SWC daily #29

march 29th

prologue

this is for an old story. leila in the actual story knows mc through some unexplained circumstance. mc is a wanderer, always travelling, never settling down. fate pulls them together again one day, after “the bride” mysteriously disappears.

leila finds him first. she crouches over him, two slender fingers delicately checking his pulse. in the daze of confusion, it seems as if some angel is standing above him. she has taken him in, nurses him with bowls of broth that he sips reverently. food had been scarce, he wasn’t about to refuse it.

the days began to blur into each other, and he and leila fell into a steady rhythm. she sat, sewing and singing under her breath whilst he healed from the wounds inflicted upon him. the colourful fabrics of tulle, satin sometimes swish across his face as leila gathers her materials. he closes his eyes, and it is almost as if he’s back in Pellion some days. leila’s voice carries a melody well, singing the same songs his mother used to sing, in a nightingale’s voice.

“why are you here?”
“i don’t know.”

***

leila’s exotic skin is illuminated by the soft glow of sunlight. she is turning over ruby apples in the palms her small hands. a few loose tendrils hang about the side of her face, obscuring her eyes. tawny, with a hint of darkness.

no. no, he cannot do this. this isn’t what he’s here for.

the church from the outside looks surpringly crowded, strange for a normal friday morning. on closer inspection, everyone is attired in suits or dresses. there must be a wedding.

he idly wanders closer, who could the happy couple be? people from his village, of course, no one came to a quaint old town like this to get married unless they lived there. maybe he went to school with them. maybe he’d been friends with the girl or fought with the boy. maybe it is spanish vivanne getting wed to shy louis.

the groom lifts the bride up amidst raucous cheers of their surrounding friends and family. he catches sight of both their faces.

it is her. it is her.
mon dieu, he thinks.
he inhales sharply, the aching in him unravelling and twisting itself around his body.

the bride, as always, looks like an ethereal creature. her soft figure accentuates the wedding dress, a slender faerie clothed in white. her auburn hair is crowned atop her head, with a wreath of cream roses.
the picture of happiness, a laugh of silver. she turns her head to the side, and one split second, he swears their eyes meet.

mon dieu,he whispers.
he staggers away from the scene, only to collide with leila.

***

when he wakes, he is twitching on the sofa. restless and feverish, leila places a cool cloth on his forehead.
he is so grateful for leila. she took a complete stranger into her home, tried to nurse him back to life.
but what is broken will not be the same, even after it is fixed.
he cannot break her too.

it is why he clutches at her hand as she turns to leave. her eyes widen in surprise.
“merci.”
he wishes the word was bigger, more expansive. such a little word for the gratitude he feels.
leila’s eyes betray her, and she squeezes his hand gently.
it is why he leaves, early that morning, when the world is still cloaked in darkness.
ah, these wrung out goodbyes.

souvent, cela se retourne contre nous.

merci means - thank you,
mon dieu means - my God,
souvent, cela se retourne contre nous means - often, they come back to haunt us

+548 words

Very good keep it up.

critique for summer

(read the original here: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/7874133/ )

opening thoughts: hi summer! first off, i love this concept and i think it's an awesome idea

Mom’s stupid egg timer fills the awkward silence at the dinner table.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
Finally, Ellen scoffs. “Turn that thing off! We don’t need a countdown to our doom.”

i can't even begin to explain what a good opener this is, it perfectly captures the tension that must be pervading the room.

Mom stammers, her eyes red with tears. “Oh- I… well, I just thought… sorry.”

I feel that maybe a new line after “tears” would be good here.

“Since when have I been your young man?” Devon asks, speaking with that drawl that had always annoyed his mother. “And why do you care? The whole world’ll go up in smoke in…” he glances at the egg timer, “two hours and twenty-five minutes.” That was too much for Mom. She bursts into tears again.

I really like the nonchalance of some of the characters, like Devon in comparison to his mom, he's acting like he doesn't care but the contrast with his mother is really effective.

