March 28 daily, 679 words

The shoemaker often wondered what the elves were up to now. They hadn’t come back since the night they danced away with their new clothes. The shoemaker, though now rich and happy, still thought of them and missed them. He hoped they were doing alright.

The elves were, in fact, having a splendid time. They were dancing a jig around the fire with all the other creatures and fairyfolk from the magic world. And they were wearing their brand new clothes! The elves were so very proud of their new green tunics and pointed shoes.

From the moment they had seen the clothes laid out on the shoemaker’s table, the elves knew their job was done. The fairy queen had seen the poor shoemaker’s troubles and sent the elves to help him every night. She had said that once it became apparent that the shoemaker was doing well on his own, the elves could stop helping. So every night, the elves had dutifully gone to the shoemaker’s house, and, while he was sleeping, had deftly made beautiful pairs of shoes, all ready to be sold the next morning.

This kept going on, until one night, the elves skipped in, ready to do their work as usual, when laid neatly out in front of them, they saw two matching sets of green shirts, pantaloons, and hats, and two dear quaint little pairs of shoes! The elves shrieked with delight and immediately put them on. And then they knew their job was done. So they skipped out of there with their reward, never to come back again.

But the shoemaker hadn’t forgotten them, and now he missed them so terribly. He wanted to see them once more, to thank them for the immense wealth they had brought him. And the fairy queen knew this.

So that night, while all the fairyfolk were jigging, she climbed onto the highest rock and suddenly ordered all the lively music and dancing to stop. So the musicians stopped their playing, and everyone turned to look at the queen with disappointment.

She asked for the elves to come up, and for everyone else to continue their dancing. So everyone else picked up the music again, and now it was only the elves that came up to the queen with confused and disgruntled expressions. She smiled at them and apologized, and then told them of the old shoemaker and how he wished to see them once more. She asked if they could go visit him and his wife again.

And how could the elves say no to their own queen? So they tipped their pointy little hats and set off to the familiar old house. The inside smelled of leather when they came in, just as they remembered, but instead of dim light coming from a single candle, the entire room was brightly lit. In fact, the whole house looked like it had gone through marvelous renovations. There was more furniture, for instance.

The old man was sitting down at his table, working meticulously on a new pair of boots. The elves gigged and skipped quietly over to him, not making a peep. Then, when they were right next to him, they all shrieked at the same time, and the poor man jumped a mile high and turned around in fright, dropping his needle on the floor.

But oh, how happy he was when he saw the elves! He smiled from ear to ear and looked as if he could not believe his eyes. He called his wife over, and she too looked as if she were dreaming. It had been a year since the elves had last come, and now they were back! It was a very happy reunion, indeed.

By the time the night was over, the elves were going home with bundles of new clothes in their arms and bellies full of biscuits, and the shoemaker and his wife were waving at them with matching smiles on their faces.

And the fairy queen smiled to see them all, and knew her job was finished.

Daily 28th March

Three bears with scraggly fur and dark beady eyes set out in search of a girl. One bear was tiny, with feet that couldn’t squash an ant. Another was bigger, with massive ears poking out from her massive head of fur. The last one was colossal, able to step over a mammoth lake with graceful ease.

Around them, the trees were dusty and dry, pine needles raining down on them. Big Bear tried his best to avoid squashing them, but rarely succeeded. Finally, they emerged from a clump of charred bushes and arrived at a small stone cottage, smoke pluming from its wobbling chimney. Through the steamy windows they spied a young girl with golden hair that tumbled down her shoulders, a glittering river of beauty. This was the one they were looking for.

They were searching for revenge.

Soundlessly, they crept over the parched moss, withered leaves crunching beneath their feet. As they neared the peeling door, they heard a voice.
“Come on Goldilocks, get your boots on!” A rough gravelly voice urged her.
The bears retreated back into the undergrowth, growling in hushed irritation. They decided to get Goldilocks while she was outside. But she never came.
“Mummy!” she whined,” I feel sick! Can I go to bed?”
Her mother sighed.
“Of course darling.”
And so the young girl clattered up the stairs, leaving the bears frowning back at her. They slowly advanced again.
“Come on, while she’s distracted!”
Little Bear leapt through the doorway and slipped around the corner. Next came the Middle Bear, who just managed to squeeze in. Then came Big Bear, who could barely get his knees underneath it.

Meanwhile, Little Bear was already halfway up the stairs, the floorboards creaking ominously. Middle Bear followed closely behind, sniffing loudly the whole time.
“Shhhh!” Little Bear commanded.
He held a big grudge against Goldilocks and was determined to be the one.
Middle Bear stroked her chin thoughtfully.
“So what are we actually doing to her?” She queried.
“Oh, you’ll see!” Little Bear cackled.

The door of her room juddered open, revealing Goldilocks, feasting on heaps of lollipops and humbugs, her face lit up with greed. She shrieked in sheer terror when she sighted the gleeful pair and leapt from her bed, shivering underneath it.
Little Bear stuck a foot under the bed and found a horrified Goldilocks. He threw her sweets out of the window (at which she was even more horrified), then he imitated her whiny voice and finally brandished a pair of scissors.

A moment later, a sea of gold rippled in the harsh winds on the floor. And Goldilocks was bald. Her mother came rushing up the stairs at the sound of her shrieks and screams. She herself shrieked and screamed, before scooping up Goldilocks and hurrying away. The two bears snorted in triumph. Big Bear met them outside the door, which was now just an empty hole. In fact, the whole house was now just a crumbling ruin, with Goldilocks and her mother safely out. Once they had escaped, Big Bear raised a hairy foot and squashed the whole house.

