critique for @lilyjen
sorry this is a bit rushed, i'm about to lose service TT i might add some more later!! (238 words)

Overall, I really liked this piece!! There's so much emotion and Kay and Xan's feelings really come through with the dialogue especially, and the thoughts as well. I have a couple grammar notes, but besides that it definitely flows well and is understandable, I feel like I know the characters well through just a few paragraphs!

She continues to chuck rocks, slowly slowing down

Saying slow twice in a row is a bit repetitive so maybe replace it with just “slowing down” or use a different adverb :]

She puts her head in her hands, dragging them down her face before turning it to the sky with a drawn-out “Urrghghhh.”

Since you're referring to her hands when you say “dragging them down” it makes more sense to say “her head” instead of “it” in the next part of the sentence or it seems like you're talking about her hands the whole time.

Other than those two moments this was pretty spot on in terms of grammar and readability <3

I think the first version reads more sad, and the second is more frustrated. I personally like the first one better, but that might be because I knew how it was going to end. I like how in Xan's point of view the reader has to focus more on Kay's body language and tone to understand how she's feeling, while in Kay's POV it's told more directly through her thoughts. It's kind of like that saying “show, don't tell” if that makes sense!

This was never completed, sadly :[

Weekly #2

Three Word Stories
❝Love is a kaleidoscope, how it works we’ll never know❞

When you smiled at me it made me feel like the king of the world. The way your eyes crinkled in that special way, just for me. You are always on my mind, your smile and pretty eyes burned into my brain. I feel a hole in my heart whenever you’re not with me. Can you miss something you’ve never had? Because I think I do. I think I miss the hugs I’ve never felt. I think I miss the sweet nothings that were never whispered. It’s like there’s a piece of me missing, a piece that I never had.
Sometimes I think what I want isn’t what you want. Sometimes I think I feel something more than I am supposed to. I do not know if a friend is supposed to feel so fondly for their friend that they want to make them happy more than anything. I do not know if I’m supposed to feel so warm inside when you look at me with unimaginable amounts of hope in your eyes. The world hasn’t torn you down like it has me. You are not a shell of something that used to be full, you /are/ full. And I love that about you.
I love how you listen to me when I want to speak, I love how you never push me when you know I am too scared, I love that you are able to let down your mask and be yourself with me. I think I love you. I do not know if this love is something that is anything society has a name for. But I do know that it is love, pure, whole, and forever. I think I have always loved you, even before you came along, even before I started to wish that you were mine.

Weekly #2
3708 words

Part 1

I stared at Eloise in ferocious anger.
“You know, I don’t even get why you wanted to be a friend to me. All I did to you was be mean to you. And you never cared anyway. About me. And I never cared about you. I don’t trust anyone. So you can forget all this and just leave me alone!” I yelled, my voice cracking.
I saw tears welling up in her bloodshot eyes. They rolled down her cheeks thick and fast.
“All I wanted was a friend. Now no one will like me! What are you? You’re a monster! What sort of person…”
She broke off, her lip wobbling. She turned around and raced out of the changing rooms, clothes scattered on the floor.
And just like that, all the anger left me, replaced with a burning desire for forgiveness and love. All I wanted was a friend. That’s what she said to me. She was right. I was a monster. What had I done? The only person who actually understood me, I had turned away. I curled myself up into a ball on the floor and a waterfall of sorrow cascaded from my eyes.
“I need you, El.” I whispered.


***

Eloise stormed out, biting the inside of her cheek. This was proof of what a horrible person she was. She had yelled at her supposed best friend. All those terrible, bitter words Amy had said. She could see they were just a cover. A cover for all her pain and despair. And she had been so cruel to her. Why? As she wandered through the corridors, tears streaming down her face, people stopped to stare at her and she felt warm arms around her. She fell limp in them and suddenly the world spun. Why was everyone being so kind to her? These were the people who everyone said were bullies. Or maybe everyone else were the bullies instead, trying to create a bad reputation for them.
“Come on, Eloise. We’re gonna take you home, OK?” A kind voice murmured comfortingly.
Her head was aching, like hammers hacking through her skull, and everyone’s voices seemed like they were from a distant world. She fell limp in the person’s arms and tried to focus on something, but everything came out blurry. The last thing she could remember was a distant shout before everything went black.

Part 2

Bullets echo. Fireballs explode. Planes crash. War is coming.

Kalyna feels the weight of guilt pressing on her shoulders when her two children are taken away and is left to fight for herself. Stuck in the middle of Ukraine, she must learn how to survive. If she doesn’t, her children will be left to die.

My name is Kalyna. I am 33 years old. This is the story of how I saved my children and escaped a war.

I relaxed back in my hammock as the droplets of rain trickled down my face. Everywhere shone in emerald colours, damp and moist. Hummingbirds flitted from tree to tree, their sweet song carrying on the warm breeze. I gazed up at the marbled pink sky.

“Atlas! Atlas!”
I flinched, startled.
“Hey, it’s only me, Rhea.”
I sighed.
“You really scared me, you know!” I laughed.
I grinned at her. Her raven black hair fell in braids to her waist and her rich brown skin shone out. She looked at me with solemn amber eyes. My brow furrowed in confusion. Rhea was such a happy, light person. And yet her eyes were like pits of darkness that drew me in.
“What is it, Rhea?”
She shook her head slowly and grabbed hold of my hand. Her touch was surprisingly cool and soft.
“Atlas… your dad… he’s missing, Atlas.”
Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence. I shook off her hand.
“No, it can’t be. Surely, it has to be someone else. This is a joke, isn’t it? Rhea?”
She breathed in shakily and looked at me sympathetically.
“It’s not. He’s missing.”
“But, Rhea…”
“I’m sorry, Atlas. But everyone has losses. I’ve lost so many people in my life. Mama. Rhena. Rhate. And look at me. I’m 15 and I’m perfectly healthy and happy. He may still be alive. I understand you were close to him… but you have to carry on.”
I felt a burning anger rush through me.
“How could you? Don’t you even care about him? He was my father, Rhea, my father!”
Rhea smiled softly.
“He is your father.”
I clenched my fists.
“You don’t know that!”
She stared right into my eyes. “He’s alive in your heart, Atlas. Forever.”
“Leave me alone!” I yelled.
Rhea stepped back, tears forming in her eyes.
“Rhea, I’m-”
“Forget it.”
“Seriously, Rhea, please!”
“I said, forget it!”
She stormed off, her eyes glinting dangerously. I made after her, but she turned back, a ferocious anger lighting up her face.
Help me, God. I need her. Help me.

I sat motionless at the dinner table, my lemongrass-flavoured chicken forgotten on my plate. All I could think of was Father. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he dead? Was he still fighting? Why had he ever agreed - chosen - to fight in this stupid war. I fingered the woven mat my plate was sat on. The coarse fabric scratched my fingers. I buried my head in my hands. I felt like the world was ending. I had made my best friend abandon me. My father was lost in the midst of a terrible war. I myself was lost. My mind was its own battle.
“Atlas?”
I looked up, my tear-streaked face making my mother gasp.
“Atlas, we all have grief in our lives. Sometimes we just need to go over the obstacles in life and look back with happiness at the person they were, instead of sadness for who they could have been. Your father was a great man. He had a good life. Now you need the courage to have a good one too. Be strong for me.”
I recalled Rhea’s comforting words.
He is your father.

“He’s still alive, Mama. Stop making it sound like he’s dead! He’s going to come back, just you see!” I choked out.
“Atlas, he’s dead. I know he is.”
“He’s missing, not dead! You’ve just betrayed him, that’s all. I’m going to find him and tell him how awful and what terrible things you said about him. Just you wait!” I snarled, trying to look fiercely at my Mother.
Her mouth fell open.
“You’re 16, Atlas. You should behave better than this! Be glad that I’m not like other mothers. They would beat you if you said such unforgivable things. You simply cannot say that to me!”
I leaned towards her.
“Like you care about Father, Mama. When he comes back, he’ll hate you. I’m going to find him.”
“Bu-”
“That’s the end of it!”
I stomped out of the room and slammed the door. And just like that, all my hate and fury rushed out, leaving bitter remorse.

I rested my head against my cool pillow and ran my fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes gently and saw Rhea’s infectious smile. Then I saw her expression of astonishment and grief. Then her beautiful eyes changed to a dusty green. They were Mama’s. I saw her power. I saw her brandishing a cane at me. I saw her embracing father. I had just seen her betraying him.

I was going to find my Father.

I swung my legs out of the side of my bed and silently made my way to the kitchen. I picked up my bag and piled mangoes and papayas into it and a hunk of bread and some cheese. The smell wafted up, like a gift from heaven. I gritted my teeth and took a swig of ice-cold water before placing the flask carefully in a small compartment at the bottom. Then, in the pocket, I placed two pictures. One was of my father, his weathered face looking out at the camera, his eyes crinkling. Another was of Rhea, even in black and white, she was still stunning, her eyes glittering with mischief. I stroked them delicately and zipped up my bag. I was ready to go. Almost. I lifted a piece of paper from the table and got a quill and began to write on the thick parchment.

Dear Rhea,
Read this in private. Don’t let Mum see.

I’m so sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it. I guess I just wanted Father back. Actually, that’s why I’m writing this. I told my mum that I was going to find Father. I said something unforgivable to her. But I still want to prove her wrong. Show her that Father is still alive, he’s still out there, somewhere.

I’ve decided to go find him. I have to. I have a map with me, I have food and water, and I should be back in a week. Hopefully by then this stupid war will be over. I just felt this urge to be with him. Like you said. He’ll always be alive in my heart. But my heart told me that he’s still alive. He is still suffering somewhere. I have to find him. I’m sorry that you can’t come with me, but in the state you’re in, I knew you wouldn’t agree and just tell the others.

Pray for me and for Father and I

I paused, wondering whether to add this part. I scribbled it out and finished off my letter.

Lots of love
Attie xxx

I propped up the letter on the table and opened the door. It slid silently open and I slipped through it. I looked back one last time.
“Goodbye.” I whispered
I turned the key in the lock and ran. I ran faster and faster and faster than ever before. I ran past the rushing rapids by our house, through endless trees and bushes, for what felt like hours until I finally broke out into the open. Now the sun was beginning to rise, streaks of amber painted on the horizon. I stopped, panting, sweat pouring down the side of my face. I collapsed onto the dry grass and closed my eyes, thinking of home. What had I left behind? I shook my head and let my eyelids flutter open. I couldn’t fall asleep yet, The day had barely started. Just as I was starting to get up, I heard a rustling from behind me.
“Hello?” I asked fearfully.
No reply. A few magpies scattered from the area, screeching an alarm call.
“Hello?”
A shadowed figure burst out of the bushes and fell on top of me. I yelled in fear and tried to scramble away.
“Hey, calm down, you useless lump!”
“Rhea?”
My eyes widened in astonishment.
“Did you… follow me?”
“Well - duh.”
She was so close I could count the freckles on her nose and smell the sweet scent of honeyed perfume coming off her.
I pulled her into a hug.
“I’m so glad you came.” I said, my voice muffled in her shoulder.
“Yep - I’m glad I came too. Fat lot of use you would have been out here on your own!”
“Oi!” I giggled.
I pushed her off me.
“Are you coming? With me?”
Rhea grinned.
“Uh-huh. Why else would I be out here?”
“To stop me?” I ventured.
“Good point, I guess. But anyway, we’ve got work to do, useless lump. We’ve gotta go find your father!”
“Rhea, you can’t! It’s dangerous out here!” I urged her.
“That’s exactly why I came, dummy. By the way, I read your letter. Bit soppy and all, but I can see you’re desperate. And you can’t do this alone.”
“But… what if we die?”
“Well, you won’t, cause you’re way too reckless to die. Anyway, if you were going to, I wouldn’t let them.”
“Look, you just shouldn’t.”
“This is what I should be saying to you! I’m going and that’s that!”
I smiled. “Ok, let’s go find him.”

I grabbed hold of Rhea’s hand as bullets fired above our heads. We were sheltering in a muddy hollow in the ground, rain hammering on our heads.
“Get out of here!” A soldier screamed, his voice almost completely silenced by the sound of bullets and bombs and the rain. My hair was plastered to my skin and my face was deathly pale.
“Rhea, we need to get out of here.”
She gazed back at me desperately.
“W-What about your Dad?”
“Rhea, your safety is more important right now. We have to go!”
She nodded grudgingly and we led her out of the hollow and we crepy, with our backs low, towards some nearby huts.
The soldier looked at us, his face streaked with mud and dirt.
“Get down!”
I pulled me and Rhea to the earth, mud masking our faces once again. I heard a whistling noise from behind and felt something brush my ear. A sharp pain shot through my ear and I cried out.
“Attie!” Rhea shouted over the noise.
“I’m fine.”
She looked at my ear in horror.
“Where’s your ear?”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Your ear’s gone!
I slowly raised my hand in fear. I breathed in. I couldn’t. I let it fall limp by my side. All of a sudden, the world revolved around me and Rhea’s face grew lined with worry.
“Attie? Attie!”
Her voice was far away. I gave in and fell forwards into her arms as everything went black.


