” Gurtle roars, then, of course, adds a few ‘roars’ after his statement, “ROAR RAWR.”
Faith runs to her room, finding her mango stash hidden away behind her mango-decorated clothes, by her now too-small mango shoes.
Gurtle’s eyes lit up when he spied the mango. He grabs it from Faith’s hands, and slowly chews away. “Om nom nom,” he taunts, but Faith doesn't care. “YUMMY MANGO.”
Then Faith had an idea. “Mangoes for Gurtle,” she said simply. “If he gives up SWC.”
“NO RAWR RAWR!!” Gurtle says, instantly spitting the mangoes out. “BLAHRG.” He narrowed his eyes, and Faith awwwed. After all, he was still the cutest turtle on the planet, even though he isn't good anymore. For now, anyway.
She didn’t realize what was coming until a potato sack was over her and she was in darkness, thrown over Gurtle’s shoulder as he hums an unfamiliar tune.
Wiggling around, she tries to escape. “GAHH!” she screams. “Let me go!!”
“Mwahaha!” Gurtle said giddily, skipping- Faith could tell because she was annoyingly being bounced around.
Soon, the feeling became soothing and she fell to a deep sleep…

3/24
“It was a hobbit-hole, and that means comfort…” To honour Tolkien Reading Day tomorrow, let's take a breather to really fall into Middle Earth ;) Hobbit-holes, our heroes' lovely underground homes, have come to be a fixture of Tolkien's cultural impact. Describe what your own personal hobbit hole might look like - the ambiance, the bookshelves, the secret passageways in your cellar; include details! 400 words for 400 points, and an extra 100 points for providing proof.
In a hole in the ground there lived a child. Now, you may expect the hole to be dirty, as it is very difficult for a child to take care of themself, but instead it was quite clean and cheery.
For they were not regular children, per se, but faeries, which are people who were born with magic. That’s what they were called, not fairies but not entirely humans, either. And since they could not learn by themselves, they were taught by one of the wisest faeries of them all, the great Harriet of the Shire.
Harriet had discovered her magic at her coming-of-age ceremony, and, as the other hobbits had never seen anything like this before in their own kind, they banished her from the Shire and she spent days wandering in the woods before Ellen, the kind leader of the faeries back then, found her and took her in.
And the child she was mentor of was a very special child as well, having come to the faeries’ haven at the age of six, having lived with a human family- who despised her- for the first years of her life, and wandering the woods in loneliness for the next few.
Luckily, Liesl- that was the child’s name- came across the door to the haven on the eve of her sixth birthday, the symbol on the door calling to her, though trying her hardest to stay away, as things that called her had meant danger in the past.
But Harriet had found Liesl, lucky for her, because Liesl had just about given up all hope of having a life- a life where she could just be. And when Harriet came upon the lost girl, she felt rays of potential and instantly took her in.
Today is a special day- Liesl is going to become part of the Group, the council of people-who-make-decisions led by Harriet, who is now the leader of the faeries, Ellen being much too elderly to hold such a responsibility anymore, being one of the Wise One, basically the Group’s advisors.
Liesl was so anxious the night previous she shut herself in her room for the entire evening, not even coming out for a single bite to eat. And when she came out the next morning, she had dark circles under her eyes, having binged Y0uTub3 all night, not wanting to even think about all the responsibilities she would bear, much less face it.
“You need to get a makeover,” Harriet commented, waving her hand, and instantly the black circles disappeared, Liesl’s makeup and clothes were done, and she was feeling very rested- but still extremely nervous.
“Come on, it’s starting,” a servant announced hurriedly, waving Liesl down the stairs. “You don’t want to be a second late. We have a special guest!”
Liesl’s mind rushed through all of the possibilities, happy to have something to think about other than the events that would be happening sooner than she’d like. Celebrities, queens, Zendaya, pretty much just celebrities, trying to figure it all out.
But nothing prepared her for what happened next.
When she opened the door at the bottom of the stairs, standing there was the last person on earth she would have expected.
“Mommy?”

3/25
Happy Holi! Holi is a Hindu festival celebrating the triumph of good over evil and the arrival of spring, typically celebrated with large, colorful gatherings and people throwing colored die on each other. Use color imagery to symbolize change, whether in time, setting, or anything in between! Since today is also National Hobbit Hole Day, try setting your daily in your hobbit hole for an extra wink from the daily team ;D 500 words for 300 points, with 100 points for proof!
“Yes, it’s me,” her mother smiled, tears lighting up her eyes as she saw Liesl’s face, but they were filled with blue once she saw the red cheeks Liesl’s face starred. Fake blue, Liesl was sure of. But was she really? Shaking her head, she remembered the false truths she had believed before- and where they had led her.
“Why have you come here?” Liesl insisted, red tears rolling down her face, tears coming from the side of her that wanted to believe. Wanted to trust. “I thought you… I thought you…” she trailed off, not wanting to say the word. The word she had had to cope with her entire life, the word thrown at her for every moment since the second she found out she had powers. The word that she called herself every moment of the years she spent wandering in the woods, alone.
“I was younger back then,” Her mother insisted, twirling her purple locks nervously around her finger, trying not to meet Liesl’s eyes, trying not to accept how much she hurt her daughter. “And now I’m ready to tell you.”
“Okay…” Liesl shifted warily. Her mother was never someone to be trusted, she knew that for sure, having trusted her many times and been dragged off into the woods, left alone for days before she finally found her way back. “Tell me what?”
Her mother took a deep breath, then turned away slowly, mumbling under her breath.
“I’m…” she trailed off, seeming to be troubled.
“You’re what?” Liesl said, now very, very afraid of what could be, her mind rushing through the possibilities anxiously.
“I-I’m magical too,” she confessed with a sob, tears streaking down her face. “Your father didn’t know when you were around, and when he did find out, he did everything he could to cover it. When I accidentally revealed my magic to the world- on camera- he sent me to the woods. The dark, black woods. Just like he sent you. And I felt your pain, your heartbreak, and wondered if- hoped that- you were still alive.”
Liesl desperately wanted to believe her- she hoped the words of yellow and blue were true, she truly did, but it was too much all the same. She stared into her mother’s eyes, and deep below the yellow and blue, she saw flashes of black and red. So she took a deep breath, and shook her head.
“No. I don’t believe it.” She said, and her mother’s eyes were a full red now, with black outlining. She pretended to be kind, but Liesl never believed it. The faeries tilted their heads, confused, believing every word of Liesl’s mother, but they weren’t her daughter. They didn’t understand- no one did but Liesl.
“Fine.” her mother hissed, flipping her purple locks over her black dress, which Liesl should have noticed before. Shouldn’t have encompassed herself in the story. Shouldn’t have almost believed it. For if you believed everything she said, you were in serious trouble.
You would be under the wrath of Raya.
word count: 508

