march 1st - 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

(1381 words)
→ Hello everyone, my name is Riley. Well, actually, I have multiple names. I went by only Riley for years on my older account, but as I created a new account I decided to go by Beth, which is kind of my real name. But then, honestly, I realized I still liked the name Riley a lot more than Beth. But to avoid confusion, I kept the name Beth, so now I go by both Riley and Beth. You can call me either one, but Riley is better for me. It has a nice ring to it. And then I have even more names– but I will not say those. Beth is my real name, but my full legal name is different. Obviously I will not say it for privacy reasons, but yeah, no one really ever calls me that name except sometimes my teachers. Everyone calls me Beth, because it’s easier. And then finally, the last one is my German name. I’m taking German at school, and the first thing we did in class was choose our German names. Those names stick with you for the rest of your time learning that language, so now my German teacher always learns to use my German name for me in class always. Other students don’t usually use those names for each other, but sometimes to make fun of someone, they’ll call them by their German name. The other languages at my school have this too, and maybe your school does this as well, I’m not sure how popular it is.
Anyway, I’m sorry for ranting so much about names, but I found it a useful way to add more words. Okay, now I’ll list my hobbies and talents. I enjoy writing, reading, drawing, singing, and acting. At least, that’s always what I say to people when they ask. Because I used to enjoy all of those things. I used to have so many plans for my future and I was really passionate about what I liked to do. But that was two years ago, and now, things are different. I’ve lost my ability to dive straight into a book and get lost in another world. When I do, it’s magical, but unfortunately, it’s only certain books that can spark up a feeling anymore. Anything else, I find myself reading the same sentence over and over, trying hard to comprehend it and move on. And acting? Well, I still think it’s fun, and I keep trying out for the musicals in school, but I am considering just giving up at this point. I really love acting and singing on stage. I think I’m not that bad at it. But I am bad at being confident. Every single time I’ve tried to audition for a play, I’ve either chickened out, or I made it past the auditions and got a part (it’s usually a big role, too) but then I don’t bother to accept and keep going. I’ve never made it past callbacks. And I’m not planning on pursuing acting as a career, and since I’m going into 9th grade next year I only want to do things that are related to what I’m going to study for a job. I don’t feel like trying anymore. And drawing, I actually still enjoy it. I used to hate all my art and I kept trying to give up and quit, but I just couldn’t stop. I loved doodling and creating something, on paper or on a device. You’d have to physically restrain me to get me to stop drawing. And lately, I’ve been learning to accept my art and not care what others think about it, so that’s great! And I want to be an artist when I grow up, that’s my plan. But specifically, I want to be a graphic designer. I think it’s a really cool job, and it sounds perfect for me. I always go all out on my slideshow presentations, and I think I still have some things to learn, but hopefully high school will take care of all that! I have a whole plan for everything I want to do in high school, and it all is built off of what I want to do when I grow up, so I’m definitely set on what I want to do. Finally, there’s writing. It’s been hard for me– I do very well in my English classes, and I’m in honors right now, but I often can’t find motivation to write. I didn’t even bother to join the last SWC session in November because I just felt that way so much. I also was struggling a lot mentally in the fall last year, but I’m doing better now, and that’s why I joined this session. I want to try writing again, and I hope to work diligently to achieve my goals.
I feel like I’ve done all this writing, and yet anyone who reads this will still barely know anything about me. So I am going to describe something about myself that I find very interesting, and a good quality.
I am very empathetic, but I don’t like to use that word to describe how I view others, even if it is true. But I feel like I see it in a deeper way. It’s not that I can just understand how others feel when they’re sad or happy or anything. I feel like I can see more than just the outer layer of someone. Of course, I’m not always correct, and I know this. I shouldn’t just assume things about someone. But I love to try to imagine what life is like through someone else’s eyes. I know that we all have problems, big or small, and we all try to hide them from other people, so that we are not judged. My classmates have problems, and feelings, and lives that they don’t always talk about.
I don’t like to assume things with not much information, but I tend to do it anyway. But the main thing that I constantly think about is this: we are all individual human beings. Every single one of the 8 billion humans on the planet has their own personal thoughts, memories, feelings, relationships, and all these things that the rest of us know nothing about. But when people make comments on social media, or in real life, they tend to forget that. Some random person you don’t know at all is acting in a way that you don’t like, even though they are doing nothing wrong, they’re just being themselves. But you don’t like it. So you take the time to let them know that, and it adds to the hundreds of other comments on their profile that all say the same thing. But that account on social media has a real person behind it, whose personality is based on their experiences. Perhaps they had a rough childhood and acting or dressing a certain way helps to cope, or perhaps they were just accustomed to that behavior when growing up and they never grew out of it. But everyone has a reason to do the things that they do, and just because you don’t like something doesn’t give you a reason to say something rude about it.
Anyway, I like to analyze people’s feelings and personalities a lot. There’s never only one side to someone. And maybe I’m really weird for doing that, I don’t know, but I think it’s interesting. I like to analyze things deeply. I feel insecure for saying this, but hopefully no one is reading this at this point. Anyway, I haven’t checked my word count, but I think I’ve written over a thousand words by now. I’m trying the 1k intro, even though my word goal is 10,000. I’m actually hoping to beat my highest word count, 25012, which was in November 2022. But I set my word goal to lower because I don’t have that much faith in myself, and I won’t go hard on myself if I don’t reach it, because at that point I’ll probably have done 10k.
Finally, I’ll stop ranting. This whole thing feels like a long rant, and if you read this entire thing, I’m proud of you for wasting so much time. Goodbye!

march 2nd - 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!

(559 words)
→ Freya sighed, exhausted. She had been writing ever since she got home from school, and she terribly needed a break. But her book was almost finished, and she couldn’t quit now. Her friends were depending on her. She said she’d finish it by Friday, and that was tomorrow.
Her hands ached, and her stomach growled. She realized how hungry she was when it continued to gurgle and she noticed the pain. Reluctantly she stood up and grabbed a granola bar from the pantry. It wasn't that much, but it would suffice enough to make her belly stop complaining.
As Freya returned to her seat, she skimmed over her writing. She kept noticing these little details that bothered her. Constantly editing grammar mistakes, or parts where there were too many details or not enough details. Or maybe she had added a detail that contradicted another detail. Then there was those paragraphs, where she read them and cringed at the lazy writing. And oh! She completely forgot to even introduce that important side character on page 15! She knew she was missing SOMETHING, no wonder the plot didn't make sense anymore! And there were too many pronouns, when was the last time Freya had used a name? Too many dialogue tags, too much rambling and too many this and that. There was too much to do! In so little time.
Freya felt like giving up. She would just disappoint everyone anyway. Negative thoughts darkened her mood and clouded her head, and she had a physical reaction. Her throat was twisting itself into a tight knot, and her breath shortened. Her heart was trying to break free from her ribcage, pounding against her chest violently. Her eyes smarted and she blinked repeatedly, trying to hold it in, but she failed. Hot tears spilled out of her eyes and dripped down her chin.
Why was she even crying? Why did she feel unable to breathe or focus on anything? How could a little emotion lead to this mess?
Then her mom knocked on her door. She froze.
“Can I come in?”
“Uh…” Quickly, Freya wiped her tears away and looked in the mirror to make sure she didn't look upset, “Sure, yeah, you can come in.”
Her mother opened the door and smiled when she saw her daughter. “You okay?”
“Yeah.”
“Alright. You finished writing your book?”
“Not yet.”
“Alright, do you want me to look over it and help you? You seem stressed. You know, writing isn't just a one person job,” Her mom sat down next to her on the bed and gave her a hug. “The reason authors can have such great stories in their books is because they have editors and people who can look over their writing and add critiques. You seem to have done all this individually, which is impressive, actually.”
She sat down at Freya's computer and began to read. When she was finished, she looked at her with pride. “Freya! Congratulations! This is wonderful. You wrote an insane amount of words- you're truly a gifted writer. I'm sure everyone who reads this will love it.”
“Really?”
“Yes, really!” Her mom hugged Freya tightly. “I'm so proud of you. Now, go and finish it, you've got this.”
Overjoyed, Freya sat down at her computer again with motivation and a sense of relief, ready to keep going.