I opened my eyes with a jolt.
“Rhea! Rhea!” I shrieked, reaching out for her cool grip.
“I’m here.” She soothed.
“Where are we? Where’s Father? Rhea, what happened to me?”
She gripped my hand.
“Your ear… a bullet hit it. You passed out. You’ve been gone for 3 days.”
“But what about Father? He could have been dead in all that time!”
She lifted a bowl to my parched lips and a warm broth trickled down my throat.
“Hey, Attie. This might seem a bit of a shock, but this is the hut of one of your Father’s fellow soldiers. He told me what happened to him.”
A tall, broad-shouldered man walked into the room. He gave me a serious look.
“You just missed him. I found him a few days ago, buried under the mud and moved him here. He’s in the garden.”
I beamed. I had proved Mother wrong.
“Father’s alive!”
Rhea smiled sadly.
“He’s dead, Attie.”
“Then how is he in the garden?”
“His grave is in the garden.”
I felt as though all the air had been knocked out of me. I found myself spluttering for air and my head grew hot and started pounding. Then I fell back into the welcoming arms of sleep once again.

This time I woke up on a riverbank, the sun beating down on my head. Rhea sat beside me, staring at the sky. I coughed, my throat sore after what seemed like weeks of dreaming.
“Attie! You’re awake! Finally! You could have woken up a little bit earlier, huh? It was quite inconvenient, you know.”
I laughed.
“Rhea, Father’s dead.”
My voice seemed too calm.
“I should be crying.”
“You’ve already done enough of that.”
“I - I have?”
“Uh-huh. In your sleep. But even though Will might be dead, you are still alive! You’ve got to live life to the fullest and get through these things. Your father would want you to be happy.”
“But what will I do without him?”
“You’ve got your mama. You’ve got Atyana. You’ve got me.
And as her hand slid into mine I felt truly happy for the first time in months.

Part 3


Based on The Scream Edvard Munch

Above the dark swirling waters
A shadowed figure stands deathly still
Their face pale as a ghost
A harrowing terror in you they instil.

The sky casts a
Haunting red glow
Glinting in their dangerous eyes
The fear inside you grows.

As you step back slowly
Shivering with dread
They lift their hands to their cheeks
A pounding fills your head.

Their mouth opens up
Into an endless scream
A pit of inky black
It seems like a terrible dream.

You clutch the handrail
Knuckles clenched pearly white
You lock onto their gaze
Like day turned into night.

You want to run
But you’re stuck to the spot
You try to yell
But you’re frozen in shock.

Others stand to watch
Their confused eyes wide
And when they looked at the figure
It was like they’d died.

Their mouth closed
And your knuckles unfurled
But it still felt like
Colour had been drained from the world.

Now you look back to that
Strange time but it seems
Now just unreal
The terrible scream.

Part 4

My google translate

Secondary oxygen
I laughed
His eyes turned red.
I think I'm afraid.

buy a gift
They are silent
Fate turned Pleasure into cockroaches

fear him
I apologise for this interruption.

(this is a bit creepy)
Back on my planet, the oxygen was scarce, and we had two sources. Right now we are running on primary and it filtered through the vents, refreshing and cold. But not for long. I knew what secondary oxygen was like and it wasn’t nice. It was stifling and hot and it felt like a punch in the face sometimes. When you breathed in, you felt a hand clasped around your throat and when you let it out it was as though it was sucking you away.

My friend, Daniel, was staring at me weirdly. Strange marks appeared on his skin, like a tally chart. I frowned.
“Daniel?”
His head was tipped to one side and he was muttering some strange language. His eyes were glittering with malice.
“Daniel, is this a joke?”
I laughed nervously.
“Yes, very funny. Now could we please get back to this oxygen problem? Please?”
I felt a strange sensation tingle through me and I swallowed anxiously.
“Daniel, snap out of it!” I ordered.
His eyes turned a glowing red colour and I began to step back.
“Come on, this isn’t very funny anymore.”
He slowly started to pace towards me, his mouth twisted into an ugly snarl.
“Get away! What are you doing?” I yelled, fear breaking my voice.
His eyes returned to their normal colour and his head snapped back into its normal position. He immediately collapsed to the ground, his face going a deadly pale.
“Daniel!” I screamed and ran towards him. I pressed my head against his chest. His heart was beating at the speed of light and his forehead felt like it was on fire.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” I murmured softly.
But as I carried his limp body towards the hospital I felt a fear run through me. I shivered.
“Come on, let’s go.”

“It’s Christmaaaaaaaaas!”
I grinned, elation lighting up my face. I had just been woken up by my very crazy friend, Dan, who had been raving about today all year.
“Hey, Dan, some of us want to sleep!”
“Don’t care!” The reply came.
I shook my head and smiled as I sank back into my pillows. And yet, despite my happiness, I felt like something was about to go wrong. Very wrong.

“Buy your girlfriend a gift. Maybe some of our wonderful perfumes. Get your first order free along with a complimentary box of chocolates and a cuddly IKEA toy!”
I laughed.
“Must be a hoax then. IKEA is literally the best thing ever; they won’t go giving their products out for free! Imagine!” Dan giggled.
“Imagine.” I muttered sarcastically.
“Present time!” My sister Anne announced.
Everyone turned to look at her expectantly. She brandished a present from our massive Santa bag. She squinted at the label.
“Hmmmm… something about… a cockroach? Oh, no, it’s for you, Tom.”
I snatched the present greedily off her.
“No, it does say cockroach. That, or we’re all going crazy.”
“Well, go on, open it!”
I tore off the packaging and looked inside. Familiar pink box. Lots of unicorns prancing around. A motionless doll stared out at me.
“Barbie? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A ripple of laughter resounded across the room.
“Well, you always loved them when you were a kid, Tom.” Anne laughed.
I smiled in spite of myself.

That was when I noticed something strange.

The TV had turned off.

Everyone was looking away from me.

I could feel a heavy silence in the air.

Unspoken words just… hanging.

I slowly turned my gaze to the right. Dan was sweating, laying back on the floor, his eyes red again. He was muttering, an eerie smile plastered across his face.
Something tickled my hand.

I looked down.

Cockroaches were spilling out from the Barbie box, out through her eyes, through her candyfloss hair. I shrieked and threw the box away from me and tried to fling off the clinging, gnawing creatures. All of a sudden, shouts echoed across the room.
“Who are you? What are you?” I asked desperately.
Dan looked up.
“I. Am. Fate.”
I tilted my head.
“Dan, come back.”
“Fear the one inside this body.”
I flinched, and a tear rolled down my cheek.
“Dan, please.”
I walked up to him and shook him by the shoulder.
“Dan, wake up!”
He snapped out his arms and clutched at my throat.
“You. Will. All. Die.”
I remember spots clouding my vision and then everything went black.

“Tom? Tom!”
I looked up into a face with mischievous brown eyes and freckles splattered across their cheeks.
“Dan!” I cried out happily.
“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier. I don’t know what happened. All I remember is a voice in my head and then… nothing. The others told me what I did. I’m so sorry.”
It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“Thank you.”
A serious look passed over his face.
“I-I thought I was going to die.”
I sat up slowly.
“You’re here now, though!”
“Yeah, I know but… I still can’t stop getting the feeling that something’s going to happen to me. And it will destroy me. And you. And Anne. It will destroy the world.”

This is for word wars

this is 1,477 words


Burning down (everyone you know) song 1

Gone (by Clinton sorter) song 2

Broken (Lovely the band) song 3

An extremely long time ago in a small coastal town named Mariner's Bay, there were whispers of a legendary treasure hidden beneath the waves. Stories of the treasure had been passed down through generations. It was said that the mysterious treasure was lost at sea long ago, during a fierce storm and that it had swallowed the ship carrying it. Many had attempted to find it, drawn by the promise of endless riches, but none had succeeded. Naomi’s grandmother said that she saw a city burning down because the town’s people didn’t want to help find the treasure. Her grandmother was out of the town when it happened and was the only survivor of her town she had said. Local legend had it that the treasure was not just guarded by the treacherous elements of the sea, but also by powerful enchantments that cursed many who looked for it. Long story short, it was believed that only the purest of hearts could hope to find the treasure, and the rest would suffer for the actions of their past. This captivating rumor had fascinated young Naomi since she was a child. When Naomi’s grandmother was gone, she was left with an endless number of questions, but she was determined to find the treasure once and for all.



Growing up, she lived in a beautiful seaside house overlooking the vast, restless sea. Her parents were never around much, always on business trips, they had told her. So, she had spent countless hours reading about the tales of treasure hunters and adventurers. The words would fill her imagination as if she were part of them all. If she wasn’t reading, she would be looking over ancient maps, searching for clues about the hidden treasure. As she grew older, Naomi's obsession with the treasure only intensified. She spent countless hours studying maritime lore, combing through dusty archives, and listening to the tales of weathered sailors who had braved the open sea. One sunny morning, while lost in her town's archives, Naomi stumbled upon an old sailor's map that seemed different from the rest. The map was a series of cryptic symbols and landmarks, she studied it closely to find hidden numbers in each of the symbols. “-51.388080363267° N -39.802679348236° W”
Naomi couldn’t believe herself; she had an actual clue to find the treasure! Filled with excitement and determination, it was stamped down with a set of problems. She needed a team to help her on her journey and needed a boat, but she immediately knew what to do.

Her childhood friend, Stella, a fearless sailor with unmatched navigational skills, eagerly agreed to join her. They had met a long time ago by accident when they ran into each other (literally) in their town hall. It hurt, but they were inseparable after that. Along with Stella's seasoned crew, aka James, the trio set sail aboard the “Lunar Seal,“ a rugged ship that had weathered countless storms, but was still ready to sail. Their journey was caught with perilous encounters, from treacherous reefs to violent squalls, but that only strengthened Naomi’s will to keep going. Her unwavering determination kept them on course. As they braved the unpredictable forces of the sea, Naomi and Stella spent long hours poring over the old sailor's map, “What happens if we get there” Stella said. “I don’t know” Naomi had said for what seemed to be the millionth time. Days turned into weeks, and they were still so far away from their destination. “Naomi, we can still turn back now, but we won’t have enough supplies to make it back after this, do you still want to go on?” Naomi didn’t know, but she couldn’t just give up, not now and after the weeks she already had been through. “We’re not turning back” Naomi said, Stella’s face said nothing as she headed on towards the endless sea.

It was late at night when Naomi felt the sudden urge to go up to the deck, she leaned against the railing looking out over the sea, and then there it was. She spotted an ancient, overgrown archipelago shrouded in mist. According to the map, this was the location of the fabled treasure. Naomi shouted “STELLA! I THINK WE FOUND IT!” Stella looked over and saw what Naomi pointed out. “Naomi, we’re going to find the treasure!” Stella looked happier than ever, and they prepared to navigate the treacherous waters surrounding the archipelago. Navigating through the land would require all of Stella's nautical skill and James's collective expertise. They charted their course with immense thought, relying only on one another to guide their way through this part of their journey. As ”The Lunar Seal" glided through the murky waters, Naomi, Stella, and James made their way to the heart of the archipelago. An eerie silence enveloped the area, broken only by the rhythmic beating of waves against the ship. They then put the anchor down, leaving James to guard the ship.

In the center of the archipelago, they discovered an undiscovered island where the treasure was believed to be hidden. The island was overgrown with dense moss and trees, it was clear that no one had set foot there for a long time; or even at all. Naomi and Stella prepared themselves for the daunting prospect of exploring the uncharted territory. Naomi and Stella ventured into the heart of the island, guided by the mysterious clues on the map. The dense undergrowth was tricky to navigate, but they pressed on, following the clues that led them through tangled vines and towering trees.

As they walked deeper into the island's interior, they stumbled upon a series of ancient ruins. The stones bore similar cryptic carvings that were on the map. Working together, Naomi and Stella unraveled the puzzle, it revealed a sequence of rituals and incantations that seemed to guard the treasure. The map, it seemed, was not only a guide to the treasure's location but also a key to deciphering the protective enchantments that surrounded it. Eager to uncover the secret of the treasure, Naomi and Stella went over the ancient inscriptions, piecing together the forgotten language and ancient symbols. They marveled at the thoughts of the ancient guardians who had devised such cunning safeguards. With time, they said the code, and a door appeared. With some struggle, they pushed the door open, revealing a cavern with a soft lime glow on it. They walked around, looking for a clue to the treasure, but nothing was found. In the heart of the cavern, they found a pedestal with a small book on it. Naomi called over to Stella, and they opened the cover. To their surprise, it was in English. It said, “The blood shed for this treasure is too much. They try one after the other failing to see what they are doing wrong. Only the ones who understand will ever get close to the treasure.”

“The treasure hunters would sacrifice anyone to have the treasure for themselves, that's why they could never find it.” Naomi said “So how do we prove that we’re no-” Stella’s words were cut off by the sound of scraping rocks. The wall in front of them opened and a bright gold glow illuminated the room. The treasure, shimmering with an otherworldly radiance sat right in front of them. “Stella. We did it!” Naomi yelled. The treasure wasn't just gold and jewels; it contained relics of a forgotten civilization, artifacts from the old civilization; It held a sense of wisdom and power. As they gazed upon the wondrous sight, they realized that the journey had transformed them, the valuable lessons about resilience, friendship, and the enduring spirit of adventure. “I think we should leave it here.” Naomi said. “I want to take one thing though. You” Stella said smiling. As they went out of the glowing room, Naomi and Stella returned to their boat, their hearts full of the memories of their epic quest. The treasure they had discovered was a testament to their unwavering determination and unbreakable bond. They had told James that there was never any treasure, and that the treasure was the friendship they shared, but he never believed it. When they came back to town they shared their tale with the townspeople. They knew that the generations to come would try to seek the treasure they found, and hopefully learn the important value of friendship. The coastal town became known for its captivating shores and for the strong spirit of those who dared to seek the unimaginable. The legend of their treasure hunt became a timeless tale, passed down through the ages, reminding people that the greatest treasures are often found through the courage to embark on the most extraordinary quests.