3/26

3/27
Getting back into the classics… it’s time for a fan favorite! Head on over to google translate and switch up the lyrics of a song of your choice. Once they are completely different, and probably silly, write a 300 word story inspired by your new words! Then you can take home 200 points for your cabin and an extra 150 points will be added for providing proof :D
I know I shouldn’t be doing this, but I have to do it all the same. I press my ear to the wall, and I can hear you sighing as you mumble something inaudible. A glitchy voice- maybe from your phone? I sneak a peek through the window. Probably Sofia. You guys never get along- I sometimes wonder why you two are still a couple. Then I question myself- do I still have bits of that crush I had on you left over from third grade? It didn’t work then, but maybe it will now- after everything.
“I’m trying my best, okay, honey?” I hear you say, but the word ‘honey’ sounds forced, like you were made to call her that.
“Honey,” I whisper, referencing you and it sounds right. “She listens to those inferior pop songs you extremely dislike.”
I still don’t say the word, the word we vowed never to say since a few weeks after we met.
I hear you hang up, with a loud sigh. She doesn’t know the stories of your past loves, the stories that build up a good relationship. Stories you’ll hopefully never tell her.
It would be the end for you, if you did, that’s for sure.
“Cheer games,” I hear you mumble angrily. “Never has the time for me.”
Neither do you, I reply in my head. After everything.
My phone rings, and I can hear yours. You’re calling somebody. I lean down- you’re calling me… it’ll bring too much feedback, so I open the window, and wave to you. Your face instantly lights up, and you shyly tuck a strand of your wavy brown hair behind your ear.
“Milo, how’s it going?” I say with a forced smile.
You sigh, resting your head on the windowsill. “You know Sofia, wants me all to herself, and extremely dislikes you.”
I nod, and you sigh once again as your phone rings. “Probably Sof,” he says regretfully. “I have to go. Talk tomorrow?”
I shrug, tears streaming down my face despite my best efforts to hold them back.
“You okay?” you say, an anxious look on your face.
“No,” I say, and take a deep breath. “If you could only see beyond the surface…”
“What do you mean?” you say, your face now deep with concern.
“Let’s take a walk,” I suggest, running my hand nervously through my knotted curls.
A few minutes later, we’re in front of our houses, laughing and talking like the old days- until you bring up Sofia. My face darkens when you mention her name.
I change the subject as innocently as possible, and we talk about grades and family until we reach the park.
You pat the seat with a smile that seems to light up the whole town. Telling jokes, we both laugh- and for a moment I forget all about Sofia. I’m fully in the moment.
Until your phone rings.
You belong with me, It hums. Taylor Swift- yeesh, her song is sounding too similar to my life.
A familiar voice floats down the windy park air, pulling me out of my thoughts.
“Honey,” it says. Sofia. You grimace, but your face morphs into a forced smile as her perfect form, decked out in a blue-and-white cheerleader outfit, the classic cheer uniform and our school’s colors. “Why are you hanging with her?”
You shoot me a regretful look, before linking with her, arm in arm, and shrugging. “She can be decent… if it’s not Bean Burrito day. Ew!” You plug your nose, and Sofia giggles.
“You really are too much!” she exclaims, before you both disappear into the night.
“Have you ever just thought maybe-e-e,” I sing sadly, my hope disappearing. “You belong with me.”
_620/300_

3/28

3/29

3/30

3/31

Chapter 5
When you open your eyes, your first question is, “W-where am I?”
“What do you mean?” Violet tilts your head. “You're in the Thriller Cabin. In March 2024.”
“Did I jump ahead in time?” you ask, rubbing your head. You still have a headache from the swirl of things that have happened since you got to the cabin.
“No! You were just right here, with your eyes open, and somehow you opened them, and now you seem really surprised.” Violet says. “Come on!”
You look around at the new and familiar faces surrounding you. CJ introduces most of them. “Rockie, Poppy, Wild, Cae, Aurora, Clever, Rose, Bee, Coral, Taya, Cecilia, Artemis, Zara, and Ayla.” he says. “And of course, Violet.” I nod, looking at all of the smiling faces. I'm vaguely familiar with Poppy and Clever, but I've never really talked to them.
“Hello.” a mysterious voice whispers, and everyone, I mean everyone, jumps in surprise.
“I'm Matilda. I'm going to be joining you for this session of SWC.”