march 2nd - poem about my cabin

(64 words)
A small screen can hold so much.
But one problem and it’s over.
That must be what happened…
A web of data and programming is destroyed,
And to my horror, its creation remains.
A sinister smile
Seems to be sprawled across its face
As flames erupt around me,
Reality itself begins to
Glitch and crumble
Terror and confusion
The only emotions left in me

march 3rd - Hello, patriots! Today is national anthem day, so you’ll be writing national anthems! Write an anthem for your cabin and 1-3 other cabins for a maximun of four anthems - 100 points per anthem in at least 100 words each. Be sure to think about the cabin’s values, history, and ethics. If you need some inspiration, head on over to this link https://nationalanthems.info/ to find a list of national anthems for you to draw from. Happy writing, adventurers!

(209 words)

sci-fi - 103 words
Science Fiction
You are my religion
We are fierce and brave
Despite technology's crave
Of domination and power
And we must fight every hour
Against AI and it's cruelty
We must protect our royalty!
But there's glitches all about
And time is running out
Will we succeed?
Or succumb to their greed?
No, the powerful leaders Zion, Finley, and CD
Will lead us through this treachery
Because victory is inevitable
For us, we are so reputable
We'll beat the AI
And the other cabins too
When things go awry
We'll push through
This anthem is over now
'Cause I wrote 103 words, wow

tragedy - 106 words
So this may be tragedy
Despite our name
We go about happily
In this game
Our story is a struggle
Sometimes we are afraid
But our trouble
It can slip away
The forest, shadowy and dark
Becomes a home for us
It's just like a park
Deep down just
We know we are sad
But we don't let it get bad
We will find a way out
In this doubt
Tragedy, the taking,
The others are quaking
But we'll keep aching
While pretending to be making
A fine day in this place
The woods are scary
But we will stay merry
Fleeing would be a disgrace

march 4th - 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!

(414 words)
→ Today, I woke up to see my deceased mothers face, frozen in a horrified expression. I laughed and waved her out of the way. Ugh, mom was always pranking me like that in the morning. I guess she still couldn't stop even after she passed. She thinks she's so funny! My dad had made me pancakes this morning, so I went to grab one from a plate, but my dog scooped it out of my hands, barking. He'd also passed about a year ago. I was sad when it happened, but he still likes to visit sometimes. “Charlie! Drop it. Drop it!” He eventually set it down, wagging his tail. He tried to bite my hand, but I snapped at him. “No- bad, we don't bite. You should know better.”
Dad sighed. “Come on Jo, you need to stop this. Stop pretending Charlie's still here. You're talking to the air, and it's driving me nuts,”
“But Dad, he literally IS there. How can you just deny these people's existence when they're right in front of you?” I still don't understand why Dad pretends like he can't see ghosts.
Surely he's heard my mother singing at night, or Charlie barking at a passing car. He is completely oblivious! Adults think they know better, but they must know less than I do.
Charlie lifted his leg up. “No!” I yelled. “He peed on the floor.”
“You literally just poured your water bottle out on the floor. Clean it up.”
“I did not! You just don't want to have to be the one to clean up this mess.” Reluctantly, I got some paper towels and wiped it up.
Then Dad screamed. I looked up. “Huh? What?”
“G-g-ghost-” he stuttered, his eyes full of terror. I twisted my head to where he was pointing, but I couldn't see anything.
“How can you not see it! It's right there! Move, Jo, it'll-” he stopped.
He looked like he was being strangled. This must be some prank. I giggled. “Dad, stop it, I know you're just playing.”
“N-no.. NO!” His eyes froze and he dropped to the floor.
“Dad, you can wake up now. That was funny.”
He never got up. I guess he really fell asleep or something. Well, I'll have to read a book to pass the time now, I suppose.
But by the time it was dusk, he still hadn't gotten up. I went to bed, hoping maybe he'd be back by morning… He had to be.

march 4-10 weekly - click here to view weekly details.

retelling - 323 words

Hello, my name is Hades, God of the Underworld. According to the Goddess Demeter, I am a thief. Can you believe it? And I must address these horrible accusations from her now.
Let me tell you, I never “stole” her daughter Persephone. I love Persephone, and she loves me just as much. I never came charging out of the ground, stealing her away without warning! How could anyone know what truly happened, anyway, when no one was there but Persephone? I gently came out of the ground, and confessed my love to her, and I offered to bring her down to my home under the earth. She said yes, so you see, there was full consent here. I never stole her.
And Demeter, well, as she does, she overreacted. She went hysteric, searching for Persephone. But how could I have known about Demeter's distress? I am not always very informed about what happens above my roof. When Demeter finally realized I had her she came fleeing to me.
I did not let Persephone starve, I fed her. But of course, she broke these absurd rules in doing so, because she isn’t supposed to eat food down here for some wild reason, and so she had to stay down here with me for half of the year. It didn't seem like a problem to me, but Demeter was terribly upset. When I had Persephone, she grieved so much that the world was cold and bitter, because Demeter couldn't keep the plants thriving. Real drama queen, isn't she? Persephone was happy to see me every time. It really doesn't seem like there was any problem here in the first place, if Demeter hadn't been sobbing and wailing all over everybody. Anyway, what I'm trying to say is, no one did anything wrong. Persephone loved me, and I loved her too, but her mother also loved her, and we came to a compromise. I never ruined anything.

historical figures in modern times - 436 words

Paige tapped on the watch a couple of times. “Why isn't this thing working?” she muttered.
Then the room began to grow hazy and blurry. She rubbed her eyes, but nothing cleared up. And out of nowhere, a figure began to form in the air.
Paige pumped her fist in the air. “Yes! Hello, old white man from hundreds of years ago. Welcome to 2024… where instead of valiantly fighting in battle, people's biggest complaints are when they find a random stranger in the background of their photo!”
A middle-aged man stepped forward in wonder. He wore a powdered wig, and a general's outfit. He had just stepped out of the late 1700's into a whole new century.
“Who may you be?” he shuddered and pulled out his hand, offering to shake hers.
Paige grabbed his hand eagerly. “Oh my god, I can't believe I'm actually touching George Washington. Holy- I gotta tell everyone!” She pulled out her phone and tapped a photo of his confused face.
“Guys, I am literally meeting George Washington in real life, no joke.” she typed out loud.
“What is happening? What are you holding? What are you wearing? Where am I?” Poor George.
“Aw, you must have, like, soo many questions. Basically, I found a cool gadget that can send people from the past into the present. And I figured it'd be cool to see what happened if I brought you here. So basically, for you, you're in the future- but for me, this is the present and you're in the past. You're actually kind off… not alive anymore at this point. There's a lot of stuff that's happened.”
Washington turned around and yelped at the window. “Oh dear! What are those objects racing by at high speeds? Are we being hunted or attacked?”
“Slow down… America is independent by now, those are cars, you don't have those yet. And no one is being attacked. A lot of us live pretty comfortable lives. Like, I'm literally wearing a hoodie and I was licking my fingers from eating Cheetos earlier, because you always get them on your fingers and it's really annoying.”
“I wish to go back to where I was,” George Washington whispered, as though he was terrified, “I don't like this place too much…”
Paige sighed. “Okay, fine, whatever. I have to try this out on other people though. This is so cool… Hey!”
George Washington snatched the watch from her. “You are irresponsible and immature. You are not deserving of such a valuable relic.”
He disappeared, and Paige scowled. But of course, he was probably right, after all.