Critiquaire (no clue if I spelled that right, again lol) for @Sandy-Dunes! (Sci-fi, 318 words, so +400 points!)

Alright, here’s my critique!

First, a few things I liked:
-I’m in no way an expert on the Backrooms (at all), but I think this includes details and explains it well enough that even someone like me would be able to read and enjoy it- for example, adding details about the levels and the different places.
-“Cat-like curiosity” - I liked the simile there, it makes it much more interesting to read when you include figurative language.
-I like how the first few paragraphs set up the rest of the story while also drawing you in. A lot of the time, when the author is trying to explain the setting, it gets a bit boring, but I think you did a nice job with it!
-The cliffhanger was really good- it definitely adds a sense of mystery

A few critiques (I’m also just going to apologize in advance, I’m always very nitpicky with grammar :,)):
-At the end, when Max is hearing the voices, I think it would add to the scene to include bits and pieces of other voices. Since it’s described as overwhelming, I think doing this would help the reader understand why better, rather than just having a few voices mentioned.
-“He tethers on the edge of something, but finds his footing.” - I think “teeters” would be a better word here instead of tethers (this may have just been autocorrect or something though).
-In the 4th paragraph it says “the Frontrooms”. I know that this piece was probably meant for people who do have knowledge about the Backrooms, but maybe explaining this a little more would help- I had thought for a minute that the Frontrooms was a part of the Backrooms or something that Max had gone to before, and I had to look up what it was.

Anyways, that was all the advice I have about this. Overall, I think you did a great job!

Moon and Sun | 1803 words

part one | 450 words
“time never discriminated, but it decays”
Shadows whispered around the graves, mist dancing with the moonlight. Grass bent and swayed as though caught up in a spectral ball, and the stars shone coldly from above, their music faint and eerie.
In life, people hated and loved and judged. In death, it did not matter.
In peace, feuds were stuck up and children disinherited and old grudges cherished. In war, they were buried together without any heed to ancient hatred.
Perhaps the only true equality in the world was to be found here, under the cold earth. No breath stirred, no heart beat.
Life twisted, a vivid braid of emotions. Once, a man and a maid had kissed under the willows and been shunned, for the man was a lord and the maid a peasant. They rested together in death's eternal embrace, next to the man's father, the one who had doomed them.
Peace brought pain, a brilliant spike of aversion. Hundreds had fought and bled on the green ground and sunk beneath it, enemy and enemy tangled together for all time.
Time had withered the bad and the good alike, leaving a blank slate. The stories buried under stone were gone forever, dissipated into the raging current of rhythm that ruled the world. Kings may come and kings may fall, but time survived it all.
The moonshine grew brighter, and the crickets struck up a phantom tune. Long-dead voices seemed to laugh and weep, twisting in out, uncomprehensive shapes, in the ever-deepening mist. Life dances, and these stories, these memories, were once alive.
Time has no hold over life. Life is too imbalanced, too chaotic. It rules only death. It rules only certainly.
Over this land, with the moon in the sky, Fate toys with her former playthings, flexing the strings that led these memories along their paths like so many puppets. Time's presence hangs too heavy here for her to do more than whisper momentary life into the stories, but she enjoys the chance to needle him. Unlike time, Fate is fickle, switching things up, favoring some over others. She plays with life until it bores her, then she throws it away for Time to deal with. The only constant about her is her love of hurting her brother.
Time, in turn, bides until the perfect moment to swallow his sister into his domain and bring eternal equality. He wishes to tip the scales in his favor, and balance every single other one. But always, always, Fate is lurking to tip them over like a child kicking sand castles.
Clouds scud over the moon, and the music fades. The mist settles, Time claiming his authority once again.
The memories rest under the ground, equal again.

part two, section one | 159 words
At age five, the secret cult Midge's father was part of found her and her mother's cottage in the woods. That was the day she watched her life literally burn to the ground. It was against the law for a member to have any familial ties, and the rest of the cult took matters into their own hands when they found that the law had been broken. Midge's father arrived too late to save his house or wife, perishing himself, but by this time, the mysterious sprites of the forest were attracted by the commotion and gathered around. One in particular took notice of Midge, and for reasons even she couldn't guess, saved the child's life. That was how she bonded to a slaughter-sprite, and her life as an outcast began. A decade later, Midge is still wandering the forest, still hunting the cult that ruined her life…still struggling with the will of the sprite in her mind.

part two, section two | 516 words

ap0l0 wrote:

Hannah died three years, four months and five days ago. That was also the same night she became a ghost, destined to watch her peers, friends and family move on without her. But Hannah couldn't bear to have such a grave existence (pun unintended), and decides to spend the rest of eternity pulling pranks and stunts on people who couldn't possibly see her. Until, in the middle of the greatest prank she has ever pulled, a random stranger catches her eye, and winks.

It had never been Hannah's intention to die. It just kind of…happened. One moment, she had been fine. The next, she'd been on the ground, wheezing, her throat closing up. Her family speculated that she had had some unknown, extremely severe allergy and suffocated in the attack.
When the darkness closed in, she had been in disbelief. Did it really end now? Right here? When her grades were starting to go up, she was starting to understand her younger siblings, she was starting to make new friends?
When her eyes seemed to open again, Hannah wanted to cry in relief, at least until she spotted her body.
Her body.
It wasn't moving, or blinking, or breathing. She reached out to touch it, and couldn't see her fingers. She wasn't sure she had fingers anymore.
It was only then that she had begun to understand.
That was three years, four months, and five days ago.
She'd been terribly sad at first, watching her family grieve and wanting to grieve herself.
About two years ago, she had stopped grieving and started being bored. Really bored. Her brother and sister and parents had learned how to move on, although she still caught her mother and father staring blankly into space sometimes.
She first discovered a cure to her boredom when she was hanging out in her sister Amelia's bedroom, watching her write a diary entry and giggling to herself. Hannah had arrived too late yesterday to watch her write yesterday's entry, but she wanted to know if her sister had written anything else about her crush on some guy at school. Absentmindedly, she reached out to the page.
It flickered, and Amelia jumped, looking around and rubbing her wrist where Hannah had touched it.
The ghost realized the possibilities immediately.
Bye-bye, boredom.
Since then, she'd filled her spare time (which was all her time) pulling pranks and practical jokes on people. Sometimes it was people she knew–her brother and sister were a couple of her favorite targets. But surprising random strangers was pretty funny too.
And a brilliant idea to pull an amazing prank on a bunch of random strangers had just occurred to her.
Laughing, Hannah drifted towards the high school where she used to go. Everyone had heard of the old “my dog ate my homework” excuse, but she wondered if they had ever had it mixed up by a ghost. Well, they were about to.
She was halfway through swapping sheets of homework when the bell rang and students poured out of class. Some passed through her and shivered, but any that happened to glance her way didn't really look at her but through her. She was invisible, after all.
Half of her prank would be ruined–she had forgotten to keep track of time and work faster–but that was okay. She'd think of a better one.
She was still turning possibilities over in her mind when a boy she didn't know stopped. Then he looked at her–really looked at her, in the eye–and winked.
He was gone before she could register everything that had just happened.

part 3 | 200 words
Dappled sunlight streaks the grass
Branches wave in a breezy dance
The wind chimes sway
And sing a song
The bushy squirrel flicks its tail
To keep time
The earth is spinning
In a celestial rhyme

Civilized land and wild ground
Live hand-in-hand,
Each spilling over into the other
Like clasped hands
The creatures of the wild have no fear
The coyotes howl a shivering song
The bobcat runs, swift-silent-step, across the road
Under the stars

Flowers blossom, ripen, swell
Into wild fruit, Nature's bounty
There for the picking, unless
A ribbon of brown wrinkles through the grass
The snakes guard the berry bushes well.
Vultures soar in the sky, looking for food,
And the ruddy hawk broods in the trees
While the horned owl laughs to the moon

Thin-waisted wasps nest in crevices,
Swift-swoop swallows follow suit
Plants wither and die and bloom again
The pumpkin has yet to bear fruit
The sun turns the air too hot to bear
Rabbit and snake alike prefer the night
A round dove nest hangs in a tiny tree
They have a mockingbird nest for a neighbor

A yellow butterfly darts through the sky.
The world's song is of peace and harmony.

hopefully i did this right lol (not included in word count)

part four | 478 words

Google Translate wrote:

The sun is shining in the forest
The branches are floating in the wind .
Wind song
Wild foxes flap their wings
temple
The world will change,
song to heaven
urban and rural
together
They are full of it .
Like hands tied
Animals are not afraid .
The road crosses
Under the Stars

Sunshine streamed through the tree branches whirling in the slight breeze, splashed across weathered yellow stone, came to rest in the pelt of a sacred fox. It blinked sleepy golden eyes and turned over, wings rustling as they brushed the soft velvet pillows that littered the floor of the ancient temple. Solemn-faced priests and priestesses still shuffled softly over the stone floors, catering to the foxes' every whim. Once, the beasts had ruled the skies with storms and tempests, roaring their disdain for humankind. Time had softened them, unbent them, and now they slept quietly in their vine-wrapped temple, graciously accepting the tribute of the mortals. The air was hot, heavy, still, pregnant with peace and the weight of a summer afternoon.
It was difficult to tell where the temple began and the wilderness ended, or vise versa. The acolytes had attempted to clear away the persistent ivy that wrapped delicate fingers around pale stone, but in the end, they left it as it was. The foxes did not seem to care, and no matter what they did, the forest was always lurking, creeping closer when their backs were turned.
The breeze died, and heat settled more closely than before. More foxes stirred, waking, wings stretching and ruffling as they opened eyes the color of storms and lightning and waited. The priests respectfully kept their distance, shuffling noiselessly out of the room.
It was midday, and time for the singing.
It was not the foxes that sang, but rather the birds. One began to chirp, and another, and another, a chorus of burbling, melting sound blending into a song as sweet as a siren's wail, rippling almost tangibly from their rainbow-colored throats and into the air, reaching higher, higher, past the temple, past the trees, up to the skies, the heavens. One fox, and then another, and another, spread white-plumed wings, and storm clouds roiled in the corners of the blue sky, turning the atmosphere into a different kind of heaviness, the kind that came before rain and thunder. The sunshine flickered–died-
Rain fell from the clouds, drenching the land, moving the forest into a quivering dance that moved with joy and life. The song finished as smoothly as it had begun, wings rustled as birds flew for shelter and foxes back up, the breeze back and laden with cool moistness. The priests returned to their duties, tidying the temple, sweeping out the dust, plumping the velvet cushions. More than one had a companion on their shoulder, one of the singing birds. The animals here had no fear of the gentle souls who served their own. They worked until the moon was high and the stars shone, then softly lay on pillows of their own as all sound hushed and moonshine bathed the stone.
Another day was ended, slipped into the past like a bead on a string.

Well this is for the 3rd word war of today
(731 words total)
weekly I was doing–>

Lucy opened her eyes gasping for air as she laid on what seemed to be a bed. She didn’t know how she got there but was grateful she wasn’t outside anymore. When her eyes finally focused, she looked around. She was in a small cabin; lanterns hanging from the ceiling, a kettle on the stove, and a boy who was chopping something that smelled like grass. “Hello?” Lucy barely made out the words, her throat was dry and hurt when she talked. The boy came over to her and said, “Hey there, I’m Zach. You looked like you needed some help with that storm out there, so I brought you inside.” Lucy wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying, she was still processing what had happened before then. The running, the falling, the lightning; it seemed to flood over her all at once. “Hey!? You okay?” the boy-Zach interrupted her thoughts. “Yeah, sorry I…I’m still… I” she stumbled over her words, but Zach didn’t seem to mind. “You had a rough night, but what were you doing out there all by yourself.” Lucy didn’t know what to say, “I don’t know, I can’t remember, I just remember my phone dying and running until I found this cabin, but there was lightning and” she stopped to take a breath but didn’t keep talking. Zach handed her a bowl. “You need to eat, and I made some soup.” She dipped her spoon into the soup and tasted a burst of flavor like never before, “This is really good, Zach.” Zach smiled at her and said, “I made it just for you. “Lucy’s heart dropped as he continued to speak. “You may not know me, but I do; And now I can finally take my revenge I have been planning for weeks. Lucy you- “He was cut off by the sound of lightning. BOOM! Then it went dark.

Because why not write about mangos lol—>

Mangos- and why they rule

The mango. Magnificent, marvelous, and so majestic it can be named the ‘King of fruits. Out of the 2,000+ fruits in the world, the mango stands out boldly. Its abundance of nutrients, flavor, and the countless ways to enjoy it, makes it the best fruit of all.

Mangos are jam-packed with nutrients like vitamin A, C, K, potassium, and Magnesium. Mangos are also “rich in beta-carotene an antioxidant in mangoes have been shown to fight free radicals, which can cause damage to your cells, and potentially lead to cancer.” (Begum, Jabeen. Health Benefits of Mangoes, August 8, 2022. Webmd.com) This shows how mangoes are particularly important because they help you fight off cancer cells. Cancer is one of the leading causes of death in the world, so eating a mango can not only help you fight the biggest disease in the world, but also keep you healthy with the vast number of vitamins in the mango.

What else makes the mango top tier? It never gets boring! You can enjoy a mango year-round in so many ways. “Fresh mango can be enjoyed on its own or added to yogurt, salads, oatmeal, smoothies, salsas, or even rice dishes.” (Streit, Lizzie. How to cut a mango, August 31, 2020. Healthline.com) Even if you are a picky eater, that is not even all the ways to prepare mangos, and it adds another healthy fruit to any of your meals.

No matter when or where, the mango gives you the ultimate variety of flavor, and nutrients to keep you healthy year-round. There are so many ways to eat a mango which makes sure you will never get ‘bored’ of eating a mango ever again. Mangoes rule.