She puts a hand on her mother’s heaving shoulder.

The word heaving adds a lot to this line, showing instead of telling gives more depth to your story which you do well throughout.

“At least I care. You should be thankful the government even let you come, anyway. So tell me, how was life in prison? Make any new friends?”
Ellen’s face grows red hot with fury. “You little…”

The casual mention of Ellen's past and perhaps why she is almost bitter is too good. However, I feel like you could omit the “with fury” after the word hot. Ellen's words and face already imply this.

It’s been years since they all sat in this room together, and they can’t even hold a conversation.

Aaahh it's the realism of how their family has been distant but the dynamics aren't fixed (yet) although the world is ending. This is such a nice line.

“You all wait here.”
As she walks off, Devon mumbles, “what else are we supposed to do?”

I have no words. This is great.

Silence settles like a fog once again. Ellen sits uncomfortably, biting a fingernail. Devon stares blankly at the wall. Riley pulls out her phone, and turns on the latest news bulletin. The announcer’s matter-of-fact voice offers little comfort.

I think you could do a new line for each of these sentences. Currently, there's a feeling of mundaneness, which I think you intended, but I personally feel that some tension could also be built up with a slight tweak in the formatting in addition to this. Also, silence settling like a fog carries on the ongoing imagery of fire/smoke which is super cool

They eat silently, each one lost in their own thoughts. Bites are taken slowly. No one is eager to finish their last meal.

The way you portray everything leading up to the “last meal” part, is really nice. I like how despite people acting nonchalant, like they don't care and in a matter-of-a fact way, that the silence is universal.

Ellen mumbles, “I always hated monopoly,” but her comment is halfhearted.

Half hearted needs a dash here

It’s been a long time, but no one will ever forget their piece.

This is incredibly touching.

Although they don’t always get along with him, at least they know they can trust him.

I love how everyone sort of falls into their natural family roles and how you portray that to the reader. This can be applied to a much wider context, which is super cool.

However, there is a tenderness to the quiet. The clinking of the worn pieces brings back memories of days gone by.

You wrote this line very tenderly. It sets up a lovely atmosphere of nostalgia.

Suddenly, there’s a flicker, and everything goes black. Someone screams.

I like how this is a reminder to the reader amidst the normalcy that the family is experiencing, that the world is ending. To symbolise this even better, a new line here would be effective, since this is quite an abrupt turn in an otherwise calm scene. I also feel that these two sentences are a little choppy. Maybe some extra description or imagery would be good?

The blood-red sun is setting, and the room is tinged crimson in its glow. Everyone stares in sad fascination at the color. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t heralding extinction.

The description here is stunning. One of my favourite parts of this entire piece, because it's so poetic and reminds me of, for some reason, old mythology.
However, instead of using the word sad, you could say something like “bittersweet” or “melancholic”. To me, sad doesn't encapsulate the emotions the family is probably feeling.

Ellen’s voice is wistful. “Remember the time we went to Atlantic City Boardwalk?”
“And you got sick eating saltwater taffy? Yeah, I remember.” Riley laughs, and Ellen laughs with her.
“That was a great summer.”
“Yeah.”

This memory is so sweet, and that line about summer said millions in six words. Although I think you could rephrase the beginning sentence to “The wistfulness of Ellen's voice…” I'm not sure how to justify this, but I think the sentence would flow better. The repetition here of laughs could be replaced by “Ellen does too.”

Her friends invited her to come to New York with them, but her father insisted that summer was a time for family. She didn’t see why there was any reason she needed more time with them. She tried to get as little as she could. Now she craves more, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

Go ahead, break my heart into pieces again-

“I know where the candles are. This is my house too.”
The words hang in the air. After five years, is it really?

The tension here is golden. The backstory you give in seemingly simple sentences adds a world of depth to the story.