what if: change one thing about a historical event - 281 words

Paige ran her fingers through her hair anxiously. She opened up the camera app and hit Video, then hesitantly tapped Record.
“Okay, so, I think I messed up, like, big time. I'm talking BIG time. You know how, uh, all of a sudden, cars disappeared, and weird things started happening- and now Julius Caesar is here and he's harassing people?
Well, uh, that might be my fault… a little bit. Just a little bit…” she paused, biting her fingernails. People were ticked off A LOT about everything, and it was getting in the news. Because of the lack of cars, the streets were suddenly crowded with people and bikers, and buses were crowded too. And who knows, there might be another random historical person coming to the modern day as well.
“You see, I found a gadget that lets you bring someone from the past into the present, and I tested it, and- and it worked, right? Well, er, the person who I brought back wasn't too happy where he found himself, and he got scared by some passing cars, and then on his way back to his time, he took that thing from me, and now I don't know what he's figured out to do with it. I'm kind of nervous, honestly. Someone should probably do something about this soon… Anyway, what I just mean to say is, I'm sorry that I made things so complicated- I didn't realize all this would happen, I was just messing around. Don't send, like, well- anyone after me, I'm literally only 13 years old…”
She stopped recording, and wondered whether she should post this video or not. This situation was driving her insane.

if these walls could talk: the events one place has seen - 419 words

If I were able to move freely, I would do so many things. I could get myself into a more comfortable position, I could lie down, I could run away and never be seen again–
But the biggest thing I want to do is to save people…but I am nothing but a wall. A solid stupid wall for a stupid children's bedroom.
And now I am all alone.
Because I saw something terrible happen, and you cannot imagine how devastating it was to watch it all unfold, and be unable to stop it. I couldn't move a muscle, I couldn't speak or do anything, but I knew it was happening. I felt it happening, and I was so frustrated that I couldn't save her. That poor, sweet little girl.
She had done nothing wrong, she wouldn't hurt a fly. She never deserved what would happen to her.
This bedroom was hers. She was playing on her bed with her toys innocently, and talking to herself. I felt how I always did, I felt happy to be able to watch her grow up.
Then I felt heavy footsteps approaching the door. Perhaps it was her father or mother. I do wish it were so, but the world doesn't always like to work that way.
It was a stranger. He hid his face, but I still could notice his figure. He had broad shoulders and big hands. One of those hands was holding a thing… a tool that bangs and makes loud noises. It can kill. It is very dangerous. But he was carrying it, and in a threatening manner.
Before I even realized it, he scooped her up, as though she were light as a feather. A sick feeling erupted in me. I couldn't just… watch. I had to protect her, I had to do something. I had to. She wasn't going to just be snatched like that!
She struggled and wailed. She tried so hard to escape, but he ran away, and I never saw him again. It all happened so fast, and it all felt so unfair.
And now, it's been a year. It still haunts me. I still wonder if she's okay. I really, really hope she is. I hope that man got caught right away, I hope that girl got a happy ending, wherever she is now. But the pain of never knowing for sure weighs like a ton of bricks, and I guess I'll never know… but I can wish, I sure can wish…

an enchanting reunion: multiple fairy tale characters meet up with each other - 645 words

Aurora stumbled her way through the woods, running as fast as she could, when she bumped into something and fell- or someone, she realized, when she saw a girl standing over her.
“Oh, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to…” she apologized bashfully. “Are you alright?”
The girl had pale skin and black, curly hair. Her lips were bright red and she wore a cute blue and yellow dress. She had a concerned expression on her face, and she seemed like a polite and gentle lady.
Aurora responded. “Yes, I'm alright. Who may you be?”
“Snow White,”
“An interesting name! My name is Aurora, though I used to be called Briar Rose for several years. You see, three fairies raised me until I became seventeen–”
“Fairies! How lovely! I've been raising seven dwarfs, and each one of them has such personality! And they're all stubborn as mules, that's for sure. But I still love them nonetheless. They have no one else to look after them… the poor things.”
“A lovely story, but may I continue?”
“Of course, I'm so sorry!”
“On my seventeenth birthday, you see, I was cursed to fall into a deep sleep if I hurt my finger on a spindle. But I did not know this, and I ended up sending the whole kingdom into a deep sleep with me! I think I slept for a long time, until a brave prince came along and kissed me, softly, and I awoke. That is my story, but I am now being chased by… something out there in the woods,” Aurora looked back. “I think it has lost me.”
Snow White was shocked. “You too were woken by a handsome, brave prince with a kiss? We are so similar, aren't we?” Snow White lowered her voice then. “Secretly, I do not like my husband, though. He complains about me all the time, but he's not the one doing all the work! Really, husbands are kind of useless in my opinion. But you must not tell a soul that I uttered those words!”
Aurora giggled. “Oh, silly… I feel the same! No one likes a lazy man who depends on his wife for everything. I hadn't even met him before I married him– I never liked him from the start!”
Both of the princesses sighed in relief, knowing they shared the same opinion.
Then suddenly something came crashing into the clearing. It spoke, whatever it was.
“You two are horrible at hiding. I could hear you, and so I found you!”
“Leave!” Screeched the two.
“How about no?” This thing then revealed itself to them, and they realized it was actually a person. A rather short person, with gangly arms and legs, and a round body, with a mischievous grin on its face.
Aurora gasped, but Snow White, who was accustomed to people this height, wasn't too surprised.
“What are you here for?” she asked.
“I don't know you, this isn't about you. I'm talking to Sleeping Beauty here. You promised you'd give me your necklace, why are you so protective of that stupid thing?”
“It is not stupid! It was my mothers. It means the world to me!”
“Alright, fine. Here's the deal. You're only free if you can guess my name. Hint: It's impossible. You'll never guess it. Only one person has ever guessed it, and she was cheating!”
But Aurora knew more than he did. Aurora had been told this tale many times when she was younger, and she was ready with the answer.
“Hmm, this is so hard- let me guess… gosh, I- wait, is it…” she paused dramatically. “It's Rumpelstiltskin, isn't it!”
The little man's face grew red with fury. “How did you–” he sputtered, then stopped. At a loss for words, he bolted away, steam pouring out his ears as he screeched.
Snow White laughed. “That was very fun!”

magical realism - 284 words

A rabbit named Harry bounced gently on its feet as he traveled to his friend’s home. He pawed the ground one, two, three times, then hopped once. It was their signal to greet each other and get them to come out of their burrows. His friend, Penny, came out. She nibbled on the grass as he spoke.
“Penny, I’m sorry to bother you, but I have news… you’re not occupied with your bunnies, right?“
She shook her head no.
“Good.” Harry twitched his ears anxiously. ”You know… that fox that came around a couple weeks ago that nearly scared me to death?“
Penny's fur became spiked as it raised tensely. ”Is… is he back?“
”Yes, unfortunately,“ Harry spoke solemnly. ”But we can still do things to help-“ he suddenly stopped, trembling, looking at something that Penny couldn't see. She turned around and grew very quiet.
It was the fox. That old beat-up fox with the scratches on his back and the ragged tail. He was not too far from them.
And his mouth was curled into a sly sneer that shook the two rabbits to their cores. Harry silently let Penny know he was going to leave slowly to check on his own home, and he encouraged her to do the same.
The fox growled. ”Don't try to run away, now… we've barely gotten to know each other! You can trust me, I promise…"
By then, they had disappeared. Fox would have to do this by himself… he licked his lips hungrily, ready to ambush those small tunnels at any moment.
Little did he know, the rabbits were ready as well. And they were waiting, with defenses, merely a couple feet under his paws.

