July 14 Daily

List:
- Brushing teeth
- Taking showers
- Hygiene in general
- Doing your bed
- Being kind and patient with people
- Giving people the benefit of the doubt
- Doing things right the first time

Hunter jumped out of his bunk-thingy and danced around the room in his sock feet.
“No school!” he shouted gleefully. “No one to tell me what to do!”
“Uh huh, uh huh, uh huh.” He pumped his arms a few times for good measure and wiggled around the room a little more.
“Wha?” came a voice from the other bunk.
Hunter looked over and saw West blearily pushing back the covers to stare at him oddly.
“What are you talking about?” he asked Hunter.
Hunter stopped shimmying around their shared room and plopped back down on his bunk, pulling his blanket off the bed and wrapping it around himself.
“This is, like, my dream life!” he exclaimed. “No responsibility, no chores. Just fun, all day long!”
“Dude,” West said, rubbing his eyes. “That is definitely not what life is like here.”
West swung himself out of his bunk and began making his bed.
“You still have to make your bed,” he said, looking pointedly over his shoulder at Hunter. “And brush your teeth, and eat your vegetables.”
Hunter frowned. “But Miss Anne said that doing stuff like that is up to us. She said the grown-ups weren’t going to tell us what to do.”
West snorted. “Well sure, but being responsible isn’t doing things because people tell you to. It’s doing things because you know their value.”
He finished tucking in the sheets. “And trust me, when grown-ups say doing that stuff is for your own good, they mean it. After a week or so of not brushing your teeth and doing your bed, things get pretty miserable.”

A week or so later

“I’m tired of this!” Hunter exclaimed.
He plopped down on his undone bed. “This is throwing off my groove.”
“Told you so!” West yelled from down the hall.

301 words
this is so goofy and bad lol

daily for sci-fi! 365 words, +600 points I believe? (I need to stop writing about Star Wars but Lyra’s my only OC-)

List of ✨ good habits ✨:
-Get over 8 hours of sleep
-Drink water
-Have a normal sleep schedule

Actual story (in the form of an interview with my SW OC Lyra):

Interviewer: So, Lyra, we all want to know: what's the most important good habit you can have?

Lyra: Definitely getting enough sleep.

I: Why that one?

L: Well, first of all, if you don't get enough sleep then you're tired. If you're tired, then you can't do anything as well as you normally could. Like, for example, let's say you stayed up until midnight the night before a science test, and you have to get up at 6 AM. You're only gonna get 6 hours of sleep, or less, so you're gonna be tired and not do well on the test. And I'm definitely not saying this because I've done this before.

I: Do you have any personal examples of why this is important, since that last one definitely wasn't?

L: Well, I can't say too much, since a lot of chapters of my novel haven't been released. I'm writing as fast as I can, people. I will say that sneaking out to visit your Loth-cat at night isn't always the best idea. I used to stay out for at least 2 hours, which isn't that bad, but it's not exactly helpful, either. It'll make math class even worse the next day. Going on missions with a girl who's been stuck in the Clone Wars for almost 30 years doesn't exactly help either. I can't say it wasn't fun, though.

I: Well, thank you, Lyra, for your opinion and for coming here. Any closing statements you'd like to add?

L: I'd like to add a quick thing for a group of people known as “SWCers”. Sleep is more important than cabin wars, dailies, weeklies, or any other things like that. Seriously, some of you, I swear, get like, 2 hours of sleep each night. Just because it's summer and you don't have school (for some people at least) doesn't mean you can do that. Especially is you do have school right now.

I: Alright, folks, thanks for tuning in, and remember: get some sleep. Please.

Daily 14: Good habits (231 words, slept 10 hours for once bwahaha)

Elise opened her eyes blearily, watching the dark shapes of her bedroom furniture materialize as she slowly got out of bed. She yawned, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes, and opened the curtains in her bedroom to let the early-morning sunlight warm her face.

Still half asleep, Elise walked slowly into the kitchen, turning on her phone to play some music as she raided her refrigerator for breakfast. Her puppy, Emmet, nipped at her heels, barking loudly as Elise leaned down to scratch his ear. Drawing out a bag of frozen berries, some yogurt, and a banana, she turned on her blender and created a smoothie bowl topped with raspberries and her favorite bowl of granola.