weekly 1:
PART 1: MYTHOLOGY
3. Retelling
Pelagios wants Jason to do everything for him
‘phone,’ he commanded constantly
‘gimme that,’ he once snarled brutally
but today
Jason has had enough
‘this is my kingdom,’ he says bravely
Pelagios snickers
‘if it is,’ he insists
‘then you must complete a task for me.
you must journey across the space
and find the golden engine
then journey back to me
if you want to become king.’
it is a legendary quest
but Jason agrees, readying for his journey across the space
on the great spaceship Argo, of his father’s name,
and soon it is time to go
he brings with him much crew
the Argonauts, as they are called, are true
on their journey to Colchis, what is first on their list
is watching the rise and fall of the stars
past prometheus, yelling for help
as a cyborg pecks him apart, all yelp
through the dangers of Symplegades
a cyborg bird dives through
and the adventurers continue their journey true
through the architect dangers they fly
and finally reach the destination, yay!
the architect king with the golden engine doesn’t like the look of these men
so he sends him on another task, good riddance
‘plow a field with fire-breathing bulls
plant these dragon teeth.’
Jason nods, taking the required things
and the architect king whispers under his golden nose ring
‘a great army will rise from those teeth
and soon i’ll wield a great army
and no other man will defeat me.’
Jason plows the field
and plants the teeth
but instead of the gold he needs
he is stormed by the army of the architect king’s greed
but before he can yelp
the great queen Hera steps into help
with an enchanted love the architect king’s sweet daughter Medea
uses her knowledge, to save her father’s betrayal
he then finds the golden engine
guarded by the architect king’s greatest creations
Medea uses her knowledge and smarts
and Jason gets away, promising to return to his love and gift her with the lot she wants
he returns, becomes the king
and smacks the architect’s nose ring
soon Medea had a golden heart
_356/200_
PART 2: HI-FI
4. If These Walls Could Talk: The Events One Place Has Seen
I’m torn and scarred from years alone, resting on the corner of Magnolia Street, waiting, hoping, telling.
I’m a house, yes.
I once belonged to a family, a family that held me dear, how I miss them, but now I think they have forgotten me, or at least it will be a very, very long time until they return, maybe even forever.
I vaguely remembered the day the family had left- and I’ve worked hard to pull the details from the crevices of my memory, so I can share with you.
“Tala, it’s time,” Mama had hissed at the little girl huddled up in the corner of the kitchen, holding a chipped teacup in her hand as she stared down at the little girl, who seemed to shrink even more with every persistence of Mama.
“Mama, do I have to? This isn’t even legal!” The girl sobbed, but Mama was firm. “A lot of your fellow children in Syria don’t have the privilege of literature, much less an educated mama and a family that supports learning after the threats of the Taliban-”
Both suddenly froze as they sensed a rumbling. Their eyes widened as a shot fired. Papa burst into the room, carrying pre-packed bags filled with supplies if they needed to flee.
“It’s time!” he called, and Mama began to shake. “But-”
“It’s too dangerous,” he insisted. “We can’t stay here any longer. Tala and Taysir need to have a life, Mai. Please.”
Mama sighed, giving in- to her husband, to the realization of her situation.
Taysir hurried into the room. “What-” His face went pale. “But-”
“Come on.” Papa insisted. Mama set down the teacup, dropping it for the last time.
They hurried out of the kitchen.
And they haven’t been back since.
_295/200_
PART 3: FAIRY TALES
2. Mixing A Little Magic: Placing Yourself In A Fairy Tale
I can’t remember much about my first few years.
I can remember, however, how much time I spent in the library- and how much time I spent with my stepmother.
They were polar opposites.
And I desperately wanted one, but was instead using my time for another, to make up for the loss.
I cried daily, wishing my life could be simpler, weaving stories of another life as I explored the castle’s many floors, longing for a companion in my mischief.
My loneliness and depression only got worse when I moved in with the dwarves- knowing my stepmother hated me.
The dwarves tried to comfort me, supplied me with books and love galore- but it was never the same. It was too much.
I kept letting my stepmother in, knowing she would hurt me, but I let her in in hope, hope that she would forgive me for what I did wrong, if I truly did anything wrong.
But by the time I realized that, I was out on the floor.
I finally found love when I opened my eyes to the prince. It was then I knew that everything was going to be okay.
And sometimes the feeling comes back.
But I can cure it, now- huddled in the royal library, reading, laughing, and talking with the prince, who’s now the king, by the way. And life is so much better now.
I’m Snow White, otherwise known as Faith to close friends- you can call me that now, I guess. This is my story.
_255/200_
3. An Enchanting Reunion: Multiple Fairy Tale Characters Meet Up With Each Other
Cinderella smiled as she breathed in the fresh air of her empire, opening her eyes after a good night’s sleep. Today was her weekly meet-up with the kingdom, and she needed to be up bright and early.
Before she could enjoy the peaceful morning for very long, her husband burst into the room.
“Ella!” he cried, a look of panic on his already-pale face, his movie-star-like hair mussed from the morning rush. “You slept in! The people are waiting!”
Cinderella’s heart was beating faster than it had after the run back home from the ball. She always was anxious about being a bad queen, and here she was, sleeping in! She pulled the covers from around her, and got up, leaving them messier than they were before. Usually she cared- a lot- about tidiness, but could things really get more messy?
“I’ll clean that up later.” her husband volunteered, gesturing to the bedspread. “You need to get changed.”
“No need for that.” a voice piped up, and there appeared her fairy godmother, as warm-hearted as ever. And, as she arrived, Cinderella’s nightgown shined with a golden glow, morphing into a beautiful ball gown. And with a pop! Her hair was done in a gorgeous updo. Her makeup was beautiful. She was outstanding.
“Thank you!” Cinderella gave her fairy godmother a big hug, rumpling her dress, but it morphed back easily.
Her husband smiled, taking her arm as they exited the room.
“First order of business!” King Charming announced once they got into the courtyard. A large crowd had gathered.
“Jack!”
“Alright,” Jack bowed, his large top hat at his chest, then shot an awkward grin at the king and queen as he fumbled around in his hat.
“No time for magic tricks,” King Charming said, squinting judgingly. “Me and the queen do not appreciate-”
“Aha!” Jack sighed with relief, finally finding what he was looking for. “These magic beans!” He held up a few blindingly bright pink beans. Cinderella and her husband blinked and stepped back.
“Those are very… bright for beans.” Cinderella pointed out, and Jack nodded.
“They’re the ones left over from my adventure- the ones leading to the giant’s castle looked like regular beans, though.”
“And I want you to try these.”
_375/200_
PART 4: FOLKLORE
1. Oral Retelling: Show Characters Passing Down a Story
“Come, children,” a weak voice whispered. Granny’s hand was limp in my palm, with barely a vein of life trickling through it.
“Granny, heal!” Timmy, my kid brother, smacked his hands together and looked expectantly at Granny as if she was going to suddenly be back to normal. “You okay?”
Granny didn’t respond. Instead she stared up at the ceiling for a few minutes, then sighed and looked at me, a sad smile on her face.
“I have a story to tell,” she whispered. Timmy clapped his hands. I shot him a look, then turned back to Granny and nodded.
Granny gave a weak laugh. “Appreciate things while you have them. They fade away quicker than you expect, if you do not harness them.” she tensed up, then seemed to fall back, even though she was already lying flat on her bed. She coughed.
“But that is not what I need to tell you in my last moments,” she said, and my eyes began to water up.
“Granny-” I began, but she tucked my hair around my ear and shushed me.
“Listen, child. Once upon a time, there lived a little mermaid girl.” Granny smiled. “One day, she was out by the shore when, suddenly, she heard the sound of an oil tanker, chug, chugging over her family’s home. She hurried back, but it was too late. The entire town was dripping with oil, and her family was gone.”
Granny shifted in her bed covers, as if she had experienced the same thing once, long, long ago.
“She cried alone in the coral that night, homeless and seemingly hopeless. Until she heard a voice from above, and a shadow floating over the reef. She froze, listening intently at the slightest hint that they might hurt her.
“‘I don’t want to go fishing,’ a voice whines. ‘You know I’m a vegetarian.’ A sigh from another person on board. ‘Well, the fish are for us. All you’re doing is catching them.’
“‘I don’t want to catch them. I want to go home.’ the voice whined. ‘Plus, what if you catch a mermaid? What are you going to do with her?’
“This made the mermaid girl even more cautious as she tried to blend in with the coral. But it was no use. When a handsome young man dove in, she was the first thing that caught his eye. ‘Hi,’ she said nervously, and the man tilted his head, then swam closer. ‘Um… who are you?’ she asked. The man tilted his head the other way, and gestured to his uniform. Instantly, the mermaid backed up. ‘Royalty.’ she hissed, and turned away from him.
“But the man pulled her back, gesturing to a net in his hand and attempting to scoop up the oil. The mermaid smiled. Maybe humans aren’t so bad after all. she thought. She never saw the man again, but then again, she saw him everywhere she looked.”
Granny finished with a smile, then closed her eyes. Her breathing slowed to a stop, and my heartbeat quickened. “Granny!” I said, eyes wide. “What was the point of that story?”
“Help!” a cry came from the kitchen. I hurried in, and through the window, I saw Timmy being pulled away into the night.
Sobbing, I tried to run after him, but I couldn’t. I was trapped-
Another controlled dream. I knew that after about five nights of being in this orphanage. I had absolutely no idea what they were trying to tell me, though. The last few seconds were so surreal.
“Liesel, it’s morning time!” Greta, the simple-minded owner of the orphanage I stay in, hollered from downstairs. “And I have some news.”
“Timmy’s missing.” she said with a shrug once I got downstairs.
Maybe the dreams weren’t so meaningless after all.
_631/200_
4. Magic Realism (Talking Animals, Little Bits Of Magic, etc.)
Edna had been missing for four days, and part of Bailey was glad about it.
The posters of her kept popping up randomly, and Bailey desperately wanted to tear them down.
But it was the only way to get answers, having someone find her.
Of course Mom knew where she was. She was a world-class villain, even though she treated her kids pretty much like everyone else’s kids, to pull attention. The Gold Thief- that was her name, though no one ever expected it.
But in the dark, things got dark.
And right now, Bailey was in one of the darkest parts- cornered in an alley, with nowhere to go, and the perfect target for knowledge of the Gold Thief’s whereabouts. Cornered by one of the police’s greatest officers- one of the only magical creatures on the face of the planet.
Suddenly Bailey heard a growl.
She opened her eyes, torn from her trance as the centaur stepped closer to her. “I need the answers by next week, or…”
He didn’t have to finish his sentence. Bailey nodded, gulped, tried to act like the daughter of the Gold Thief, and then ran off.
“What did you do,” Mom snarled when Bailey showed up on the porch, red-faced and panting. “I swear on me, one day you’re gonna-”
But she never got to finish her sentence.
_225/200_
_2137/1200_