total: 2388 words
.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

march 18th - Personal Narrative Lead for English

(155 words)
I squinted at the bright sun; a cool breeze tousled my hair. Red and gold leaves scattered the paved ground around me as my mother warmly squeezed my hand as she guided me and my ten-year-old brother, Ben, through the twisting maze of roads. We passed through people of all kinds; mothers pushing strollers holding drooling babies with huge eyes, or the young school children holding clouds of cotton candy, playing tricks on their exasperated parents. The smell of animals was strong as we watched zebras, giraffes, and all types of animals play and eat inside fenced areas. By now we had been at the zoo for an hour, and Ben and I were beginning to grow tired. I wanted to see just one more exhibit, because it had one of my favorite animals: tigers. We were coming upon it now, but suddenly Ben shocked me with an action that he had never done before.

march 24th - writing comp entry - 1390 words

A Girl Named Piper

Everyone agrees high school isn’t some enthusiastic colorful wonderland with rosy children who all want to wake up at 05:30 every morning. It’s more like a horror movie in real life, where everyone is out to get you. But trust me. The most spine-chilling, nauseous, heartbreaking part of it is the first day.
Last year, I was an eighth grader. You’re supposed to feel proud to be the oldest, to set an example instead of simply following it. But I didn’t like the feeling of everyone looking up at me. I wasn’t pretty or smart, I was pathetic. I was the worst example of a student.
I always told myself that I could try harder next year. That time has come, and I don’t have high hopes. It's the first day of ninth grade at precisely 07:22. By now, the teacher has given us our assigned seats. As I lower myself into the chair, my head spins with anxiety. Most of the class are kids I have never met before, so I don’t know anyone here.
People began to whisper amongst themselves about their seats and the new school year and everything.
“Oh my god hi Jessica!” The girl in front of me slides into her seat and beams at the girl sitting next to her. She returns the friendly smile and they begin to talk.
“Dude, I’m so happy I get to sit next to you!” Jessica speaks in a half-whisper.
“Same! 1st period might actually be fun this year. I hope we get paired up together in every group project. I don’t really know anyone else in this class…”
“I know right! But also I'm pretty sure everyone would love to partner with you, Piper, because you’re really good at writing. You’ve always had an A+ in English.”
“Thanks. I really want to be an author one day.” Piper smiled.
I listen to the two friends. I have never met them before, but they seem pretty nice. I hope I can be friends with them. Especially Piper.
I can’t stop staring at her long hair. There are streaks of light pink between her beautiful golden curls that grow thicker at the ends. Something about the way it perfectly tumbles down her back, and the way she keeps adjusting and playing with it makes me feel… well, I don’t really know how I feel. But I feel good. I really like the way her hair looks. And when she turns her head, I can see the side of her face. Whenever she smiles, her whole face looks so genuinely happy, and her nose scrunches up. Her eyes look playful and sincere. Everything about her feels perfect. She’s so pretty and talented and kind. I’ve never been like that.

About two weeks later, Mr. O’Neill introduces our first project. It’s not worth very many points, but he says we should still try our best because he will use these to judge our skill in writing, and teamwork. So we will have a partner.
Jessica and Piper immediately look at each other with hope in their eyes as he reads the list. Some kids look happy with their partner, others look disappointed. He reads my name.
“Stella and…” I don’t really care who I end up with, but I knew deep down who I really wanted.
“…Piper,” he continues on to read the last names. “Jessica and Tyler.”
The two girls in front of me look disappointed, especially Jessica. Piper sadly smiles as she looks behind at me.
“Hey Stella,” she smiles. She clearly isn’t super enthusiastic about a partner she doesn’t know very well, but I am glad she’s not sour.
“So, which part should we do first, fiction or nonfiction?” I ask, trying to sound normal and cool. The project asks for a few paragraphs of nonfiction to represent our research skills. Then a few paragraphs of anything fiction to represent our creative writing skills. Overall, it also represents grammar and use of detail.
“Fiction. It’s easier,” she laughs softly, and I nod in agreement.
I really like her earrings. They’re sparkly and they chime quietly whenever she shakes her head. She looks really pretty. I have no idea why I admire everything about her so much. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this way about anyone in my whole life. Whenever she talks and smiles I get this weird fluttery feeling and it feels nice, but I don’t understand it.
“So do you wanna go first?”
“Oh, uh, sure,” I fidget awkwardly with my fingers, but I open a Google Document and I share it with her so she can edit.
I begin typing out the first paragraph of a story. It introduces a character named Beatrice who struggles with a bully at school. By the time I finish, the class is almost over.
“I guess you can write tomorrow,” I shrug. She nods and slings her bag over her shoulder, finding Jessica to go talk to her. I watch her leave, wishing again even more that I could be friends with her.
I can hear her say, “No, I don’t mind my partner, but she’s not very good at writing. It’s kind of annoying,” she giggles.
Her words feel like a stab. I love writing, and I have dreams to write in my future. And I think I really love Piper. But she thinks I’m not talented. She thinks I’m annoying. She must hate me.
The next day, I watch her write her part. Her fingers fly over the keyboard much faster than mine do. Her words are elegant and detailed. When she finishes, there’s more time for my turn.
I don’t know how to continue now. She wrote something better than I could do. But I try as hard as I can to write better this time.
“Oh- it’s actually spelled like this,” Piper whispers softly over my shoulder. I take my hands off as she corrects a spelling error I made. Apparently it’s not “humilated”, it’s “humiliated”. I feel a bit like that myself, but then I realize that she isn’t being mean, she’s just helping me. And that’s when things change.
The rest of the week, we seem to click. I feel like I’m improving more and more as she teaches me more about what I could improve on. And she seems really proud of me that I am improving and I understand her critiques. I actually really don’t mind her advice. Usually I hate when other people try to make my writing better.
By the end of the week, we are really getting along. I feel like I can laugh for real around her. And she even invited me to join her conversations with her other friends.
On Monday, it’s the big day. We have to present to the class. I am trembling with anxiety as I walk in. Piper notices.
“It’s okay. We did a really good job! I’m sure Mr. O’Neill will love it.”
“But that’s not it,” I mumble. “It’s just that I have to stand up in front of the class. I don’t like it. I don’t like having everyone’s eyes on me. It makes me really scared.”
Piper looks at me with concern in her eyes, as if she understands what I mean. No one has ever understood before, but I feel like she really does. “I used to struggle with that too. Try not to look at anyone, and pretend that no one’s there. The feeling won’t go away, but it can help. And make sure to take deep breaths.”
I feel grateful she’s there. She’s the kindest girl I’ve ever known. But I remember what I heard her say last week. It still rings in my head.
“But… don’t you think I’m annoying? Don’t you hate me?”
She looks very confused. “What do you mean? Why would I hate you? I’ve actually grown to like you a lot. I think you’re a really good friend,”
Friend. And suddenly, that stab wound that faded throughout the week, is now healed completely.
I know that I’m not completely satisfied with that. I think I want to be more than friends. But it’s a good start.
Our names are called up to present. But now I carry a feeling of confidence to the front of the room.

march 24th - “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.

(445 words)
It was the dead of night. A mysteriously cloaked somebody bounded delicately and silently among the thick woods. They were carrying a large package. Their small, feminine figure stopped upon a clearing, the moonlight beaming though the tree branches. They looked around, then slowly took their hood off. Locks of shiny brown hair tumbled down their shoulders. Their face was concentrated and grim. They quickly set down their package and rolled a rather large boulder aside. Underneath it was a hole. It emit a warm glow, and quickly, gathering their things, they hopped inside.