The moral of the story is never to mess with bears…

Daily 028: 650 words, What Became of the Stepsisters

It had not been her fault.
Oh, she knew what they were saying. “Wicked” and “step sisters” had been joined in an irrevocable marriage of words, the kind that left a stamp on the bearers of those titles long after they were dead, the kind that haunted children’s tales. “Watch out, or the wicked step sisters will get you!”
She had only been seven when Cinderella went to live at the palace. She hadn’t understood. She wasn’t wicked! Cinderella had told her that she would do anything for her, and she only asked for things because her mother glowered at her if she didn’t, anyway. Sometimes in secret, she’d smuggle Cinderella a roll or a bun from afternoon tea. Her step sister always received it with a smile of thanks, but a wary one, as though she was afraid Kiera was trying to trick her, trap her. She wasn’t. She just wanted to get to know her. But those big brown eyes were shadowed with fear, and the slender, cinder-smeared hands kept everyone, even Kiera, at a safe distance.
She’d been so confused by that fear. What could she ever do to someone who was practically an adult? What had she ever tried to do? She’d been only a few months old when her mother remarried. Surely, after knowing her for practically her entire life, Cinderella might have let her come a little closer.
And now she was an outcast for something she had never done.
Her other sister Genna was much, much older–another step sister, in fact. (Kiera’s mother had an unfortunate habit of picking wealthy but short-lived husbands.) She was almost never in the house, rushing in and out in a flurry of social activity. Kiera doubted she’d even known Cinderella was her sister–or if she had, she’d forgotten. But she, too, had never treated Cinderella unkindly, only the way she would treat a maid–absentmindedly and a tad bossily. Only the way she would treat a sister, for that matter. So there was really nothing to complain about, other than Kiera and Genna’s mother.
Actually, that was a lot to complain about. So she didn’t entirely blame Cinderella for taking the first chance she could to get out of their mother’s thumb. But would it have been too much to ask for her to stifle the rumors running wild about her sisters?
In the end, there was only one thing to do for the family. It wasn’t safe to even go outside without people screaming and throwing things. So they left.
Their new house was a little cottage in the woods, far from the screams and the shouts and the slanders. No one else lived anywhere close except for, strangely enough, Cinderella’s grandmother, whose house was just down a little woodland path. She was very old and very sick, and Keira’s mother would often send her with a little basket of goodies. She wasn’t sure why. Perhaps she was trying to make amends. Perhaps she simply wasn’t sure what else to do with them. But Kiera rather enjoyed her woodland rambles. She got to see the bunnies as they hopped along the path and the wildflowers as they burst forth in their spicy-sweet fragrance and the trees as they swept leaf-laden branches over her head.
When winter came on, her mother made her a scarlet cloak with a dear little red hood, and from then on that was the only thing she wore when she went skipping along the path with another basket of goodies.
This morning was another basket-day, and her mother, in a good mood for once, patted her on the head as she walked out the door.
“Now remember, my dear, don’t get off the path, and don’t talk to strangers,” she reminded Kiera before sending her daughter into the woods. It was a fine day, and the birds were singing cheerfully in the trees…

Daily #27

And they lived happily ever after. No, the story isn't over- no stories ever end anyways. From what I've heard, there's been a misunderstanding. Apparently it's a household thing in the story of Cinderella to lock people in rooms and pocket the key. It had taken the girl over a year to figure out how to get that basement door lock open, and by then, their story had already been recorded in the books. With an ending.

“Cinderella- that horrid traitor,” the girl muttered to herself, “And the other two as well, never did anything for themselves but somehow got forgiven by the housemaid turned princess and were sent to the castle under her command.” To her, the whole story didn't make sense- Yes, Cinderella had a pure heart, but who in the right mind would forgive the two dreaded spoilt girls who dumped her in the first place, causing their mother to remarry and get a third- no, fourth child? “It's not fair!” she shouted to absolutely nobody, “What do they have that I don't? What does Cinderella have that I don't, huh?!” The worst part, in her opinion, was that her mother, commonly known to us as the evil stepmother, had just thrown her existence to the back of her mind after her sisters decided to ignore her. Guess she's even more evil than we first expected or know of. Or maybe she's just forgetful, who knows?

The truth is, Elise had always been a good girl. She would help with the chores while her sisters took naps and prettied themselves, being the spoilt lazy people that they were and probably still are. I mean, you're in a palace now, who wouldn't want to enjoy it? All Elise had was the old rusted mansion once owned by her mother, now entirely left behind. Just like Elise. It wasn't like she could do anything in there except endlessly cleaning and contemplating life decisions she never had. On the bright side, at least she now has a decent mattress since her mother had left hers behind. It was the most comfortable out of all the ones in the house.

“What can I even do? It's not like I can change anything now, can I?” Elise thought to herself, walking down the steps she had worked so hard to polish the day before. Not looking where she was going, she accidentally slips from a splotch of water on the ground. “How typical,” she sighed, getting up. She wasn't sure how she got there, but somehow, in front of her was the Charming Castle, now also home to Cinderella and her wretched mother and sisters. Quite very unfortunate. Without a second of hesitation, she rushed into the castle, past the guards, who realised their mistake of leaving the castle gates open a second too late. “I need my revenge,” Elise thought to herself, running up the stairs in a very non-princess manner when suddenly, she tripped and fell again.

The next time she woke up, she was back at the mansion staircase. Had she fell earlier? Was that a dream, a vision? The clock struck twelve, and twelve ‘bong’s proceeded to echo through the kingdom. Everything ends at midnight, as usual.

