Daily 3/4/24 || I got very lucky and rolled 1st person present tense :00 (But also I’m terrible at maintaining the same tense XDD so we’ll see how this goes) || 376/300 words ||

This is the moment that could change everything.

I spark a flame in my hand, the blue of the light reflecting on my pale palm.

Before anyone can notice, I extinguish the blaze. Summoning our powers before they are tested and approved by the council is illegal. What I’m doing is illegal.

I am illegal.

But I know that if I prove I can control my powers, the council will let me keep living, instead of locking me up in a prison with the rest of the ‘uncontrollable’ powers.

I look over to my best friend, Arianna, and see her smile with excitement.

Our powers aren’t supposed to trigger before they are tested.

I know Arianna’s haven’t yet.

Arianna bounces over to me, her eyes sparkling. She has light blonde hair, the tips dyed a vibrant purple that matches the hue of her stunning eyes. Right now she is wearing a sage green romper that works perfectly with the lightly-tanned hue of her skin.

I take a moment to survey the testing room around me. The ceiling is high and arched, with columns of pale white reaching up to touch the ceiling. The floors were gray and white marble, shining with a recent polish.

I can see my reflection on the surface of the shining marble. Five feet tall. Dark tan skin with black hair, bright green eyes that shine in the pale overhead lights of the testing room.

I hear the first name being called, and I swallow fast, trying to keep my hands from shaking.

Just don’t let them know you’ve already self-triggered your ability.

And then another, more pressing thought enters my mind.

Don’t let them know about the accident.

Thoughts of the accident fill my mind, and I shudder in horror, remembering flames licking up the side of the building, my hands rushing to stop it. The pain rushing up my palms as I tried to stop the mess I had created.

Screams as people realize what had happened.

I only manage to pull myself away from the thoughts by my name being called from the testing room.

I step forward, looking at Arianna for comfort. She smiles, and I breathe in and out slowly, before stepping forward to meet my fate.

Campers! It’s nice to meet all of you <3 If you don’t know me, I’m Kiara (@Strawberry-Lemon), and this past March I led Fantasy! Our theme was Shiz University, based around the musical (and now a movie) Wicked. Campers were students at Shiz University, and eventually took a trip down the Yellow Brick Road to help stop the Wizard and keep the animals from losing their ability to speak. However, we left the ending somewhat incomplete: the campers never reached the Emerald City. That is what I’m here for today: can you complete this final writing challenge, and defeat the Wizard for us once and for all?

Another post I’m going to use for something else later XD

Daily 3/5/24 || “Effie Trinket crosses back to the podium, so others the slip of paper, and reads out the name in a clear voice. And it’s not me. It’s Primrose Everdeen.” I chose to switch perspectives, since it is the 2nd chapter and a perspective change still could be possible in the book. And in this version, Katniss doesn’t volunteer. || 312/200 Words ||

Chapter Two
Primrose Everdeen

My legs shaking, I stepped forward. I looked backwards to Katniss, who looked as pale as a ghost. But she doesn’t do anything. She just stands there, like she doesn’t know what’s going on, like she isn’t there.
So I try not to cry as I walk forward, my eyes darting among the other kids from 12. I notice some of them, before looking back to see Gale, staring at Katniss, his fists clenched and his teeth gritted. I meet his eyes, and he gives me an encouraging nod.
So onward I walk, and each step feels like it takes forever, the light flashing in my eyes as I try not to pass out -or worse- cry.
After what seems like forever, I reach the podium. There Effie is, her lips drawn into a tight smile. “Well, come on dear.”
She extends an arm, but I don’t take it. Instead, I walk up the steps on my own, staring down the surprised Effie. If I have to do this, I might as well do it in style.
I look out at the people I once called my friends -or as close to it as you can come, in 12- and turn to Effie, who has recovered from my momentary stand.
”Come on everybody! Let’s give a big round of applause to our newest tribute!”
But nobody claps. For some reason, I get this feeling of deja vu, like I have been here before. I know that this has happened before, but it was Katniss on the stage instead of me.
But I shake it off as quickly as it comes. And then, my heart in my throat, I see each person touch three fingers of their left hand to their lips and hold it out to me.
I swallow hard, and salute back. It’s the only thing I know how to do.

Daily 3/6/24 || Genre Daily: I love this, even though it is a little unclear and hazy in spots. This is one of my first times writing a character who mentally-edits themselves, but I am proud of how it turned out. Can you guess what genre it is? (Honestly its a mix of like 3 different genres so haha) || 261/250 words ||

His eyes are starlit.

Beautiful

Painful

I try not to think.

I let the music take over.

I see the lights from the crowd, see his eyes looking back at me from the dim light of the starlight outside.

I try to find joy in the performance, but all I can think about is the enviro-suits we have to wear.

Fake air.

We had to evacuate.

Theater brings me joy. Theater is a spark of joy in the darkness of outer space. I look around and see more faces, I see eyes trying to get lost in the performance of characters, the characters that we all see as pointless, now that our world is ending.

Alone in space

Together in the end

“The sun’ll come out, tomorrow…” I sing softly from backstage.

There is no sun anymore

There are more suns than just ours.

I see the tears slipping down his face.

Still beautiful painful

I want to go out there and tell him it’ll all be okay

I want to go out there and shame him for everything he did wrong

She still got the lead role.

We’re in the middle of freaking space and she still is in front of me in everything.

Beauty

Voice

Smarts

She even took him away from me.

Traitor

I want to be wanted, even now that the end peace is near.

I want to be enough, for once in my short lifetime.

Why am I never enough?

I see his face, as the spaceship crashes and it all fades to black.

Beautiful

Accidental double post :0

Daily 3/8/24 || Female thank-you daily: I’m going to thank my lovely voice teacher Miss Katie , I look up to her in more ways than just singing. She’s so incredibly kind and funny, and one of the sweetest people I have ever met. || 532/200 words ||

Dear Miss Katie,

Where do I begin? We are coming up on three years of working together, and I know you’ve loved seeing me and my voice grow. But I have to admit that I’ve loved seeing you grow with me.

We started as a 5th grader and a college student going through the pandemic together, trying to figure life out and make it through by use of our voices. I actually started taking lessons with you because I lost to a girl who was -back then- my greatest rival, and is now one of my best friends. Life really has come full circle, hasn’t it?

I got to watch -virtually, like everything we do <3- your college recital, and see your opera performances halfway across the country, while still meeting every Sunday for a Zoom call where you’ve helped grow me in more ways than one. Because of you, I’ve become stronger, more self-assured, and more open than ever before. I have to owe a lot of it to you.

I think you’ve seen me grow as well. I started out as a socially-awkward 5th grader who didn’t talk much, with a voice that I now openly criticize (sorry, past self <3). Now, I’m a much more open girl with a voice that I am -frankly- rather in love with.

But I really haven’t got around to a lot of the thanking yet.

First, I would love to thank you for teaching me how to use this wonderful thing I call my voice. You make sure that I always am treating it well, but you aren’t yelling at me to ‘save it’ like my choir directors sometimes do. You let me do silly things like scream at the top of my lungs or vent about life, but you also let me know when its time to be serious.

Secondly, you let me choose songs that are relatable and worthwhile to me. I love so much that you don’t try to dictate too much of my song choices, and that you let me grow and flourish in my song vocabulary. I think you’re half the reason I got into Olivia Rodrigo, and now she’s one of my top artists, so thanks for that! Also, you don’t try to do songs that are ‘in my range’ or ‘good for my voice.’ You know the importance to stretch my range and voice, and you have helped me find my own voice, the mix-head-dominant voice that I think is my signature, perfectly suited for roles like Anna and Cady Heron. (Also, it helps me slay at karaoke night on the cruise boats. Thanks for that <3)

Lastly, you aren’t afraid to be funny or silly, and let me do exercises that are funny and silly as well. I will always remember some of the best exercises that we have done, and how much fun I had working on them with you.

I really can’t thank you enough for how much you have helped shape me over the past three years of my life, and how wonderful it has been working with you this long. Heres to many more years!

Your student and friend,
Kiara <33

Weekly 1 || Note: Some parts were kind of rushed, so I’m not very proud of the weekly as a whole, but the third and fifth sections were probably the pieces that were most thorough and complete, which means that they were probably my favorite to write ^^ || 3,557/1,200 Words! ||


Part 1 || Myths: Retellings || Notes: I chose the myth of Medusa, since I have always been fascinated by her story. This is it told from Athena’s POV || 546/200 words

The girl has been irritating me for some time, but I know it is only a matter of moments before she steps out of line and I can responsibly take her out of the world, keep her from bothering me for much longer.

This particular girl lives in Athens, the city I have promised my service too. I know they flourish under my guidance, my wisdom and my beauty.

But the girl never comes to pray, and that is only one of the things that has been bothering me.

She likes to brag that she is the most beautiful in all the land. She never says anything else, or does much else than admire her own face and blonde curls. She goes to school -simply to ‘bless others with her presence- but doesn’t do much in class, and never knows the answer if she is called on to answer a question.