Prologue:

It is day 264. The skies have changed, the air colder than ever. Why was I up here, in the clouds where no one could see me, hear me, help me. I have longed to be at the surface of earth, but it is just out of reach for me.

With every breath I take, I long to meet someone.

The creator is evil, but you are worse.


Chapter one: trouble


Evelyn Arwen Hayes. Evelyn Arwen Hayes. I repeat my name several times, but it never feels like I have said it enough times. I wish I were not afraid, or must hide all the time, but I will learn someday, just not now.

Link to Masterpost: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/8034365
Link to this post:
Part One: 558/300
Part Two: A: 100/50 B: 375/250
Part Three: 180/150
Part Four: 402/400
Date completed (UTC): 7/12/24
Time Completed (UTC): 12:56 AM
Points(?): 1500

Part One:
Thread:
Tears dropped from
your stained hands
and painted the
heavens in stars
because you feared
the consequences of
the actions you've

She sniffed, tears sliding down her face. The tears glittered, dripping down to her hands and staining them blue. “I’m sorry…” He stood above her, sword in hand. “Sorry won’t make it better.” She rubbed her face, “I can make it better! I can fix it! Just give me your demands!” He narrowed his eyes, “I don’t think I want that anymore.” “W-well- what do you want instead? Anything your heart desires is yours!” “I want you gone. And I can do that myself.” She jolted back, “You don’t have to do that! I’m much more useful alive!” His voice remained flat, “I don’t care. You’re done.”

Azara smiled, looking down at the world below, her radient form lighting up the night sky. She couldn’t help but here a nagging voice in her mind. Ugh, she hated nagging. Her glittery blue eyes narrowed as the nagging continued to grow louder. She turned her head, trying to see who was annoying her. She focused her attention towards a small voice on the top of a mountain, which she now noticed was screaming at her. She looked down at the tiny man, who continued to shout, “HEY! MOON LADY! I KNOW YOU’RE THERE! YEAH, YOU, A PERSONIFIED FORCE OF NATURE! LOOK AT ME! I NEED TO TALK TO YOU!” She giggled, descending in a human form. “Hello there, mortal. I see you need my assistance.” He threw up his arms, “THERE. WE. GO! /THANK/ YOU! Can we talk?? Please??” She chuckled, smiling, “Oh of course, what is your plight? Also, what is your name?” He started calming down, “My name’s Sebastian. And… yours?” “Azara. Nice to meet you, mortal.” He smiled, “Nice to meet you too, I guess-” She sat on the ground, crossing her legs. She was wearing a silky, somewhat transparent dress that trailed behind her like water. Her hair was black, cascading down her back. Sebastian sat across from her. She noticed that he was incredibly bold, not even worrying about how he had a goddess sitting right in front of him. She admired that quality. She smiled, “So, Sebastian. Again I ask you, what is your plight?” “I want to be stronger.” She tilted her head, “I find it interesting that you chose to seek me out for this request.” He shrugged, “I couldn’t think of anyone else.” She leaned back, “I have a brother, the sun. He would probably suit your request better.” Sebastian tilted his head, “Okay, but I’m here with you now, aren’t I?”

Sebastian hiked up the mountain, trying to drag his month-old sword up the hill. He was still getting used to the weapon he had been gifted by Azara. It was a weapon of great detail, a broadsword made of a silver metal. Azara had claimed that it would never get dull and never break, but she made it WAY too heavy. There was a blue gemstone in its hilt, which Azara claimed would give him supernatural ‘moon’ abilities. But he wasn’t sure about that, considering no moon-like abilities had shown themselves. That’s why he wanted to revisit the goddess. Once he got to the top, he called for her, but his effort from before was not needed, as the goddess visited almost immediately. She appeared almost excitedly. “What do you need my help for this time?? I’m alll ears!”

Part Two: A
(blurb for a random short story I wrote a while ago baha) Udaya is a criminal. Once a highly respected politician in her country (don't remember the name-), she descended from grace when she gave vital information to the Remens, an enemy kingdom, which allowed them to win a vital victory in an ongoing war. The leader of Udaya's country eventually gets tired of Udaya after she attempted to escape. Taban, the president, tries to have her executed, but his plans are foiled. Udaya escapes, and -> is taken in by the Remens. She slowly warms up to them, especially their king Mauro. However, as more information is revealed, Udaya becomes distrustful of everyone around her.

Part Two: B (@TKb0iZ)
(Blurb for reference: Emily's world revolves around her unconventional education—homeschooled by her free-spirited mom. Together, they explore history in ancient ruins, solve math puzzles under starlit skies, and navigate life's ups and downs with unbreakable bonds. But when an unknown individual moves in and knocks on their door, Emily must choose between them and the comforts of home.)

Emily stepped carefully, lifting her foot tenderly over a log. As she stepped down, thick brush crunched under her feet. She grimaced, trying her best to stay quiet. Her mom followed, muttering to herself about snakes. That was /very/ helpful for Emily’s anxiety. Eventually she had enough, turning back to her mom, “Momm- can you /please/ not keep talking to yourself about snake venom?” Her mother sighed, “Alright, if you insist.” Emily nodded, turning back to the trail ahead of her. The two of them were trekking through a dense forest, which slithered up a steep mountain. They had to be incredibly quiet in order to not wake any of the hostile creatures nearby. They would be at this for a long while.

Emily felt like cheering as soon as her feet touched the summit of the mountain. She also felt like collapsing, as her knees wobbled and her chest heaved so much that she just wanted to fall asleep on the spot. However, as she nearly keeled over, her mom grabbed her by the wrist and dragged her over to two flat rocks. She instructed her to sit on one, which Emily did immediately. She caught her breath as her mom brought out two journals and some snacks. “Okay Emmi, let’s get started on nature study once you get some water.” Emily nodded, gulping down her water bottle. Her mom brought out a book and opened it, “So we left off on page 300, let’s review that chapter again.”

Emily was SO relieved to get back home. She was ready for a LONG nap, even though it was barely noon. She was confused, however, when she saw a tall, strange man standing outside their door. She looked over at her mom, who made a face in confusion as well. “Stay in the car Emmi, I’ll be done in a second.” Emily nodded, watching her mom go out. She watched a small conversation unfold, before the strange man waltzed over to her car. He tapped the window, gesturing for her to roll it down. After she glanced at her mom, she did so. He gave her a smile. His voice was sweet, dripping like honey, “Hello there, Emily dear. I have a proposition to make.”

Part Three:
Mountains swerve by
Tall things, green and beige
They are clouded by fog, hidden by smoke
Tall and imposing guys

White metal shell there
Whirring wheels here
Leather seats too
Chatter swims through the air

Pastures run by, watered and well kept
Bovine giants greet us
Equines, majestic and brown, watch us go
We passed by creatures who slept

Clouds in all shapes, like marshmallows and cotton
They swirl and swim in the bright sky
They laugh at us, watching us go
They watch us go on

Conversations arise
Anarchy, religion, protests, rights
All topics of conversation
We humor ourselves, convinced we are wise

Bracelets are tied and set
Hands weave strings
Mouths weave words
We are met with no regret

Time crawls, stoops and swings
It escapes comprehension
Hours feel like minutes, all feels upside down
Oh what great times this trip will bring

We are glad to sit, to rest
Our lives are put on hold
We are escaping for the week, cherishing what we have
We have competition ahead of us, and we will do our best

Part Four:
Translation:
The mountains are shrinking
Things rainbow, green and beige
Hidden by the clouds, hidden by the rain.
Tall and handsome men

It has a white metallic shell
This is where the wheels turn.
Leather chairs
Word travels through the air

Easter is nurtured, watered and well cared for
We are greeted by large herds of cattle
Tall brown horses protect us
We passed by the sleeping statues

Clouds in all shapes like pools and cotton
These signs are flying in the sky.
They make us laugh and we go see
Let's keep waiting

Delia let out a breath, holding the watering can tenderly as she watched the streams of water fall delicately onto the plants. The flowers glistened, swaying a bit as they were hit with the water. They murmured their thanks, which made Delia smile. She moved on, trying her best to hit each and every flower. They all beamed back at her, little faces smiling happily.

Delia heard a screech behind her, which frightened her. She turned around, seeing a white, egg-shaped robot make its way through the fields. She was appalled by its spindly black legs as it slithered through the fields, disrupting the flowers that she so carefully tended. It was speedy, coming closer to her. Delia stood her ground, standing up and brushing her hands on her dress. She grimaced, annoyed. The egg stopped right in front of her, letting out a screech that vaguely sounded like her language. “Make way. I must go through.” “No! You will not move further!” Delia’s hands glowed with magic, the flowers bending toward her. “You will make way. Immediately. I am in a hurry.” Delia hissed, “Move another spikey step and you’ll have bigger things to worry about.” A door on the egg cracked open, a small head peeking out of it, “Please move, ma’am- I need to get through. I’m sorry, but I’m on a mission! And I can’t fail now!” Delia crossed her arms, “I don’t care. You will not disrupt my flowers.” “But- but- I have to! It’s my mission!” Delia’s anger flared, “I. Don’t. Care!” Her eyes glowed, the flowers rising up to heights taller than the metallic egg. “Please! I can tell you why I need this!” “I don’t think any reasoning you could give me would allow me to let you to ruin the Eternal Garden.” He made a pouty face, “Can you at least hear me out? I can’t go back home empty-handed!” Delia’s kinder nature got the better of her. “Fine… but come out of that abomination.” “Okay…” He clambered out, the egg settling in the ground. “Soooo… do you know about the Easter Kingdom?” “That is a frankly stupid name.” “Uh- uh, maybe? I dunno? I like it-” “Whatever- I have heard of it.” “Welllllll- This may come as a bit of a shock but-” She hissed, “Spit it out.” “Fine! Fine! I’m the crown prince and I need one of your sacred cows!”

part 1-
Kiara looked through her files. Who to choose for her experiment? she turned the page to the next person.
Anya Brooks.
Age: 19.
Well, this seemed promising.
She picked up her phone and dialed a number,
“Hello?”
“Yes?”
“Kiara here. I need you to stage an accident for a girl named Anya Brooks.”
“Why?”
“I am conducting an experiment. I am thinking of a car accident.”
“How bad do we want?”
“Lose a limb or something.”
“Alright.”
She hung up and smiled.

A few weeks later she received a new patient.
Anya Brooks.
“Good morning, Anya. How are you feeling?”
“Not good at all. I just lost my left arm in a car accident.”
“I see. Do you want to talk about it?”
“Not really, not yet.”
“I understand that.”
“Apparently, you will help me?”
“Yes, that's my job, in a way. I know that this will be life changing, not exactly in a good way,” Kiara explains patiently.

Overtime, Anya starts to trust Kiara and sees her as a best friend, but Kiara does not see her as a friend. To Kiara, Anya is just an experiment subject.
“I think I'm ready to talk about what happened and how I felt and how I am coping now,” Anya admits one session.
This is the moment Kiara is waiting for, to see how it impacted her and how everything is happening. It's been almost two years.

decades later, and Anya is not doing well, the different traumatic events that happened to her over the years are driving her insane. Kiara concludes that the older they are, trauma does not heal easily.
271

part 2-
In a time when the stars danced like a thousand fireflies in the night sky, there lived a sorcerer named Weli. Shrouded in mystery and cloaked in dark, flowing robes, his eyes glinted with a mischievous light. Weli harbored a longing for power beyond measure. He envied the stars, their brilliance, and the hope they inspired in people's hearts. Driven by his insatiable desire, Weli concocted a spell so potent it could steal the very stars from the heavens.

The night began as any other, with the sky a canvas of infinite black speckled with twinkling stars. But as Weli began his incantation, the air grew heavy and the wind ceased to blow. A sinister silence fell over the land. The sorcerer’s words echoed through the stillness, each syllable weaving an ominous tapestry.

As the final word left his lips, a great and terrible force surged through the atmosphere. One by one, the stars flickered and disappeared, snuffed out by an invisible hand. The sky, once a beautiful tapestry of light, became an expanse of darkness, black as the deepest ink. No star remained; they were all trapped within a crystal orb held tightly in Weli's grasp.

The world below shuddered at the sudden loss of its celestial companions. Without the stars, sailors lost their way at sea, and travelers stumbled blindly in the night. The once familiar constellations that guided them had vanished, leaving only a void. Panic spread like wildfire. People whispered of the sorcerer’s deed, cursing his name and the darkness he had wrought.

Weli stood at the pinnacle of his tower, gazing into the orb that held his prize. The stars, now tiny points of light within the crystal, shimmered with a subdued brilliance. The sorcerer’s heart swelled with triumph as he reveled in the power he had seized. The world was cast into darkness, and Weli, with his crystal orb, held the light of the universe in his grasp.
324

part 3-
Upon a canvas, vast and still,
A sunset spills its molten gold,
A twilight hush upon the hill,
Where dreams and memories unfold.

The sky, a symphony of hues,
With crimson blush and violet deep,
As if the heavens, there, diffuse
Their secrets for the earth to keep.

A tree, its branches gnarled and wise,
Silhouetted against the blaze,
Holds whispers of the ancient skies,
In tangled limbs of shadowed maze.

The river, winding through the glen,
Reflects the fiery evening light,
A mirror to the artist's pen,
Tracing the edges of the night.

A solitary figure stands,
Cloaked in twilight’s gentle grace,
Their thoughts as fluid as the sands,
Their heart a calm, reflective space.

In this serene, enchanted place,
Where time and nature softly blend,
The fleeting beauty we embrace,
Becomes a balm, a soul’s true friend.