weekly 2:
PART 1: FLOWERS
Part 1: Daisy
You wore a daisy, merrily strolling throughout the town square.
I thought I could always trust the flowers.
Even your name matched the part, Addison, but names can’t be trusted.
I should have remembered, should have been more careful.
But now it’s too late.
It’s so clear to me now- the little clues I thought were nothing.
Under the daisy, you wore an ice plant.
Heartless, you fooled us all.
Part 2: Ice Plant
You used to be my friend. My best friend.
Me and you, we would do everything together. I thought we told each other everything, too. But apparently, you thought I knew. Somehow.
You should have told me, but by the time I found out, it was too late.
You have been taken over, haunted. I know you still have Addi in you, deep down.
But for now, I just have to pretend that you don't- and destroy you.
I never thought I would have to do this. To my best friend, of all people.
Part 3: Black Dahlia
Tansies thrown at me. I get it.
You’re no longer my best friend- or my friend at all. You don’t have to officially declare yourself against me.
In this world, flowers mean everything.
Maybe if you threw off the daisy-like innocence, you can throw off the ice plant-like heartlessness.
Come back, Addi. I whisper as you smile your now-trademark ‘Foxglove’ smile. That’s what you want everyone to call you now. The flower symbolizes treachery. You’re more the black-dahlia-type, though.
Betrayal.
Part 4: Daffodils
It’s been four years since you left me behind.
Four years since you betrayed me, since you became a monster.
I think you’re finally coming back around, though. Carrying a daffodil in the place you were going to hitch the greatest theft of your life.
Maybe you’re finally being honest- that’s what the daffodil symbolizes, anyways.
I’ve been wrong before.
After all, flowers can tell many lies. And bring the truth into focus at the same time.
You glance at me, your eyes tearing up, flattening out your pale pink dress and shooting me a nervous smile. I open my arms in invitation, and you run into them.
Oh, how I missed our friendship.
Hopefully, it will last this time.
_366/300_
PART 2: CONSTELLATIONS
Once upon a time, in a land called Aethiopia, a great king by the name of Cepheus went about his life. Averagely, you could say, depending on what you mean by ‘average.’ It was the 15th of March. It was night, and he was brushing his teeth, dipping the bristles in powder then ordering one of his servants to get a bucket of water for him. Sara, his eldest daughter (and the heir to the throne, though Cepheus would do nearly anything to not have a girl on the throne), was doing her hair in a gorgeous updo next to him. Suddenly, she froze, viewing something in the corner of her eye.
“Daddy,” Sara said, shaking. “B-behind you.”
Cepheus rolled his eyes, turning around. But he froze when he saw the black-cloaked figure he felt like was watching him, peering down at him with his red eyeballs of light as he hovered above the ground, almost unsurely.
“Soon, you will be a star in the sky,” the figure began, holding up an invisible arm and gesturing to the sky. “No more than a bird frozen in flight. Enjoy your last night, my dear, for your life will end with nearly no warning, to be clear.”
And it disappeared, leaving the pale king shaking.
“D-daddy, don’t g-go!” Sara sobbed, collapsing onto her father, as the king clutched her hand.
“Do not worry, my dear, I will do my very best to defy the prophecy, for I cannot let a girl become king-” Cepheus was cut off by a wail.
“I am ready for the throne, Father! Do not treat me as if I am a little girl, for that is what you’re acting like. Women are just as mature as men. In fact, we’re more mature!” Sara shot a look at her father. “If it really is your last day, can’t you at least be nice to me?!”
Sobbing, she ran away, and Cepheus sat on a chair in thought. What if? He asked himself. What if she was king? Would she rule better than him? Would she keep the kingdom out of war? He himself had been pretty successful at that-
The sound of clashing swords harshly interrupted his thoughts. A servant hurried into the room.
“Your majesty, they’re attacking!” the servant panted. “The kingdom of the witches and their servants! They’re here!”
Cepheus nearly fainted at that. What could he do? Nothing. He was useless, both his daughters hating him. Andromeda- would she return in time? Surely not. And Sara- Sara-
The door burst open, a poised woman walking in. Cepheus thought he saw a flash of anger across her face, but it seemed to be just his imagination, as she smiled politely, nearing Cepheus as she pulled a long stick-like thing, sparkling in the moonlight shining in the palace from the sunroof.
As she pointed the wand at him, the realization hit him suddenly. But it was too late to do anything.
With a blinding flash, a new constellation was born.
_503/300_
PART 3: AESTHETIC SET
link
PART 4: SWC FANFIC
“Apologies that none of my other cabinmates showed up.” Alana said, gesturing to the empty seats around her.
“It’s okay,” Faith said, then paused. “None of the hosts did either… so who wants to lead the meeting today?”
“Me!” a soft voice said, sounding like it was so quiet, that was its yelling voice. Everyone looked around.
“Who was that?” Aurora wondered aloud, searching under their fun orange block seat. A barely audible sigh. A flash of color from behind Starr’s host seat. A… turtle?
“Gurtle?” Toko said, squinting at the creature that was on its belly next to the seat.
“Help me up!” he squeaked, and Bella rushed over to turn Gurtle over. Once he was up, he went paddling over to the description area of the main cabin, and stared hungrily at the link for the writing competition.
“No. NO.” Alana said, attempting to pull Gurtle back. But he was really heavy, especially for a baby turtle!
A buzz from the clock, and the description changes. Everyone huddles around the description booth, and CJ finds a microphone to announce it to the camp. “CABIN WARS!” they shout, and we all cheer.
“Meeting paused for the moment.” they continue, to the group on the colorful blocks, and we all nod, standing up.
“Hello, allies!” Alana says, later in the day after Thriller’s shield is down and the meeting is paused for the day. “It’s cabin wars! Write 3500 words as a cabin in the next 8 hours or lose 800 points. Here’s the extra challenge; Attempt a fifty headed hydra- which is 500 words in 5 minutes- and every cabin member who attempts this monstrous challenge can claim 25 points for their cabin. Your attempt doesn’t need to be successful in order to win these points! This applies for up to six campers (resulting in 150 points earned maximum.) Good luck!”
“Wait, wait, wait-” Aurora says, peering at their notebook where they had recorded the previous cabin wars. “Didn’t we get the fifty headed hydra extra challenge last time?”
Alana peers over Aurora’s shoulder. “Hehe, didn’t realize that,” she says, glancing over at the cabin war rules paper posted next to the description. “Here’s a new challenge for you guys- character swap. To complete this, at least two cabin members must share a short bio of one of their original characters. Then, they must write at least 300 words about someone else’s character. This applies for up to six campers, resulting in a max of 150 points earned.”
“Alrighty, time for some procrastination on the weekly!” Faith says happily, retrieving her computer from her backpack and beginning to type.
“You need some inspo?” Violet says after a few minutes of almost-complete silence. Faith nods, and Violet gestures to her notebook.
“Thanks.” Faith says, leaning over Violet’s shoulder, but Violet hands it to Faith.
“I have it on my computer anyway,” Violet says with a shrug, pulling her computer out of her backpack.
Faith smiles as she reads through the stories. She is getting some inspiration from this, so she should probably get back to writing before it disappears.
On the other side of the room, Cecilia and Krish are chatting with Gurtle, who has been writing a poem and needs some advice.
“In return, can you critique this?” Cecilia says with a small smile, her olive brown eyes lighting up as she gestures to her notebook. “I’m kind of stuck, and it would be helpful for you to give some suggestions, you know…”
Gurtle smiles. “Gladly.” he says, pawing at the notebook. It squeals, and Misty, who is nearby, scribbling on a notepad, looks up and flinches at the sound. “But I kind of need help getting it…”
Cecilia laughs, and Krish hands Gurtle the notebook, along with their notebook. “And… yours?” Krish says, and Gurtle fingers a small notebook that they all squint to read.
“Uh, thanks,” Krish says, and they all laugh.
Sitting on the colorful cubes, Nova and Tilly are word warring, both furiously typing away, stopping to think now and then, and then going back to typing. Surf and Misty are doing the same nearby, but with a bit more competitive chatting.
“A new daily!!” CJ announces suddenly, and everybody hurries over to the description, the area crowded with people.
Faith smiles.
Oh, how she wishes this could go on year-long.
_726/600_
Thanks to Violet, Aurora, CJ, Cecilia, Nova, Misty, Tilly, Bella, Surf, Toko, Alana, and Krish for volunteering to be part of my fanfic!
_1595/1200_