534 words- got to find that formatting again adfghjk

Daily #28
3/28/2024
508 words

The three pigs freeze in shock as the wolf comes tumbling down the chimney, flinching away as the hot water hits their hides.
They’d been expecting this of course, Bob had said that it would be the only way in and to keep it nice and warm, but they hadn’t anticipated what they would do once it happened.
The wolf was passed out, the pool of water gathering beneath him and the pot rolling away.
“Bob, what should we do with the wolf?” Joe asks, poking at the wolf with a stick.
Bob blinks at his brother. “Why do I have to figure that out; I’ve kept us safe in my house!”
“Oh, but you’re obviously the smartest, so tell us, what do we do with the wolf?” Sam joins in.
“Well…” Bob starts, “We could see why he wanted to get not our houses or eat us. You know, while we have him vulnerable.”
His brothers stare at him in disbelief.
“You want us to do what?” Joe spits out. “You, you want us to talk to the guy? No, no, no. Nope. I’m out of here. You are not going to drag me into your schemes.”
He stomps out of the house and the house shakes when he slams the door.
Sam’s eyes flit between the door and the wolf on the ground, a hoof in his mouth as he nervously chews on it.
“Sam, you said I was the smartest. Trust me on this? For once?” Bob pleads, not wanting to face the wolf alone.
Sam doesn’t meet Bob’s eyes. “Sorry dude, I don’t think this is one of your better ideas. I just got my house blown down; I can’t risk anything else happening.”
Bob is left alone in his house, apart from the wolf lying on his living room floor.
“Well then…” Bob says to himself, “What are we going to do about this?”
After examining the situation and carefully stepping around the wolf a few times, he sits down in his couch, letting his legs rest.
Bob will just have to tie the wolf up. He can’t risk having the wolf wake up and run around the place. Especially if he gets up at night, when Bob’s asleep. He shivers at that thought.
He grabs some rope out of his toolbox and proceeds to wrap it around the wolf, making sure he double knots everything and the rope is secure. Bob debates whether to try cleaning up the spilled water, ultimately deciding to do so, so that the water won’t sit for too long.
Bob had just finished grabbing a handful of towels and was starting to place them down around the wolf, when a violent jerk throws him off.
The wolf is thrashing and clawing at his bonds unsuccessfully.
“What did you do to me?” he demands, his voice raspy and low.
Bob chuckles nervously, backing away with towels in between his hooves.
“I’ll let you know everything, but could you promise to not eat me?”

“Why would I eat you?”

March 28
word count - 529 words

After the clock struck midnight, it was as if the whole world changed- I was viewing the world from a new perspective. Beyond the hidden horizons, new ends began to glow. It was like a fairy tale, you know? At least up until that point. I'm sure you've all heard about the story of Cinderella and how she ends up finding her true love with the glass slipper, and all the fun lovey dovey stuff. But here, today, I'm going to be sharing my story. I can almost 100% guarantee you that you've never heard one like the before. So, I encourage you to stick around until the very end - who knows, maybe you'll learn a thing or two!

To start off, I'll give you a bit of my personality (before we get into the story that is!). If you can't already tell, I'm more onto the rambly side of things - once I start talking, you can expect me to keep talking for at least the next hour, and that's just the minimum amount. I would say that I have a lot of interesting things to say because people normally confide in my.. which I'd say is quite ironic, you know? Why would you want to tell your deepest, darkest secrets to somehow who doesn't even know how to keep their mouth closed for a minute? I mean, please come! I'm really not complaining since I love knowing what's happening all around me. Would you look at this, I was supposed to introduce myself but here I am, once again, rambling on about something completely unrelated.

Anyways, let's go back to where this story begins. CInderella, gets her wish fulfilled by the fairy godmother. After the clock strikes twelve, she hurries back home - all components of her outfit turning back into what they were before. This does make me question why and how the glass slipper remained a glass slipper even after the clock striked midnight, but I suppose that's a discussion for another time. Perhaps when we have more time to spare. The very next day, the prince came along and who would've though, the slipper fit perfectly! Overjoyed, Cinderella road away into the horizon with her newfound lover.. and we, well we were left all alone. And that is where my story begins.

Before continuing let me just get a sip of water. If you can't tell, my throat is completely parched after having to speak this much. This seems much better now. Hmm.. where was I? Right, the start of my story. Well, shortly after Cinderella road off we were left alone to our own defenses. Up until this point Cinderella has protected us from that very nasty cat, but it seemed like she just forgot about us. I do understand that we were probably a second thought to her, but the least she could do for us was to bring us along. As mice, we were just left alone, and that's not such a pleasant thing when you have the step sisters lying out and about everywhere. And so it continued that way, until one day, there was a very stern knock at the door…

(The Three Little Pigs, but it’s existentialist horror, hooray! xD)

Once upon a time, there were three pigs, a trio of brothers who set out into the world to leave their mark upon it. However, the world was a vast place, making the three pigs seem extraordinarily little in comparison. To shelter themselves from the terrifying unknown, the three pigs each decided they must first build a house.
The first little pig built a house out of straw. It was hastily-assembled and not intended to last. “Why bother with effort,” he thought, “when in the end, we all fade into nothingness? We must spend our time achieving happiness in the moment, not laboring in pursuit of efforts that will ultimately be futile!”
This pig lived his life one day at a time, never thinking far ahead. He joked, he sang, he danced, he laughed at others’ entertainment. He jumped from one pursuit to the next, not sticking to any one thing long enough to accomplish anything of note. It was true, that he felt transitory happiness, which transcended it all, if for but a moment. However, in the lull between one hedonistic activity and the next, or late at night, when he lay awake in his bed of straw, he couldn’t shake the sense of unfulfillment hanging over him. “Nothing I’ve done has been of worth,” he worried. “Is this really all there is?”
When the wolf came to blow his house down in a single breath, the pig had nothing left to defend himself. He had never bothered to prolong the end, after all. He disappeared from the world as the remains of his straw house were scattered by the wind, the fragility of his home mirroring the fragility of his existence. His memory quickly was forgotten.
The second little pig built a house out of sticks. It wasn’t the strongest, but it felt like the right thing to do. “Sticks are the most righteous material to use,” he nodded solemnly. “It does no one any harm to build a house of sticks, and a pig needs nothing but his own trotters to construct it. Through kindness and hard work, I will live a worthwhile life.”
This pig was active in his community, always being there to help others, even at his own expense.
The third pig, grappling with the absurdity of existence, labored tirelessly to build a house of bricks. “Perhaps resilience is the key,” he pondered, “But even then, can we ever truly escape our inevitable demise?” Despite his efforts, however, the relentless march of time wore down his fortress until it too succumbed to the ravages of entropy.
And so, as the wolf of existential dread bore down upon them, each pig's futile struggle against the void was laid bare. Their houses crumbled, their hopes shattered, and in the end, their memories were wiped into oblivion, lost to the vast expanse of nothingness that awaited them all.
In the darkness of their final moments, the pigs realized the true horror of their existence: that in a universe devoid of meaning, their efforts were ultimately meaningless, their struggles insignificant, and their lives fleeting whispers in the void. And as the curtain fell on their tale, the echo of their despair reverberated through the emptiness of eternity.built a house out of straw. It was hastily-assembled and