Perhaps I would take her as my own daughter, if only she applied herself in school and was more humble than the show off she currently is.

She thinks all the boys will chase after her simply because of her looks, and I believe that part of her is correct, that the male mind thinks of little else except looks.

And in some cases it does, but I know men well enough to know that what they value most is a good personality, and currently Medusa -the girl who has been giving me trouble- is a terrible bore.

I find myself looking down at her from the heavens, where me and the other godly beings spend our time granting favors to those who have pleased us, and punishing those who don’t.

I know that Zeus disapproves of punishing mortals simply because they displease us, but I know him well enough to know that he is hypocritical.


But I don’t do anything, simply because she hasn’t done anything wrong but not apply herself to learning and becoming smarter.

But one day, the girl shows herself in my temple. And obviously I am very interested, so I watch as she walks inside, admiring the statue of me. I feel -and reasonably so- happy that she is looking at my beauty, but then she says something unforgivable.

“I don’t know why they put up a statue of this crone. I think the sculptor would much rather have put up a statue of me.”

This fills me with such rage, that I am surprised I didn’t go down there and punish her with all the people watching.

But, appalled, everybody leaves, allowing me to practice my wrath by myself.

“Well, then, you should know there is more to life than just beauty.” I said, transporting myself from Olympus down to where the girl stands.

Taken by my beauty in real life, she gasps.

“There is also selflessness, and wisdom, and kindness. I might have even taken you for my own if you showed an inch of any of those traits. But you didn’t. So now, since you have insulted me so, I will make you so ugly that anybody who looks upon you will turn to stone.”

And so I do. I banish her to go live with the gorgons, and off she goes, never to be beautiful again.


Part 2 || Historical Fiction: If Walls Could Talk || 405/200 Words

We see her, her form curled up on her bed, shaking with tears that she is afraid to shed.

We’ve seen her through so much -her first love, her first fight, her first musical, her first A, her first F- and now we’ve seen her through her first doubts, the doubts about the love we have come to trust.

She is playing sad music -sometimes music shows what she never can- and she is changing the letters on her letter-board, resembling a new quote that shows how she is feeling right now.

“All that we are is all that we’ll ever be.”

Because that is how she feels, tears running down her face in rivers, her form shaking as she is afraid to tell him the words she has been thinking for such a long time.

She’s messed up so bad, and they’ve fallen out of touch over the past couple of months. She isn’t sure what to think anymore, and we wish we could reach out from our coatings of paint and give her a hug.

It wasn’t too long ago that she grew up. She painted us from our cheerful pink to a darker blue, resembling the young teen she is now.

She got a new bed, goodbye to the little twin sized bed that she had spent her entire childhood in. Gone were the stickers of mermaids and other fantastical creatures that had once littered our surfaces, replaced with watercolors and pottery her uncle made her, a bulletin board with playbills and a letter board with quotes that she changed every so often.

He’s texted her, we can see the little notification on her phone screen. But she doesn’t reply. She doesn’t even go through the motions of staring at it. She just turns off her phone, tucking it under her pillow and walking away.

We know that she isn’t sure. We know that she doesn’t know whether this is the right next step, or if it is the proper way to grow up, breaking up with him.

But we know that she will make a decision that determines the rest of her life. We know that she will break, she will text him back because she doesn’t know what else to do. But for now, we relish in the thought that we can comfort her, if only by making sure the temperature is right in her room, or seeing to it that we don’t reflect too much light, giving her a good night’s rest.

She deserves the sleep. We know she will get through this phase, and we will be with her every step of the way.

Part 3 || Fairy Tales: Placing yourself in a fairy tale|| Notes: I actually got inspired by a short story I wrote for JWC, about being the ‘teapot’ in my story. All writing here is original, however || 550/200 words ||

There was a storm last night.

I remember it because of the visitor.

The woman had appeared, late into the night, banging the large brass knocker on the door, a thud that echoed through the house like a resounding boom, almost to be mistaken for a crack of thunder.

Kaleb had rushed to my room, knocking twice before opening the door wide. I remember his face, wide and panicked, asking me -his best friend- what to do. Out of the two of us, I had always been the ‘people person.’ Whenever Kaleb had a speech, you better know who was writing it. And I didn’t mind it. In fact, I loved the fact that the entire kingdom was swayed by my words.

Kaleb was the face of the country, and paired with my words, he was a powerful foe to face. While sometimes socially awkward, I always managed to tell him the right thing to say, and when he pushed aside his fears and talked, he could manage to charm an entire room all by himself, without me.

His natural charisma was what charmed me in the first place

As we rushed downstairs to see the visitor, I recalled the night where we had first met, when I had been sneaking into the kitchens to see my mother -working another late-night shift- and quite literally ran into the prince. He had apologized vastly -though it was truly my fault- and had become fast friends, getting into trouble and hanging out, scouring the corners of the castle for secret passages and things that were simply begging to be explored.

Now me and Kaleb -terrified, since it was night and we didn’t know who would be knocking at this time- raced down the main stairs to the parlor, where light flashed through the grand windows, illuminating the dark sky and rain that was pouring down in sheets.

We opened the door to see a young woman, beautiful, standing on the steps. Her face, however, was twisted into a grotesque smile that made both me and Kaleb pull back for a second.

“Hello, children.” She said, before pulling a wand from her pocket and enveloping the castle in brilliant light.

~

It’s been almost a year since the woman came, and the staff of the castle -and Kaleb himself- are losing hope.

I’ve spent days in the tea cupboard, remembering the times me and Kaleb would hide in here together. Though the reason I was now in this cupboard was vastly different from the reason that younger me had. It was because I was now the teapot, forced to watch as Kaleb fell for a different girl, not me.

Not the girl who was ignorant enough to fall in love with her best friend.

At least, all the staff had nothing to do but pray that Kaleb fell for somebody else, even though it was breaking my heart. Because if he didn’t break the spell by falling in love before the last petal fell, we would stay this way forever, slowly losing our humanity as we fully became the non-living objects that we were cursed to take the form of.

And Kaleb would stay as the beast, trapped inside a skin he didn’t deserve.

Part 4 || Folktales: Magical realism || 843/200 words

I stand in the middle of the hallway, trying not to blow flames at the persistent kids around me, pushing and shoving their way past with books in their arms, clutching tight to their chests.

I feel my leathery wings stretch against my back, aching to sprawl and fly me above the chaos that is currently the hallway of the middle school my parents forced me to attend.

I told them it would do me no good, but my dad -who is just like me- convinced me if he could do it again, he would go to traditional school.

So here I am, world. Do what you will.

The lights are too bright, reflecting onto off-white tiles on the floor, covered with dust from the construction that our school always seems to be going through.

I stand, trying not to get shoved into the wall as I make my way to language arts, my next class.

When I get in there, my eyes always seek out Toby automatically.

As far as I know it, Toby is the only person of our kind —the magical kind— in my class. While he isn’t a dragon like me, he’s a wizard, specializing in elements -though his favorite is fire because, well, fire- but he can do some basic masking spells as well.

You might think about me, part dragon, and think automatically that I could breathe fire.

Actually, that isn’t true.

There are several different types of dragons. Some can breathe fire, true, but still others can breathe ice and there are a couple that have multiple heads, the Hydras.

I, on the other hand, can spit p0ison. But only if I choose.

Now, I wish I could send some of that towards the kids who are shoving their way into the language arts classroom.

But it would be a violation of the second code of magic if I did, so I refrained.

Toby walked toward me, and I saw a small spark lingering on his fingertips. Without words, I smacked his arm, reminding him that he wasn’t supposed to use his magic in school.

Toby raised his hands apologetically, and I sighed and rolled my eyes.

As we sat down -Toby was across the classroom from me, sadly- I took a second to relish the darker environment of the Language Arts classroom, in stark comparison to the bright lights of the hallway, the red of the lockers, beat up and repainted.

Our teacher was sick today, so we had a sub. At first, I thought it was simply a rare trait that her eyes were slightly slit, her pupils tinted bright yellow.

But the way she moved… something was not natural.

I could feel my wings stretching across my back.

Part of the reason I had been sent to this school -aside from my father- was that this was one of the largest schools in the state, and monsters loved to frequent it. Of course, it always ended up as a horrible story about kids somehow d****, but me and Toby knew that it was partly our job to protect them.

So we stood there, poised as she surveyed the classroom.

For a second, I thought I could see her hair move.

A snake-woman. Of course. She must be here to hunt.

But I knew I couldn’t make a move unless she did first. It was the third code of magic.

So I made eye contact with Toby, and he nodded, signaling he also knew what was happening.

I could see him murmuring to himself, and I knew that he was working on casting a ghosting spell. It was to cloud the memories of the students. If it came down to a fight, they would remember nothing.

If it didn’t they just wouldn’t recall that much of the class.

It was the safest option for us magic-goers.

The first thirty-so minutes of class were normal.

But things started turning weird when we heard the scream.