The colors fade, as night descends,
Yet echoes of the scene remain,
A captured moment that transcends
The temporal bounds of joy and pain.

In art, we find the world anew,
A silent song, a vision clear,
A timeless bridge that we pursue,
Where hearts and dreams align, adhere.
188

part4-
On a serene evening, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, an artist sat at his drawing board, the world around him calm and quiet. The sunset, in its final, fleeting moments, poured molten gold across the landscape, casting a warm, ethereal glow. His canvas, blank but full of potential, stood as a silent witness to the day's end.

A dark spot on the hill caught his eye—a solitary tree standing tall against the backdrop of the setting sun. This tree was a sentinel, a keeper of dreams and memories. It seemed to whisper to the artist, revealing secrets long forgotten and tales yet untold. The sky above was a canvas in itself, a vast expanse painted in hues of red and dark purple, like a giant balloon floating in the twilight. This celestial spectacle held a world of secrets that demanded preservation, a world only an artist could translate into reality.

As he began to sketch, the tree took shape, its branches growing with wisdom, reaching out like arms welcoming the night. Its silhouette, dark and fiery, stood stark against the fading light. The old sky whispered stories to him, and in the labyrinth of shadows cast by the branches, he saw echoes of ancient lore and timeless wisdom.

Below the tree, a river meandered through the rocky terrain, its waters shimmering with the reflected light of the evening sky. The river was a mirror to the artist's soul, a flowing testament to his creative journey. With each stroke of his pen, he captured the interplay of light and shadow, the delicate dance of dusk and dawn.

Nearby, a man stood by the riverbank, bathed in the grace of the encroaching night. His mind, like the shifting sands of time, wandered through memories and dreams. His heart, a quiet sanctuary, absorbed the tranquility of the scene. This place, calm and magical, where time seemed to slow and nature's beauty reigned supreme, was his refuge. Here, amidst the whispers of the wind and the rustling of leaves, he found solace and inspiration.

As night fell, the vibrant colors of the sunset faded, but the sounds of the night remained. The artist continued his work, undeterred by the darkness. He knew that the physical limits of pleasure and pain were inconsequential in the face of true artistic expression. His canvas was a bridge between worlds, a conduit through which hearts and dreams could meet and merge.

In this new world, born of his imagination and skill, he saw a vision of harmony and beauty. The tree, the river, the man—all elements of a timeless song, a sweet melody that resonated with the soul. Through his art, he captured the essence of this place, a sanctuary where the boundaries between reality and dreams blurred, and where the true nature of beauty was revealed.

The artist's sanctuary was a testament to the power of creativity, a reminder that in the quiet moments of life, one could find the deepest truths and the most profound inspirations. As he stepped back to admire his work, he felt a deep sense of fulfillment. In the picture, he saw not just a landscape, but a new world—a world where hearts and dreams could forever meet, merge, and create something timeless and beautiful.
550


total: 1344 words

Weekly #2

Part 1

I stared at Eloise in ferocious anger.
“You know, I don’t even get why you wanted to be a friend to me. All I did to you was be mean to you. And you never cared anyway. About me. And I never cared about you. I don’t trust anyone. So you can forget all this and just leave me alone!” I yelled, my voice cracking.
I saw tears welling up in her bloodshot eyes. They rolled down her cheeks thick and fast.
“All I wanted was a friend. Now no one will like me! What are you? You’re a monster! What sort of person…”
She broke off, her lip wobbling. She turned around and raced out of the changing rooms, clothes scattered on the floor.
And just like that, all the anger left me, replaced with a burning desire for forgiveness and love. All I wanted was a friend. That’s what she said to me. She was right. I was a monster. What had I done? The only person who actually understood me, I had turned away. I curled myself up into a ball on the floor and a waterfall of sorrow cascaded from my eyes.
“I need you, El.” I whispered.


***

Eloise stormed out, biting the inside of her cheek. This was proof of what a horrible person she was. She had yelled at her supposed best friend. All those terrible, bitter words Amy had said. She could see they were just a cover. A cover for all her pain and despair. And she had been so cruel to her. Why? As she wandered through the corridors, tears streaming down her face, people stopped to stare at her and she felt warm arms around her. She fell limp in them and suddenly the world spun. Why was everyone being so kind to her? These were the people who everyone said were bullies. Or maybe everyone else were the bullies instead, trying to create a bad reputation for them.
“Come on, Eloise. We’re gonna take you home, OK?” A kind voice murmured comfortingly.
Her head was aching, like hammers hacking through her skull, and everyone’s voices seemed like they were from a distant world. She fell limp in the person’s arms and tried to focus on something, but everything came out blurry. The last thing she could remember was a distant shout before everything went black.

Part 2

Bullets echo. Fireballs explode. Planes crash. War is coming.

Kalyna feels the weight of guilt pressing on her shoulders when her two children are taken away and is left to fight for herself. Stuck in the middle of Ukraine, she must learn how to survive. If she doesn’t, her children will be left to die.

My name is Kalyna. I am 33 years old. This is the story of how I saved my children and escaped a war.

I relaxed back in my hammock as the droplets of rain trickled down my face. Everywhere shone in emerald colours, damp and moist. Hummingbirds flitted from tree to tree, their sweet song carrying on the warm breeze. I gazed up at the marbled pink sky.

“Atlas! Atlas!”
I flinched, startled.
“Hey, it’s only me, Rhea.”
I sighed.
“You really scared me, you know!” I laughed.
I grinned at her. Her raven black hair fell in braids to her waist and her rich brown skin shone out. She looked at me with solemn amber eyes. My brow furrowed in confusion. Rhea was such a happy, light person. And yet her eyes were like pits of darkness that drew me in.
“What is it, Rhea?”
She shook her head slowly and grabbed hold of my hand. Her touch was surprisingly cool and soft.
“Atlas… your dad… he’s missing, Atlas.”
Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence. I shook off her hand.
“No, it can’t be. Surely, it has to be someone else. This is a joke, isn’t it? Rhea?”
She breathed in shakily and looked at me sympathetically.
“It’s not. He’s missing.”
“But, Rhea…”
“I’m sorry, Atlas. But everyone has losses. I’ve lost so many people in my life. Mama. Rhena. Rhate. And look at me. I’m 15 and I’m perfectly healthy and happy. He may still be alive. I understand you were close to him… but you have to carry on.”
I felt a burning anger rush through me.
“How could you? Don’t you even care about him? He was my father, Rhea, my father!”
Rhea smiled softly.
“He is your father.”
I clenched my fists.
“You don’t know that!”
She stared right into my eyes. “He’s alive in your heart, Atlas. Forever.”
“Leave me alone!” I yelled.
Rhea stepped back, tears forming in her eyes.
“Rhea, I’m-”
“Forget it.”
“Seriously, Rhea, please!”
“I said, forget it!”
She stormed off, her eyes glinting dangerously. I made after her, but she turned back, a ferocious anger lighting up her face.
Help me, God. I need her. Help me.

I sat motionless at the dinner table, my lemongrass-flavoured chicken forgotten on my plate. All I could think of was Father. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he dead? Was he still fighting? Why had he ever agreed - chosen - to fight in this stupid war. I fingered the woven mat my plate was sat on. The coarse fabric scratched my fingers. I buried my head in my hands. I felt like the world was ending. I had made my best friend abandon me. My father was lost in the midst of a terrible war. I myself was lost. My mind was its own battle.
“Atlas?”
I looked up, my tear-streaked face making my mother gasp.
“Atlas, we all have grief in our lives. Sometimes we just need to go over the obstacles in life and look back with happiness at the person they were, instead of sadness for who they could have been. Your father was a great man. He had a good life. Now you need the courage to have a good one too. Be strong for me.”
I recalled Rhea’s comforting words.
He is your father.

“He’s still alive, Mama. Stop making it sound like he’s dead! He’s going to come back, just you see!” I choked out.
“Atlas, he’s dead. I know he is.”
“He’s missing, not dead! You’ve just betrayed him, that’s all. I’m going to find him and tell him how awful and what terrible things you said about him. Just you wait!” I snarled, trying to look fiercely at my Mother.
Her mouth fell open.
“You’re 16, Atlas. You should behave better than this! Be glad that I’m not like other mothers. They would beat you if you said such unforgivable things. You simply cannot say that to me!”
I leaned towards her.
“Like you care about Father, Mama. When he comes back, he’ll hate you. I’m going to find him.”
“Bu-”
“That’s the end of it!”
I stomped out of the room and slammed the door. And just like that, all my hate and fury rushed out, leaving bitter remorse.

I rested my head against my cool pillow and ran my fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes gently and saw Rhea’s infectious smile. Then I saw her expression of astonishment and grief. Then her beautiful eyes changed to a dusty green. They were Mama’s. I saw her power. I saw her brandishing a cane at me. I saw her embracing father. I had just seen her betraying him.

I was going to find my Father.

I swung my legs out of the side of my bed and silently made my way to the kitchen. I picked up my bag and piled mangoes and papayas into it and a hunk of bread and some cheese. The smell wafted up, like a gift from heaven. I gritted my teeth and took a swig of ice-cold water before placing the flask carefully in a small compartment at the bottom. Then, in the pocket, I placed two pictures. One was of my father, his weathered face looking out at the camera, his eyes crinkling. Another was of Rhea, even in black and white, she was still stunning, her eyes glittering with mischief. I stroked them delicately and zipped up my bag. I was ready to go. Almost. I lifted a piece of paper from the table and got a quill and began to write on the thick parchment.

Dear Rhea,
Read this in private. Don’t let Mum see.

I’m so sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it. I guess I just wanted Father back. Actually, that’s why I’m writing this. I told my mum that I was going to find Father. I said something unforgivable to her. But I still want to prove her wrong. Show her that Father is still alive, he’s still out there, somewhere.

I’ve decided to go find him. I have to. I have a map with me, I have food and water, and I should be back in a week. Hopefully by then this stupid war will be over. I just felt this urge to be with him. Like you said. He’ll always be alive in my heart. But my heart told me that he’s still alive. He is still suffering somewhere. I have to find him. I’m sorry that you can’t come with me, but in the state you’re in, I knew you wouldn’t agree and just tell the others.

Pray for me and for Father and I

I paused, wondering whether to add this part. I scribbled it out and finished off my letter.

Lots of love
Attie xxx

I propped up the letter on the table and opened the door. It slid silently open and I slipped through it. I looked back one last time.
“Goodbye.” I whispered
I turned the key in the lock and ran. I ran faster and faster and faster than ever before. I ran past the rushing rapids by our house, through endless trees and bushes, for what felt like hours until I finally broke out into the open. Now the sun was beginning to rise, streaks of amber painted on the horizon. I stopped, panting, sweat pouring down the side of my face. I collapsed onto the dry grass and closed my eyes, thinking of home. What had I left behind? I shook my head and let my eyelids flutter open. I couldn’t fall asleep yet, The day had barely started. Just as I was starting to get up, I heard a rustling from behind me.
“Hello?” I asked fearfully.
No reply. A few magpies scattered from the area, screeching an alarm call.
“Hello?”
A shadowed figure burst out of the bushes and fell on top of me. I yelled in fear and tried to scramble away.
“Hey, calm down, you useless lump!”
“Rhea?”
My eyes widened in astonishment.
“Did you… follow me?”
“Well - duh.”
She was so close I could count the freckles on her nose and smell the sweet scent of honeyed perfume coming off her.
I pulled her into a hug.
“I’m so glad you came.” I said, my voice muffled in her shoulder.
“Yep - I’m glad I came too. Fat lot of use you would have been out here on your own!”
“Oi!” I giggled.
I pushed her off me.
“Are you coming? With me?”
Rhea grinned.
“Uh-huh. Why else would I be out here?”
“To stop me?” I ventured.
“Good point, I guess. But anyway, we’ve got work to do, useless lump. We’ve gotta go find your father!”
“Rhea, you can’t! It’s dangerous out here!” I urged her.
“That’s exactly why I came, dummy. By the way, I read your letter. Bit soppy and all, but I can see you’re desperate. And you can’t do this alone.”
“But… what if we die?”
“Well, you won’t, cause you’re way too reckless to die. Anyway, if you were going to, I wouldn’t let them.”
“Look, you just shouldn’t.”
“This is what I should be saying to you! I’m going and that’s that!”
I smiled. “Ok, let’s go find him.”

I grabbed hold of Rhea’s hand as bullets fired above our heads. We were sheltering in a muddy hollow in the ground, rain hammering on our heads.
“Get out of here!” A soldier screamed, his voice almost completely silenced by the sound of bullets and bombs and the rain. My hair was plastered to my skin and my face was deathly pale.
“Rhea, we need to get out of here.”
She gazed back at me desperately.
“W-What about your Dad?”
“Rhea, your safety is more important right now. We have to go!”
She nodded grudgingly and we led her out of the hollow and we crepy, with our backs low, towards some nearby huts.
The soldier looked at us, his face streaked with mud and dirt.
“Get down!”
I pulled me and Rhea to the earth, mud masking our faces once again. I heard a whistling noise from behind and felt something brush my ear. A sharp pain shot through my ear and I cried out.
“Attie!” Rhea shouted over the noise.
“I’m fine.”
She looked at my ear in horror.
“Where’s your ear?”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Your ear’s gone!
I slowly raised my hand in fear. I breathed in. I couldn’t. I let it fall limp by my side. All of a sudden, the world revolved around me and Rhea’s face grew lined with worry.
“Attie? Attie!”
Her voice was far away. I gave in and fell forwards into her arms as everything went black.