Once upon a time, in a world where existential dread hung heavy in the air, there were three little pigs who sought to build homes to shelter themselves from the terrifying unknown.

The first pig, fearing the futility of life, constructed a house of straw. “Why bother with effort?” he thought, “In the end, we all fade into nothingness.” But the fragility of his home mirrored the fragility of his existence, and it was easily destroyed by the slightest breeze.

The second pig, plagued by doubt and uncertainty, fashioned a house of sticks. “What's the point of strength?” he mused, “In the grand scheme of things, we're all insignificant.” Yet, his feeble attempt at security crumbled at the first sign of adversity, leaving him vulnerable to the whims of fate.

The third pig, grappling with the absurdity of existence, labored tirelessly to build a house of bricks. “Perhaps resilience is the key,” he pondered, “But even then, can we ever truly escape our inevitable demise?” Despite his efforts, however, the relentless march of time wore down his fortress until it too succumbed to the ravages of entropy.

And so, as the wolf of existential dread bore down upon them, each pig's futile struggle against the void was laid bare. Their houses crumbled, their hopes shattered, and in the end, their memories were wiped into oblivion, lost to the vast expanse of nothingness that awaited them all.

In the darkness of their final moments, the pigs realized the true horror of their existence: that in a universe devoid of meaning, their efforts were ultimately meaningless, their struggles insignificant, and their lives fleeting whispers in the void. And as the curtain fell on their tale, the echo of their despair reverberated through the emptiness of eternity.

Daily // 3/29/24 //
Book chosen // Harry Potter: Chamber of Secrets
word count // 410

“I need to get rid of this!” Luscious Malfoy was pacing back and forth in his living room in Malfoy Manor. He looked pale, and scared half to death. “I'm afraid if I keep writing in this thing it'll kill me.”

“Dear, let's go to bed. You'll feel better in the morning.” Narcissa yawned. She was in her nightgown, sitting on the lounge chair next to Luscious, listening to him rant. Luscious could tell it was driving her insane. “We're going to Diagon Alley tomorrow, maybe you could find someone you could send it to.”

“But I have direct orders from the dark lord.” He started wringing his hands together, staring at the floor. He was filled with so much adrenaline, he could run what the muggles called a, ‘Marathon,’ whatever that was.

“The dark lord is dead. Does it really matter what he said?” She looked annoyed, and half asleep.

He stopped and closed his eyes. He didn't know what to do. “Maybe, but I don't want to risk it.” He sat down in a chair across from Narcissa.

She rolled her eyes, but then grabbed his hand. “Look, I'm not going to tell you what to do, but this thing is driving you crazy.” She picked up the diary and put it on his lap. “Whatever you do with it, it's better gone than it is here.” She stretched and yawned. “I'm going to bed. Are you coming?'

He shook his head. ”I think I'm going to stay awake for a while. Think things over.“

She nodded. ”Okay.“ She flew her hands into the air. ”I tried. Don't stay up too late.“ She kissed him on the cheek and left.

Luscious Malfoy stayed up for hours after that, trying to think of some way to get rid of the diary and still get it to Hogwarts. He sipped tea he made for himself earlier which was now cold. He thought about what the Dark Lord would do if he did come back and Luscious hadn't completed his task. Would he just kill him right then and there, or would he torture him? He wasn't sure what was worse.

Eventually he got so tired he decided it would be best if he went to bed.”I'll figure it out.“ He told himself over and over again, crawling into bed. ”The Chamber of Secrets will open.." Then, sleep crept up to him and consumed the world leaving him asleep, dreaming.

Daily Mar. 29th

I sat on the ground with my knees pulled up to my chest, considering what to do. There were an infinite number of options, but only some would actually help me. Some, in fact, would hurt me. Maybe even kill me. But that was the nature of infinite possibilities - they covered an infinite spectrum from beneficial to detrimental, as well as an infinite spectrum from possible to impossible.
I was just distracting myself now.
And yet I couldn’t bring myself to get up, to go find some food or some shelter. I was tired, but not the kind of tired that came from a lack of sleep - although that kind certainly affected me as well - I was more the kind of tired that wore at you over time, slowly chipping away at bits and pieces of your willpower until you couldn’t fight it any more and just gave up.
I wanted to give up.
I stood up slowly, swaying ever so slightly with the motion. I’d been sitting there for a while. I began to pace back and forth, still unwilling to leave the alley I’d holed up in for the past few hours. When I wanted to relax and think, but the noise and motion of the city surrounded me and overwhelmed me, I would go into an alley and sit next to a dumpster. I would breathe in the unpleasant smell, and it would keep me grounded. I would sit there until there was nothing but me and the smell and the sound.
Soon, after a few minutes of pacing, I lost my motivation again - I sank down to the ground. I wanted to sleep. I wanted to sleep forever. I could not sleep forever. I had to move.
I stood back up and started pacing again. I couldn’t even imagine leaving the alley, I could only imagine pacing.
I felt emotional gravity pulling me back down yet again, and I wanted to scream in frustration. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I just do something? I leaned against the wall and sighed.
And then everything started to hurt.