Me and Toby whipped around, and I transformed into my dragon form without thinking about it. I took a moment to make sure I was fully-formed, with glistening purple scales, my mouth yawning open, p0sion glistening on the roof of my mouth.

I saw Toby, his fire full on his hands, as we faced the snake woman.

Toby had cast a more powerful masking spell, and the students now were looking at the walls with dazed expressions on their faces, hardly responding to the world.

”Well…” She hissed, her eyes glinting yellow, “A wizard and a dragon… how intresssting.”

I spat p0ison at her, and she jumped back, the liquid searing a burning hole in the ground.

Toby hit her with a ball of fire, and she swiftly fell over, howling in pain.

A group then appeared in the group, a few wizards with magic sparking on the tips of their fingers, a few faeries, their wands glowing bright gold. Dragons, fully formed, scales glinting the colors of the rainbow.

”Good job, Alissa and Toby. We’ll take it from here.”

Part 5 || Fairy Tales: Character meet-up|| Notes: In the JWC 2024 session, I began a collection of short stories of fairy tale retellings, beginning with Little Red Riding Hood, which is my favorite by far. For this, I will be focusing on a different part of Red’s tale, where she meets up with her good friend Hansel and reaches the fairy tale academy. || 835/200 words

The village that I had once called my home was in ruins.

The houses -lovingly made of stone and brick- were up in flames, the ash coating the once-pristine cobblestones. My face was coated with mud and ash, my lungs trying to fight back the smoke that filled the air, my eyes watering with fear, sadness, and the unclean air.

The fairy tales always had their revenge.

So I ran, not sure if there was anybody left. Fairy tales had ruined my life, and I would make sure that they stayed where they were supposed to, with princesses and warlocks and witches, instead of creeping into my life -into anybody’s unsuspecting life- ever again.

When I reached the edge of the forest that bordered our smoking village, I turned back once, the air now clear.

The houses that I had loved, the shops and gardens that had been my childhood were up in flames, crumbling slowly, pieces falling to the cobblestones below. I saw b0di3s littering the streets, trapping and burning. I thought I could make out the shadow of a person, running like I was, but it was gone before I could call out.

And so I turned, not looking back at the pain again, and ran into the woods.

~

When there was light again, I could hardly tell you how many days it had been.

I was starving and my body was frail and thinning. There were scratches and bruises running up my arms and legs, and I still hadn’t washed the ash off my body and face.

When I exited the forest, I wasn’t entirely sure where I was. It was a huge meadow, with a large building in the center.

Kids milled about the edge of the forest, talking and laughing, some carrying a bow-and-arrow or a sword hooked onto a belt.

They looked… happy.

So when I emerged from the forest, they all turned to me, their mouths gaping.

For a few seconds, it was complete silence.

Then a boy stepped out, pushing people aside. When he was standing right in front of me, I noticed that he was my age, with golden-blonde curls and glittering hazel eyes, wearing a leather breastplate over his shirt and a leather belt that wrapped around his waist, along with light brown trousers and leather boots. He had axes strapped to the back of his belt, and he wore a smile that made me falter for a second.

“I’m Hansel. And you are?”

The time I had spent in the woods was muddling my brain, but I managed to stammer out in an ash-filled, raspy voice: “Red.”

“No last name?” He asked, curious.

I was only mildly aware of the entire courtyard of kids staring at me when I replied: “Not anymore.”

A woman came out of the building, with wings the color of sapphire, wearing a pale blue dress. “Oh you poor honey. I can only assume you are a refugee from the Brendendale fire?”

Hearing the name of my old village made me shudder, but I nodded while trying not to tear up again.

“I am the Fairy Godmother, but you can call me Elspeth. Come, dear, and we will get you cleaned up. Hansel, do you mind coming along?”

Hansel smiled a little. “Not at all, come on, Red.” He said, smiling.

So we entered, and I was in awe of all the murals that decorated the walls. Pictures of heroes in glinting gold armor, of princesses wielding sw0rds, grinning as they took down a foe, princes bowing at their feet.

But some of the pictures were not so pleasant. A prince, falling to the ground after eating a poisoned apple. A carpet, torn and laying in tatters.

Elspeth saw me looking and said: “Dear, none of that has never happened. Those are simply cautionary tales, warning those who might think about joining a fairytale campaign what might happen. Those, however,” She said quickly, pointing towards the wall of happy pictures, “Are real. And some of them are my students!” She gave me a warm smile, leading me and Hansel into yet another room. “You won’t be under my teaching, I have a feeling you will be one of Marabeth’s, but you will most certainly be one of the greatest warriors we have ever had.”

At her praise, I perk up. I turn towards Hansel to ask if this is something she tells everyone, but even he looks surprised.

“Hansel, dear, can you show Red the way to her dorm? I think the others there will be able to get her cleaned up.”

Hansel nodded, and grabbed my hand, pulling me along behind him.

Little did I know then that he would be my best friend, my scout, my spotter and my savior. Little did I know he wouldn’t be my forever, but a friend that would be there for me through everything instead.

But at that moment, we were simply a girl, a boy, and a story waiting to unfold.

Part 6 || Myth: Genre-switch || Notes: The Labyrinth of the Minotaur… in space. Have fun with that (and yes, I mis-spelled several of the names to make them sound more sci-fi-ish) || 378/200 words

The space station had been in jeopardy for a long time.

The alien king from the next galaxy over had agreed to a hasty peace, but on the condition that the space station send seven girls and seven boys each year to brave the minotaur.

Thezus, the son of the head general of the space general, was done with having their people taken and sent to the alien king.

“Father, I know that I can outsmart the minotaur. Please just let me go, and I can bring peace to the land.”

Aegu -his father- finally agreed. “Fine. But if you do manage to defeat the minotaur, please make your signal light on the spaceship white instead of black, so I know that you are okay.”


Thezus agreed, and soon he was on a spaceship with thirteen other children, bound for the maze.

When he finally arrived at the alien planet, he met Ardiana, the daughter of Minoz, the king that had been stealing the children for at least half a decade.

The planet was strange, with a sky that was the color of ripe mango and oceans that were a deep green color. But something about the planet felt oddly cold and unnatural, like the minotaur struggling beneath the surface of the planet in the labyrinth made the entire place unsteady, about to tilt on its axis.

Ardiana told him this: “I h@te my father, I don’t like how he always tells me what to do and when. I want to escape him. I’ll help you defeat the minotaur, but only if you take me with you.”

Thezus nodded, and so she told him the strategy, to take a piece of string with him in the maze.

So when he was transported under the surface of the unnatural planet, he heard the thundering cry of the minotaur in the distance. Following the sound, he unraveled the string behind him, letting it rest on the cold, hard soil of the planet.

When he finally reached the minotaur, he defeated it easily before coming back out the maze the way he had come.

Ardiana celebrated with him, and the two got back into the spaceship with the thirteen other children, forgetting all about changing the color of the light…

Daily 3/13/24 || I chose the line “I would eat his heart in the marketplace” from Sun’s profile || 486/300 words ||

The marketplace was lit up this morning, the sun peeking over the red rooftops of Gildenvile. I stood on the edge of the bustling square, my eyes searching the booths for what I knew would be opening soon.

When I spotted him, I instinctively felt in my pocket for the bag of money. Even while this black market was the best of its kind in all of Gildenvile, it was known for pickpockets and thieves.

The marketplace was widely known, though some shops tended to stay behind closed doors, what they were dealing with was sometimes the most dangerous items in all of Gildenvile.

Hearts. Animal, human, pixie, lion, dragon, Hearts were the currency of the magic guild that frequented Gildenvile. Trading the hearts was illegal, but that didn’t stop people from doing it for a profit.

But what I was coming for today wasn’t a heart, no matter how much Max would need one to fuel his power once he was better. No, I decided to spend my money one step at a time, and get his medicine.

Recently, he had fallen terribly ill. I thought that foul play had come into order -Max was well known for his powerful Warrior Magic- but Max didn’t agree with me. He had a habit of seeing the good in people, all people.

I, who spent half my time as a non-magical person in a mainly magical black market, knew better. I couldn’t count the number of times I had been nearly corned in this marketplace.

I wasn’t magical, but I had a good sense of sensing when something odd was happening. As a girl in this part of town, especially a non-magical girl, I had to know how to fend for myself.

Touching the d@ggers tucked into my belt, I decided I certainly knew how to defend myself. I saw the stand with the medicine, and I darted from the alley into the marketplace, quick and quiet as a feather. Nobody saw me as I quickly crossed the cobblestone square, keeping to mostly dark areas so nobody would see I didn’t have the same shine as a magical person did.

When I arrived at the stand, I quickly touched the pouch of money in my pocket, making sure that it hadn’t been stolen while I was making my way across the square.

The man behind the counter gave me a once-over, and I tucked my face further into the hood of the coat I was wearing. It was one of Max’s, so if he was a Scenter he would probably just smell Max’s potent Warrior magic on me.

”Hello. What can I do for you?” He said sharply, like everybody on this corner of town had to be.