weekly 3:

weekly 4:

1

It’s time for our first writing activity! In 150 words or more, write about one feature or place that you’d want to add to the academy! For example, a honey pool with a slide from the roof, or a giant swing. Once you're done with the activity, reply to this comment chain with your completed work! Doing this will earn you 3 wings

-cb2jkl
Imagine yourself immersed in a new world, one full of talking bugs, flying fairies, and dreams come true. In the simulation room, you can be anything. Stretch your six legs and dive under the ocean as a flying fish, then fly out as a beautiful raven. Gobble down all the mangoes you could want, and finally have the motivation you need for cabin wars in this thrilling environment! One of the cautions, though, is the simulation room being too real. If you spend more than a day in the simulation room, memories of the outside world will begin to fade, until your whole world is in the simulation room. And no one can rescue you, if you are in a private simulation, so I advise you to always be with a partner, and to keep track of time! After all, you wouldn't want your whole world to fade away… would you?

2

In 150 words or more, write about an insect of your own creation. Make sure to include details like their habitat, behaviors, what they look like, etc. Three people must complete this activity.

-cb2jkl
Her wings felt like they had just woken from a long winter's sleep. In a way, they had. Not flying over six months' time had been very difficult for Wilde, but it was one of the traditions of the People, as they called themselves, their form beneath their exoskeleton much resembling a human's, save the furry legs at their waist, and the antennae.
She smiles as she flutters using her butterfly-like wings to flutter across the flower-filled meadow. A pretty young woman carried a flower full of People eggs, quaking as the woman struggled to get them back to the Hive before they hatched.
The People only had one place to congregate on the surface of the Earth, as they mostly died out in the Medieval times, where the humans wanted their exoskeletons, calling them ‘fairies,’ which really they had a great indifference with.
“Come! It is Midday Mealtime!” a voice squeaked through a megaphone they had crafted using a flower petal. Not that it helped very much- luckily, Daisy, the Person who was doing it, had a very loud voice. So pretty much every one of the People could hear her wherever they are in the time of day Daisy calls them to the Hive.
Sitting down, they all thanked the Creator before dining and then dancing, their midday tradition before going back to work, and the Children such as Wilde, went to Hive Learning, a sort of school that all the Children did every afternoon after their morning play.
They learned about all the tasks they would do when they grew up, getting them excited for what may not come, as, firstly, the People were very rare and nearly extinct, and, secondly, the Test was something it was very difficult to return from, and only the luckiest got beyond that, the others babysitting the Children and serving Bee, the queen of all the People.
But if she did get past the Test, listen closely to the air. You may hear a whisper of encouragement, a little voice telling you to go farther, that you can do it.
That is the job of the People.

PART 1
There was a fire inside of him- one he couldn’t explain.
It felt like too much, and too little at the same time.
He was no longer Keefe everybody used to know.
He was his mama’s boy- wait, what?
Keefe paused as he slipped through the halls of the castle. Why was here again? Oh, right, mom-of-the-year wanted him to steal some enchanted thing. No way, no how was he going to do that now that he was back to normal thinking.
“Keefe,” a sugary-sweet voice echoed through the halls. “Don’t rebel. You know what will happen if you do…”
A sickly smile was on the royal figure who’s steps echoed throughout the castle. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight. Tossing her dark auburn hair over her shoulder, she smiled.
“You’re mine now, Keefe.” she said, with a smile lighting up her sickly teal eyes. Keefe was too shocked to realize that he was being controlled. His foot lifted involuntarily, but he put it back down. The lady laughed, curling her dark auburn hair around her finger. “You do realize that.”
Keefe nodded, giving in. I’m just going to hide in a corner of my mind… he said, mentally gulping as he scurried away to a dark corner far away from the main controls of his mind. A dark presence scurried in, and Keefe was no longer in control of himself.

PART 2
The first memory that came to him was blurry, having hidden it away for many years. Or maybe having forgotten about it.
It was somewhere in the Forbidden Cities- a doorstep. His mother, another woman who looked familiar but he couldn't quite place why.
Then he realized it- the woman who had overtaken him. The woman who had come up more frequently in his early memories then his mother- odd, because he always thought he played alone in those early years, pranking his dad to get attention- even though it was the wrong kind. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn't. That had triggered his love of pranking- right?
Now he was doubting himself. But the memory was swallowed before he could inspect it any further. Another memory appeared just as suddenly as the next one, but Keefe ignored it, watching through his own eyes Sophie and Fitz, tied up, trying to wriggle loose. An evil laugh- his. Words.
“The Keefe you know is gone now, Soph.” his voice whispered, though he would never utter anything like that unless it was for Sophie's good. Or the good of the Lost Cities. His voice began to say something again- something just hearing him say made him want to fight for control, no matter what it took (unless it hurt Sophie, of course).
“And you must join us if you want to remain as you are.”

when I receive [swc has begun v]
forever
jump up and down
end
say [I'M SO HAPPY] for (forever amount of) secs
turn cw (a million) degrees

when [swc has begun v] key pressed
say [I AM HAPPY]
glide (a forever amount of) secs to x: (space) y: (swcgalaxy)
if <no one else is there> then 
play sound [*sobbing* v]
  

else
set volume to (a million) %
say [SWC IS HERE]
end
add [make new friends] to [list v]
think [time to write]

Elena sat in her balcony, the wind whipping her hair around. She was deep in thought. Firstly, how was she supposed to handle it? The responsibility was far too great than anything she could handle. Yes, this day was inevitable. There would be a day when the power would come to her hands and when she would have to be competent enough to handle all that came her way. And yet.