Critique - 465 words

Wow… this has to be one of the best poems I’ve read before. I can guarantee that I genuinely felt many emotions whilst reading this – sadness, relief, peace etc. The capitals are also really well used, and I like your use of capitals within this poem, especially Hill and Forest.

A few general things.

Your poem length is great, but it’s okay if it goes a little longer, which is why I’m saying this. At the start you note that the tree “is” magic, the tree is surrounded by magic. This is a compelling image (and as a Fantasy writer who loves using magic in my writing, I approve), but I’d suggest referring back to this more often. Perhaps the tree blooms a flower for the little girl every time she comes to visit, maybe on its branches or on the ground. This could later be used for when the girl comes back, he instinctively blooms the flower again and she picks it, symbolizing that they’re back together.

The girl also goes away to a school. You could give a subtle hint before it happens, not so obvious that a reader would immediately realise “oh she’s coming back, she’s just left for a little”, but something that when she explains she went to school, you realise. Maybe she’s upset when she goes to the tree, but leaves happy. Small things like that, that suggest something is happening away from the Hill, but she enjoys going to the tree.

With that set aside, let’s get into the specifics of this poem <3

Waiting, watching, hoping, that
Something new will come along.

I suggest that instead of “hoping”, you say “wishing”, for alliteration. The definition is slightly different but I think it sounds better like that ^^

“Careful,”
I rumble.
She jumps back and gasps.
“A talking tree?”
I don’t reply.

I’d suggest adding a new line between “she jumps back” and “gasps”, as it fits the rhythm of that verse.

The little girl, perhaps,
Age ten,

The last comma in the first line is unnecessary, and is a little confusing

I sigh, sending a breeze into the world.

Again, I’d suggest adding a new line for rhythm purposes.

But I think I’ll sit here for now.
Better than boredom.”

For such a pivotal moment in the poem, I’d suggest not using “better than boredom.” Perhaps she says that she’s fine with rude, since she’s so fascinated with a talking tree. Maybe she thinks the rudeness is funny, or she appreciates how honest he is? This also foreshadows to the whole “they sent me away” thing that happens later in the poem.

“You’re too smart for someone your age.”

This is a bit out-of-pocket and out of place, not making sense with what was just said.

“You won’t see the end of me.”
I’ve seen it. All good things end.

I just wanted to say this is a great line <3

I haven't seen the little girl in…
In…
In…
How many years?

Great repetition – definitely keep it.

She looks older.
She doesn’t look like a child anymore.

‘She looks older’ is unnecessary.

The ending is amazing, as well. In summary, this is a great poem – just try to incorporate the things I mentioned at the start of this critique and fix up a few of your punctuation mistakes!

Critiquitaire for Amethyst!

Before I begin to head into everything, I just have to say that this is such a great story. I couldn't stop reading, and it had me wanting more once I finished. It's very hard to find any flaws, it's very well written; it sounds professional! I really enjoyed this piece, and if you continue to write on this I'd definitely want to read it.
Going into reviewing everything, I think the beginning was the best part. It's very descriptive, and the dialog is great.

There is more than what Eden is telling you.
The other realms are free, warm and wonderful.
The war is not going well for Eden, because the might of Orbit is not on their side.

I really like this! At the very beginning of your story, I noticed you capitalized ‘War’, so I would capitalize it here as well.

Something I noticed here:

“Anywhere far away.” Her eyes slitted. “Go to a realm against Eden. There… try to survive. Now, run!”

The sentence ‘there…try to survive’ doesn't really flow, maybe remove the There or re-write the sentence entirely.

Dread thundered in Ikaria’s heart, and she tried not to turn around – knowing she’d be frozen in fear forever if she did, but she couldn’t help herself.

The ‘forever’, again, doesn't really flow. I would just remove it.

The krill shrieked as it sped towards them, lunging towards Rahu and Ikaria

You used ‘towards’ twice. Maybe the second one could be replaced with another word.

Haha, I had more corrections but I lost them, so I would look through once again. I found once that you said Ikario instead of Ikaria, and once where you used a different verb tense but again, I lost it :')
Other than that, it's amazing!

exactly 200 words

Daily 29th March

Lightning forked from the churning clouds, disappearing into a surging abyss of raw and biting water. A boat, tossed around like a rag doll by towering waves, spattering the walls with sea foam.
Inside, shrieks could be heard echoing off the drenched walls. A shivering girl stared out of the porthole in sheer terror, her shoulders heaving with the effort of breathing. Another face streaked past hers, hurling her off her feet.

They were trapped in a stormy dome, enclosed by a splintered cage. As more water flooded into the boat, bubbles erupted from their mouths as they sank down, gripping onto each other for dear life. Then the girl’s eyes fluttered closed and the man screamed, waves streaming into his open mouth. His eyes closed and all that was left was a steadily sinking boat.

They can’t die.
Not yet.
I need them alive.
Quicker.
Be quicker.

Thunder boomed ominously and blurred figures were gathered on the shore, sirens wailing in the distance. Many had their phones out, filming the dreadful deed, their faces lined with astonishment. Cameras flashed through the blinding rain, their light harsh.

Another fork of lightning crashed down onto the deck of the boat, searing holes into the battered wood. Wind slapped the torn sails as the lightning wrapped itself around the skeletal boat.

Slowly, gradually, it climbed upwards, carrying the boat with it. Enveloped in its sparking embrace, the boat was deadly still as it disappeared through the clouds. At the last moment, it writhed as though trying to free itself, and a porthole tumbled back into the fuming ocean. That was all that remained of the boat.