”I would like to purchase a healing drought, thank you.”

He nodded quickly, and we exchanged money quickly, before I tucked the small vial into my pocket and he tucked the money into his.

|| Critique for @Imacreamoo || 634 words ||

General critique:

I really love the idea behind this piece, it almost seems as if the characters are jumping off of the page. They all have very unique voices and the voice and tone of the piece is very unique to only books that take place in the dark of night.

On the other hand, I would love to see a bit more description within your piece. What do the streets look like? I really like how you described the Executor, but maybe give a little more detail about his appearance other than his height. I would also love to know more about the ‘assailant’ as you call them. What are they wearing? What is their height, compared to Executor and Ghost?

Something I really like also, is your consistency with using the names Executor and Ghost. Specifically, whether or not to put the word ‘the’ before their names. When I read pieces written by young adult writers (I am guilty of this as well) with code names for their characters, they tend to switch between using it as an actual name and using it more as a title. For example, sometimes they would say The Ghost in one sentence, the Ghost in another, and just Ghost in a third.

Some general notes on conherancy: Why are there mainly girls? I think if you are going to include this, it is probably a big part of the plot and/or the world that Ghost and Executor live in. If it isn’t, maybe consider taking it out. If it is, maybe add an event and/or a reason why there are mostly girls. Or maybe there is just something that seems rather simple in your mind that isn’t registering in mine.

Also, why exactly are Ghost and Executor dealing with these people? Are they government employees, or did they just decide to be superheros and deal with those who threaten the government? Why is the government being threatened in the first place? Or is it even the government being threatened in the first place? Answering a question or two like that, even if it only takes a sentence, would increase the stakes and the general flow of the piece.

Perhaps you even tell us how good both Ghost and Executor are at fighting. Is there one better than the other? Do they have specialty w3@pons they prefer to use? How do they use their heights to their advantages, and how does that hinder them?

Also, I see you use the terms “victim, assailant, and perpetrator” to refer to… I think? The same person. If they are different people, maybe add them in the fighting scene (if they are there and I just missed it, feel free to ignore me) or refer to them by a name or use a common term to refer to them. This prevents the reader (like little old me haha) from getting confused with all the word choice switching that is happening.

Specific Notes:

I don’t have very many specific word flow notes for this piece, so congratulations! (Normally this is something I talk about a lot in critiques)

“Started to work corners”

Kind of wondering what is happening in this sentence. I already commented above about the amount between girls and boys, but what exactly do ‘work corners’ mean? Is this a term I don’t know? (if so, feel free to ignore this haha) Or is this something to do with the world you have created?

“leave us alone”

Is there more than one person in this scene? Is it an organization? Maybe some clarification there could help the piece flow better.

Final overview:

Overall, a wonderful piece that has been one of my favorites to critique in the time I have been in this community. I loved the word choices and the world seemed to flow very well, with a hint of mystery here and there. Amazing work and I look forward to reading more of your writing <33

Critique for 13/03/24 daily!

Okay , I really like this piece and I'm guessing you're taking inspiration from Six of Crows because I am getting those sort of vibes >. I think your story has a lot of potential and I love your ideas if you decide to expand upon them, the characters or the world!

Going into a deeper critique, I don't think your description of the setting as ‘sun peeking over’, ‘bustling square’ and ‘widely known’ are the best way to describe a black market from the get go. The idea behind a black market is secrecy yet yours seems to be in a public place where crime is undisturbed and normal rather than secret. I get the sense you're taking the sort of crime setting from Six of Crows or like where the crime bosses are to powerful to be stopped. I don't think you convey that idea well by the city ‘being known for pickpocket and thieves’ because London is known for pickpockets. If you're aiming for a more ‘behind the scenes’ black market hidden by the facade of a normal stall, I think staring in media res, would work better.

I have to admit I'm very intreguid by the worldbuilding and the currency! Are Hearts the name for their currency simular to pounds or dollars? What about Animals and how are animals different from lions? I feel like if you're going to bring these up, especially in the context of a black market, being shown in trading? Especially when the cost for the healing potion is simply ‘money.’ You have a very good set-up here and I think your piece would be stronger if you leaned into it more.

Assuming you intend to lengthen this piece/world, based on what you asked for critique, I'd love to know more about Max! He stands out as out of place in his world and the idea/meaning it presents for violence. Especially in contrast to the MC whom seems to favour it. Max and the MC seem to function as opposites and I think that's a very good area to expand on your characters and also your world.

On the topic of characters, the decision to make your MC without magic was bold. It allows for expansion on some parts of the magic world, such as scenters and magical people shining, while leaves me wondering what is Warrior Magic, is this the only type of magic? Building on the MC though,

On a final note before conclusions, a lot of your writing tells rather than shows. Showing not telling is *ridiculously* hard to pin down and more often then not means going out of your way to write more which is also a *pain* and not always possible with short form writing like 300 words, especially with short form writing. My advice for you for the future is to focus on what's happening at the scene you're writing in more detail. As an example, based on what I know, you could show your MC climbing down while someone else, shining, floats down. Then maybe the sniffer actually tries to sniff her and she tugs the ‘magic smelling’ coat closer to her, to show she doesn't have magic rather than tell us that. You can apply this for a lot of things: How is Max acting differently now that he's sick?

Overall I think spending a bit more time to settle and focus on one aspect of the story and try and develp everything else as you go along. Don't be afraid to let some of your amazing ideas sit on the backburner to work on one specific aspect! I'm really excited for anything else you write and keep it up!

Weekly 2 || 1,836/1,200 words and 6/5 images ||

Part 1 || Flower daily: I chose a forget-me-not, and made a story based off of a girl who has a person she wishes would never forget her || 653/300 words

Forget me not.

Forget me never.

The note was still tucked into the back of my dresser drawer, I hadn’t looked at it in months. I didn’t need to, to know that it was there. It stuck out to me, like a cold harsh piece of ice, still melting in the spring snow. The letter, and the flower that had been carefully pressed onto the paper, its dried leaves still retaining a tint of that purplish-blue that I used to love. The same color as the eyes of a person I used to love.

I don’t know where he is now. Maybe he’s in a better place, looking up at the stars with some other girl.

Even though I know that is what I should want, I should want the best for him, but some part of me pulls back, a twinge of jealousy coloring my heart a nasty blue. Maybe he’s worse off, but I hope not. He didn’t leave me -he wouldn’t leave me- for something he didn’t know, didn’t know for sure, would be better. This had to be a step forward from the old, crumbling house he used to call his home. The house we had hung out in when we were little, the house we had practiced our auditions in and danced for show choir in.

Sometimes I visited that little old house, with nobody to buy it in its current condition. Even though I knew it was trespassing, I would walk into it, feel the walls where our boundless teenage energy had once resided, singing along to songs with his karaoke machine that was still in its dusty little corner, laughing on the couch that was still there.

Sometimes, I wondered if he left everything here that reminded him of me.

Then I reminded myself that was silly. He loved me. Or at least I was pretty sure he had, at one point.

So I wandered upstairs, the steps creaking underneath my feet. I walked into his room and opened the door to his closet, which I had never done before. I wanted to see if he really had left…

Yes. There was the show choir sweatshirt -his brothers- that had led me to notice him on that one rainy day in December. There were the shoes he had worn in our snowball fights with our siblings. The shirt he had worn on our first date.

Maybe he had thought it better to leave me behind. Maybe he did wonder if bringing a piece of the girl he used to love with him.

But he was my best friend, more than just my boyfriend. He had been the person I had laughed with when things got hard -both for his family and mine- he had been the person to come over for dinner with my parents and siblings, his older brother teaching my younger sister his show choir dances.

Because he had been my best friend, my everything.

Now, when I wandered the halls, it was alone. When his friends passed me on the way to their choir period -he was a year older than me- he wasn’t there laughing, to tease: “Hey Nat” as he passed. I wasn’t there to jokingly mess up his hair, to run around backstage with him, causing chaos because of our excess energy.

I knew none of his friends knew what happened to the mysterious Brayden and his brother.

Certainly none of them knew about the flower that was tucked into my dresser drawer, the bright blue forget-me-not that had reminded me of his eyes. The one I had picked that day, giving it to him.

”Promise me you’ll never leave without saying goodbye. Promise me you’ll never forget me.” I had said, and he had laughed and taken the flower, tucking it into his pocket.

Maybe him giving the flower back was a symbol that he had broken his promise.

Part 2 || Constellations: I chose the small constellation Lyra, which is actually very similar to one of my best friends names (she’s sitting in front of me in math class right now actually haha) . It is a twist in modern times about Orpheus’ music charming a young musician. I am not super proud of this piece, it was kind of rushed in the ending || 447/300 words

I first heard the harp music a week ago, and have been returning every day since.

When the clock strikes noon, the same tune comes out of the little cottage at the end of the street. I have since made words up, tuning my voice to the notes that drift out of the open windows in the hot Californian sun.