The first sentence is a little fast-paced. It might sound nicer if you made it more descriptive. What color is her hair, perhaps? Where is the balcony? A castle, maybe?

Elena was the daughter of the most respected members of the Medical Council. She was one of those people upon whom her parents' legacy wasn't forced. Her genuine interest in the field made them decide that when they passed on, it would be her who would take the reins. They entrusted everything to her. But nothing prepared her for what came next.

I don’t know what to say. I love this paragraph! It’s so descriptive and beautiful and I love the temporary cliffhanger.

When she was only 14, she received a message saying her parents had breathed their last in a car crash. The news had broken her and devastated her beyond belief. It was no time to be upset or sad, though. There was a battle going on and urgent medical supplies were needed. And as the head, she had to provide it to the people who needed it. Already many esteemed members of the field who had long since retired had to leave to provide medical care. There was no time to mourn. There never was. Not when she saw Bella, her best friend, succumb to an illness because Elena was so pathetically useless back then. Not when her brother, Jacob, died on the battlefield. Not when her parents died in a car crash. She always felt inexplicably useless, pathetic and weak, not being able to save anyone or do anything. But now she had a chance to save hundreds, if not thousands of people. She stood up, steeling her resolve. Biting back her tears and swallowing the crushing misery, she swore to herself that no matter what, no one would die in front of her if she could help them. Even if it was her worst enemy. She turned back around, walking into her study. All the members of the Council felt a stark contrast to the carefree young girl and the determined, albeit devastated leader. Some of them, however, doubted her. How much could a fourteen-year-old handle after all? When Elena entered her room, panic rose in her chest when she saw one of the most trusted members. A high ranking member who had been her parents’ right hand man, Julius. If he had come to see her then it meant something very serious.

The fourth sentence kind of confuses me- I have to read it over and over to really understand it. You could say they’re retiring. The next sentence is kind of sudden. Maybe you could separate the paragraph there and add a little more to the previous sentence? Also, it is mostly third person limited- and near the end of the paragraph you switch to the all-seeing narrator point of view. Could you make everything third person limited or the all-seeing narrator POV?

“Julius! What’s the matter?” Elena asked, hiding her doubts and fear.
“The death toll, ma’am.”
“The-the death toll?” Elena froze.
“Yes, ma’am.”
She recovered quickly. The information was crucial after all.
“Well, go on, Julius.” She told him.
“Umm… 10189.” Elena gasped at his reply.
“What do you propose we should do, madam?” He asked her. “I understand that at this point of time it is very difficult for you, yet you have accepted and taken on this position. Shall I deploy more nurses?”
“Yes.” Elena replied quietly. “Julius, I might need some help in a while. I will call for your assistance. How serious is the situation on the field? Any reports?”
Personally, Julius felt that Elena deserved her position. She handled the situation excellently for someone her age. She kept asking for reports frequently, dispatching medical supplies and medics as she saw fit.

Again, at the end this is switching to a different point of view- it would be less confusing if you went into someone other than Elena’s brain more frequently, making her thoughts more vague, or perhaps you could stay in her mind?

“Many people are quite injured. The soldiers are fighting to the death, but there are over a thousand that require urgent medical care, at least within the next three hours. I do not wish to burden you with this, but… Some of our own medical personnel are dying even as we speak.”
Elena pondered on what she could do. She had handled the situation somehow all along, but who was to say that her leadership wouldn’t lead to more losses? Doubt crept up in her mind; she didn’t deserve the position, and she was the most worthless. And that’s when she heard their voices. Jacob’s voice, Bella’s voice, the voices of her parents. All saying one singular thing.
“You were not able to save us. Save them. You can do it. You are not worthless.”
And that much was enough for Elena.
“Julius.” She spoke. “Would you refuse my order if I said this?” She asked.

This paragraph is amazing in its meaning, but you could separate ‘And that’s when she heard their voices.’ into a different paragraph, making it feel more emotional. Also, you could separate the different voices into different sentences and paragraphs. What they were saying would sound more meaningful if it was shorter. Other than that, I love it!

“I-I cannot say, ma’am.”
“I need a yes or a no, Julius.”
“Well.. I would accept whatever you say.”
Elena took a deep breath before she said the following words.

If you’re in Elena’s mind, it is more following the point of view if you said something like, “Elena took a deep breath, then spoke.” Thanks!

“Then I will go to the battlefield myself.”
Julius was shocked, to say the least. He expected all sorts of things, but not this. The sheer conviction she had said it with just confirmed the fact that she was resolute.
“I will go myself and treat them.”
“But, ma’am.. The risks are too high. We cannot afford to lose you, head of the Medical Council.” Julius attempted to dissuade her, but he was met with a, “no, Julius. I will go. I will leave in an hour or so, I would greatly appreciate it if you could arrange for my departure.”
There was no convincing the headstrong girl, that Julius knew. He agreed to whatever she had said and went to make arrangements.

Elena’s response to Julius’s protest I feel is too uncommon of a sentence for you to say ‘he was met with a.’ After the ‘a’ you could add a description of how she said it, such as ‘steely,’ perhaps? Also, the comma after ‘headstrong girl’ is not needed. Otherwise, I love it!

Elena’s heart was hammering against her ribs. She had made a very bold proclamation, but who was to say she wouldn’t die?

The previous paragraphs were kind of misleading to this… there should probably be a clue on it. Something like, ‘Elena avoided eye contact, realizing her thoughts after being caught up in her own excitement.’ or something similar…

She walked away from her study and to where her father had kept his old medical journals.
“Mum.. Dad..” She thought. “What would you do?”
She rummaged through the various books, papers, journals, observations, and medical supplies. And that’s when the memories came flooding back to her.

It was a huge pandemic. People were dying left, right and center, and their medical care was in high demand. Elena was only seven at the time but observed carefully each and every move her parents did. As she grew up, they always told her that one day, when they died, everything would go to her, and that that one day could come anytime. Maybe today, maybe tomorrow, maybe after ten years. And so she was always prepared. She had to be.
Her father urgently contacted all the specialists and doctors he knew, ordering them sternly to treat the critical patients. Her mother, on the other hand, was directing and treating countless people into the huge hospital wing of their mansion, which held necessary first-aid and medical supplies. The situation was grave, and, if it hadn’t been for her parents’ systematic approach, thousands more would have lost their lives.
The one year that the pandemic lasted, her parents had sleepless nights. Day in, day out, they would take care of the sick, nurse them, treat them. They were always on standby, even at ridiculous, ungodly hours. They always put the patients first. Always. Hell, they treated them even when they should have been resting. They never shied away from their duties. It was simply a pledge they had taken, to save the lives of anyone who came knocking on their door. And they did.

You could perhaps italicize these paragraphs as a flashback? And the second paragraph is much more descriptive than the other two, so maybe make that paragraph less descriptive or the other two more.