But up there, peeping through the clouds, fingers curled over the edges, trying to catch onto the fabric of earth. They clutched thin air, desperately trying to get out. A pale ghostly face, creased with wisdom, appeared through a glassy miniscule hole in the sky, tears sliding down its weathered cheek. Many other faces popped up beside it, some young and innocent, some sorrowful and longing, invisible to human sight.

And as the hole gently closed, there was one message in their pleading eyes.
Help.

(Kyg)“Hiya, I'm Kyg and I live in Yonqs.”
(interviewer): “So, Kyg, you are currently live from the naeighboring city of Yonqs, May we ask you how you feel about what is being called ‘the second technological revolutionan’ in Yonqs?”
(Kyg) “Yeah, so, basically it has been very different lately, there have been more laws and stuff, but also more tourists wanting to see Yonqs, so it's been pretty different.”
(Interviewer) “I see, so, which laws have effeted you the most Kyg?”
(Kyg) “Oh, well, probably the decrease in safety laws and stuff for Kangarn riding, I myself have been a Kangarn rider since I was nine, so that's been a pretty big change.”
(Interviewer) “I see, and this dear viewers, is out topic today; the highly controversial Ryen versus Kangarn when it comes to the how the goverment feels about these flying creatures, and how airship crashes with these very creatures, esspecially Kangarn's, may have something to do with it.”
(interviewer) “So, hey Grej, excactly how much has Kangarn accidents increased since the technological revolution?”
(Interviewer #2) “Almost 35 percent, it has been rapidly increasing at speeds seen never before.”
By this point Kyg figured they could probably slip away and leave, since she wasn't being asked questions and the camera had switched away from her. Kyg sighed in releif and fell away from the camera man, and went back to the Qonets she had been looking at before she had been interupted. Fresh fruit (besides Ocan's, of course) was hard to come by these days, so the Qonets were quite expensive. She bought one from the vendor, waved bye, and left to go get some rations from the GSRS. The line was extensilvely long today, reaching around a neighboring building. Another sigh. She went to the end of the line and it ever so slowly crept forward once in a while. Finally she reached the inside of the building, which, like every GSRS ever, smelled weirdly like if someone had sprayed bleach onto grain. After a bit more later someone finally called her to a desk.
“Ah, hello!” Said Kyg. “Do you have any rations ready for me?” She asked, holding out her goverment I.D pass.
“Yes, yes.” Said the fornt desk lady with a wave of her hand. She pulled out a heavy, lumpy, brown bag, which when she slammed on the table seemed to somehow crack even though it was made of fabric.
“Thank you!” Said Kyg leaving. She sat on the bench outside and peered in her bag. Uugh, they must have over-harvested again. Inside was a dozen or so mishapen Ocan's, along with a few on-the-go bags of protein powder.

Critique
329 words!

First of all, I really enjoyed reading the piece! It has great description, and you really manage to echo Erin Hunter’s story.

Personally, I find the transition between Blazestar and Foxpatch to Cookie a bit confusing, partly because the last paragraph ends on ‘ “W-what?” ’ because this isn’t a very good ending line for a paragraph. If you end it on something like ‘You’ll see’ then it gives a feeling of suspense for the reader.

At the start of the second paragraph, I think you could add more description, and maybe add some more background information about the twolegs/ Cookie because then it will speak to your reader more, if they have some background information. For example ‘Cookie had been living with twolegs for his whole life and yearned to adventure into the unknown’ if this is what Cookie wants to do.

I would also suggest introducing Swanfeather a bit more. Who is Swanfeather and how does this relate to the last paragraph? Is Swanfeather the ‘stone-coloured she-cat’ from the last paragraph? I really like how you add that twist as Foxpatch isn’t chosen for deputy. I also really like hoe you bring Foxpatch back to old memories when he sees his claw marks on the tree

I love how in the last paragraph you reveal Foxpatch’s bloodthirsty nature when he k1lls the other members of his patrol. I find the line ‘Moons of anguish and rage and hatred piled into his claws, and lunged with deadly precision, killing him immediately.’ because it sounds like it’s killing Foxpatch, not the others, then I read the next line and realised. Maybe you could think of making this a bit clearer.

Overall, I think you need to tell your reader more about your characters so that they can relate to the piece more and understand it. However, I loved this writing and it was a real treat to read and critique! Thank you for letting me critique your amazing piece!

very very rushed daily 366 words!!!!

She would grow up to be a famous author. She would write incredible stories, touch the hearts of millions, inspire readers all over the world. She would be remembered—not as plain old Lizzie, but as Elizabeth.
All of this, Aunt Grace believed firmly.
It had taken quite a while for Lizzie to get over the disappointment of her first rejection, but she could not be held down for long. Now, Lizzie was back in the rhythm of writing, typing tirelessly away at the old typewriter. She was working on a brand new story, and Aunt Grace was excited to see it. Soon, the entire family would realize that Lizzie wasn’t just a plain, shy girl with glasses and no personality—she had talent. She would bring them all tremendous money. Aunt Grace would even go so far as to say that Lizzie was the best among the lot—better than stuck-up Pam and better than that monkey of a Tony.
“Aunt Grace!” called Lizzie from the study, and Aunt Grace hurried to the room.
“What is it, my dear?”
“I’ve just finished this draft. Would you please read it over and tell me if it’s any good?”
Aunt Grace took the manuscript, adjusting her glasses further up her nose. The next few minutes were silent as she read carefully though, while Lizzie looked on with a nervous expression and fidgeted with her hands.
Finally, Aunt Grace looked up, and she smiled one of her rare smiles.
“Is it any good?” Lizzie asked anxiously.
“My dear,” replied Aunt Grace, “it’s more than good. It’s simply marvelous! The most wonderful thing I’ve ever read! You send it to the magazine, and if they don’t publish it, well, I’ll eat my hat!”
“Do you really think so?” said Lizzie in delight. “Oh, thank you, Aunt Grace! I was so afraid it would be terribly boring.”
“If anyone calls it boring, tell me, and I’ll have a few words to say to them.”
Lizzie beamed at her aunt. “I’ll go send it off right now.”
Aunt Grace watched her go, smiling. Soon, she’d be seeing that story published in a magazine, and it would be written by none other than Elizabeth Farrell.