I knew I wasn’t like those young girls you saw on TV, singing their heart out and belting like it was nobody’s business. No, my voice was different. It was sweet, almost like it came from the heavens. My voice was my pride and joy, my treasure in these summers when the bugs came up from wherever they were hiding, and mosquito bites lined your body before you could do much else about it.

But the music was my escape, creating words to the haunting melody that the artist added onto every day.

Nobody knew who lived in this house, except for the very elderly. He hadn’t come out of his home in years, and there were rumors that it was a ghost playing the music that had enchanted me so.

At first, I didn't know what type of instrument it was. Maybe a guitar, a flute, or even a piano. It was only after a while that I had realized the sweet, enchanting sound of the harp, flowing through the house and out into the edge of the woods where I waited, hiding behind a tree and humming the soft words I had created to the tune that I loved.

”In the meadow, where I rest
The fear and pain and sorrow,
Has flown away to its nest.
The warmth of the sun
falls upon my back in the meadow,
The meadow where I rest.”

I heard a voice from inside the cottage and froze.

“Who goes there?”

Slowly, I stepped out from behind the tree and said softly, “Me. Lyra.”

I hear a grunt, and suddenly the window is open. “Why, you have a lovely voice.” It was a teenage boy, his eyes sparkling with delight. I had always thought it would be an old man. “We would make a good team.”

And so I spent the rest of my days singing, and with him by my side, we traveled the world, using our music to change lives.

When our lives were nearly complete, the gods granted us the right to stay in the sky, but Orpheus (the young musician I had once known) declined the offer. But I did, and here I still stay, in the shape of the harp of the boy I had loved so, forever in the night sky, forever singing.

Part 3 || Aesthetic: I did an image for the first story, it has a sort of vintage-memory feel to it, I think, while still directly referencing several of the major plot points in the story|| 6/5 images || Link to project: Here! (For the first story)

Part 4 || SWC fanfic: Huge shoutout to Jade, Em, Sienna, and Faith for volunteering to be in my piece! I chose the flower, and told it like I was the girl who received the flowers, seeing them and bringing back so many memories, along with the occasional SWC chaos.|| 736/600 words

The SWC main cabin was chaos today. I mean, not that it was any less chaotic any other day, but today it was especially exciting. The mangoarson rate was low, but I knew that it could rise at any moment when the campers decided that they wanted (friendly) revenge on enemy cabins.

I was in the fields separating the main cabin from the rest of the cabins -the flowered valley of poetry, the ever-changing world of Fairy tales (today it was a large castle) and even the large futuristic building of sci fi- and currently enjoying the forget me nots that were blooming out of the grassy ground.

Faith bounded over to me, her hazel eyes sparkling. “Hey, Kiara! Whatcha doing?”

“Just admiring the forget me nots.”

Faith tilted her head, curious. “Why?”

I laughed, “Let's just say they’ve had a long history, at least in my life.”

Faith nodded, and she said: “Come on, let’s go back to the main cabin! I’ve heard Gurtle ate the word war links and we’re trying to find him.”

I followed her, but not before taking a forget me not and tucking it into my pocket, remembering my friend with a pang to my chest.

When I entered the cabin, Sienna walked over to me. “Hi Kiara! How are you?”

I touched the fragile petals of the purple-blue flower in my pocket and thought about giving the real answer, how the flowers had reminded me of the one person I would rather forget, but instead just replied: “Great. What about you, Sienna?”

The co-leader of Fairy Tales replied: “Good as well, thanks for asking!”


“Have you found Gurtle yet?” I asked, and Sienna shook her head.

“But we have more pressing problems!” She said, “A mysterious troll showed up and is threatening to eat the Fairy Tale goats!”

That shocked me, that anybody would want to eat our sweet, innocent, -oftentimes chaotic- goats. “Wow, that's bad. Do you know who the troll is?”

Sienna frowned, “Sadly, no.”

“I wish I could help you, but I already promised Faith I’d try to find Gurtle. That irritating turtle must be here somewhere…” I quickly amended my statement in case Gurtle was listening: “But we still love you, Gurtle!”

Sienna laughed, and I went on my way.

The main cabin looked decidedly different than last session, but I would say both sessions were equally memorable. This year, it was almost like a hobbit-hole, dry and warm and cozy, with green decorations and the occasional Gurtle sighting.

Paths branched off of the main cabin, leading to Critiquaire, the Writing Competition, Extensions, and more. Campers were checking underneath benches, desks, and couches, trying to find the Gurtle who had eaten the link. Bad… I mean, misunderstood… Gurtle.

“Hiya Kiara!” Nova said, popping around a corner, “Found Gurtle yet?”

“Nope, but with all the campers on the job we ought to find him sometime… I hope.” I replied, and Nova nodded in agreement.

On the way to the back of the Critiquaire tunnel, I bumped into a girl with bright blue hair and headphones. “Oh my goodness, I’m so sorry!”

“You’re fine.” Jade replied, “But I’ve already checked this hallway for Gurtle, and no sightings.”

I heard a shout from down the hallway, and me and Jade were off, sprinting to see if somebody really had found Gurtle.

Em was close behind us, and when we reached the small green turtle, some campers and a few leaders were performing the heimlich on Gurtle.

We stood back as Gurtle coughed up the Word Wars link, and another tunnel -almost magically- appeared in the main cabin. The campers cheered and thanked Gurtle, and the turtle gave an almost guilty look before looking away.

“Gurtle says sorry, I think.” Em said softly, smiling as the turtle went to sulk somewhere else.

“We love you, Gurtle! You are forgiven!” The campers shouted at Gurtle’s retreating back, and everybody laughed before going to walk down the word wars tunnel, getting their keyboards and pencils ready.

I reached once again for the forget me not in my pocket, remembering how much it hurt when he had broken his promise. But I pushed the thoughts aside, placing the flower carefully on the corner of my keyboard. One thing I knew that I wouldn’t forget was this session, and the amazing friends I had made in this place I had come to love.

Once Upon A Red
Writing Competition Entry
926 words

Look, I know you think you know my story. I’m the poor little girl who got lost in the woods, unable to help or repress her curiosity as she came across a big bad wolf who she thought was perfectly nice and kind. She was stup!d enough to tell the wolf where she was going, and ignorant enough not to realize that the wolf had eaten her granny, and got eaten herself. There she waited, perfectly helpless, until a hunter came and cut her out of the wolves stomach, taking all the credit.

I’m sure you’ve heard the wolf’s point of view as well, claiming that all he wanted was a “nice, tasty meal” and I was “an ignorant little girl.”

In reality, my story is the greatest screw-up in my fairy tale career.

See, I wasn’t even supposed to be a fairy tale at all. I’m in what they call the Fairy Guard, which basically means I stop big bad wolves from eating actual innocent little girls. Because, dear reader, the entire world is full of fairy tale creatures, and the Fairy Guard is the only thing stopping you… yes, you! From getting kidnapped by witches or eaten by wolves.

And I was supposed to be the best at my job. And I was, until a screw-up came in the form of a tall teenage shapeshifter.

Oh, I should probably clear up something else. I’m not a little girl either. I’m sixteen. The Storymakers didn’t think that people would take very kindly to a teenage warrior who screwed up a mission to be a very good fairy tale, so they changed a few of the details.

So, after this specific wolf blew down three houses (and was not, in fact, boiled in a pot, but three adult men eaten by a wolf doesn’t make a very good story), the Storymakers sent me after him to end him once and for all.

My mentor, a kindly older woman named Marabeth, lived in the woods. We had reason to suspect that the wolf was going after her next, since she had trained many of the greatest fairy tale warriors, including Jack (who took pride and joy in his giant-slaying), and Rapunzel (who didn’t need a prince to escape her witch captor).

So, using the excuse of visiting her, I sharpened my double-swords, prepped my bow and arrow, and got ready to do some wolf slaying.

Hansel, my best friend since I had joined this strange world (he, though, had been a kid when his parents abandoned him and his sister in the woods, and had been training since the fairy tale community took the two of them in) was informed of my mission, and was standing by in case something went wrong. I didn’t expect it to. I was supposed to be the best.

‘Supposed to’ is the key word here.

Gretel, of course, wasn’t far away from her brother. As I got ready, she wandered in. “What’s the big occasion, Red?”

Yes, my name was Red. The Storymakers aren’t creative enough to entirely make up the ‘red riding hood’ gig.

I gave her a tight smile, trying not to hide my annoyance. “Mission.” I responded curtly

Hansel could feel my irritation. “Gretel, now isn’t the best time.”


She stalked closer to me, and I felt all my muscles tense. “When isn’t it the best time to hang out with my brother and his pity project?”

Did I mention my strong dislike for Gretel?

Hansel was irritated now as well. “Gretel. Go away, please.”

Gretel smirked, and left. I felt like I could breathe easier when she was gone.

“Sorry about her.” Hansel said, ducking his head.

I rolled my eyes, but not at him. “When will you get over apologizing for her mistakes? The fact you have a terrible sister isn’t your fault.”

Hansel sighed. “Red, she isn’t terrible. She just has had such a hard time adjusting to this life.”