She sifted through her parent’s numerous journals, looking for one in particular. A leather-bound book, decorated with various stickers of flowers. Elena’s idea. She smiled sadly at the sight of it, but opened the journal. Inside was written everything her parents did whenever there was an urgent need for medical supplies and medics, and how they would or did handle warlike situations.

You should probably begin the paragraph with ‘Elena,’ as we haven’t heard her name in a while- and when you say ‘Elena’s idea,’ you could say ‘her idea’ instead, as you are in Elena’s thoughts.

One passage in particular caught the attention of the keen-eyed girl.
“There is something mysterious about Elena that we can’t quite put our finger on. She’s a medical anomaly, in that sense. We have always instilled a sense of duty in her, and our beloved daughter has nerves of steel. But she has this — this energy we cannot explain. She wasn’t able to save two people very dear to her heart, but.. The efforts that she put in were far beyond what we expected. She’s a very brilliant child, kee, observant, and empathetic. She has this immense strength, and we feel an odd aura around her sometimes, when she’s absolutely determined to save some lives. It is, quite possibly, the rumoured ‘power.’ In the medical community, people often whisper of a person who saved countless lives singlehandedly in the most perilous of situations with no help or support. Their medical knowledge far outweighs even the greatest geniuses of today’s world, and they treated even the most untreatable diseases. People say they even had a magical power, and could treat wounds with just a touch. And Elena has done that more times than we can count: treating by touch.”
Elena couldn’t dare to breathe. If what was written was true, then.. She could finally do it. She could save lives.
That’s when the door was thrown open by some of the sceptics of her field.
“You have a large bounty on your head, dearest!” One of them said in a singsong voice.
“Come now, princess, or we shall kill you ourselves.”

Wait- this is sort of confusing. Perhaps you could make it more descriptive- that would make it easier to understand.

Without a second thought, Elena made a run for it. Time was of the essence, and so was she. This newfound knowledge of her own powers excited her, and threatened her life at the same time.
“Miss Elena!” Julius called to her as he tossed her bag full of supplies, medical reference books and the journal, “please go! I’ll hold them off!”

When did Julius arrive? Did she exit the room, or did he enter? For example, you could say, “Julius called to her as she sped past.”

Elena caught the bag gratefully but hesitated for a moment.

Wait- wasn’t she running? Perhaps you could mention that she stopped.

“Please leave, ma’am! All the answers you need are right under your nose, just look carefully!” Julius repeated. Elena nodded, and continued on her way. Julius didn’t know that she’d found out about her powers.
She ran without stopping as fast as her legs could carry her, and spotted her car.
“To the battlefield, now.” She told him, much to his surprise.
“But ma’am–”
“I said, NOW.”
The driver started the engine. She looked back to see the mercenaries who had been chasing her on foot look around frantically for their vehicles. Julius’ parting words were etched into her memory. Another life lost for ‘the greater good.'
Apparently they were hellbent on getting her, and now they would want the journal as well, considering what Julius had told her before she sprinted away. She sighed. Her life was truly in danger now.

I feel like she would be more panicky on the life-in-danger thing, because she seemed to have strong emotions earlier… maybe you could add something like ‘, resting her head on the window.’ perhaps?

Elena, the daughter of some of the most skilled medical professionals, who could treat injuries and sickness with just a touch. But it couldn’t be that easy, could it? There was definitely a downside to her power other than being chased for it. Julius’ final words played in her head again. “All the answers you need are right under your nose, just look carefully!”

Wait- he had two sentences of final words? Before you mentioned that his parting words were about another life lost for the greater good.

“What answers?” She thought desperately, looking through her bag. “Are the answers for ‘why me?! I don’t deserve any of this! I am unimaginably worthless and pathetic, so why do people think of me so highly? Why must it be me with this power? Why can’t I just have a normal, happy life like the other girls my age?’ right under my nose? No, they aren’t! I was plunged into a rabbit hole that’s deeper than I imagined!”
Her train of thought continued, “they probably want me for research, I’m a ‘medical anomaly’ after all. And my powers!” She thought frustratingly. Hot tears stung her eyes and she did nothing to stop them. It wasn’t her priority right that moment. She fished out her parents’ journal. Something, anything, even the slightest clue about her powers was what she needed. Already she could hear the rumbling of bikes not far behind her.
“Faster!” She commanded the driver, who complied.
She nervously flicked through the pages and came upon the passage she had read previously.
“Right under your nose.” Those words kept repeating themselves in her head. She took note of every small detail on the page, scrutinising it carefully.
“We’re here.” The driver said, and Elena looked up suddenly. This was it. The battlefield.

If it’s in Elena’s brain- you could say ‘the driver said suddenly, and Elena looked up.’ instead of ‘the driver said, and Elena looked up suddenly.’ I love it, though!

Immediately her hands flew to her head, she could feel a splitting headache for some reason. There, laying open beside her, was the journal. Written in a small script and like a mirrored image, the last line read,
“We fear for Elena. This power seems to drain a person’s life bit by bit by bit, slowly consuming their soul. She shoulders a great responsibility with the power too. If it goes awry, then there will be disastrous consequences.”
Elena’s headache dissipated as her hands glowed green for a moment, leaving her feeling inexplicably tired and weak. Shaking it off, she kept the journal back in the bag, unaware of the peril lurking in wait.

Ooh- amazing cliffhanger, I hope you will continue it! If you do, I can't wait to see what happens next!!

This is where it started: Bellefleur, Oregon. Between pine trees and two-lane highways. A spot where nine minutes had disappeared, marked with an X. A little town where scared kids grew up and the air sometimes smelled of the sea. Where those kids were taken someplace they didn’t know and then abandoned, broken under the evergreens.

This is how it started. Sunflower seeds cracking in the night. Rain falling in dark sheets. The radio acting up, five stations playing all at once. A bright light shining outside their car, and suddenly a moment, nine minutes, gone.

“Time can’t just disappear, it’s a universal invariant!” she shouted at him over the rain, an incredulous smile crossing her rain-streaked face.

“Where are we going?” she asked, in the beginning.

First they’d lost nine minutes, then seven years. Evidence never amounted to much more than an X on the concrete. But the seven years amounted to so much more.

Moments passed as quickly as the trees outside the window, a whole lifetime held inside yet gone in the blink of an eye. They wandered many more forests in search of time and girls that had gone missing. After Bellefleur, they usually remembered an umbrella.

They never stopped asking each other questions, and he never stopped wondering if they were alone in this universe. It was never easy to believe, but it was easy to look up.

They watched the sky for lights, or at least he did. He got better at remembering to look down.

They drove down many dark roads and, in motel rooms much like the first, shared secrets and revelations they could not prove. What they might not hold in their hands was contained in their memories.

Sometimes remembering was the hardest part, when there were too many lost girls and not enough found.

Seven years of lost time later, they were back in the car with no need for the radio because they knew each other’s silence. On a two-lane highway to Bellefleur, Oregon, once more, pines rolling by in the window.

This is how it ended. Warm and dry in this bright motel room, he asked her, “Where are we going?”

Not because he didn’t know, because he did. What he didn’t know was whether the place they were headed was worth it.