Elise walked out onto her porch to enjoy her breakfast, turning on some calming music in her wireless headphones as she watched the sunrise, stopping to photograph the pink-tinged sky.

Finished with her breakfast, Elise pulled out her journal and created a list of goals for the day, starting with ‘walk Emmet’. Almost as if he could sense her intentions, Emmet ran outside with his leash already in his mouth. A smile bloomed on Elise’s face as she locked her door and began to walk with Emmet.

She couldn’t imagine ever being happier as Elise walked with the sunrise at her back and her dog by her side, knowing she could take on the world.

Daily 14: Good habits (231 words, slept 10 hours for once bwahaha)

Elise opened her eyes blearily, watching the dark shapes of her bedroom furniture materialize as she slowly got out of bed. She yawned, scrubbing the sleep from her eyes, and opened the curtains in her bedroom to let the early-morning sunlight warm her face.

Still half asleep, Elise walked slowly into the kitchen, turning on her phone to play some music as she raided her refrigerator for breakfast. Her puppy, Emmet, nipped at her heels, barking loudly as Elise leaned down to scratch his ear. Drawing out a bag of frozen berries, some yogurt, and a banana, she turned on her blender and created a smoothie bowl topped with raspberries and her favorite bowl of granola.

Elise walked out onto her porch to enjoy her breakfast, turning on some calming music in her wireless headphones as she watched the sunrise, stopping to photograph the pink-tinged sky.

Finished with her breakfast, Elise pulled out her journal and created a list of goals for the day, starting with ‘walk Emmet’. Almost as if he could sense her intentions, Emmet ran outside with his leash already in his mouth. A smile bloomed on Elise’s face as she locked her door and began to walk with Emmet.

She couldn’t imagine ever being happier as Elise walked with the sunrise at her back and her dog by her side, knowing she could take on the world.

daily 07.14 | good habits | 327 words | 600 points

Good habits:
- Sleeping before midnight
- Eating three meals a day
- Drinking a sufficient amount of water in a day
- Writing down thoughts and feelings
- Keeping track of my to-do list by writing it down
- Avoid doomscrolling on social media

Maira finished the last a with an unnecessary flourish of her pen, curling the end of the letter up towards the previous line. It felt a bit irritating, having to write down basic things like this, but she’d figured out that the way to get herself to journal was by making it an artsier endeavor. Go figure.

In the past, she’d always struggled with keeping track of things, as well as handling her emotions. The solution that her therapist had recommended for both issues was the most basic one imaginable, in her opinion — journaling — but she’d begrudgingly given it a try anyway, and she’d so far found it more enjoyable than expected.

In the summer, when her motivation and busyness drifted and fluttered in tatters in the breeze, it was hard to get herself to do anything vaguely productive or good for her. The awful loneliness of it all wormed deep into her bones; a wiser person might call it seasonal depression, but Maira was not one for putting a title on her problems, regardless of how it may seem.

She flipped through the last few pages of the journal, skimming the previous entries and trying not to cringe. Even though she still felt weird about writing like this, she couldn’t deny that it was nice, and it might even be helping her. Not that she would confirm or deny that. But maybe her therapist was right — though acknowledging that meant that Maira would have to listen to her more often, which was a lot of effort that she was worried about having to use. Though, well, it might at least give her something to do through the boredom.

(I slept from 2 am to 12 pm, so 10 hours, for a minimum of 200 words.)

- set boundaries
- communicate clearly
- exercise
- take breaks when you need them
- have good personal hygiene
- practice moderation
- keep track of your work
- put effort towards long-term goals
- sleep enough
- eat healthy things
- have a designated workspace
- learn new skills