I opened my eyes with a jolt.
“Rhea! Rhea!” I shrieked, reaching out for her cool grip.
“I’m here.” She soothed.
“Where are we? Where’s Father? Rhea, what happened to me?”
She gripped my hand.
“Your ear… a bullet hit it. You passed out. You’ve been gone for 3 days.”
“But what about Father? He could have been dead in all that time!”
She lifted a bowl to my parched lips and a warm broth trickled down my throat.
“Hey, Attie. This might seem a bit of a shock, but this is the hut of one of your Father’s fellow soldiers. He told me what happened to him.”
A tall, broad-shouldered man walked into the room. He gave me a serious look.
“You just missed him. I found him a few days ago, buried under the mud and moved him here. He’s in the garden.”
I beamed. I had proved Mother wrong.
“Father’s alive!”
Rhea smiled sadly.
“He’s dead, Attie.”
“Then how is he in the garden?”
“His grave is in the garden.”
I felt as though all the air had been knocked out of me. I found myself spluttering for air and my head grew hot and started pounding. Then I fell back into the welcoming arms of sleep once again.

This time I woke up on a riverbank, the sun beating down on my head. Rhea sat beside me, staring at the sky. I coughed, my throat sore after what seemed like weeks of dreaming.
“Attie! You’re awake! Finally! You could have woken up a little bit earlier, huh? It was quite inconvenient, you know.”
I laughed.
“Rhea, Father’s dead.”
My voice seemed too calm.
“I should be crying.”
“You’ve already done enough of that.”
“I - I have?”
“Uh-huh. In your sleep. But even though Will might be dead, you are still alive! You’ve got to live life to the fullest and get through these things. Your father would want you to be happy.”
“But what will I do without him?”
“You’ve got your mama. You’ve got Atyana. You’ve got me.
And as her hand slid into mine I felt truly happy for the first time in months.

Part 3


Based on The Scream Edvard Munch

Above the dark swirling waters
A shadowed figure stands deathly still
Their face pale as a ghost
A harrowing terror in you they instil.

The sky casts a
Haunting red glow
Glinting in their dangerous eyes
The fear inside you grows.

As you step back slowly
Shivering with dread
They lift their hands to their cheeks
A pounding fills your head.

Their mouth opens up
Into an endless scream
A pit of inky black
It seems like a terrible dream.

You clutch the handrail
Knuckles clenched pearly white
You lock onto their gaze
Like day turned into night.

You want to run
But you’re stuck to the spot
You try to yell
But you’re frozen in shock.

Others stand to watch
Their confused eyes wide
And when they looked at the figure
It was like they’d died.

Their mouth closed
And your knuckles unfurled
But it still felt like
Colour had been drained from the world.

Now you look back to that
Strange time but it seems
Now just unreal
The terrible scream.

Part 4

My google translate

Secondary oxygen
I laughed
His eyes turned red.
I think I'm afraid.

buy a gift
They are silent
Fate turned Pleasure into cockroaches

fear him
I apologise for this interruption.


Back on my planet, the oxygen was scarce, and we had two sources. Right now we are running on primary and it filtered through the vents, refreshing and cold. But not for long. I knew what secondary oxygen was like and it wasn’t nice. It was stifling and hot and it felt like a punch in the face sometimes. When you breathed in, you felt a hand clasped around your throat and when you let it out it was as though it was sucking you away.

My friend, Daniel, was staring at me weirdly. Strange marks appeared on his skin, like a tally chart. I frowned.
“Daniel?”
His head was tipped to one side and he was muttering some strange language. His eyes were glittering with malice.
“Daniel, is this a joke?”
I laughed nervously.
“Yes, very funny. Now could we please get back to this oxygen problem? Please?”
I felt a strange sensation tingle through me and I swallowed anxiously.
“Daniel, snap out of it!” I ordered.
His eyes turned a glowing red colour and I began to step back.
“Come on, this isn’t very funny anymore.”
He slowly started to pace towards me, his mouth twisted into an ugly snarl.
“Get away! What are you doing?” I yelled, fear breaking my voice.
His eyes returned to their normal colour and his head snapped back into its normal position. He immediately collapsed to the ground, his face going a deadly pale.
“Daniel!” I screamed and ran towards him. I pressed my head against his chest. His heart was beating at the speed of light and his forehead felt like it was on fire.
“Come on, let’s get you out of here.” I murmured softly.
But as I carried his limp body towards the hospital I felt a fear run through me. I shivered.
“Come on, let’s go.”

“It’s Christmaaaaaaaaas!”
I grinned, elation lighting up my face. I had just been woken up by my very crazy friend, Dan, who had been raving about today all year.
“Hey, Dan, some of us want to sleep!”
“Don’t care!” The reply came.
I shook my head and smiled as I sank back into my pillows. And yet, despite my happiness, I felt like something was about to go wrong. Very wrong.

“Buy your girlfriend a gift. Maybe some of our wonderful perfumes. Get your first order free along with a complimentary box of chocolates and a cuddly IKEA toy!”
I laughed.
“Must be a hoax then. IKEA is literally the best thing ever; they won’t go giving their products out for free! Imagine!” Dan giggled.
“Imagine.” I muttered sarcastically.
“Present time!” My sister Anne announced.
Everyone turned to look at her expectantly. She brandished a present from our massive Santa bag. She squinted at the label.
“Hmmmm… something about… a cockroach? Oh, no, it’s for you, Tom.”
I snatched the present greedily off her.
“No, it does say cockroach. That, or we’re all going crazy.”
“Well, go on, open it!”
I tore off the packaging and looked inside. Familiar pink box. Lots of unicorns prancing around. A motionless doll stared out at me.
“Barbie? You’ve got to be kidding me.”
A ripple of laughter resounded across the room.
“Well, you always loved them when you were a kid, Tom.” Anne laughed.
I smiled in spite of myself.

That was when I noticed something strange.

The TV had turned off.

Everyone was looking away from me.

I could feel a heavy silence in the air.

Unspoken words just… hanging.

I slowly turned my gaze to the right. Dan was sweating, laying back on the floor, his eyes red again. He was muttering, an eerie smile plastered across his face.
Something tickled my hand.

I looked down.

Cockroaches were spilling out from the Barbie box, out through her eyes, through her candyfloss hair. I shrieked and threw the box away from me and tried to fling off the clinging, gnawing creatures. All of a sudden, shouts echoed across the room.
“Who are you? What are you?” I asked desperately.
Dan looked up.
“I. Am. Fate.”
I tilted my head.
“Dan, come back.”
“Fear the one inside this body.”
I flinched, and a tear rolled down my cheek.
“Dan, please.”
I walked up to him and shook him by the shoulder.
“Dan, wake up!”
He snapped out his arms and clutched at my throat.
“You. Will. All. Die.”
I remember spots clouding my vision and then everything went black.

“Tom? Tom!”
I looked up into a face with mischievous brown eyes and freckles splattered across their cheeks.
“Dan!” I cried out happily.
“I’m sorry for scaring you earlier. I don’t know what happened. All I remember is a voice in my head and then… nothing. The others told me what I did. I’m so sorry.”
It’s not your fault. You didn’t know.”
“Thank you.”
A serious look passed over his face.
“I-I thought I was going to die.”
I sat up slowly.
“You’re here now, though!”
“Yeah, I know but… I still can’t stop getting the feeling that something’s going to happen to me. And it will destroy me. And you. And Anne. It will destroy the world.”

Critiquitaire for @TKb0iZ

300 words
This was a really good piece. One of my only issues was the prose/imagery. Sometimes that can be welcome, but in your writing the amount of imagery just made it feel overembellished. It feels like … have you ever seen some of those AI pictures that have way too much detail and vibrancy? That's kind of what your writing reminds me of. Of course, there wasn't a lot of details, given the prompt, and maybe vibrancy is good for fantasy, but it felt like something AI would write.
I'm not trying to insult your writing style, I loved it, it simply felt like to much. Maybe this is biased, given that my writing style is more simplistic and that is just what I'm used to. Or maybe I'm subconsciously jealous. But the first thought I had when I read you writing was ‘did AI write this?’
Do you write fantasy? This style makes sense for a fantasy piece (which this is). There is a lot of imagery and sesquipidalia in here, and though this is a description, I felt like it should have some sort of conflict. You are literally creating a utopia, and (no offense), but everyone hates utopias.
What is the name of your kingdom? Is there a ruler? You have created an environment while giving me virtually no details about the actually kingdom. I would suggest maybe starting with ‘In the kingdom of…’ or something similar. I like the way you started, so maybe ‘I construct in my mind a kingdom called… It is…’

All in all, this was a great piece of writing and it inspired me to make my writing more vivid. I enjoy writing fantasy, but this showed me how to apply more imagery into my descriptions. Try to remember conflict and details.

Critique for @Milkysplash

Hi Skylar! First off, your piece is really well-written from a technical standpoint; you have well-structured sentences, good grammar, and a strong sense of flow and clarity. I enjoyed the structure of the story as well. The decision to center events around flashbacks and interview questions is creative and really well-executed. However, there are a few issues that stood out to me as things that could be improved upon in future drafts. The biggest thing is character development. In this draft, Elyta comes across as a very inconsistently developed protagonist. She’s awkward and uncomfortable about discussing her past, then suddenly becomes really confident, and at the very end she seems dismissive, even flippant, of the interview as a whole. It would make her so much more relatable and well-defined if you could focus on specific traits when writing her. She’ll seem like a real person with a real personality.

The other big issue in this piece is the conflict. It’s a bit unclear what exactly the main conflict is. I think (?) that this story is supposed to be about Elyta’s journey in overcoming failure, but her irritation with the interview distracts from that a lot. This is the story of Elyta’s growth as an athlete, but she doesn’t even want to tell it. Which could be an interesting angle to explore, but it doesn’t seem all that connected to the main narrative and what I assume is the driving conflict. You could easily improve upon this by streamlining Elyta’s reactions and though processes to better develop her character arc instead of distracting from it. You could also make the conflict more compelling by further exploring Elyta’s motivations (she clearly loves skating, but why? What about the sport is so important to her?) and emotions. It will make her struggles much more sympathetic and easy to connect to.

Finally, the figure skating routines are written with language that is (at least to me) a bit too technical. People who are familiar with figure skating will probably be able to picture these scenes without much trouble, but other readers will have no idea what movements are being described. The constant “and then she did x move” also gets very repetitive. I would include more detailed descriptions of what movements Elyta is executing, and what she is feeling/thinking, along with the technical terminology.

Also, one very minor extra thing: I would suggest italicizing the song lyrics! It will distinguish the song from the narration and make everything easier to read.

Overall, though, this is a really solid first draft! Again, I love your writing style and sense of pacing. Thank you for letting me read this, Skylar, and best of luck in the writing comp!

Daily 14
732 words

List of good habits

- Getting at least 8 hours sleep
- Regularly exercising
- EATING LOADS OF CHOCOLATE (just kidding lol)
- Keeping a balanced diet
- Be hygienic
- Spending time in the fresh air
- Socialising

Habit(s) used: Socialising and sleeping

Yana turned over in her bed, shivering in her thin pyjamas. A cold breeze drifted through the open door and she shivered, her body trembling, partly with cold, partly with sadness. She thought back to Mama, in Ukraine. She would be so worried about her and Alina. She shook her head and closed her eyes. She breathed in shakily, biting her lip to stop it wobbling. She tasted metallic blood trickle into her mouth.
She looked over at her younger sister, Alina, her body curled up rigidly, facing away from her.
Be brave. Brave for Alina. And for Mama.

“Alina?” She whispered softly.
Silence.
“Alina? I know you’re awake.”
There was a small, meek sigh from the other bed and Alina turned over, her thumb in her mouth. She gazed up at her older sister with wet hazel eyes. Her skin was pale as a ghost, pallid and eerie.
“Where’s Mummy?” She asked, her voice cracking with grief.
Yana felt a tear prickling at the edge of her eye. She brushed it away fiercely and gave Alina a fierce look.
“Mummy will come back for us. She always does.”
“Where is she?”
Her voice was to a raw shriek, piercing Yana’s heart. It pained her to see someone so young suffering so much.
“Shhh, you’ll wake the others!”
“Sorry,” came the muffled response.
“Come here,” Yana told her sister.
Alina slipped out of bed and toddled to her sister’s bed. Yana picked her up, her sturdy arms comforting the small, shaking body and gave her a vigorous hug. She closed her eyes again and gripped Alina’s hand even tighter. Every time she closed her eyes, she just saw Mama’s beaming smile. She felt sorrow well up inside her. She opened her eyes quickly and lifted her sister onto her lap.

“How much have you been sleeping?”
Alina yawned loudly in response.
“I know you haven’t slept for 3 days!”
Her tone was ferocious and harsh and she regretted the words as soon as she came out of her mouth. Alina started wailing, the noise echoing off the walls.
“Quiet! I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry. But you need to sleep. It’s not good for you. You’ve barely spoken to anyone since we got here. Everyone else has tried to make friends with you and you haven’t even replied to them. Some other kids are even lonelier than you. They could do with some comfort? Huh?”
Alina took her thumb out of her mouth.
“I don’t want sleep. I want Mummy.”
“But Mummy won’t come if you don’t sleep. The Big Bad Wolf will come after you if you don’t sleep. It’s bad not to! You need to sleep otherwise…”
She trailed off, not wanting to upset her sister anymore. Tears already ran down Alina’s face and her cheeks were now flushed and blotchy.
“And you might sleep better if you make friends. If you socialise.” Yana carried on patiently.
“What’s sockalise?”Alina asked.
“It’s socialise, silly! It means to talk with other people. You should.”
“I talk to you!”
“Yes, but I’m your sister. You should talk to people you don’t know.”
Alina shook her head obstinately.
“Other people scary. I don’t want talk with them.”
“But you’ll feel so much better if you do!” Yana encouraged, “I’ll give you my carrots at dinner?”
The ship shook menacingly. Yana glanced outside the porthole fearfully at the thrashing waves. Foam crashed onto the glass making Alina cry out. The floor tilted to one side and the others began to stir, moaning, blinking sleep out of their eyes.
“What’s going on?”
“Are the soldiers coming to take us away?”
“Where’s my Mummy?”
Shouts bounced off the walls. A small child of about 3 sat in the corner, her head buried in her hands, tangled brown hair covering her face.
“Look, they’re very sad. Go talk to them!” Yana urged.
Alina slid off her sister’s lap and wobbled over to the other child.
“Hello. I’m Alina.” She said quietly.
She looked up and smiled, her eyes bloodshot and shiny.
“I’m Artem. Artie for short.”