Seven years ago, he might have said it was. He’d have burned the world if the answers could have been found in its ashes. Holding her in his arms, today, he knew no truth could be more meaningful than this. His hands didn’t seem suited to holding it, anyways.

The autumn breeze softly curled up the willow's drooping leaves as Summer plopped herself onto the tree stumps surrounding the majestic willow. On autumn days like this, it usually glowed, beads of light dancing around it, as if magical. But not today. Today, she sat there, raindrops sliding off of the branches and leaves and onto her hair, which was damp by now.

She held out her hand, a small drop of water carefully landing in her palm, her skin slowly absorbing it, and Summer watched the small puddle fade away, as if it was the most wonderful thing in the world, which, to her, it was. Her grandfather- a tear dripped down her face just thinking about him- had planted this willow tree when he was, and had recounted the story of how he got the seed many times, so much Summer nearly had it memorized, word for word. He had always talked about watching his grandchildren climb it, laughing and playing in the branches as he finally lay down to rest. But soon after it had reached its full height, he disappeared. No one had seen him in nearly a decade, and the great willow was the only connection she had to him now. He had always said that rain was the way of Mother Nature telling you that she was upset. That something had happened.
Something important.
Summer slowly stood up, letting more raindrops absorb into her as she neared the lake. But as soon as she left the willow's shade, the rain stopped.
That was odd.
When she stepped back in, it began to pour, and when she stepped forward, the sun shone with confidence, the clouds disappearing as if they'd never been there.
She exited the tree's shade, and slowly inserted her foot past the lake's clear surface. The cool water hit her foot, the sun making it all the more worthwhile as she entered the lake. She wasn't going to go too far in- it was against her mother's rules, as there was fabled to be something living there, but she would just take a few steps in. That wouldn't ruin her dress, at least.
After a few steps, the water was nearly up to her waist, but Summer didn't care. As she stood there, she felt a strange pulling to go farther. Step. Farther! Step. Farther!
But it was too deep, and she felt something pull her deeper, deeper. She screamed, and her mouth filled with water, seemingly refreshing as she closed her eyes and was pulled deep, deep into the dark bottoms of the lake.
When she opened her eyes, she was momentarily blinded, as the top of the cave she was in was littered with all different types of light, from fish shining with bioluminescence, to human mechanisms such as candles and light bulbs.
“Welcome, my child!” a familiar voice whispered in her ear. She jumped, and her head shot to the side. In front of her was a transparent version of a face she knew very well-
“Grandfather?”

Part 1: Daisy
You wore a daisy, merrily strolling throughout the town square.
I thought I could always trust the flowers.
Even your name matched the part, Addison.
I should have known that names could not be trusted.
But now it’s too late.
It’s so clear to me now- the little clues I thought were nothing.
Under the daisy, you wore an ice plant.
Heartless, you fooled us all.
Part 2: Ice Plant
You used to be my friend. My best friend.
You and I, we would do everything together. I thought we told each other everything, too. But apparently, you thought I knew. Somehow.
You should have told me, but by the time I found out, it was too late.
You have been taken over, haunted. I know you still have Addi in you, deep down.
But for now, I just have to pretend that you don't- and destroy you.
I never thought I would have to do this. To my best friend, of all people.
Part 3: Black Dahlia
Tansies thrown at me.
I get it- you’re no longer my best friend- or my friend at all. You don’t have to officially declare yourself against me.
In this world, flowers mean everything.
Maybe if you threw off the daisy-like innocence, you can throw off the ice plant-like heartlessness.
Come back, Addi. I whisper as you smile your now-trademark ‘Foxglove’ smile. That’s what you want everyone to call you now. The flower symbolizes treachery. You’re more the black-dahlia-type, though.
Betrayal.
Part 4: Daffodils
It’s been four years since you left me behind.
Four years since you betrayed me, since you became a monster.
I think you’re finally coming back around, though. Carrying a daffodil in the place you were going to hitch the greatest theft of your life.
Maybe you’re finally being honest- that’s what the daffodil symbolizes, anyways.
I shouldn't have overreacted so much, but you did betray me, sort of.
I’ve been wrong before.
After all, flowers can tell many lies. And bring the truth into focus at the same time.
You glance at me, your eyes tearing up, flattening out your pale pink dress and shooting me a nervous smile. I open my arms in invitation, and you run into them.
Oh, how I missed our friendship.
Hopefully, it will last this time.

- CJ, Poppy, and Rockie
you guys were awesome and thriller would be nothing without you <33 i had so much fun this session, i hope to see you in july!! <33 here's some fried mangoes, made especially by Gurtle himself <33

- Moonsy, Moss, Starr, Robin, Luna, and Sun!
swc wouldn't be possible without you guys!! <3333333 thx for the awesome activities and the chance to side with Gurtle! > you all are awesome!!

- Crim and Artemis
Thanks for critiquing my writing! I enjoyed the feedback, and I hope to see you in july!! <33

- Lily, Toko, Seven, and Surf
you guys were awesome double agents i really enjoyed it, this session wouldn't be the same without y'all!! hope to see you in future sessions <33 here's some fried mangoes, for luck on your next destination with life

- Violet
idk what my life would be like without you <33 you've been with me when I need it most, and I hope we can cause more chaos together in july! some free mangoes, fried mangoes, mango-decorated frying pans, turtle-decorated frying pans, mango-juice covered frying pans, and regular frying pans for being an awesome bestie!! <33

- Gurtle
Ha! With the Balrog in you, you thought we were actually on your side… but we were on our own side, knowing things nobody else does… but now that's over, and I can tell you one thing: you will never be taken over again. unless it's by a mango… or a frying pan… oh, well! we <3 u, Gurtle, and see you sometime in the future!! <33

- Balrog
I had a great time with you as you overtook Gurtle > but please leave us SWCers alone. it did make the most fun cabin wars ever come to truth… so I do and I don't want to see you in the future… also, if you don't eat anybody i'll give you one of my specialty fried mangoes!! <33

- all campers
thank you for making this such an awesome session! if I forgot someone, please tell me… I don't want anyone's feelings to be hurt, but just know y'all are awesome and I remember all of you <33

when I receive [march session is gone v]
stop all sounds
play sound [dramatic sob v]
say [it went by so fast...]
play sound [sniffle v]

show list [what to do in between march and july v]
add [cry] to [what to do in between march and july v]
add [don't think about the awesomeness that would be happening if SWC was in session] to [what to do in between march and july v]
add [write] to [what to do in between march and july v]
add [try not to think about how many words I'd have if SWC was in session] to [what to do in between march and july v]
show list [what to do in the july session v]
add [jump up and down cause the next session is here] to [what to do in the july session v]
add [write endlessly] to [what to do in the july session v]
add [get up very very early] to [what to do in the july session v]
add [do every activity possible] to [what to do in the july session v]

define Balrog-Gurtle
if <overtaken by balrog> then
say [bad turtle]
play sound [ROAR RAWR CHOMP v]
say [AHHHHHHHH]
hide
end
if <balrog is gone> then
say [that was very stressful, but we still love you gurtle, even with all the damage you've done to SWC]
play sound [sob v]
hide
end