Riley sighed as she settled into her snug room underground. She sat contently in her rocking chair and snuggled up in a blanket underneath the glow of her self-made candles that were scattered throughout the place. It was a miniature yet cozy home, lined with dozens and dozens of books. She opened her package to add a new one to the collection. She loved to read. Beside the bookshelves was a small curved door lined with vines and flowers, to keep things looking pretty. She did have many plants lying around, but they weren't the best part.
Riley also loved to write. Behind the door lay a long table. Multitudes of empty or half-empty scrolls lay upon it, and more stacks of filled scrolls stuffed the shelves on the wall. Then on another side of the room was her humble kitchen. It wasn't very much, as she didn't have a freezer or a stove. But she ate well, going to restaurants and stores for a variety of foods. And then next to her round wooden table she had carved herself, lay two little dishes that she laid out every morning for her special roommate. Loudly, but not too loudly, she called her name sweetly, snapping her fingers.
A tiny, scaly creature came bounding into the room. Her eyes were large and excited as smoke began to puff out of her mouth. It was a miniature dragon. She was named Ember. Riley very much loved Ember, she was completely harmless.
She refilled Ember's dishes with the usual: insects, her favorite crunchy and nutritious meal; and freezing cold water. If it ever was warm, it would quickly become steam in the blink of an eye as she lapped it up. Cold water still boiled, but took longer.
Riley smiled warmly and went downstairs to her bedroom. It held shelves of her favorite books, and stuffed animals everywhere. She made herself comfortable underneath a blanket, and turned on her nightlight lamp, which was decorated with fake butterflies, and it made the whole room glow in different colors.
She loved her home very very much.

march 25th - discarded writing comp entry

(365 words)
Time flies.
Decades ago, I was growing.
I am shrinking now.
I may never run merrily down the street again laughing.

But for years, I had somebody. Somebody who loved me through thick and thin. When I felt as though the world was against me, she wasn’t. She brought color into my life.

Now, her color was fading. She often couldn’t get out of bed anymore. We both knew that her time was going to come soon.
So to lighten the mood, we would reflect on all the memories we’ve shared together. I still remember the day we first met, and the day I proposed.
We were young and happy and beautiful then. We grew up, and now, we are old and happy and beautiful.

I gaze at her fondly now, my hand nestled into hers. A small smile spreads across her face.
“Do you remember… when we went to the park together on our first date, and a dog stole your snack?” she chuckles warmly as she shares memories with me.
I squeeze her palm gently. “Do you remember when we lay next to each other in the evening, holding each other, talking, until we fell asleep?”
She laughed, her eyes sparkling with compassion. “That’s every night, love. You’ll half to be more specific,”
“I mean tonight, right now. It’s probably the best memory out of all of our memories together. Just this. You and I, holding hands, with love and happiness. That’s all I want. That's all I need.”

Then her face grows solemn and sad. She looks at me and forms a weak smile as she whispers,
“I’m so glad I was able to share my life with you.”

It was the last thing she said to me.

Sixty-five years of love flash before my eyes. Drinking coffee and talking at the cafe, our first kiss, the exchanging of wedding rings, moving into a new home, the sound of faint meowing every night from beside our bed.
Those sixty-five years had not been boring or sad. There were difficult times, but somehow, we were able to work through it together.
Now… I am on my own.
But I will always remember her.

e
ignore this lol

✶ back to main post ⤴

꙳˚ Welcome, shoppers, to the July 2024 session of Scratch Writing Camp! We are beyond excited to have you all here with us as we explore IKEA. To get this session started, introduce yourself to your fellow customers in the Main Cabin comments! Make sure to include some form of joke, whether it be your favorite riddle or a silly pun, in your introduction to celebrate international joke day on July 1st. See you in the showroom! ˚꙳

✧ july 1st: introducing myself using 1k+ words! ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 1,172 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ Salutations. My name is Riley and I use she/her pronouns. I am a teenage girl. I am one single individual among billions of others. Every single one of these 8 billion people on our planet has their own personality. Their own life. Their own story. Their own opinions, likes, dislikes, friends, enemies. Everyone is unique, and it's truly beautiful. No one is exactly like another. So I will tell you a little bit about who I am, and why I am unique.
I life an average life. I have a nice family who lives middle class. I have my own phone, my own room, I go to school and I have some friends there, but also some kids there I don't like. My dad's very religious, he works as a pastor. I talk to my dad about everything. He's very loving and accepting, and he's not judgmental of almost anyone. He's great. My mom's always been an English teacher. Right now though, she's a tutor who helps dyslexic kids. She can be really strict sometimes. Sometimes she yells at me, and I feel terrible. But I know she loves me. She has a lot to do. And I'm not a great kid anyways. I have three siblings. We all used to be close, but about 4 or 5 years ago, everything stopped. My older siblings were getting older, and my mom was getting a job. Our family was homeschooled, but with both parents being busy, we had to resort to online schooling. And then COVID-19 came along not long after. Each of us kids were withdrawing to our rooms. Our family never really talked to each other as much anymore. In 2023, we decided to do public school because independent learning is hard. Now, also in around 2020, something was happening to my younger brother.
The story of my younger brother is a very long story. It's really complicated. Whenever people ask about it, I really don't know how to explain it simply. And I'm not going to go into details because this is the internet and I honestly don't like telling personal family issues to the internet. But my little brother is very mentally ill. He struggles with some disabilities, and life has gotten very difficult for my family as my brother has gotten worse and worse. He's had multiple hospital visits by now. But he's still standing. I love him a lot and every day I just really really hope things will get better.
Okay, that was my family. But this is about me. I really like to draw. I've been drawing since I was very young and I've been slowly improving over the years. Emphasis on slowly. But no matter how self-conscious I could feel about my art, I still love to draw, and I'll never stop. It's how I express myself. I also like to write. Not as much as I used to, but it can still be nice. I'm trying to love it again. It's hard to have hobbies anymore. I also like being in theatre programs. It's funny because I really am never in theatre programs. I've had plenty of opportunities. I never join extracurriculars is the thing. Never. Only one time, in 6th grade, I joined Girl Scouts. And I never left because I have a really good friend there. But extracurriculars aren't for me. I don't feel like explaining why. But I will say that I am currently in a drama cast. It's very difficult, because as you know I don't do that kind of stuff. But I do genuinely enjoy acting and the people there are nice. I also like to listen to music. I would name all my favorite artists, but I honestly don't feel like it. Because I'd have to go onto Spotify and list everyone I follow. it's too much work. I don't like doing work, I'm a very lazy kid.
That's something else about me, I'm very lazy. I'm the kid who doesn't participate as much as I should in group projects. I'm the kid who plays video games or does nothing all class long. I'm the kid who doesn't do their homework enough. It's not that I don't understand what I'm learning. I'm just really lazy. Actually, the part about the group projects. I could get much more done if I was by myself, but I hate group projects and everyone hates working with me because I don't talk to people. My bad. But yeah, I'm lazy, and I hate doing work. Or the work just doesn't make any sense. I really don't like being this way, okay? But it's just how things go. I probably should try harder, but I don't feel like it. But I should probably stop yapping about school.
My laziness is something i don't like about myself. On a lighter note, here's something I DO like about myself. I like the kind of conversations I can have. Most people, especially my age, aren't interested in stuff I actually LIKE talking about, so I don't even bother. but the stuff me and my dad talk about, that's when you see the real me. I like talking about stuff that makes you think. or stuff that could make you mad. Or sad. I like talking about interesting things about politics, mysterious unanswered questions, controversial stuff, religion, mental health, and culture. I like having deep conversations. Emotional conversations. I like understanding things. I like trying to understand things. No one my age gets it, because they like to keep the subject light. I get that. Me too. But true connection is just sitting down and letting all your deepest darkest thoughts out without fear. That's why me and my dad are so close. Because I can tell my dad anything. Talking to him is the best. Sometimes I don't feel like talking, because I'm sad. But he makes me feel better. He cares about me. I don't know if this is getting emotional or whatever. I'm very lucky to have a dad like him. But I'll move on. I don't know what I would move onto, but I'll think of something. Because honestly what I just said is definitely only a fraction of my life. There is SO much of me and I feel like I have such a long story. And I'm only 14. I'm not going to tell you most of the stuff about me. Because honestly I'm not mentally well, and I'm mostly negative. I don't like being negative in front of others. It makes me feel vulnerable. I hate vulnerability. Specifically when it's me, it's not that bad with other people. I just judge myself too much. But anyway, I think I reached a thousand words by now, I haven't been keeping track. I don't know if I ended this weirdly. I just am tired of writing by now so I should probably end this now. I hope you enjoyed reading this, I hope you learned something reading this. Farewell.