“How about a Half-Canon daily?” River suggests.
“Seeing as we're running short on time, you may be right.” Wild sighs, wishing that this daily could be done already. They had liked the previous one like this, the one about describing characters’ sleep schedules, but this one just wasn't as exciting. “So, what preachy tale are we gonna hear today?”
River reviews the list of good habits. “‘Keep track of your work’ is an okay one, I guess.”
“Isn't that what Half-Canon's already for?”
“Yeah, that's why it works.”
Eclipse jumps into the conversation, having been listening quietly in the background. “We're living proof of your ability to keep order in a large and complicated universe. If it wasn't organized, we wouldn't be here. Our lives are only possible as a result of how well set-up the initial conditions were!”
Wild half-smiles. “I can't take all the credit. My predecessors did most of the work; my job was just to figure out their mechanisms and use them as they were intended. And you all help with the ongoing maintenance.”
“But it's still a lot of work.”
This was true. Keeping character lists, writing plotlines, making sure everything got translated over correctly- this was their constant task. Wild spent most of their time absorbed in this work.
“We really need to utilize more spreadsheets and ref sheets,” Wild says.
“Exactly!” River latches onto the idea.
“That would decrease the stress on our memory right now,” Eclipse frowns at the brainspace surrounding them. “We should be able to rig something up with bit of effort.”
“Then let’s start today,” Wild asserts. “Just start now…”
“I've been saying this to them for months,” River whispers conspiratorially to the imaginary camera.
“Oh, be quiet,” Wild giggles.

Part 4

Elements I used - dual timeline and pacing

Anya breathed in shakily, her heart racing. Through her woollen dress, she was trembling with nerves, goose pimples popping up on her pale, almost translucent skin. She thumped down onto her thin mattress, the iron rattling ominously as she lay back, tears welling up in her eyes.
Today was adoption day.

They lined up, dressed in their best clothes, backs straight and stiff. Relax. Breathe. Don’t worry. She glanced over at Amil, her younger sister anxiously and gripped her hand tightly.
“It will be fine,” She breathed.
“Silence!” Miss Caltier ordered.
Clenched fists. Wobbling lips. Watery eyes.
“Children, I present to you, Lord and Lady Tessington.”
The children gasped. A lady with flawless pale skin and rosy lips and dark wavy hair smiled warmly at them
“Are you sure we can’t just take them all?” She asked insistently.
“That would be quite unreasonable!” Miss Caltier exclaimed. “Children, introduce yourselves one by one. Rose, you start.”
A small girl of three looked up worriedly.
“I-I’m Rose Boston, and I’m 3 years old.”
“What’s your favourite food, Rose?” Lord Tessington asked kindly.
“I don’t know.” She replied sadly and looked down at her feet. “I don’t know many food.”
“Next!” Called Miss Caltier sharply.
“My name’s Alfie, and I’m 3 years old too and my best friend is Rose.”
“How lovely!”
“I’m 4 years old…”
“I like pink…”
“What’s your name…”
“Next…”
“Next…”
“Next!”
Anya looked up suddenly, startled.
“How many times?” Miss Caltier muttered bitterly.
“And what’s your name, dear?”
“I’m - I’m Anya Naspien and I’m s-six years old.”
“Any siblings, Anya?”
“Y-yes… Amil, who you just met.”
“Amil?”
“A stupid nickname for Amelia, that one over there.” Miss Caltier cut in.
Anya gritted her teeth. She hated Miss Caltier with all her heart. Fury rushed through her in a fiery torrent. Couldn’t she just leave her and Amil alone? The next few minutes seemed like a horrible blur to Anya; she was sick with dread. What if she and Amil were separated? She knew that no one was allowed to take more than one child.
“The child we have decided on is… Amelia!”
Anya shrieked, horrified. All colour drained from her face as she met Miss Caltier’s sharp glare. She ran.

Alfie pursed his lips and stared at the cold stone ceiling, his mind a rush of whirling thoughts and questions. Why had he been sent here? Couldn’t he just stay with Fraya back home? Back home. Where he was happy. He gazed at the lumpy porridge in disgust as it dripped off his spoon.
“Fetch the post, Alfred.”
Alfie looked up, his brow furrowed.
“Pardon, sir?”
“Fetch. The. Post!”
Alfie hurried out of the room and leaned against the wall in relief and sighed.
A distant cough bounced off the walls.
“Excuse me?”
“Oh - yes.”
Alfred reached out his hand and gently pulled a heap of letters from him. The postman turned away and rushed off nervously as he saw the Master peer over Alfred’s shoulder. The open door was right there. Freedom. At last. He wriggled out of his tight grip and looked behind him nervously. He shook his head. He had to go. He had no choice. So he turned. He ran.