“She’s had eleven years. I think she should be over it now. She hasn’t even gone on a single mission. You’d think she’s either a slack-off or a future Storymaker.” I wrinkled my nose. I had nothing against Storymakers, technically, except that they thought they owned us warriors and were probably the least creative creatures on the planet.

Hansel dropped the subject, guessing there was no way he or his sister could win this argument. I still didn’t understand why he protected her, now that she was so obviously a brat. He keeps trying to convince me there is a side of the story I’m not seeing, and he’s probably right. I just don’t have the patience to hear it.

Slinging my pack over my back, I looked at him. “You’ll be waiting if I need it?”

Hansel gave me a small smile. “Since when am I not?”

He was right. The first time I failed a mission, the first troublemaker I k!lled, distraught that I had ended a life, the first time I had broken a bone, the first time I had won a contest, he was there for all of that. He would stand by me, no matter what. I liked to fantasize he would stand with me instead of his sister, if it came down to it. But it had never come to it, and I kind of hoped that he would never be forced to make that decision, for the sake of his well being.

So there was nothing else to do but go into the woods.

Thank you notes <33 || Wow this session really has come to pass so quickly, I want to give an early thank you as I officially depart later today <33 || 529 words

All SWC-ers:
Thank you guys so much for this entire session. This truly will be one I’ll never forget, and I want to thank all the people who have made this so special. Everybody has made such an impact on me, and I want to say that all of you are wonderful and kind people who have made this session amazing. Really, this community has been one of the best online discoveries I have ever made, ever. I don’t know what I would do without you guys <33

Hosts, daily team, (co)leaders:
I cannot thank you guys enough for the immeasurable work you have put into this session and all that comes before and after it. The amount of hard work and spirit that goes into making and managing a camp of this size is truly a Herculean task, and I want to thank you guys for making this session amazing!

Fairy tale campers:
Guys, I hate to leave you this early, but I must write the end of my fairytale with you guys for this session now. You guys have been uplifting and supportive, allowing me to grow as a person and a writer. The fun and jokes that we have had and shared throughout this entire session will be something I look back at and remember years in the future. Thank you guys again for being such amazing friends and fellow cabin mates for this session!

Alana:
I cannot begin to explain how wonderful you have been this entire session. Every step of the way you were there to offer encouragement and a helpful word. I know it must be a lot of work planning and managing a cabin with this many intricate plot points and such a wonderful community that has grown inside of this cabin. When I first signed up for this session, there was a definite thought in my head of: “I don’t really know if I want a cabin with this intricate of a plot…” but you, Sienna, and Amethyst have really proved me wrong with a cabin that I have grown to love. Thank you again for this wonderful opportunity <33

Sienna:
We haven’t really interacted much throughout this entire session, but I would like to thank you for being such an amazing co-leader! Kind and funny, you were always there through everything. Thank you so much for being a part of Fairy Tales this session.

Amethyst:
Thank you so much for being a great co-leader and WCG-leader this session! You have always been there to help out and provide help whenever a camper needs it, and seeing you around camp and getting to know you has been an absolute joy and pleasure!

A final closing statement:
Thank you all again -and again and again- for being such inspirations and amazing people who have fostered such a kind and caring community that has become something I look forward to! It hurts me a little to have to leave you guys this early, but hopefully I’ll have a good trip! This has been a truly special experience and I look forward to seeing you guys again in (hopefully!) July!

Love,
Kiara ( @Strawberry-Lemon )

Weekly 3 || 1565/1200 words

Part 1 || To begin your mystery, wander on over to @PoppyWriter's workshop to learn how to plot one! After you've read and internalized the information, write short, 50 word descriptions each for five major plot points in your tale. Be as creative as you like, and feel free to include some classic mystery elements as well. || 453/250 words

Evelyn lives in the small town of Terrifall, where everybody knows everybody else. That’s before the car crash. When her best friend, Willan Trevors, crashes his car off the winding cliff road, Evelyn knows that something is up, because Willan would never drive a car unless his life was at stake… and maybe it was. (55 words)

Going down to investigate the wreck of Willan’s car, Evelyn trips and almost falls all the way down the cliff. On the way she finds something in the bushes, a small black briefcase, locked. She is sure it’s part of the mystery somehow, and puts it in her backpack. When she reaches the ruins she finds the crashed car, but no body. She is secretly relieved, but as far as she knows nobody has come to investigate the scene. Is Willan d3@d after all? (85 words)

After finding many clues, Evelyn finally thinks she might know what happened to Willan. She goes to the mysterious lab a little ways out of their desert-cliff town and sneaks inside. Inside she finds w3@pons of mass destruction, weapons that could change the world. She also finds a small note with what seems to be a code in it. She stuffs it in her pocket and runs back home. When she puts the code into the briefcase, it opens. Inside is a small slip of paper with names on it. It is titled: To Get Rid Of. Willan’s name is on there, crossed out in bright red ink. She realizes that the people on this list must be the people that know about the w3@p0ns and that they don’t trust. She goes back to confront the people and it ends in a showdown where she brings her news anchor friend, Lilac, to reveal to the world what is actually going on. (163 words)

The police and other agents come and get the place destroyed and shut down. Evelyn realizes that Willan must have known they were coming for him and sent the car as a decoy without him in it. So she goes to the city to the school where they met each other, and there is Willan, hiding at a hotel near it. The two rejoice and she tells him how the entire world knows about the lab now and nobody is in danger. (82 words)

Willan, Lilac, and Evelyn manage to start their own investigation program as detectives (and Lilac as their news anchor) and spend their time tracking down different mysteries and solving cases for people around the states, with little things from missing puppies to even bigger cases… like missing people. They don’t know where their next case will take them, but they know that they will be solving it together. (68 words)

Part 2 || Now that you have introduced yourself to the world of mystery and have the basics of your story down it is time to dig deeper. If you have ever participated in host speculation you'll know how many twists and tricks add to the fun. Now create a list with 4 clues and/or red herrings consisting of at least 50 words , that you can incorporate into your story. Check out this wonderful workshop that should help you with this task: Red Herrings and Clues - have fun! || 277/200 words

Clue #1: The briefcase Evelyn finds on the scene. It is, strangely, unscathed and has no dents or scratches on it at all. It has a golden combination lock with 5 digits and 1 letter lock. There is a small engraving on the top of the (also golden) handle, but it just looks like the letter L from a distance. (58 words)

Red Herring #1: Willan’s phone was not in the car, and he had an unsent text to a number without a caller ID that says: “Get a camera to the spot we planned. Send Evelyn the letter I gave you.” There is nothing else in the text, and it had never been sent. It was simply typed into the box. Evelyn looks for the letter but finds nothing. This was actually a red herring if the lab security searched his room they thought he was planning to expose them, so they’d just assume he died and stop looking. (95 words)

Clue #2: An ad in the newspaper for workers for the laboratory, Evelyn sees a shadow that looks like Willan in the back of the picture, so she thinks that they might be something to do with his disappearance. Also, she notices that they don’t advertise what the lab does so she decides to go investigate. (54 words)

Clue #3: A picture of her and Willan that she doesn’t remember taking, of them at the hotel where they basically grew up at because they knew the owner and spent time helping customers and exploring the hallways of the older building. She realizes that somebody must have left this picture for her and goes to the hotel to perhaps find Willan hiding with the help of the owner that they knew. (70 words)


Part 3 || Greetings, wanderer - and welcome to the third part of this weekly! Find yourself a partner, and together embark upon an interview. One of you can claim the role of a witness to a crime, whereas the other can wield the power of an interviewer. Go ahead and ask the most ridiculous questions, and answer with the most unexpected responses! Once you’ve completed your interview, it’s time to jot down your conversation. To move onto the next part of this weekly, write 200 words per person for this activity. Have fun with this - after all, every witness carries a small piece of the truth ;D (This is incomplete due to the fact I have to leave early) || 201/200 words (not including telling who is speaking or any of Em’s dialogue.)

Interviewer (Kiara): Well hello there. I assume you know what you are here for?

Witness (Em): I actually don't… where am I? The last thing I remember was- wait I can't say that, sorry. Is there a particular reason why you're asking me this? I'm afraid that I totally have nothing to do with whatever strange scenario has happened. *cough cough* arson *cough cough*

Interviewer (Kiara): The fire that has affected many SWC-ers was set off near where you were last known to be located. Please tell us - as it is important to finding the culprit - all that you remember of the time. All we have discovered so far is a mango, which was located near the scene of the crime.

Witness (Em): Oh, that must be our gang's symbol- I mean I have no idea what a mango is, what's a mango? I briefly recall an explosion, but that was it. I remember seeing people, and that they set the fire, and it's all the truth, I swear.

Interviewer (Kiara): Oh, so you admit you were part of the gang that set off the fire? And there was an explosion… interesting … Do you happen to know anything about why the fire was set off in the main cabin?