Weekly 2
7/12-/2024
TBD words

Part 1
Based off the chain starting with ‘Tears dropped from’ by Froggola

254 words

Another icy streak snaked down her face. She was crying. Sobbing. Her shoulders shook and she hastily wiped her eyes, the world bleary through her tears. There was blue, too much blue. Her world was filled with nothingness, a sprinkling of stars, and blue.
She couldn't- she couldn't continue. She choked back another sob and blinked back tears, even as they betrayed her and fell into the dark, shimmering. Staying trapped in the cold, bound by invisible web, exhausted her. Trapped in her home and cursed to play a beautifully painful role.
It was cold, too cold. Her fingertips were twinged blue, a result of the cold that had seeped into her skin over time. She was a captor to her own self, stuck in the cold abyss, destined to watch after the stars in the shadows. Her limbs ached, tired from thrashing hopelessly against her unseen jailor. Her lips were chapped and turned a different shade of purple as they trembled and yelled, even if the sound just echoed within her prison. 
Icy trails paved by tears scar her face. Tears that only served to fall into the darkness, latch on to black, and create a burning star. Her prison was a reminder of how long she'd been trapped there, the number of stars growing as days passed, tears spilling out. But the cold stayed and blue crept up her skin. In the middle of her world, stranded in the void, only her sobs could be heard as stars continued glitter and glow.

Part 2
xxx words
My blurb
a planet in danger. a tyrant. three sisters. they wake up finding themselves in unfamiliar places. but even separated, they must find a way to come back together and save their planet. they each have magical abilities, but just how far will that help them? the clock is ticking and they're running out of time.

Blurb used by WestEndLover15
On their fifteenth birthday, every child is given a glass heart that is unique to them and one other person - their soulmate. If they don’t find their soulmate by their seventeenth birthday, they are forced to go on a quest to look for their identical glass heart. But it’s Meredith’s eighteenth birthday, and she still hasn’t found her soulmate - and she doesn’t know yet what happens to Unlovables



Part 3
153 words

The radio, a constant low hum
Playing music in the background
The mountains, a blur
Of bright green
Vibrations
As the car travels over
Bumps in the road
We were talking
Mama and I
Orange and white cones line the road
Lanes merging to make room
For construction
Cool air landing
On my grinning face
Contrasting the warm heat
Of the sun
We were laughing
Mama and I
Humming quiets
Maps informing us of the next curve
And we continue singing
Leaves and branches swaying
Forced by the wind
Rushing outside the confines
Of the car
Reading licenses plates
Bumper stickers
Snickering at puns
And strange remarks
We were free
Mama and I
The change in noise and texture
As wheels move from concrete to assault
Smooth riding, a bump, and gravely roads
A sigh
A yawn
Echoed with another
Heads bobbing to the rhythm
And lead scratches paper
Weaving words into stories

LOGAN'S WEEKLY - 7/14/2024

Part One: 3 Word Stories

The whistled tune traveled over the desolate lands, marred by the horrid shrieks of despair that echoed across the desert.

There hasn’t been rain in years. The oases are few and far between, and each and every one is already dominated by a tribe. Some of the smaller ones are easier to steal from, but you normally end up spilling half of the water running away from them.

Before the Dearth, being a nomadic tribe was more convenient than anything else. We rarely got attacked, since we had no land or water to lay claim to. Not to mention no one ever knew for certain where we were at a given time. Now half of the tribe can barely walk and the other half argues whether we should set up camp or keep going even though we’ve already stopped. We’re probably miles away from water. We’ve already lost at least a dozen people, but with the storms and attacks, we’ve hardly had time to stop and rest, much less perform a necromission.

Some people are getting restless. Rebellious. There are rumors of a revolution, which is hilarious, because our tribe is small enough where rumors can be confirmed within two people or so. I’m sure the chief has already put these rebel whispers to rest. If a revolution does happen, it could tear our tribe apart, and that’s the last thing we need. Hopefully the dissenters realize that.

I’m most concerned for my brother. He’s the chief’s apprentice and the pressure seems to be taking a toll on him. The gravity of his expression deepens with every death and the boy I once knew seems to have vanished into thin air. He’s become strangely reticent — I understand discretion is a necessity in the matters of tribe administration, but this is a new extreme for him. Then again, I suppose we all have changed in the wake of the Dearth. My fear is that this will be the death of us all.

Part Two: Bestselling Bookstore
It won't go in the forums, so here's the proof:
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1046657982/#comments-413734557

Part Three: Take a Break/Ekphrastic Poem

Greenish-gray
Seven-seater
Suitcases in the trunk
Chevy Suburban filled with people

Every seat is taken
Two in the front, three in the back
And my cousin and I in the middle

My uncle, aunt and little cousin
Sit in the very back
The latter of which is entertained by a Kindle
Offering games and juvenile television

My parents in the very front
My mother driving the car
My father merely a passenger
Laughing at a joke I can’t hear

My cousin and I in the middle
I sit with my computer on my lap
Listening to Love Yourself on repeat
Because there is no Internet

My cousin has no devices so
I let him borrow my tablet
But no Internet, no games
No use at all, really

The drive is two hours
Traffic stops us on every freeway
There are myriad noises
Both in and out the car

Rock With You
Love Yourself
Tinny music from my cousin’s game
The motor of the car

Part Four: Google Translate

Song: The Judge by 21 Pilots

I sit on the roof of our house, staring up at the night sky. The stars are intense and infinite. It doesn’t take long to get lost in them. I hold up my hand, tracing out my own constellations against those created by astronomers. I like mine better. I sit up to get a closer view, but the sound of creaking makes me freeze. I hear a loud sigh from below me and scurry further up the roof to avoid being spotted. Someone’s humming loudly as they come through the front door and I catch a glimpse of a brown leather jacket. Apollo. If he caught me up here, he’d kill me. I don’t move, hoping he’ll go back inside, but instead he sits on the porch. I hear him breathing heavily. Concerned, I decide to creep closer to the edge of the roof. As I get closer, I can hear him murmuring words to himself. He progressively gets louder and I realize he’s singing:

Nighttime falls easily
Too quickly, it seems to be
A little bit darker
And a little bit colder
On the scene

Daytime takes long to dawn
Too slow for anyone
To ever feel ardor
It couldn’t go slower
So I think

Petals fall easily
Do flowers ever grieve
For their colorful borders
‘Cause when they grow older
They all leave

Seeds take so long to grow
Feel like we’ll miss the show
There’s chaos, no order
Our burdens, we shoulder
As we sing

Tell me why the time
Always passes by
Without reason or rhyme
In the blink of an eye
Tell me why the days
Always fade away
Into the blurriest haze
I can’t keep this pace

Please just let me fade

They can keep the fight
They can keep it going
Oh, they’ll make it through the night
I know my heart is freezing
On the other side there’s fire
And I’ll take it
‘Cause I’ll make it
It’ll be another life

Oh, I know
My fate
Is in its hands
And I’ll go
I’ll wait
On its command
But I know I can’t leave them
But I just want to join them
If I can
This tapestry weaving
Oh, it’s sorely disjointed
And I can’t
Start
Over

The front door opens and I hear Hermes’ voice. “Hey.”

Apollo sits up. “Hey.”

The familiar sound of Hermes’ nails drumming against his flask fills the night. “Heard you singing,” he comments. “Window was open.”

I don’t think I’ve ever heard Hermes speak an actual sentence — just fragments of one.

“Yep,” Apollo replies with a sigh.
There’s a moment of silence.

“Sad song.”

“Sad day.”

“Yep.”

I peek over the roof to see Hermes sit down next to Apollo. He offers him his flask, to both Apollo and I’s surprise. Apollo takes it and drinks, handing it back to him the moment he finishes. The two leaders of the Cadre sit together in silence, leaving me trapped on the roof.

Word war- dear diary prompt -520 words-7 min

It’s what I knew all along! The plant in my garden shed is actually a secret portal–to where, I don’t know, but I’d like to find out. That’s the reason why it glows late at night, an incessant humming that bothers me so much. And that’s also probably the reason why it shimmers iridescently all the time–it’s because it’s a portal! I figured out that it’s a portal when I was in the garden shed one evening. I was about to trim a plant right above it, but I accidentally dropped my favorite pair of shears. Okay, it was actually my second favorite pair of shears, and now theyr’res no competition, since I only had two. So the shears went right through the leaf and vanished, just like that! It was amazing and also kind of scary. I don’t know where the portal leads, but I think I’d be able to fit through the leaf. It’s a huge plant, readching nearly the ceiling. The leaves are broad two, with serrated edges near the ends that wuld be very, very bad to touch. It’s a good thing I don’t touch them, then! I don’t know how I’d get into the portal–I’d probably have to use a ladder to climb past all the sharp and serrated edges, and then I would slide down the leaves a bit like a slip and slide, right through the portal. So, diary, this is my new discovery! I think I should also compile a list of things I should bring down there. First, I’d like a lantern. What if it transports me into a dark cave–I would need to see where I’m going. I would also need some rope, maybe some coiled rope, to bring with me! I really like rope since it can help me get out of basically all the bad situations that can happen when going portaling. And worst come to worst, I can tie some rope to one of the wooden beams of the ceiling, and then when I descend into the portal I can always climb back out with my trusty rope, since it’s very thick and hopefully wont’ break. I’ve tested it before, and it can definitely support my weight. ANother thing I would need to bring is a jacket–if I get transported into an icy terrain, I would need to definitely stay warm and vozy! Another thing I need is a boat–Id like a giant inflatable one. Diary, do you have any ideas? Boats are good and all, but I think I’d also need to bring a towel. Towels are helpful in a lot of fixes, and they are easy to dry. They can help stop friction when sliding down a slope, and other stuff. Now, on to where the portal might lead. I think it might lead to another greenhouse, manybe, or one of the same plants? That would be interesting. Or it could lead into a dark, dark, endless tunnel where you’d keep falling, which is where that rope I mentioned earlier would definitely come in handy! Yep, ropes are good in a lot of scenarios. Maybe

Name: Ava
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: July 14th Daily
Wordcount: 820/200
Topic: Today you're going to start off by making a list of good habits. From there, you're going to write a story where your OC learns the importance of maintaining that habit(s).

Slept for 10+ hours

My list of good habits-
Sleeping on time :3

Linda had major insomnia.

But then again, she had brought it upon herself. Stressing, stressing, worrying, and more stressing about the next day. Stressing so much that she couldn't sleep a wink, stressing so much that she never got any sort of rest till at least three in the night. This was obviously not healthy, but Linda really couldn't help it. She was a nervous wreck- a red-headed, green-eyed alert computer. Any situation that had even the tiniest bit of failing, Lina would avoid like that plague. That probably explained why she didn't have a lot of interesting moments in her life.

Her sleep problems were clearly
not going to fix themselves in the face of an exam, and there lie Linda in her cream-colored sheets, staring at her white ceiling. She took in every detail- the cracks, the bumps. The way the ceiling light hung exactly in the middle, and the flower-shaped glass fanned out, framing the light bulb perfectly. The vent on the far left, right next to her wooden door which creaked slightly whenever opened.
She took in every single thing, doing anything but falling asleep.

Linda turned in her bed, worryful thoughts filling her head like usual.
I'm going to fail this exam. She had studied for two weeks.
I'm going to run out of ink. She had quadruple-checked her pens before sleeping.
I'm going to be framed for cheating just because I looked around. She never lifted her head walking in the corridors, sitting in class, and definitely not in the exam hall. In fact, she was pretty sure she didn't know her classmates' faces at all and only recognized them through their voices.
I'm going to need to go to the bathroom in the middle and then attract attention while I desperately beg the teacher to let me leave the exam hall just for two minutes. Well, that could be a possibility.

Linda tossed and turned and tossed until perhaps two o'clock when her mind had become so tired from worrying that it had just shut down. It had gone through all the possibilities- there was nothing left to worry about at all. What she should have worried about was the fact that she was barely going to get three hours of sleep and ruin any chances of doing the exam in a perfect way.

Linda woke up groggy. She usually woke up a groggy and tired mess, but just took some energy pills to get a boost. This time when she searched her drawer, the bottle of pills was empty. Even in her sleepy, half-unconscious state, Linda started to panic. How, oh how, was she ever going to do the exam now? In addition to that, it was a math exam- her weakest and worst subject.

Trying to catch a ten-minute snooze on the bus she ended up tripling her worry. The students around her paid no heed as they chatted endlessly- Linda was usually silent. They had just come to accept the fact that she probably would never start a conversation with someone if she didn't have to. After reaching school she rushed to the nurse's office to see if they had any energy pills, and she just eyed her suspiciously, as if she was taking an illegal substance. The nurse replied with a curt no and Linda silently fainted inside- at least he soul did.