“Anya?” A hesitant voice asked. “Anya, where are you?”
From underneath her sheets, Anya shivered.
“I’m here.”
Anya sat straight up, a smile slowly growing on her face.
“You’re still here!”
“They took Emily. She was very happy… I glad to be with you.”
“So am I.”
Amil pulled her into a tight hug.
“Oh, by the why, they said there was a new boy… his name was-”
“Alfred.”
A boy with limp brown hair and bright eyes walked into the room.
“What’s your name?”

whoops i never put this on the forums when they came back afdjdhsgk
daily 11 - write an advertisement for a product you created - 305/200 words

ever needed a quick round of nail polish for your nails before you leave to run an errand? of course, you could glue some fake nails on and be ready to go in just a few minutes, but they’re heckons painful to take off when you’re done, and if it rips off… nobody wants that. nail polish is the better route, but it takes a bit too long to apply than you have time for. well, meet the Nail Polish Quicker ™ !
find a flat surface for this handy dandy machine and your handy dandy hands, then take a seat and relax! it will quickly spread a nice amount of beautiful nail polish on your nails, blow a built-in hairdryer at your fingers to dry the color, and repeat the process until three beautiful layers have been completed! the time for your nails to be painted with the Nail Polish Quicker ™ takes less time than it takes to cook a package of ramen (which is very very fast)! you’ll be on your way faster than ever before, and you’ll have absolutely stunning nails while you’re away ;D
come pick up your Nail Polish Quicker ™ at your local IKEA today! with a discount price of $78.35, you’ll be getting the best deal around! quick, purchase before you have to deal with another nail polish mishap, and before this machine is sold out!
*in a rushed and quiet voice* your local IKEA and Nail Polish Quicker ™ is not responsible for any injury, possible death, and nail polish container throwings. test machine outside before risking nail polish splatters on your brand new white dress or freshly painted walls. all sales are final. shipping fee is $46.91 for anyone living outside the bermuda triangle.
enjoy your machine, and solution to life’s biggest problem! ;D

daily 13 - cabin wars - 1506 words
cabin wars writing proof <3 (give or take a few words, i edited it to hide any names or specific places ^^)

146 words

HELLOOO <3 it’s cabin wars and i completely forgot about them because of my brother's baseball tournament whoops ^^’ we were gone all heckons day and the umpires were making some terrible calls but they weren’t even consistent it was only bad for our team. like the so called strikes were above the kids’ heads and above the complete opposite batter’s box so it was annoying and there was a couple safe/out calls that got our fans fired up but the thing is it would only be bad for us. they were ringing us up on outside strikes but when our pitchers would throw them a tad outside it’s a ball. it literally hit the umpire’s knee and he called it a ball like are you paying attention?? it went right down the pipe!! so that’s my rant for words for cabin wars good night everybody *bows*

226 words
rant about my dog that i'm not going to share ^^

282 words

buddy the show we’re watching won’t load and it’s probably because i’m using my laptop but i don’t really care because we need the words haha
oop there it goes, turns out it was an ad during like the best part of the movie with all the massive hail dropping and like knocking people out and cracking their windshields to their cars. wow my words per minute is actually struggling right now like i’m sure i could go faster if i really wanted to but it is like hesitant to a lot of stuff and like stuttering if fingers could stutter bwahaha
shows back on whoop whoop buddy the suggestions button wanted to put cough cough instead the heckons??? bahaha
the main actor for this is the same guy who played in that one dog movie where the dog dies like 7 times but reincarnates as a different dog and eventually comes back to the guy i don’t know but all of that makes me think of more about my dog that i'm not going to share ^^

190 words

guess who’s gonna go on another rant for cabin wars because we need words for a war! i’ll probably finish this only for someone else to write the 2000 words *cough alana ily cough* /lh by the time i get to our cabin to post my word count bwahaha
anyways what should i rant about hmm how about minions and bananas the despicable me 4 or 5 movie or about how disney is coming out with sequels to a whole ton of movies and they all suck like this is garbage stop ruining perfectly solid stand alone movies for no reason they’re literally fire as they are but if you make random sequels then nobody respects the actual movie anymore so it’d be helpful if you could just stop buddy ok do you understand me please can you stop i would really appreciate it like actually can you not please quit what you’re doing no more sequels please not make anymore bad sequels to amazing movies like moana and inside out and etc etc AND HOME WHAT THE HECK ARE YOU DOING THAT WAS MY LITERAL CHILDHOOD BUDDY NO MORE SEQUELS