Ellen returns a minute later with Mom’s nicest scented candle in her hands. Mom bites her lip.
…
Devon fetches the lighter, and once the candle is lit the room fills with a calming scent.

You could add some pauses in the story. Maybe an asterisk to symbolise a new scene/event/ short time break. This piece is well-paced, but a little fast/clustered at times because it feels as if a lot if happening at once without any story pauses <3

Devon scoffs. “Come on! I was about to snag the set!”
Sirens sound in the distance.
I’m messed up. But I don’t want to die.
…
All her life she’s done her best to be perfect. One good child to make up for the wrongs of her siblings. Her parents had suffered enough. She needed to be the rock even when nothing else was firm.

The inner monologues of each of the siblings are so good. You've chosen some select things and incorporated them here to explain why they are the way they are, like you did with Ellen earlier. The backstories are amazing.

“Keep going, honey. I’m proud of you.”

I don't know why but I love this sentence.

The alarms grow louder and more incessant.
And then they’re gone.

THIS ENDING. AAAAHHH. I can't even begin to express how much I adore how they all left holding hands/holding each other.

Final thoughts: This is such a touching story. Seeing a broken family live out their last moments together broke my heart. I think that at times you could slow down the pacing of the story, add a little description and add some pauses. It's a very good piece to enter for the writing comp, this snapshot has a lot of depth to it which I could keenly feel as I read the story. Some of the lines here are beautiful. Overall, I think this is a lovely piece. I wish you the best of luck for the comp, thank you for letting me read this. <3

+760 words

these burning memories // author’s note

When I first wrote this piece, I hadn't written a story in a while. Over the past six months I'd pretty much entirely switched my writing style to poetry, with the exception of my painful English Literature assignments. Even then, I'd had writer's block for the past month or so. It was difficult to get back into writing, because I felt like all the words had left me.

One of the inspirations for it came from a Goodreads review, when someone was posting about how much they love an unreliable narrator. It was originally the villain daily, and with the help of multiple people I sculpted it into what it is now.

What I didn't realise at the time when I was writing it, is how it's vaguely inspired by “The Nightingale” which I had just finished reading at the time.

The story tells of two sisters, the void between them bigger and smaller than it once was, during the first world war. It is a heartbreaking story of love, loss, pain and the brutality of war. I recommend it for more mature readers because of some of the themes featured. Kristin’s writing style is beautiful, and my French town is inspired by the one in her book.

The protagonist of “ these burning memories ” isn’t an entirely accurate reflection of me. I think many people can relate to the feeling of being sidelined, always having someone better than you that other people prefer. What hurts most is when this person is incredibly close to you, which our protagonist keenly feels. It warps him, since he never expresses himself to anyone. He keeps it bottled up inside, only giving small hints.

Our protagonist prefers to keep to the shadows, most of the time, with some exceptions. Perhaps he isn't always the one narrating. Perhaps he's fooled you into thinking he's someone he isn't. Perhaps he lies, perhaps he doesn't. He likes playing games, that's for certain.

A nameless shadow.
Or is he?


~

Thank you’s:
Thank you so much to everyone who helped me with this. Thank you especially to Sienna for critiquing this for me, all of your advice was incredibly useful in redrafting and editing. Thank you to May for her encouragement, you’re honestly so sweet, I very likely wouldn't have submitted this piece if it wasn't for you ^^. Thank you to my irl friends, S, D and A for their thoughts and opinions on this. Every word has been invaluable to me <3

~

Glossary

Merci - thank you
souvent, cela se returned contre nous - often, they come back to haunt us
un monstre - a monster
coccinelle - ladybug
Mon amour - my love

~

Chapter Titles
The beginning of what was: meaning the reverie/peace and the closeness of the brothers
The middle of them: something that was a turning point in the story, fundamentally changing the characters for better or worse.
The end of us: meaning the story draws to a close, the characters all left dealing with the aftermath of their decisions and the situations that they've landed themselves in.

well done on making it this far :)

⇢ Thank You Notes

(if i forgot you, i'm really sorry. i've had a lot going on with easter prep, school finishing. please don't feel upset if you don't have a note <3)

↳ General Thank You's

The Host Team: All the work you put in into making this camp run smoothly is amazing. Thank you for making SWC possible, it wouldn't be so awesome if it wasn't for you guys. SWC has given me a lot of motivation to write, after feeling like I couldn't and shout out to you all, including the daily team co-ordinators for the effort you give. Also to the point adders, because must be frustrating scrolling through comment after comment which you do so patiently.