✶ back to main post ⤴

꙳˚ Dear future self… Have you ever wondered what your future self will think of current you? Do you have any pressing questions for your future self? Now's your chance to find out - write a letter to your end-of-the-month self! Try to include some goals you have for this month, SWC or personal, and any questions you have for yourself in 200 words for 200 points. ˚꙳

✧ july 2nd: writing a letter to my future self at the end of the month ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 283 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ Dear Future Self,

How are you doing? Are you okay? I'm currently sitting at my computer in the dark, typing this. I don't know how I will be at the end of July. So much could happen in a month. I'm scared maybe you've gotten worse. But maybe you've gotten better. I hope you're still going to the park frequently, despite the weather. I hope you've created something this month that you're proud of. I hope you've talked to your friends more. I hope you have maybe even gotten the courage to tell them everything you've been hiding from them. I know that's hard, but it's important. You can't just pretend to be a whole different person around them forever. I hope your room doesn't look like a mess, but it's alright if it does. How has the play been? Are you still hanging out with that girl? She's really nice. I haven't even talked to her a whole lot, and yet I think about her all the time. I'm scared she thinks I'm crazy. Or weird. Or broken. I'm always scared that a chance to make new friends has been ruined because of my anxiety. So please I hope things are going well with everyone. How's your brother? I really hope he's okay. I hope he's home still, and maybe he'll calm down. How is your sister? She's moving out in a month, I heard. Is she alright? I'm going to miss her a lot. But are you okay? I really hope you're doing better than I am now. I hope you've been taking care of yourself. Doing the right things. I hope you're doing better than okay.

Sincerely,
Your Past Self

I am very stoopid i forgor about the daily so ignoer this

✶ back to main post ⤴

꙳˚ It's been a long time coming… Welcome to the first weekly of the session, legends! This week, we're spinning the clock around and exploring timing and pacing. | 1500 words required, 2000 points ˚꙳

✧ part one: passage of time ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 532 ✧

✰ My part ✰ 284 words
꙳˚ ꒰⇒ Jade was reading a book when she noticed a butterfly on her arm and a bee hovering by her leg. She couldn't help but smile, because she really loved this place. She'd noticed a hidden path at her local park, so, naturally, her curious self had decided to ditch her friends and follow it. The path was narrow and almost invisible to people outside because of the thick greenery surrounding her. But she liked the privacy, it made her feel safe and secure. Eventually, she stumbled upon a breathtaking area with a stream. Water shimmered as it flowed down rocks under the leaves. Finding a good, sturdy boulder to sit upon, she observed her surroundings. The stream wasn't very wide, and there was some grass around it. Behind her, there were dozens of daffodils. Bugs danced around them, enjoying the beauty with her. This place was lovely.
Unfortunately, Jade couldn't enjoy it for too long. After she'd put down her book, she noticed her friends were texting her, wondering where the heck she was. She sighed and looked around again, lingering. Suddenly, something caught her eye. A sign had been hammered to a nearby tree trunk. “HAVE YOU SEEN ME?”. Under the text was a black and white photo of some kind of animal. Squinting, she tried to figure out what it was. It didn't look like any ordinary animal. She couldn't recognize it, and she knew a lot about different animals. Maybe it was a rare, unheard of animal. But something about it felt weird. Jade had one thought she couldn't ignore as she stepped carefully into the narrow passage among the plants. This definitely wasn't going to be her last time there.

✧ part two: dual timelines ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: ??? ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ insert writing here

✧ part three: pacing ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: ??? ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ insert writing here

✧ part four: tie it all together ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: ??? ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ insert writing here

I didn't finish this lmao. that's okay though, I didn't expect myself to. Weeklies can be overwhelming.

✶ back to main post ⤴

꙳˚ I don't have the exact prompt, but basically, we have to write a step-by-step guide to something, anything, in 200 words to get 300 points! ˚꙳

✧ july 7th: step-by-step tutorial on how to eat a refrigerator ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 275 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ Hello there! We all love refrigerators. They're very tasty and crunchy. They also have numerous healthy foods contained inside of them! Fridges are a great meal. They can be hard to eat, though. So here's a step-by-step guide on how to eat a fridge! <3

1. First, find a good fridge. Don't find one at the store. Those aren't really cold, and they don't have any food in them. Find the ones in people's homes! Especially families. Those usually are packed with good food, with kids sticky fingerprints all over the outsides.

2. Don't take bites that are too big. Start the right way. You can't swallow the whole thing in one bite. Plus it won't taste as good! You should start with the door handles, then the doors. That way you can savor the taste and it won't break down as easily.

3. Once you've finished breaking the parts down and eating the doors, you should eat the food inside! That's the best part. A lot of expired stuff is probably in there too because people don't check the expiration date often. The older things are, the better! And take a bite out of the walls to add some crunch.

4. Finally, your belly is full. You're done, right? You ate the whole thing! But there's one extra side effect of eating fridges. Your stomach might have a hard time digesting all of this. Don't be surprised to get any painful exits those fridge parts may make, whether it's out your mouth or any other hole <3

5. A healthy fridge diet is definitely to eat about 1-2 fridges per week. But that's all! Stay chill and keep eating those refrigerators!

✶ back to main post ⤴

꙳˚ Time to put a twist on some old friends! Take an idiom or proverb, any one, and imagine what would happen if that were to come true. Is the grass always greener on the other side? What if the test really was a piece of cake? Write 400 words in this scenario to claim 300 points for your cabin! An additional 100 points can be earned for sharing proof! ˚꙳