181 words

another rant whoop whoop! this one hmm how about we do my first scratch account username it was jalapeno9 because my nickname at home was jalapeño xD so my mom just told me to put that with a number next to it bwahaha
now my current username is pepper-and-a-pencil because that uses my nickname better and shows the account is mainly for writing which i wanted it for. at first i was like hmm maybe i have a main and a camp account and i sort of attempted it but it’s too much work to check both accounts all the time haha so i just made my main pepper and a pencil and jalapeno9 my alternate account in case i ever needed it so yeah and my nickname started with my first account jalapeno9 because my user is a pepper so i was like pepper it is! pepper stuck and i really like the name (sometimes i’ll be talking to myself and use pepper instead of my real name bwahaha) but yeah i enjoy it and i think it’s nice haha

232 words

edited out an inside joke with my brother ^^' my brother is holding a banana in his baseball uniform now he is trying to crack it open but seems to be failing i don’t know if he actually wants to eat it or not but now he is whining in his legs and the banana is still unopened sobbing if he finds out that i wrote this i will be dead meat i mean banana haha i’m so funny bro my autocorrect is kind of not working today i have to keep going back to fix my mistakes ok nevermind it’s actually working a lot better bahaha ok so when i type in caps it literally does nothing but when it’s normal it seems to be going fine i woke up a bit too early for my liking today and guess what now i want to go back to sleep but i can’t because the windows to the car are down and now it’s too cold buddy ok bye
just kidding you think i would leave no way i have to write ehehe ok these curves we’re driving on are driving my crazy get it but like actually i cant type right when we’re driving sobbing
and i’m on mobile the misery sobbing ok bye for real i’m going to check my work count now bye bye

249 words

i’m back because no one else seems to be super active unless they are actually spending better time actually writing decent things and longer paragraphs to better benefit our cabin but i don’t know if i’ll have the time to do that so for now it’s just short rants until i get back to the house but hopefully i don’t get back to the house before cabin wars is over because that would mean we lost the baseball game and are out of the (edited out) tournament which is a no thank you i’d rather not it has been so fun yelling at the kids (and the umpires whoops) but seriously you’re getting paid good money can you be fair and make actually good calls?? your strike zone is so inconsistent and sometimes i doubt you’re watching the game so hopefully today will be better. me and neighbor's name were ranting to each other sometimes mad at the umpires but other times like super stressed out from how close the game was actually it was crazy bwahaha anyways i like neighbor's name, neighbor's name is my brother's baseball friend's name mom and him and my brother are friends and always play outside because they are our neighbors but neighbor's name is a sweet pea tator tot and neighbor's daughter's name is nice and so is neighbor's husband, neighbor's husband is chill i like neighbor's husband
oh look i didn’t notice but my brother ate his banana and now he just holding the peel hopefully he doesn’t drop it on the ground ahha that’s funny

Critique

First of all, I really enjoyed reading this! It flowed really nicely and wasn’t full of similes and metaphors and adjectives, which make it really hard to understand sometimes. I think you should be really proud of yourself!

Overall, I think you could have added a bit more about your characters, to make your reader connect with them more. (Unless this was in the previous chapter) add a description of what they look like, their personality e.g her grandmother looked up, her eyes crinkling with her smile like a sunbeam making her freckles glow or her raven black hair framed her radiant face. I also think ‘she looked towards the sky she could not see’ is a little bit confusing as it is night, which it does explain later, but I think it is just a bit unnecessary. Maybe add another sentence in place of that???

I was also a little confused by Carol and ‘her grandmother’ because it sounds like they are two different people, as most kids don’t call their grandparents by their first name, instead something like Gran or Granny or something ‘Do you remember what’s gonna happen next week sounds a bit strange, I guess? It just didn’t sound right when I read it.

“Oophf,” she oophfed honestly is quite funny lol although (unless it’s a comedy sort of book) most authors wouldn’t suggest putting ‘oophfed’ as a way of speaking xD
The next bit of writing was actually quite funny! ‘Unluckily for my back pain’ ‘in all her aged glory, Carol had of course forgotten to change her granddaughter’s textbooks’ ‘she had witnessed the caretakers scrubbing the extra large size grill enough times to know that there were places she didn’t want to end up in’ this was my favourite part! No bad comments on it!