Sitting down in the exam hall nervously, her eyes barely open, she picked up her definitely filled pen and wrote her name on the top of the paper. It was safe to say that Linda came out of that exam hall ready to exit life and enter her bed the moment she got home. That exam costed twenty percent of her entire grade on the year- she knew for a fact her mom would find out sooner or later how horribly she had done.

Linda lay down in bed silently that day, forcefully closing her eyes.

What If I- She shook her head sternly, shaking the thoughts away. She hadn't been able to go to the drugstore that day and refill her energy pills, and she could no longer rely on them.
But maybe I- She slammed her second pillow down on her ear and breathed in deeply, scrunching her eyes shut tighter. Everytime an intrusive thought entered her head, she shook it off with surprising violence. She, infact, fell alseep at ten o'clock for the first time in ages. Waking up at five in the morning feeling refreshed and actually awake, she looked in the mirror and realised her eye-bags (though still prominent) had reduced slightly.

If all it takes for violent head shaking, what on earth did I screw up that math test for? she thought to herself glumly, getting out of bed with more energy than she ever had in quite a long, long time.

Go back

yess weekly time (weekly 2 i think?)

three word stories: 379 words, https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/35430300/comments/#comments-264820495

The news articles spread throughout the world, ignoring political bias as the untamable plague blanketed the planet. The symptoms were incurable, the prospect grave - the best thing to do is lock yourself inside and never leave. Unfortunately, it was my fault.
“No, no, no, no, no…” I attempted to staunch the bleeding with the hem of my shirt, to no avail. I wracked my brain for solutions and applied pressure the best I could. A howling sound filled my ears as the pounding in my head intensified. “NO!” I screamed. “Not now, please not now…” “She will die if you don't do anything…” A singsong voice rang through the air as the sound of heels clicking on concrete came closer and closer. I knew I was making a mistake; I knew I wouldn't make the right choice, but I knew they were right. I turned around. “What are your terms?” Three girls stood in front of me, hands clasped. One giggled. “Her life, for others! You know the deal. She will be perfectly healthy, and we will unleash an untreatable plague. We have needed it for a while… to spice things up a little!” I tried, trust me I tried. But one glance at the blood on the ground and my shirt and I was shaking the girl's cold hand. As soon as she let go, I knew that I had failed. But she was alive, and that was all that mattered for now. “You will make another trade soon.” One of the other girls stared at me with cold eyes. “Perhaps you do now, but you will come to understand the consequences of your actions. We will give you the same trade. Antidote for the plague for her life. You will make the same choice.”
As the population declined, I realized she was right. I didn't know their obsession with Thistle, but my selfishness would rather doom a planet and keep her alive. The small comfort I had was that no one knew it was my fault. I was just as much to blame as the next person. It paled in comparison to the fact that Thistle never talked to me again after that day, but it didn't matter. I would do it again, and again, and again.

bestselling bookstore:

blurb: 94 words

Liza is cursed. She is unable to see her reflection, but it's not much of a curse to her. Instead of her reflection, she sees dead people who have had the curse before her. Typically insignificant figures, but occasionally, she'll see someone important. One day, she checks on the mirror to see what visitor she gets. She does not recognize the person, but they claim that they know something important they need to tell her. They disappear before they tell her, but Liza goes on a hunt to find out who they were.

story: 336 words https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/35430301/comments/#comments-264669328

Elizabeth dodged a sharp kick as she pulled thread out from under the grinding of the machine. “It's just my job,” she muttered as she ducked under the machinery with a small broom and swept up more dust. Elizabeth knew that no matter what she did, the place would never be clean, but it got her a coin a day. Barely enough to buy a slice of bread, but that was all she had. She looked around and pocketed a bit of fluff along with the string. After a 14-hour day, Elizabeth leaned outside the building, the pain in her back mounting. She pulled out the spare bits she had taken throughout the day and deftly shaped it into something resembling a girl. Her calloused fingers pulled the string taut, and she proudly set the doll against the wall with her. “Interesting.” Elizabeth's head snapped up to see a tall man standing against the wall with her, though she was sure she should have heard him walk up. “How many of those do you make?” “A lot, I guess,” she mumbled. “Why?” “I make toys like that too!” He whipped out a clockwork bird from his pocket and watched with satisfaction as she gaped. “Can I see it?” “Sure,” he said, chuckling. “Make sure you don't break it.” Elizabeth nodded and took it from him. As she examined the toy with fascination, he inspected her space with newfound curiosity. All that was there were several dolls lined up and a slice of bread in her hand. “Is all you have?” “Yeah.” “Why don't you come with me? I have a toy shop, and you can work with me! You’ll get a home, food…” “No.” It looked like it pained her to say it. “W-why not?” “I… I’m waiting for someone. I can't leave.” The man looked into her eyes and must have seen something there because he didn't pursue his point. “Keep the bird.” He stomped twice, and as smoke swirled through the alley, he vanished.

Ekphrastic poem: 161 words

The ticking fills the room
Louder than the croaks of frogs in June
The hand of the clock conducts the time like the director of a band
The undying trust in the watch forces me to slave away as the minutes pass
Ever more to do, to see
Could drive one to insanity

The flipping of the pages is almost louder than the clock
Almost, but not quite
The yellowed pages glow in the sunlight -
Don't dogear the pages, you fool
Perhaps a bookmark would suffice?
A ruined book is just as good as no book at all

The alarm rings, loud - too loud
The book drops from my hands and hits the ground like the clashing of cymbals
The hands of the clock perhaps conducted that instrument against my will
A dog barks from outside, the children in the pool yell with delight
One can hardly hear the clock anymore.
But ever ticking, it is there - constant is the word.

google translate:
translated bit:
Niko was creating villages at night, as one does. But if a person doesn’t hit men and doesn’t pay attention, then they aren’t good enough. Everyone scattered, but they blamed Niko. They got the buffalo wings and looked at the menu in the restaurant.

story: 432 words

Niko claimed the empty land and stared at it. “You better not make more villages, Niko!” A warning voice drifted over from the next plot. Niko rubbed his hands together deviously. By the time the day cycle had been set, the plot was riddled with villages. “Hey, who was that?” Niko floated over. “What?” “Someone hit me!” A man yelled. Niko looked around confusedly. There was no one else there besides the two of them. “I bet it was you.” Niko was so taken aback, he floated a few feet away in the air. “No! I was over there! It can’t’ve been me!”
Niko sighed as the jail cell door slammed shut. He wasn't even the one who hit the man. Even so, jail for just hitting someone? Even though it was just for the night, he was frustrated. The villages hadn't even had their finishing touches added to them, and he didn't want them wandering around.
After a restless night, the door slammed open. Blinking, Niko stumbled out of the cell and walked to the front desk. The clerk obviously didn't care enough and waved him out without any of the usual paperwork. “Hey, Niko!” A large hand clapped him on the back and almost knocked him over. Oblivious, Tim grinned at Niko. “How's the vigilante life treating you?” “I'm not a vigilante. I was framed!” Tim chuckled. “Ok, bud. Whatever it was, you had better thank your lucky stars it was only a night. Anyhow, d'you want to come over to the Keg with the rest of us?” “Sure, Tim.” An hour later, Niko was crammed in a booth with 6 other guys. Joe was studying the menu like it was a textbook. “No need to be so studious, Joe. Just pick your meal.” The guys broke out in laughter, even though it wasn't a funny joke. Perhaps he was just in a bad mood, but the pounding in his head was getting worse, not helped by the raucous laughter in the booth and the intense smell of body odor. James shouted over the din. “Since all you lot are struggling to pick an option,” he cast a meaningful glance at Joe, “let's just get wings and be done with it.” Various sounds of affirmation echoed, and Niko saw the waitress holding his same expression. The only reason the Keg put up with them is because they were paid well, and Niko slid over a $20 tip for starters. “It's only going to get worse,” he whispered. The waitress managed a weak sort of smile and pocketed the bill.

total words: 1402

Hi! This is my daily for 14/07/24

I slumped on the sofa. Did I need to do my homework today? What was the point? I would much rather just lie there. That’s exactly what I did - for a while anyway. Then I thought there was a better way to spend my time: lying here, binge watching a TV programme. So, I put on my pyjamas and sat there watching TV.
Soon enough, my parents came down.
“Ayla, do something that isn’t on a screen maybe?” my Mum said in a snappy voice, “Your Father and I are just about to leave for our night-out.”
She then made me promise that I would do something productive and get an early night. Which I did… sort of.
First, I watched some TV and played on my console. Why not? I would do something productive, just not now. Then - getting ready for bed - I put my pyjamas on, got some crisps and watched some videos.
I ended up going to sleep really late that night, and was pretty tired in the morning. I got ready, and went to school.
Over the next few days, everything went downhill from there: I would wake up every morning, and go to school. I would be tired from my late night the day before, so wouldn't pay attention in lessons. The only thing that really sparked my interest was when I was doing basketball (my passion) in PE, but even in that I was slowly stopping to work hard in that either. This was kind of stressing me out, because some scouts for the local academy were coming to my school to see us play, and I couldn't be slacking before it. But all of my screens and late nights had made me not really want to do anything. My room, too, was slowly getting more and more untidy. I couldn't find anything, but my parents didn't chivy me, because they were really busy. I knew I was getting into some bad habits, but they were just so easy to get into. Every night, I would stay up late just going on screens.
On Thursday evening (the night before the day that the scouts would come), I had an especially late night. I just really didn't want to go to bed. In the end, I got to sleep at 3:00 am.
The next morning, I opened my eye just a crack, and checked the time. I gasped - it was 8:10! Jumping up out of bed, I looked around my messy room. I was going to be late for school! I tried to get ready quickly, but everything in my room was disorganised. It took ages just to get dressed, and by the time I got out of the door, I was already late.
Unfortunately, PE was one of the first things we did that day, and they were already 10 minutes into a game when I joined. Being the best player in my team, I expected to do well in the match, and really wanted to impress the scouts, standing primly at the sidelines, clipboards in hand. But I was slow and sluggish, I couldn't dribble the ball or shoot properly. The scouts barely gave me a glance. It was only at half time that I was put out of my misery.
During the break one of the scouts got a call on their phone, and afterwards - following a short discussion with her colleague, they spoke,
“We have just been called elsewhere, and it is quite important. I am sorry for the inconvenience. Maybe we could come again… next week?”
The coach agreed, and my heart leapt. They were going to come again! I would have another chance! I vowed to myself that next time, I would be ready. But I would have to first get into some good habits.
Over the next week, I worked really hard on getting out of my bad habits. I first confessed to my parents the predicament I had got myself into, and they were very understanding. They helped me get more sleep, to go on screens less and to eat more healthily.
When Friday came, I was on top form: I stormed around the pitch, dribbling and passing and shooting like a demon. Every so often, I would glance over to the scouts, but I couldn't read their expressions as they scribbled on their clipboards. That just made me work harder. I played better than I had ever before.
At the end, I stood awkwardly at the edge of the court with a few other nervous, hopeful children waiting to see if anyone would get scouted. To our delight, they came over, their shoes crunching along the shiny ground. They stopped in front of me. My heart thumped in my chest.
“What's your name?”
“A-ayla. Ayla W-woods. ” I stammered,
“Well, Ayla Woods, how would you like to join the West Ham basketball junior team?”
“YES!” I shouted, then stopped, feeling embarrassed, “Yes, thank you so much for this offer.”
And with that, the two left, and, as the whole team gathered round and congratulated me, I got a warm feeling inside; I had done it! I was so glad I had seen what had gone wrong and had been brave enough to change.

That's the daily! (878 words) I'm assuming you can go over the minimum word count, but correct me if I'm wrong.

no motivation daily sob | 428 words

Owl watched the castle collapse.
This was all his fault. He should have been faster, stronger. He should have been smarter.
He should have been there.
Dying, like everyone else.
It wasn’t fair.
Dragging a hand down his face as the rain began to fall, he stood there, motionless, as the storm soaked him through. Everyone he had ever known had been there, gathered for the celebration. It should have been a festival of light, but to him, it would always be a day of darkness and grief.
It should have been someone else standing out here. It should have been him inside.
Warriors did not cry.
He cried anyway.
He knew there was nothing he could have done to stop it, realistically, but the illogical part of his brain kept looping frantically, looking for a way to fix it. A way he could have saved them like he was supposed to. That was his one job, and he had failed, and they were suffering for his inadequacy.
It frustrated him. He couldn’t change anything, but if he could just go back, just do something different…
No. He needed to stop thinking like this. He needed to remember his training. He needed to dry his tears. He had failed, and he would live with that forever, but now he must work on atonement for that. He must move forward and do whatever he could to erase the blot on his record.
Warriors were supposed to protect. He hadn’t protected. So now he needed to find something to protect. Then, maybe, he could make it right. He could balance the scales.
Turning his back on the destruction, he plunged into the undergrowth, ignoring the spikes of pain and branches and thorns tore at his clothes and skin. It didn’t matter anymore. Nothing did except redeeming himself.
He wasn’t sure how long he walked. Maybe hours. Maybe days. He didn’t stop to rest or eat, just focused on putting one foot in front of another for as long as it took to find what he was looking for.
He didn’t even know what he was looking for.
Finally, finally, the trees thinned and drew to an end. He stumbled towards his goal, hoping he’d see something besides more empty wilderness.
His legs betrayed him, though, dropping him to the ground. He could taste wet dirt in his mouth.
He fought to stay awake, but his eyes drooped without his consent. He hadn’t slept in…a long time. He didn’t know how long.
He guessed he probably should do that more often…