Leaders and Co-leaders: I didn't really visit many cabins during this session, but I did read all the storylines. They were stunning, and I could see the effort that had gone into planning, whether that be via the thumbnail, storyline or gradual. Thank you for making so many campers sessions memorable.

✧ Hi-Fi Thank You's

Rae: You were such an amazing leader. You hyped everyone up, motivated us, and were incredibly supportive. It's been a pleasure to be in your cabin, and I know we didn't really talk through camp but I love what a bright person you are. Also, I was stalking your writing thread one time from the main-cabin, and you're a really good writer! It would be great to get to know you more, and thank you for a lovely session ^^

Niko: I didn't get to know you very well this session, but thank you for those pfp's you made. Also when you regulated stuff during cabin wars and sort of pulled everyone together. You seem like a really cool person, I hope to talk to you more next session <3

May: MAY! I don't know how to not make this really long but I loved being in your word-count group, you are always so amazing and kind to everyone. The motivation you gave me after I added words was very sweet, and also I likely wouldn't be submitting anything for the writing comp if it wasn't for you. Your thoughts and opinions on my writing were too kind and served as a source of encouragement for me ^^ You're also a talented writer, and I'm really glad I was in your cabin this session <333

Silvi: Hi Silvi! You were on a roll this session, you completed pretty much every daily and weekly with an unfailing dedication. Thank you also for skimming through my writing comp entries, I appreciate your feedback a lot. You were an asset to our cabin. Meeting you was very cool

Anna: I actually knew you on another account a little while back, but I don't think you'll remember me. Thank you for being our hypewoman and for your dedication, the chaotic comments + the craziness you added to this session. I'd love to get to know you more, since you seem awesome <3

Skye: You were really active this session and like Niko, you rallied everyone for cabin-wars and tried your best to manage everything. Thank you for keeping track of the word counts, hiring Alana whom we desperately needed and being a driving force. (Also, you absolutely aced your word goal :0)

Cactus: I didn't get to know you but I could see how persistent you were in adding your words and keeping up with everything. I hope to get to know you better next session if you participate :]

Everyone else in Hi-Fi: Thank you for making this session so memorable for me, this is my sixth session and it has been one of my favs. I appreciate the atmosphere you guys cultivated in the cabin, thank you for all of your dedication and for being the people that you are.

✩ Outside of Hi-Fi

Sienna: SIENNAAA! You have such a cheerful presence, thank you sooo so so sooo much for critiquing my writing comp entry, all of your advice was invaluable. Thank you for how kind you were about it, I'm really grateful to you for that. I also loved reading and critiquing your piece, I can't wait to see what you write in the future. Best of luck for the competition, I hope to talk with you more next session <33

CJ: Hey CJ, I had to drop a quick word and thank you for the critique you gave me near the beginning of camp. It was really useful for me in terms of improving that piece. I really enjoyed critiquing your writing, I would love to read more of it ^^

Poppy: Hi Poppy, thank you so much for your critique of one of my potential entries! It was very helpful and I wanted to say what an amazing person you are, as well as writer. Best of luck for the writing competition ^^ (I stalked your writing thread and saw your wolves entry, it is so good )

Chuey: You likely don't remember, but I finished a daily and you complimented me on my writing. It may seem small but I just wanted to say thank you for that, it's one of the reasons I'll be entering it in the writing comp :]