I also just wanted to say, after ‘letterbox’ you forgot a full stop and after ‘well’ you had a semicolon instead of a comma. My last critique on this is actually the last sentence as it doesn’t provide much suspense, which would usually be included at the end of a chapter. Maybe add another sentence like ‘She breathed in deeply and closed her eyes. She was going to do this.’

To finish off, I loved reading through this and would love to read the rest of it! It really drew me in and was very cleverly worded! I hope this critique helped! <3

drawing of character is by the amazing Smooth_Sands

swc classics, weekly #2
2532 words total

part one: three word stories
inspo thread: time is ticking / waters are rising / and the sky / seems to fall
tw warning for an immortal wanting to die?

Florence, she called herself. A being born from the stars, she had created the Earth, the first planet to be trusted with life. And then through a series of unfortunate events, she’d been banished into her very own canvas, a cruel and poetic kind of punishment.
Except the modern year is now 3227, and as someone who’s been alive and on Earth for the past… while, Florence had practically seen it all. So much, in fact, that she was desperate to leave. Willing to sell her soul, even, but she supposed that didn’t make a whole lot of sense given the ‘dying anyway’ circumstances. This was something she had been trying to work around for a while now, failing every single time.
I’ll do anything you ask me to do, anything at all, so as you’ll let me pass on, she had begged the stars one notable time, very well aware of how widely ranged the possibilities could be. And they had set her on a hundreds-year mission, only to betray her and force her to keep living here anyways.
No, she realized after that, she had to find her own measures. And fast. She had seen too much already, so she wasn’t desperate to stick around for the destruction of her World. End of all times, they called it, and to Florence, she needed to outrun it entirely.
To be honest, she would’ve destroyed the place a long, long while back if she’d had the heart. But she hadn’t and now it was far too late. The only thing left to do was organize everything she hated about her planet.
War, first of all. The campaign for world peace had risen and fallen like a rocking boat, always remaining a fantasy. When the first war had come along, very early on, she had been shocked - given this expanse of luscious greenery, sunlight, and running water, and the humans already wanted to burn it to the ground? She’d scoffed at first, almost relating.
It took her a while to realize the hatred had been against each other, that they were killing their own kind. Sure, after so many of them, the realization of war hurt less, but the biting truth was still there.
The invention of plastic had been a fun one. It was useful at first, to have a cheap and sturdy material to work with. But anything that came with the word ‘cheap’ was doomed to be the downfall of society- honestly, Florence hated the economy as a whole. Anyways, economy, plastic. Not a bad duo, in the sense that it was disastrous, with burning things to make a profit and so on.
…What was it with people and their obsession with destruction? Setting alight this and that, releasing smoke until it choked out the heavens itself. Throwing anything they didn’t need into the wind, thinking nature will deal with it.
There was so much more she wanted to scream about. An eternity alive brewed a vast expanse of hatred.
The sea’s former beauty, blanketed in trash, ready to drown out the land. The sky, so full of smog, it was ready to collapse in on itself. The Earth collapsing into itself in misery. And who’s problem would it be, after the sky died? Certainly not the skys’ anymore.
Yes, she wanted more than anything to leave this place for good. Preferably before she had to see in ruins. Because after she left, her problems would no longer be hers but only added to the collective weight of the world.

(+593 words)
(i actually can’t make sense right now sorry let’s pretend it captures the nonsensical deepness of three word stories :thumbsup:)

(+15 words for hanging out in the three word stories studio as well!)

part two: best-selling bookstore

blurb i wrote: In a time that either could barely remember, Gloria and Adelaide had been inseparable. That had been another world entirely - their laughter had long faded into the sounds of an endless war. Now, fourteen years later and their kingdom in ruins, fate brings the two together once again in a competition for the throne. Brought together by their common ambition, their journey is one that slowly rekindles an old friendship. But alas, there can only be one Queen… unless?
(+79 words)

blurb claimed (@.krm271krm271): Teagan is a fortune teller—well, not actually. She doesn’t believe in magic, but reads fortunes for profit. After one of Teagan’s false predictions saves Prince Ellis’s life, she’s hired as his royal fortune teller and gains trust to twist the Kingdom’s future—until she learns real magic is at play, too.