Witness (Em): well all I know is that I um… overheard… some people talking about a mango-powered gasoline explosion that would send the main cabin into chaos. And no, I'm not in a gang! What's a gang? There would be no reason as to why I'd be in a gang, other than being first in the leaderboard…

Interviewer (Kiara):Hm… so you know a surprising amount of information for an innocent witness. Do you happen to know any of the people involved in the explosion? And where is the supply of mangoes coming from?

Witness (Em): Well, I was just near enough to hear all of it, that's it. There's nothing suspicious about that, right? I'm not exactly sure, but I know that they were probably part of a gang, and that the mangoes were illegally traded in through a strange black market. If I give you everything I know, can I be free? I only know so much because I just /happened/ to be there when the explosion took place, if you're wondering.

Interviewer (Kiara): The information you have given me so far seems to be fairy accurate from what the rest of our team has been finding… Even if it doesn’t seem entirely complete… If you tell us everything that you know about anything that may be related to the incident, then we will conclude the interview and let you be on your way.


Part 4 || Welcome, detectives, to the final part of this splendiforous weekly! For your fourth activity, you’ll be combining everything you’ve worked on in previous parts into a longer piece. Using your plot points, red herrings, clues, and evidence from the witness interview, write a mystery scene of at least 550 words. You can go about this however you’d like: it could be a snippet of a longer work or its own self-contained story. Make it gripping, make it exciting, make it page-turning (or in this case, screen-scrolling?), and above all, make it mysterious ;D Best of luck, sleuths, and remember to have fun! (This is incomplete and not done very well, I was rushing this in thirty minutes that I had before I had to go to bed </3) || 634/550 words

When the news came from the main town, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

”Willan WHAT?” I asked, turning to my friend Lilac, who had delivered the news.

“I’m sorry, Ev. We just found his car. It looks like he was driving up the road and veered too far to the right. There was no body, but the car cr@shed at the bottom of the canyon.”

I put down my phone -where I had been looking into ars0n mangoes that had wrecked the main cabin- and started to panic.

”There is no way that Willan would be driving. Lilac, you know him as well as I do and know that he would never be caught in a car ever.”

Lilac nodded, her gentle brown waves cut into a bob bouncing on either side of her head. Her eyes were startlingly blue, and her skin was tanned with small freckles on either side of her nose. She was a reporter, or at least wanted to be one. Both of her parents were well-known news reporters, and she thought that this might be her big break, I’m pretty sure.

And me and Willan have been cheering her on for forever on her dreams. My only qualm was that she was going to make her big break off of the end of Willan.

”Do you want to get your recording stuff out? I’m sure if we cover this story quickly enough you can get the story out to your parent’s networks before any other news.”

Lilac looked at me like I was crazy. “Are you kidding? Our friend just d!ed, and you are asking if I want my recording equipment?”

I looked away, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to come spilling out. “You don’t know that. There’s a possibility that he’s still out there. That the car was a ploy for… something.”

Willan wasn’t a thrill seeker, or an attention seeker either. He seemed just like a… regular teenage boy. Athletic, competitive, funny, kind, smart… he was everything. He was our best friend. Now he’s…

I shook my head, hard, to clear my brain of intrusive thoughts. There was no way that Willan was d3@d. That wasn’t him. He valued life too much.

There had to be some other explanation, I thought desperately, trying to keep breathing. In and out. In and out.

I turned to Lilac, swallowing hard. “Looks like we might have a mystery to solve.”

”But what leads do we have? As far as I know there is nothing.”

I thought for a moment. “Do you know where his car cr@shed? We could go down there and see if there is anything. And then we could go to his parents…” A thought dawned on me, “Do they know?”

”I informed the police. I assume they’ve told the two of them by now.”

No… oh no… I loved Willan’s parents, they were some of my favorite people. But this was going to crush them.

I tucked my phone into my pocket, promising to deal with ars0n mangoes another time, and grabbed my backpack and a coat and headed out the door, but not before stopping to tell my parents I was going down to the canyon. I trust they hadn’t heard about Willan yet, and I wasn’t going to tell them now.

I met up with Lilac outside and we got in her car and she drove us to where Willan had cr@shed. We stumbled down the hill, and I felt my ankle get caught and I tripped and fell down the hill, running into things and getting twigs caught in my hair. When I finally stopped, I ran into a briefcase that was lying on the ground. I took it, my eyes looking over it.

Ignore this

Daily 7/1/24 || 1k intro challenge || 1,068/1,000 words (not including intro) ||

Hi everybody! I’m Kiara and go by the pronouns she/her, and am a member of Thriller (The Cabin That Will Not Win) this session. This is my fourth session of SWC, with my first session being in March of 2023! I was in Adventure that session, but wasn’t really that active. Then I was in Fantasy during November ‘23, and most recently Fairy Tales in March ‘24. I’m so excited that another session is finally upon us, and I hope to meet a lot of new people and get some writing motivation this session! This is my second time attempting the 1k intro challenge, so lets hope it’s a little bit easier this time lol

I am currently in middle school and reside in the EST time zone, following daylight savings.

I am a huge musical theater nerd and show choir lover, with some of my favorite musicals being 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee, Wicked, Newsies, and SIX. I’ve been in musicals since I was eight years old, and have been in Frozen Jr as Townsperson 3, James and the Giant Peach Jr as Billy Bobby Cop, Matilda Jr as Matilda, Secret Garden as Fakir, Descendants the Musical as Grimhilde (the Evil Queen), and most recently Mean Girls Jr as the French Teacher! I’ve been taking private voice lessons for the past four years, and am really proud at how I’ve grown in both my voice and my own confidence. Of course, my favorite part about musical theater will always be the wonderful, talented people I have met and become friends with.
As for show choir, I’ve been participating in it since I was about ten years old, through a show choir summer camp my high school hosts, but have only recently (in the past year) grown a true love for it. My dream for a while now has been to go into high school and become a member of the varsity univoice show choir, and eventually the varsity mixed show choir, which recently won the national championships for show choir as well as had an undefeated season. It was a huge accomplishment for both our school and all the members of the choir, and I couldn’t be any prouder of all of them <3

Starting this Friday, I will be taking a quick week-long hiatus as I head to northern Michigan, my families annual summer trip, where I get to hang out with pretty much all of my family on my mom’s side. I am super excited to be back, as we missed the trip last year when we went to Alaska.

Music is also a huge part of who I am, and I enjoy listening to music as well as singing and songwriting. Some of my favorite artists are Taylor Swift, Joshua Bassett, and Olivia Rodrigo. My favorite songs are The Golden Years, Dancing With Tears in My Eyes, traitor, deja vu, marjorie, and The Manuscript. As for songwriting, I have been stalled out on any new music for quite a long time now, but am hoping to get some new inspiration and get working on more songs later this month.

I am currently in the middle of reading Finale, the last book in the Carval Trilogy. If you haven’t read it, I would highly encourage you to go read it. It's been a true adventure and I loved every single one of the books, and the plot just keeps getting better! Some of my other favorite books are Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo, The Cruel Prince by Holly Black, Illuminae by Amie Kaufman & Jay Kristoff, and To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before by Jenny Han.

As for writing, I love writing fantasy and sometimes realistic fiction, and twisted fairy tale short stories. I have a bad habit of not planning projects and then losing momentum halfway through, as I did for my novel Finding Rodriguez. It was about a girl, Brayleigh, who fell off a ferris wheel. Actually, it was about how her best friend, Wynn Rodriguez, abandoned her after said fall, and her journey to find him again, and eventually herself. I loved the story– and still do– but don’t feel like it is quite my story to tell. Speaking as someone who’s guy best friend abandoned them, it just hit a little too close to home to make a good story right now. Maybe, one day, I’ll be able to return to it with a clearer head. After abandoning that project, I started planning a still unnamed project about a magic school and the different kids who attend it, which I am just starting to write this month.
My two finished novels (both hitting around 50,000 words) are both fantasy, one about a human girl trying to fit in at a magic school that is still wary about humans with magic, and the other about three princesses from different kingdoms trying to find a magical object before their kingdoms go to war over said object. I am really proud of both of them, and hope that I’ll be able to get around to editing them sometime, since revising is not really my favorite part of writing xD

I have two pets, a bernedoodle dog named Kona and a foster rabbit named Brendan, who I’ve been relentlessly trying to convince my mom to adopt. Kona is energetic, even as she approaches seven years old, and sometimes isn’t the brightest, but she is endlessly eager and continues to amuse all of us. Brendan is mischievous and likes getting himself into trouble, and likes doing his own thing, even though he is opening up a little more.

I’m so excited for this session, Thriller’s storyline has endlessly captivated me and I’m so excited for everybody to see where it goes. Plus, the entire session is themed after IKEA, which is something that has excited me from the minute it was first announced. I can tell there is loads of fun waiting to be had, and I can’t wait to discover it, day by day.