To everyone in SWC: Guys, I can't thank you enough for everything this session. The vibes of the main cabin were so warm and inviting, I loved Gurtle eating all of the links as well as the Balrog. The friendliness of everyone made me feel very welcome, it was great talking to all of you. I've never actually participated as much in a session as I did in this one, I think one of the reasons I felt motivated to do so was because of what great people you all are. This session was really memorable and lovely for me, so thank you <3

Trigger Warnings: Mentions of abuse, implied death, actual death and injury

these burning memories - writing comp entry

❝ often. they come back to haunt us. ❞


The beginning of what was

It is dead.
This house that has seen me through almost my entire life.
It is known for its frivolity and ebullient spirits, its mirth, laughter and brightness
Was. I keep forgetting, although I pick my way through the destruction.
A child, when I first came here. A child who only wanted a home.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“I’ll take care of you,” whispered Marie as we sat together, bones protruding at every angle. We’d been malnourished from the last house. The people locked us up in rooms that had a distinct stench of human faeces, urine and sweat. Often, days went by until the little girl finally managed to persuade her mother to open the door and free us.

I’d shuffled closer to my brother, who’d said nothing. If my brother was quiet, it was serious. I could feel the pulse of his emotions, every ache in his heart. It was special, our bond. Mama used to say we were inseparable. Two boys so closely knitted together. One wild with an untameable spirit, one destined to never be anything except for his shadow.
Twenty minutes older, Julien was, and those twenty minutes had defined my entire life.


I didn’t believe Marie’s promise. But the woman did everything in her power to care for us as did the rest of her family. Like the chocolate - a rare treat that Marie’s husband, Henri would often pull out of his pocket, twinkling at us.
I may be poor, Henri used to say, but I am rich in my children.

We weren’t the only ones there. Marie and Henri had a daughter, born after two small white crosses in the graveyard.
I cannot cleave the longing that is engraved on my bones at the very thought of her.
She knew.
She always did.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“Checkmate,” Elodie said, moving her bishop.
Julien was stranded. Nowhere to go and nothing to turn to.
“Admit defeat. Julien, you are more proud than your father.”
They laughed simultaneously, but there was no mirth in it. Elodie sighed softly.
“I am sorry. I should not have said that.”
“You have nothing to be sorry for,” one side of Julien’s mouth turned up in a half-smile, making Elodie’s heartbeat a little faster.
“Coccinelle?” She asked, not quite believing this display of nonchalance.

Coccinelle meant no secrets. No lying through your teeth and every guard down. At least, that’s what Julien told me.

“Why ladybug? It is a strange word.”
Julien shrugged. “It is her favourite.”

I watched them, day after day, observing the slight flush in Elodie’s cheeks. How Julien’s gaze lingered on her face a little too long, and the prolonged touch of their fingertips every time their hands brushed.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The middle of them

“I think I love her,” Julien told me one summer.
We had just turned seventeen. Both tall, broad and strong, drifting apart slowly but surely.
This day felt different. Like nostalgia and hazy memories, our childhood friendship clung to the air as a reminder of what had been.
I turned away from the sunlight, letting the darkness hide my anguish.
I did not trust myself to speak for a couple moments.
“I know.”

I started spiralling from that moment onwards.
Un monstre. Un monstre, Un monstre, Un monstre

Most wounds are said to stitch themselves back up.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

When my brother had fled town, rolling in debt and embroiled in scandal, I paid off every last penny. Like the man I was meant to be, the man he would never come close to being.
I’d gone round soothing indigent villagers, comforting troubled Marie and Elodie.

Marie clutched at my hand. Marie, strength and kindness incarnate. Marie, who rescued birds with broken wings, Marie who nursed us through scarlet fever and almost died, Marie who treated us as if we were her own.
“Julien,” she said, sobbing. Her frail body was shaking.

Elodie lifted her head from the table, her red-rimmed eyes the only sign of grief.
“Why must we go on, Maman? When the villagers spit and gossip at us, all for one boy.