Kheokya’s Fortune Adobe was exactly what it sounded like - a cozy fortune telling shop, with palm readings, tea leaves, tarot cards, and all of that sort. It was one of those things that often appealed to tourists in the area, those who were looking to experience something ‘local’. Teagan was willing to bet that only half of them actually cared about the prophecies. That was fine, because the same could be said for her; always saying the first thing that popped into her mind. Her divine voice, grand intervention from above, was really just an assortment of random thoughts. Anything to make a living, as the saying goes, right? If both sides were both non-believers, it didn’t really count as a scam.
The shop bell rings, and a young man dressed in a uniform as tacky as her decor waltzes in with a stupid grin on his face. Prince Ellis, she recognizes from the TV. An interesting visitor, but nothing truly alarming. Most of the royal family liked to live borderline average lives when it came to wandering the kingdom.
She didn’t understand why they all chose to dress like that, then. And the lack of bodyguards. She could pull out a knife and stab the Prince right now, if her heart desired. Instead, she plastered on a smile.
“Welcome to Kheokya’s, speakers of the truth for over two hundred years. How may I help you on this fine day?” she recited. She’s pretty sure the script’s been the same since her great-great-whatever Aunt opened the place.
“Just looking to have some fun,” he threw out casually. It’s worth noting that Teagan hated overly happy people. “Could I get a palm reading?”
“Of course,” she said sweetly. “That’d be twenty coins.”
After she received the payment, she led Ellis over to an area with a crocheted circular rug and two decaying but comfy armchairs. She lit a candle for ambience - it was all about seeming authentic, after all.
“Could you hold out your dominant hand for me?” she asked in a practiced dreamy voice. Ellis did as he was told, and Teagan began to trace the lines, allowing herself to zone out for an indefinite amount of time.
Gosh, this job was boring. She got her coin, sure, but as soon as she made enough she would one hundred percent pass the store down to her cousin and find a real job.
And here she was touching the Prince of her Kingdom’s hand. Oh dear, did he think she was enjoying this? It was a well-known fact that many thought of him attractive. Was he going to ask her out? If she said no, would she end up on the news? Maybe it was time to drop the act earlier than she usually did, and just come up with a telling. With this one, she used her disdain to her advantage.
“What a lovely soul,” she began, opening her eyes. “A shame your future is so indefinite.”
Ellis stared at her, expecting more.
“Uh, I see that your future is shrouded in mist.” Teagan swore that there was a purplish smoke rising around them, but she brushed it off. Magic wasn’t real. “You must… choose your next actions carefully.”
Teagan was drawing a blank. It was getting harder and harder not to fumble her words. “Ah, maybe skip on the wine tonight, perhaps? And… um, lock your doors.” Mildly threatening, fantastic.
“You will come to do much good to our world.” she finishes, just to seem neutral.
When she met Ellis’ gaze, his eyes were still wide. “Woah,” he started, “That smoke effect was fantastic.”
What?
She doesn’t have a lot of time to ponder, as he breaks into a wide beam. “Thank you for your guidance, ma’am, I’ll certainly take it to heart.”
Teagan nodded with an air of formality, very careful as to not break character. “Of course. Well wishes to your spirit, Prince Ellis.”
So that was that. A slightly abnormal telling that would haunt her for a bit, but nothing out of this world. Just the way most things went. That is, until she receives a letter, stamped with the Royal Seal, and accompanied with a visit.

Dear Ms. Fortune Teller Lady,
Hey, it’s Ellis here - I visited your shop a couple days ago, if you recall? Well, you won’t believe this - someone at the castle is actively trying to kill me!
Let me be clear: I am in no way blaming you for this unfortunate series of events. In fact, I’d like to offer my sincerest thanks.
The palace’s wine was, in fact, poisoned. You’ve just as good as saved my life! I’ll be stopping over soon to further discuss matters, if that sounds good? I’m interested in having you as our Royal Fortune Teller.
Kindest Regards,
Prince Ellis.
(+808 words)

part three: take a break

weekend afternoons which were once a treat, yet now blending into the endless days
one after another in an endless chain, never failing nor pausing for anyone
and as it goes on, as it will, days of the week are a thing of the past
all of them joining into one melodious word: summertime.

the sun will rise and set as it wishes, golden rays lasting long past dinner
summer storms come and go, frequent in their visits although never lingering
breezes pushing past vibrant emerald leaves, cooling the sunkissed world
filling the world with musical rustles and the lyrical sound of windchimes.

and in this little pocket of the year where everything feels different
our lives are at peace, if just for a bit, fading into rhythms of sameness.
while we embrace the chaos the rest of the time, a bit of monotone can be welcomed
as we sit back and watch the world spin round, another everlasting motion gone unnoticed.

and here, despite the boredom and the sound of lawn mowers we all secretly enjoy, it’s okay
because there’s the earth, damp with the smell of freshly fallen raindrops and thunder
there’s the children blowing iridescent bubbles onto the drifting breeze, not a care in the world
and no matter how much we sometimes claim to hate it, summertime is still the mother to nostalgia.