And of course, as always, I must bookend this session by thanking everybody in this wonderful camp, especially the (g)hosties, and all the amazing (co)leaders. I know this session is going to be something that I remember for a long time to come, and I am so excited to make some new friends and memories!

critique for Skylar
Hi! I'll be critiquing as I go, but I'm so excited to read your piece! Just to let you know, I mostly critique in smaller things like word choice and consistency, and things that pull the reader out of the writing. Feel free to take or discard any

“Good afternoon Sunshine Bay, and welcome to the Sports Hour on Radio Sunshine Bay.

The repeat of ‘sunshine bay’ seems a little bit unnecessary, maybe remove the first Sunshine Bay?

the absolute disaster that it was.

The word ‘disaster’ has already been used, maybe try another adjective?

…she couldn’t deny that it ever happened. Personally though, she’d much rather act like it never happened.

'(n)ever happened' was just used, and the reptition pulls the reader out of the writing slightly

Assuming her starting position, Elyta took a deep breath.

Maybe include a little more about what she's feeling? Is the the type of person who gets a lot of nerves, but they disappear as she starts performing? Is she a person who is steely calm?

The pain in her hip

I feel like adding in a metaphor/simile here would really make the writing shine!

“It was the short program, and I was out. I couldn’t land my double axel, I slipped and fell. I couldn’t perform my free skate after that. I didn’t even place. I told myself after that competition that I would train harder and do better than before. I’m a perfectionist, and it was frustrating to me that I’d failed at the first hurdle. After that competition, my parents weren’t exactly supportive of me either, but I begged them to let me try again,”

This whole speech feels cold and distant. She clearly doesn't like remembering this, so why is she talking about it like it happened to someone else? Maybe add some internal awkwardness or other emotions that show how she actually felt about all of this, even though she is telling it to the audience in the most informal way possible.

Overall, I really love your story! Your elements of the media interview, intertwined with her skating performance made for a wholly immersive read. Elyta is a relatable character that I enjoyed reading about, and you clearly know a lot (or did a lot of research) about figure skating, which I really admire.
That said, I think Elyta's character is a little bit flat and inconsistent in parts, and I feel like a lot can be done with her to make her really come alive on the page. For example, at the beginning she seems a little shy and awkward, really second-guessing herself, while at the end she just seems kind of cold, distant, and more than a little irritated by the whole ordeal. If you pick one and stick with it, I think it will really help your piece stand out. I feel like even Lilah's character could be expanded a little more. Do you want her to be a kind, understanding reporter, or the peppy one that slightly irritates everyone, or someone completely different? With a small cast of characters, I think having unique character personalities will take this story to the next level.

Thank you for sharing your story with me, and I look forward to seeing where you go <33

critique for Skylar
Hi! I'll be critiquing as I go, but I'm so excited to read your piece! Just to let you know, I mostly critique in smaller things like word choice and consistency, and things that pull the reader out of the writing. Feel free to take or discard any

“Good afternoon Sunshine Bay, and welcome to the Sports Hour on Radio Sunshine Bay.

The repeat of ‘sunshine bay’ seems a little bit unnecessary, maybe remove the first Sunshine Bay?

the absolute disaster that it was.

The word ‘disaster’ has already been used, maybe try another adjective?

…she couldn’t deny that it ever happened. Personally though, she’d much rather act like it never happened.

'(n)ever happened' was just used, and the reptition pulls the reader out of the writing slightly

Assuming her starting position, Elyta took a deep breath.

Maybe include a little more about what she's feeling? Is the the type of person who gets a lot of nerves, but they disappear as she starts performing? Is she a person who is steely calm?

The pain in her hip

I feel like adding in a metaphor/simile here would really make the writing shine!

“It was the short program, and I was out. I couldn’t land my double axel, I slipped and fell. I couldn’t perform my free skate after that. I didn’t even place. I told myself after that competition that I would train harder and do better than before. I’m a perfectionist, and it was frustrating to me that I’d failed at the first hurdle. After that competition, my parents weren’t exactly supportive of me either, but I begged them to let me try again,”

This whole speech feels cold and distant. She clearly doesn't like remembering this, so why is she talking about it like it happened to someone else? Maybe add some internal awkwardness or other emotions that show how she actually felt about all of this, even though she is telling it to the audience in the most informal way possible.

Overall, I really love your story! Your elements of the media interview, intertwined with her skating performance made for a wholly immersive read. Elyta is a relatable character that I enjoyed reading about, and you clearly know a lot (or did a lot of research) about figure skating, which I really admire.
That said, I think Elyta's character is a little bit flat and inconsistent in parts, and I feel like a lot can be done with her to make her really come alive on the page. For example, at the beginning she seems a little shy and awkward, really second-guessing herself, while at the end she just seems kind of cold, distant, and more than a little irritated by the whole ordeal. If you pick one and stick with it, I think it will really help your piece stand out. I feel like even Lilah's character could be expanded a little more. Do you want her to be a kind, understanding reporter, or the peppy one that slightly irritates everyone, or someone completely different? With a small cast of characters, I think having unique character personalities will take this story to the next level.

Thank you for sharing your story with me, and I look forward to seeing where you go <33

Hi, Crocs! I'm so excited to read your entry and provide critique. I skimmed through it yesterday, and it seems super interesting! Just to let you know, I tend to provide a lot of critique on word choice, just because it is what always sticks out to me in a piece. At the end I will try to provide some character critique before my final feedback, so you can also get some of that! Just a reminder that these are all only my thoughts and this is your piece, so feel free to only take the edits you find helpful ^^ Thank you for letting me read your piece and have a wonderful day <3

“You’re displacing again, ok? Just take a few breaths. You don’t need to take your anger out on me; I’m only here to help you.”

This is a super strong start to the piece, it immediately drew me in and made me want to keep reading. Great job <3

“Your emotions come from his death. I know you can’t situate a concept but you need to stop placing your feelings anywhere you please.”

(Maybe add a Trigger Warning (TW)/ Content Warning (CW) for death/emotional stability, just letting you know. It doesn't affect me but might affect someone else negatively. It's always good to be on the safe side)
Also, the words ‘placing your feelings anywhere you please’ doesn't quite make sense to me? What exactly is the therapist asking the character to do with their feelings? Where is the character ‘putting’ their feelings, so to speak? Maybe consider changing the wording so the meaning is more clear

Death as an object isn’t real. I can’t attack it or hurt its feelings by yelling at it, and I’m sure the suggestion of writing my anger on a plate and smashing it won’t even scratch the surface. But in some way, some mystifying, unrelenting way, death still can destroy you without ever drawing a breath. It kills another life but still takes your soul with it.

This paragraph is super interesting. The way it portrays death, as some untouchable force, heightens the emotions in the character and gives a stance on how the character feels.
That said, there are a couple of wording choices I'm not quite sure of. “death as an object isn't real,” what do you mean by that? Do you mean that death isn't an object, something you can attack or smash? Also, the words “It kills another life” doesn't quite make sense either.
Just think about shifting around the wording to make it a little clearer!

It’s been three months since it started. Three months since my whole life changed, and three grueling months since I lost my brother.

I, by the gift of the universe, have never lost anyone close to me. But in some books where a character has lost someone close to them, they count the exact amount of years, months, days, hours, and sometimes even minutes. In those books, they say that for some people, counting is a way to keep their head after a loss. If you think it fits the character, that might be an interesting detail to add, to develop the character a little more.

neither of his hoodie sloppily hidden under the backseat.

'of' doesn't quite make the most sense here, maybe try another word?

It was starting to get dark as the sun went down.

“starting to get dark” and “the sun went down” are the exact same thing, a metaphor about how the darkness looked or felt to the main character might make this sentence glow a little bit, if you think that fits!

the sun setting beautifully as someone watched us from above with a photo in his hand and a chain around his neck.

I looovee this sentence, but there are a few edits I'd suggest to make it a memorable last line. “beautifully” doesn't really do the sunset justice here. I say don't add it at all, we know that the sunset is beautiful <3
When I want to add drama and emphasis to a line, I make it a new line, like:

I grabbed her hand and we walked back to her car, the sun setting.

Above us, someone watched with a photo in his hand and a chain around his neck.

That's all the specific edits I have for this piece, time to move on to character critique and final feedback!

For the characters, I don't actually have that much critique! I think maybe giving the therapist and your main character a few different personality traits might be helpful, though. Right now it kind of seems like they're the same person. Also, maybe establish a bit of a connection through the characters. What does the mc feel about the therapist? Does she feel irritated by her, because she doesn't seem to know what the mc is going through? Or is she comforted by her because she is someone to talk to? Or is it something else? Also, not naming the mc and the therapist (to make them seem like they could be anyone, giving comfort and hope to people who have lost) is a good move, as long as that is a conscious decision and not something you did on accident <33

Overall, I really loved your piece. The writing sparkled and it hit my heart in a way that short story pieces have not done for a while. I like how you address loss and emotions in a bold, honest way that brings heart and reality to your piece. There are parts that I could use some polishing, but the tone and style of it remains consistent. I wish you best of luck in the writing comp and am so excited to see where your writing goes next!

If you have any questions about my critique, feel free to drop by my profile, I am always open to clarifying however needed <33