TheWItch_of_Jam wrote:

Brackish: Once there was two sea serpents. One lived in the ocean, and could only breathe salt water and air. The other lived in a lake and that one breathed only fresh water and air. However the lake was quite close to the ocean, and the serpents would see each other sometimes, and eventually started to talk. They wanted quite badly to live together in the lake or the ocean, and so together they prayed to a deity. It told them that they would need to do a series of quests for it, and then it might give them what they so badly wanted. The deity said that it would first need for the serpents to help the poor clam farmer that’s farm had been overtaken by octopi. The sea serpent was able to complete this, and went ahead and took one after another octopus and threw it on to the land. Once it had finished the water serpents returned to the deity. It said it needed them to throw a piece of quartz into the nearby geyser. This one was easier for the lake serpent because its fins could lead it better on land. When the serpent dropped it in, it almost got full on sprayed by the geyser, though thankfully only two drops got on the serpent.Those scars left behind would be a permenant reminder of the quests for the rest of their life. After they dropped the quartz in they returned again to the deity. For their last quest it said it would need them to walk to the top and back down to the hill behind the lake. This was quite the task, since even though it was more of a medium-sized hill and less of a mountain, they still only had fins, not legs. Despite this, they were able to do it, after spending hours climbing the mountain, encouraged and full of determination because of the others presence. Then, once more, they returned to the deity. The deity congratulated them and gifted them two pearls. The deity said the pearls were from the clam farmer, who had been very grateful. The deity had enchanted them so that the pearls would make it so they would both be able to breathe fresh and ocean water once they ate them, as well as making a lakeish area connecting to both the water and the sea so it was a mix of both. The serpents immediately picked up the pearls from the sand with their teeth to eat them, and they lived happily ever after, living together at last.

I like this; it’s a cute story and definitely told in the style of a nostalgic fairy tale. I do like the tasks, but I think you could really benefit from extending them a little more. It doesn’t have to be a long story, but I would love to see more descriptions of their adventures and their struggle. I especially want to see how they made it up the mountain and how they encouraged each other. Especially if this story is about overcoming difficulties then I think we need to see more of those difficulties and why this is so important to them. I want to know why those particular tasks were important to the deity, if they are a deity, why couldn’t they just do it? Why did sea serpents have to do it instead? If you decide to revise this, diving further (yes pun intended) into the deity and their tasks would be a great thing to do, in my opinion. I think you’ve got a good start with some sweet themes, but overall it’s all very vague right now. But I think with some work this could be a great story. Make your readers believe in these sea serpents and root for them the way you rooted for them while writing this. Less important are a few grammatical errors I noticed. When you are describing the two sea serpents, it would probably be more appropriate to use were instead of was. There’s also a scene where you said one after another octopus, which sounds odd and would be clearer and flow better if you said one octopus after another. You misspelled permanent. I’d also suggest finding a clearer word than lakeish. I know what you mean but you’ll probably be able to find a better word. It’s a great story, but now I want you to show me it instead of just telling me.

Daily #29
3/29/2024
370 words

Prologue-ish? for this

TW: Near death experience, the beginnings of trauma, but there is a happy-ish ending? No MC eliminations :]

Leyani wasn't always plagued with nightmares. She wasn't used to be enslaved into the still mold of her body. She wasn't always escaping the world into the numb silence in her mind.

She was too innocent, too trusting, too young to know any better. A grin was plastered to her face, giggling at every little thing. The thought sickens her now.

–

It was June, a summer like the others. The beginning of the others. She should have realized it sooner, figured out that each of them were too good to be true.

The breeze blowing through her hair and flowers blooming in the fields. The tinkling laughter from her sister, once a delightful noise. Shouts of joy and endless teasing with splashes of water from the river, causing her to shriek. Leyani had been running around her sister like a fool, grinning from ear to ear, blissfully naive to the dangers of the world.

Then the accident.

It happened too quickly, she'd realized what was happening too late.

A hand on her back. Water flooded her vision and the surrounding noise were muffled for what seemed like hours.

Leyani was pulled out of the river, not more than 5 minutes later. She could feel the burning patch where a hand was pressed. She flailed, her lungs burning as sharp breaths of air were sucked in. Her heartbeat slowed, the pounding in her ears subsiding.
Reassuring whispers pressed against her head and she let herself fall deeper into the familiar arms.

–

The world was clouded, her eyelids still drooping, and her fingernails dug into her palm, trying to jolt herself awake. She saw a bit clearer, edge of her bedsheets. Her mom and her dad.

And a missing sister.

Then she always left. There was an ‘accident’ with Leyani and her sister disappeared. Every next summer, without end.

The sobbing and pleading for her sister didn't make her come back. The bargaining of her weary mother became an act, the same empty words repeated, hopeless.

The sadness grew into frustration, balled up in anger.

Leyani left those summers behind, the memories bitter to her. Her sister came back; she always did.

But one summer, Leyani found her sister first.