She spoke bitterly but I knew she was nursing a broken heart. Her room was next to mine and I listened to the tortured cries of her sleep. He haunted her at night, haunted all of us.
He’d left indelible marks on every inch of this house.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

I gave her the one thing a boy like me can.
Friendship, offering her a hand to hold in the midst of his absence.

But the old cordiality began to pale in comparison to what was blooming.

The early days of us were fluttering, crisp and golden. Even April rain showers could not marr the beauty and the fragility of our love.

One precious year, of us and everything in between.

And then.
Him, like a hurricane on a gentle spring evening, when the hum of nature filled the air. A tidal wave in a calm ocean, thrashing with rage.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

“Betrayal,” he hissed in Elodie’s ear. He made no attempt at hiding the venomous hatred he felt towards me.
He brandished a knife, threatening me to come closer. Restraining Elodie by the waist, holding her hostage.

“Enjoy your happiness. May your days be fruitful, bright and abundant.”

He struck a match, and set fire to our house. I lunged for the door, only to find it locked.

My brother had taken our only key. Bolted every window with a vengeance.

I ran to the kitchen and grabbed the first thing I saw: a rolling pin. I smashed the window, glass shards shattered and decorated the floor. Elodie screamed, and stumbled. The soles of her feet were red, tender and swollen.

“I cannot make it through the window,” she whispered, “Not with my feet like this.”
“You must. I beg you, please. Please, Elodie.”
“It is not only that.”

She removed the hand pressed to her stomach, only to reveal a large, gaping wound. The tyrant had been threatening her with a knife. How had I not noticed my wife cry out? How could I be so uncaring, so selfish?

Her breath came in short, shuddering gasps. I could see her lips beginning to turn white.

“ No, no, mon amour, it can't be, ” I took my wife into my arms, gently rocking her back and forth.
The flames built around us.“You have to leave.”
“ No,” I shook my head, “not with you like this.”
“ You will die.”
“ There is no me without you, Elodie.”
“ I know. I know, but you must go. Please. Please. For me.”

I hope you will never know the anguish it takes to leave someone you love in a burning house.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

The end of us

I live in pain, and not only for Elodie.

For my brother, whom I’d so selfishly sacrificed, to pay for my cruelty.

You shouldn’t believe everything you read, dear reader.
I was the one who ran away from town.
He stayed behind, and married Elodie.
I started the fire, with the cowardly rage that was always hidden away.
Although, I have always loved Elodie. Longer than even him, perhaps.

And maybe, reader, I have lied to you. Maybe I have blurred the lines between truth and reality, so much so you begin to question who speaks to you.
Is he feral or is he broken?

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

I forgive you, he said to me, when I tried to stop him from turning himself in at the station.

Coccinelle? I whispered, like a frightened child.

His blue eyes bore into mine.

A ladybug alighting on Elodie’s finger, the musicality of her laugh. The way him and her swayed together, at the evening dances in the village hall. Their fingers, always so tightly interlaced. How Leila at Misa Cara had read their calloused palms, and told them they defied the stars.

I knew the same memories were flitting across his mind.
Two brothers, once so closely knit together.

“Maman never told us this,” I said weakly, “I am afraid.”
What a coward, what a coward, what a coward.

One girl, his undoing and mine.

“Blood is blood,” he replied, “We are family.”

And sometimes, family can mean terrible things

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

Epilogue - A thousand things we left unfinished

The mind is broken, the mind will not be restored.
I leave early the next morning, when everything is still and only the rustle of the leaves betray my going.
There is nothing left for me in this town anymore.
Will I wander forever? With this ache in me ever cease unravelling, twisting itself around my body?
These wrung out goodbyes, I call my curse.

souvent. cela se retourne contre nous.

⊱ ━━━━.⋅ εïз ⋅.━━━━ ⊰

+1,456 words

author's note
(not included in word count)