✧ july 8th: writing about the idioms “break a leg” and “pull yourself together” literally ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 578 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ It was the night of the performance. This was my first time I was playing the lead role on stage. I'd come so far. But right now, my stomach felt like it had been twisted up and punched a dozen times. The play was going to start very soon. I was one of the first characters to come up on stage. There were hundreds of people in the audience. I didn't feel ready. Anxious thoughts buzzed in my head. What if I forget my lines? I've memorized them and rehearsed them over and over, but there's still a chance. Or what if I forget the right choreography to a dance and I make a mistake and bump into someone? My costume felt itchy and it was humid backstage. What if I looked sweaty? Oh no. I tried to swallow my nervousness. I was overthinking. My friend was behind me, and she gently placed her hand on my shoulder. “You can do this,” she whispered, and smiled encouragingly. “Break a leg, Addie!” I tried to smile back, but then the curtains began to slide over, revealing the bright stage. Quickly, I did my best to pull myself together, and I leapt into the spotlight. I beamed at the crowd. The lights were bright and intimidating. The audience in the room were silent and dark. Everyone was looking at me. I felt my stomach churn, and my head spun. I tried my hardest to keep smiling, keep talking. Was I even saying the right lines? I was paying attention to too many things. I felt my forearm crack, just a tiny bit. Finally, my lines were over. Other characters were next. But I still felt that crack in my arm getting worse. A little bit fell off. I wasn't sure if I should just leave it or not. But everyone must notice. I quickly picked it up and crammed it back in. Come on, pull yourself together, pull yourself together, don't fall apart. But I didn't have it all together. The stage went silent. Cracks spread, growing bigger around me. It was my turn to speak. But I couldn't remember. My mind blanked. Pieces of me began to tumble. I didn't have time to try and pull myself together again. We broke into a dance. Pieces still crumbled and thudded on the floor. Panicking, I didn't watch where I was going, and I bumped into someone and slipped. My fragile body went crashing to the floor. Chips of me flew everywhere. My entire leg fell off. There was a gasp from the crowd… I'd broken a leg. And not in any good way. “Is she okay?” I heard whispers buzzing and fluttering through the room. I tried to get up, but now I definitely couldn't hide it. I didn't have it all together. I didn't have anything together. I was broken. Surely this would be my last time ever on stage. I squeezed my eyes shut and accepted my future. People carried me off the stage. I was an embarrassment to everyone there, wasn't I? A tear rolled down my cheek, and I swatted it off. My friend hugged me. “It's okay, you'll do better next time! You did great in rehearsals, you just have some stage fright. I get it! Me too.” I hugged her back the best I could, with one of my legs missing. I felt a little comforted by her words. I'll try again next time.

✶ back to main post ⤴

꙳˚ SWC has many wonderful traditions, with new ones being created and changed every session! This week, we're changing up a SWC classic…and diving into some classic dailies in weekly form! | 1150 words required, 1500 points ˚꙳

✧ part one: three word stories ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 529 ✧

✧ inspired from this comment thread ✧
꙳˚ ꒰⇒ Deep, deep among the thick trees and foliage of the forest, nestled peacefully and secretly, there lay a quiet village. It's size wasn't flattering. Few people still knew about it, but even fewer remembered the days that this village stood a great and lively home. The days when children were sent out to fetch water, but they instead sat by the well and chattered with their friends, gasping and giggling. When mothers fiddled with their loose locks and wiped perspiration off their foreheads as they prepared dinner, and their husbands came home and spun their hats with a familiar loving twinkle in their eyes. The days when their leader was great and wise. He kept the community together and kept the streets bustling with busy humans. And when a scrawny, starved hound came stumbling into their arms, they accepted him. Everyone loved the dog. They even had a name for him: Flirf. They gave him a place to sleep and eat and play. Flirf was given a home, a chance to keep living.
But no one really knew this dog. No one knew his past, and what he'd been through. He wasn't elated when they took care of him. He didn't trust a single one of the villagers. To poor Flirf, every living soul was a potential enemy. He never let his guard down and never let his hopes up.
It was a special day for the village, a holiday. It was meant to celebrate their leader's birthday. That night, the sky was lit up with exploding colors that spewed out among the trees. Everyone seemed rowdy and drunk as they looked at the sky in awe.
Flirf didn't see the sky, but he could hear it. A loud CRACK pierced into his ears. His fur raised and he sniffed the air, alert and afraid. Smoke. More loud claps from above. The dog grew terrified as the sounds tormented him.
It hadn't rained in several days, and the plants were dry. Another boom, this time really loud. He whined and barked, running around. Some of the children were crying from the noise as well. He tried to comfort them, because he knew how it felt. But they swatted his snout. The adults laughed and swayed and shouted. He barked and barked, but it was in vain. No one understood his message.
Flirf stopped barking when he felt something slap against his side. Pain immediately grew, and it happened again. Something was hurting him. He turned around to face two annoyed drunk men who held rocks in their hands. “Shut up!” One of them roared.
Laughter from another group of people tickled his ears. until it all went quiet.
A tree fell. A crackling, burning sound and the smell of smoke. The forest was under attack, as leaves and trunks lit up in orange flames. Their village must be next.
And that was the disaster that ended them. The few survivors were old now, and their end was coming soon.
Eventually no one may know the story. Eventually there will be nothing left there at all. As for Flirf, no one remembers his name, but they all remember his impact.

✧ part two: bestselling bookstore ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 461 ✧

✧ this is my blurb, (114 words) and this is the blurb that inspired my story. ✧
꙳˚ ꒰⇒ Midge took a good look at the ground before every step. Her eyes twitched in every direction, and her muscles tensed, ready for any danger. Her body ached, but she must persist. The familiar dark, deep voice whispered in her ear, reminding her of her task and every little thing that could go wrong about it.
Midge froze at the sound of a machine whirring. She hadn't heard a sound like that in ages. Perhaps she was finally getting close. But she now had to be even more careful. She silently leaped over logs and bushes, keeping close to a large boulder sheltering her from whatever was beyond it. Until suddenly that voice screamed into her ear, and she winced. She'd stepped on a small twig. It made a cracking sound, and she held her breath. Even the smallest disturbance could ruin everything.
She'd been hunting these people down ever since they killed her parents. They were a truly disturbing cult who enjoyed pain and destruction. She could've been done for as well if it weren't for a sprite roaming through the forest. Now he whispers in her ear every second, tormenting her mind. She knows without him, she'd be as good as dead. But she didn't like his firm and harsh voice. She didn't like the way he scratched at her scalp sometimes to punish her. It was happening again.
The machine started up again, and she sighed a little. Carefully, she pulled out her weapon that took 4 years to craft. It was powerful and surely could defeat them. As long as nothing went wrong.
Her sprite guide harshly whispered in her ear to wait. Keep waiting. Branches snapped as someone was getting closer.
Three. Two. One. GO! The voice screeched. She charged out and pointed her sharp wand at… a deer. Its ears twitched and it galloped away. Heaving, cackling laughter echoed in her brain. She plopped down and leaned against her boulder. It may have been funny to him, but not to her.
She was determined more than ever to find that cult. (347 words)

✧ part three: take a break - ekphrastic poem ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 220 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ I trudge under the warm, blazing sun
And slide my bag over my head
I feel its smooth leather as I set it down
And it leans against a pole.
After pushing two white earbuds
Into my ears
I am ready.
I take the chains into my hands
And settle myself down upon the seat
Which is hot from sitting in the sun
The rust on the chain is scratchy,
But I don't take my hands off as I push myself forward,
closing my eyes
And letting the music spill into my head.
The sounds of children and people fade away
And are replaced with the familiar drums and beats
Of my favorite songs
My stomach flips a little as I fly through the air
But it feels like bliss
My legs, they repeat
And go in and out
In and out
And in and out
And I go higher and faster
On the swingset
I continue for a long time
And open my eyes to see the colorful world again
The green grass and leaves,
The sunlight patches between branches,
The colorful plastic of playground material
And children playing
And I don't care if I look silly,
Or childish because I am
A teenager all alone at a children's playground
I feel free
And that is what matters now

✧ part four: google translate ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 426 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ uhh this was my google translated part lmao: “If you (not alive) your parents, they will (not alive) you. This is an effective way to reduce anxiety and depression. This is what would happen if there were no ghosts in the forest. Now he whispered in her ear every second and broke her heart. He knew he would (dye) without her. But he didn't like her loud voice. I don't like when you criticize me sometimes.” …now for my part!