Daily 029: 480 words, Prologue (wow so original)

Prologue
The halls were an austere white, lit by lights just as bright and harsh. Everything was impeccably clean, not a spot of dust to be seen anywhere. They were made of a smooth material that appeared to be all in one piece, with no apparent joins or seams.
Footsteps clicked on the polished floor, and the lights brightened smoothly, with no flickering or abruptness. A white cloak, matching the walls, swept the pristine floor as the footsteps continued down the hall, pausing at a seemingly random stretch of wall. A moment later, it slid open noiselessly, and the footsteps continued inside. The opening closed behind the neat clicks, leaving the hall merely a normal hallway again.
Inside the hidden room, it was a very different story from the outside. The walls were black, the lights were dim, and it was filled with computers and monitors. The footsteps walked over to a monitor and stopped as their owner sat down and opened a file. A girl with bright purple eyes and wild brown hair popped up as her information scrolled across the screen, which was the brightest thing in the room.
Amethyst Orbis, age 13
Below were standard things such as school records, official records, more official records…things he knew anyway, practically by heart. That wasn’t what he was here for. He scrolled to the bottom, where her talent eligibility was.
0% eligible
With a swipe of his fingers, a tap here and there, he had changed it to his liking.
100% eligible
Someone would be getting a letter, as soon as her status finished updating.
And someone else would watch the puzzle pieces fall into place, click-click-click.
He leaned back in his chair and smiled, placing the tablet aside. He might even write the letter himself. If nothing else, it would entertain him. He was pulling the strings, and nothing satisfied him as much as that. He imagined his fingers dancing through the air, plucking up lives and putting them where they belonged. Or, rather, where he wanted them, but in his eyes the two were essentially the same. In fact…
He swiveled in the chair to face the table in the middle of the room. It held nothing but an enormous model city built from ConnectorBlocs, a child’s toy that he had turned into an adult’s pleasure. The Academy loomed in the center of it, tall and imposing–perhaps more so, to scale with the rest of the model, than it was in real life. His fingers fluttered among the tiny houses and streets until he found what he was looking for. A small child figurine, one he’d painted to have a bright purple streak in its hair. He plucked it from the house and set it on the steps of the toy academy.
His lips curved into a smirk.
So many pieces, falling into place with every moment.

March 29th daily || 389 words || Prologue based on an old novel of mine called “Tales of a Fictional Me” (there's two different stories within the novel, one of them being of a young writer, and another one of the writer's creation, the prologue following the point of view of the latter)

It’s strange… I’ve been existing for over 13 years now, and yet it feels like I’m really just becoming alive now. Is that… normal? Do you just gain more of a realisation of your life when you’re 13, or is there something else going on?

Though, at the same time, it also feels as if my life is being taken away from me. As if someone else has taken over me, controlling me like a doll. These feelings can’t be normal, can they?

I so desperately want to talk to my brother about it, but I wouldn’t be all that surprised if he got it. Not only that, but there was part of me that didn’t want to ask him. That part of me wanted to focus on something else. Some other kind of issue that I couldn’t quite understand. Not like I could understand any of this anyways.

I laid in bed. Everything was silent. Until, suddenly I heard some kind of incoherent mumbling. I sat up, confused. I even checked on my brother, but he was fast asleep. There was no way he made any sort of noise. So, I sat back on my bed, waiting to see if I could hear it again. Then, there it was again. I listened closely, and suddenly, the words began to become clearer.
“…Mav…” was all I could hear. Why did this voice mention my brother? “…strange feeling……school…..darkness…..” The voice continued.
What did any of this mean? Was this voice aware of my existence? Was it trying to help me in some way? Was this meant to be a sign of anything? I was too tired to try and puzzle this out.

I flopped back onto my bed, and the voice didn’t silence. For some reason, all I could hear was “Adventure”. I tried to ignore it, but it wouldn’t stop. Yelling didn’t help either. It just made my parents rush into my room during these wee hours of the night. After telling them everything was fine, I really tried to make an effort to stop listening and get to sleep.
“Fine, I’ll go out on an adventure tomorrow! Are you happy!?” I whisper angrily. Suddenly, the voice silenced. Had I agreed to something I shouldn’t have? Did I even agree to anything? I guess I'll find out tomorrow.

prologue daily (for a constellation daily a few years ago about a pup who became canis minor


The flames crackled happily on the logs, bringing a cheerful orange glow to Kushim’s camp. And the delicious smell of a squirrel cooking wafted through the air. Kushim’s dogs whined and licked his face, begging him to let them eat some food. He laughed and pushed them away as he cooked. “You’ve had your fill, now the rest is for me.” He gave a piece to Azza anyway. He hadn’t realized Azza was pregnant until it was too late to bring her back to the village, but now she would just have to keep up until they’d gotten enough food to take back to the village. Kushim knew he should find the antelope herds soon. One more day they trekked and he came to a hill that overlooked the valley where sure enough the golden antelope grazed. He was about to charge, when an antelope walked straight over to him, eyes focused directly on him. “Hello Kushim,” the antelope said, transforming into a hideous monster with an uncountable number of heads. “The mighty hunter I see.”
Kushim gripped his club and refused to be scared. “What are you!?” he demanded.
“I am time, I am fear, I am the bane of humanity.” it laughed, thousands of voices laughing all at once. “See what I have done to your village?” against his will he was lifted hundreds of feet in the air so that he could see his village burning.
“No!” he screamed. “No, what have you done!?”
“Oh don’t worry. I think a few survived.”
His dogs growled and the beast put Kushim down on the ground. “Go into the villages then, and tell them to bow to me, or the same will happen to them.”
“I will never do that.”
The beast shrugged. “Oh, but you will. Your pathetic species is no match for me.” With that it dropped something on the ground and slunk away. Kushim wanted to follow it, bludgeon it with his club until he died from exhaustion, but then he saw what the beast had dropped. The air was knocked out of him when he saw his mother’s head.
The dogs did their best to comfort their master when he made camp for that night, but the world felt broken. Until he heard those soft whines and yelps of a newborn pup. He walked over to the place where Azza lay tired but proud. Kushim picked the puppy up and wiped her clean with his sleeve. “It’s dangerous here,” he said. “And this is no place for a pup. I should send you back into the realm of night,” he said. But he held her close because maybe the small and fragile could survive if someone gave them hope. “That beast has terrorized too many. We’re going to k*ll it.”