WARNING: DARK. BE CAREFUL-
꙳˚ ꒰⇒ My body trembled in horror as I was slowly coming to consciousness. My mother was slumped over on the fallen tree trunk, her eyes open and staring into space. Her face was pale and her chest was soaked in red… An eerie realization took over me and I shouted in terror. But there was no one for miles in the forest to hear my cries, which only grew louder when I noticed my father. He stared at me, right into my soul. There was an emptiness in his eyes that I would never forget. Red was dripping from his head. I began to sob. I had done this, hadn't I? The weapon in my hands fell to the ground and I sank to my knees, shaking. I couldn't bear to look at them for a while. I stared at the ground and tried to process what had happened. What was I going to do now? Was I all on my own? Was I a murd-? I stood up. I stared at them. And I kept staring and staring until I realized I hadn't blinked in a while. I rubbed my eyes and suddenly they had vanished. I swiveled around. They were gone. The forest was quiet and empty, and now I was the only body here. Not even insects or animals lived here. Not even ghosts. And when there were no ghosts… suddenly a voice whispered inaudible sounds into my ear. I shivered. I was all alone. Yet I knew this voice. I knew exactly who it was. He kept whispering glitchy undetermined words that I couldn't decipher. I broke down and I screamed until the voice finally crackled and was gone. My mind grew dizzy with bewilderedness and I felt like I was going to faint. Poisoned air was entering my lungs. I lay down and stared at the branches swaying above me. Their leaves danced and swung, as though nothing was happening. The trees didn't even care about me. There was nothing to save me. I kept staring up dazedly. I watched the blue sky and the branches waving at me, taunting me. I watched the sun settle down and the sky grow darker. A single star appeared in the sky, and it was the last star I ever saw. I don't think I had enough time to wish upon it. That star had already decided my fate. The last words that went through my mind were that at least I'd see my parents soon again. Maybe life will be easier as a ghost.

✧ TOTAL WORD COUNT: 1636 ✧

✶ back to main post ⤴

꙳˚ Each book has a million characters– at least, that’s what it feels like sometimes, yet most stories are only written from the perspective of one or two characters. There are so many lives yet to be explored in such a rich world, so this week, we’ll be focusing on bringing different types of' perspectives to light. | 1400 words required, 3000 points ˚꙳

✧ part one: switching perspectives ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 504 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ Nova stared intensely at the paper in front of her, in hopes that maybe her pupils could shoot out lasers and burn it. She felt groggy and dazed under the glaring fluorescent lights of the school. It was first period, and was still dark outside. She had woken up just about 20 minutes ago, but now she was confronted with 7 long hours of holding back a million words, actions, and tears. The teacher's monotone voice only made things worse. His tongue never seemed to get tired. He only stopped to lecture a student who was misbehaving, and to take a sip of water. Nova didn't get how the kid next to her could bear it. They always seemed happy to be there, and it always tickled her heart with envy. She absolutely despised this class. Everything about it.

Bailey loved this class. Everything about it. They loved the smooth and clear voice of the teacher, the sweet lavender aroma that hung in the air. They loved Mr. Brown's neat and organized writing on the board. And the students staying quiet, not picking on them or talking and yelling to one another. They listened intently to his presentation on coral reefs, and took notes eagerly. They loved underwater things. And coral reefs are one of the most beautiful things the ocean has. Bailey noticed the girl next to them slumping tiredly in her chair. They wondered how it feels for other kids to be here. Apparently, it's not quite as nice for them. However, at the same time, most of these kids would rather be in the gym or the cafeteria. And those are always their least favorite places. They quietly tapped on the girl, Nova, they figured. “Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” Their words seemed to push through the thick air, rather than pierce it.
“Uh- yeah, I'm fine,” Nova smiled weakly, wondering why they were talking. She was anxious it would get attention because of how silent the place is. “Just tired.”
“Alright, just asking. I was just noticing that you looked… tired,” They whispered.
Nova almost rolled her eyes, but stopped herself. “Yeah,” she smiled again a little, hoping to end the conversation.
But this kid wanted to talk, clearly. “Are you paying attention?”
Eye roll. A real one. “I- What does it look like?” She gestured towards her blank, untouched paper. Clearly this was obvious: no, she had not been paying even a drop of attention. Then Mr. Brown spun around with his big stupid ears. Oh god.
“Bailey, Nova, please pay attention.” He said, sternly.
“Of course, I'm sorry,” Bailey looked down at their perfect self with their perfect apology and envy twisted around Nova's heart more again. Strong emotions came tumbling and crashing through her head. Embarrassment, jealousy, anger, fear, sadness, anxiety. She stared at the clock, waiting for the class to end.
Later that day, she saw Bailey crying in the library eating lunch. They were by themself.
Nova's envy loosened its grip ever so slightly.

✧ part two: unreliable narrators ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: 609 ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒ traits: socially anxious and insecure, takes everything personally

Today, I experienced possibly the most devastating, life-altering event of my entire life. I can't imagine that anything could get much worse than this. I'm not entirely sure that I should be recounting the details of the series of terrible happenings in Mrs. Baker's class, that began at precisely 10:25 AM. But I will. If I were to appear on the news, move continents, or become a total loser with no friends (which I'm sure is already beginning to happen), these very words will be provided to anyone who is misinformed on the event. This is my side of the story. This is what REALLY happened.
Let's get this straight, I will avoid boys at all costs. Ones my age or younger. I don't trust them and I never will. In middle school they evolve into some different species that yell and laugh and swing at one another for fun.
Unfortunately, Mrs. Baker hates me. Whenever she catches my eye, she smiles just a little bit, but her eyes don't smile. They smile at other kids. But not me. So of course she seizes her chance to pair me up with THREE rowdy boys, Andy O., Andy R., and Blake (yeah, his name is disappointing), for a group project. And these boys really don't like me. I know this because I had to present a slideshow to class. It was scary as heck, but those three boys giggling for the entire time weren't helping much. So they hate me. They think I'm weird. Or stupid, or probably both. And Mrs. Baker hates me. Plenty of people hate me, really. It's not much fun.
Anyway, at 10:25 AM, Andy R. tried to talk to me, and of course, I brushed him off. Why wouldn't I? Him being honest or helpful was the LAST possibility on my mind.
“Yo Freya, is it just me, or is there a big bug on your head?” He laughed a little.
“Shut up,” I rolled my eyes at him, signaling that I didn't care for his childish pranks. But clearly he wasn't getting it. He really just hates me, doesn't he?
“Nah, bro, I think there's actually a big bug– like a spider–”
“No there isn't! You're just being annoying. I'm not stupid–” I tried to clamp my mouth shut. I probably should have stopped saying so much. Maybe then he'd leave me alone.
“No there's actually a spider,” Blake interjected. He reached his hand up. Was he trying to touch my head? In a flash, I snatched his wrist to push it away. What was he even thinking? And then I noticed other people were looking at me. My chest began to thump nervously.
And in that dire moment, I understood that they were right as a tickly creature leapt onto my arm and began scurrying up my wrist. Impulsively, I shrieked and thrashed my forearm wildly in an attempt to fling it off. I think it worked, because it was nowhere to be found after that.
My eyes scanned my surroundings, only to be met with more eyes. Now everyone really was staring at me.
Mrs. Baker walked up to our table with those weird dead eyes. “Is everything alright?”
Mortified, I began to cry. I absolutely loathe the fact that anytime I'm even slightly embarrassed, I'll cry. It really only worsens things.
Then I retched, gagging. I rushed out of the classroom and I sat in the bathroom for a good while after that, sitting in my tears and vomit.
I don't know how I'm supposed to return to school tomorrow. I think I'll run away from home at midnight.

✧ part three: metafiction ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: ??? ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒

✧ part four: self-insertion ☽ ✰ ☾ word count: ??? ✧

꙳˚ ꒰⇒

✧ TOTAL WORD COUNT: ???? ✧