(+227 words)

part four: google translate
translated piece (changed the names but it’s the bookstore blurb i wrote): Lori and Vivian were inseparable after this decision. There was a moment when his laughter turned into endless tears. Fourteen years later his reign ended. Meet old friends. The girl can do it.

Two completely normal looking ladies were having tea around a lit candle. This would’ve been a perfectly normal statement if it hadn’t been four in the morning, and if the two weren’t locked in a very serious conversation.
“So, Davis,” Lori began, and Vivian nodded. Davis - or as the rest of the kingdom were forced to know him; ‘The Most Noble and Honorable King Davis’, was a commonly hated figure amongst most of the villagers, mainly for his questionable authority and lack of common sense. The fun part was, both of the ladies present at this meeting were a part of His guard. “I think I’ve had enough.”
Vivian broke into the widest, most sleep deprived grin. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”
“Precisely.”
“Let’s go,” Vivian celebrated enthusiastically but quietly. This had been her idea for quite some time now, and it had only become a matter of convincing her best friend and partner in crime. “I knew he’d push you over the edge eventually. Just to make sure we’re on the same track: murder?”
Lori chuckled. “Not when you say it like that. Let’s phrase it something like, a peaceful and forceful removal of high power?”
Vivian’s smirk only grew wider. “Okay, so what I’m getting is, you’re thinking poison.”
“And you were thinking dagger,” Lori added.
“Fine, I’ll go for poison,” she sighed. “As much as I hate to admit it, it’s probably both easier and more effective. He won’t have time to find a doctor before completely passing out, and then we lock him in the room until we’re sure. Voila, we’re heroes!”
“Gosh, sometimes I forget how morbid your thought process is,” Lori said with a smile. “Deal. In the morning, we’ll go talk to the kitchens. I know a cook there who’s trustworthy… although I suppose, we need a vial first–”
“Done,” Vivian cut in, and Lori wasn’t even surprised.

Something about their mutual agreement to the slaughter of the highest person in the land brought them closer to each other more than ever. It did wonders for their relationship, which was interesting, but not all too surprising once you analyzed the circumstances properly. It couldn’t really be translated to words but… they just had a brand-new understanding of the other, really. Willing to die together if their plan failed (which it wouldn’t).
They managed to get George, Lori’s friend and cook, to slip the vial into a batch of mushroom soup, where the murkiness would cover up any discoloration or unintended effects. They could’ve left it at that, and waited until morning to admire the fruits of their labor.
But no, Vivian wanted a front-seat view. And although Lori wouldn’t directly admit it, she agreed - which was why she bought a tiny camera to set up a livestream for her friends and family, and maybe later, television.

“Two of your guards would like to have dinner with you, Lord.” George cleared his throat. Okay, nothing suspicious, right? “You know, bonding and all that.”
“How dare they ask?” King Davis demanded. “Fine, I’ll do it for my own amusement. They are to be fired directly after.”
“Understood, Lord.” He was lucky the King had missed his half-smile.

“Very blessed to be in your presence today,” Vivian started kindly.
Lori smiled a bit too brightly, and took a fake sip of her soup that hopefully wasn’t as obvious. She subtly needed to egg him on, so that the process would be all the better.
“Yes, yes,” the king said absently. “I know.”
“How long’s it you’ve been king?” she continued, “Thirteen years?”
“Fourteen. Keep count, you fool.” he started to stir his meal around, making Lori’s stomach lurch with hope. Why was it that she was so nervous? She’d probably throw up with any bite of food, poison or not. He started to blow on the portion in his spoon.
“Apologies. Best fourteen years of my life, Lord.” her friend gave her a look, warning her to watch her tone. At long last, the King had a sip of the soup, and it all went downhill in a rather anticlimactic sort of way. He laughed at first.
“Ohoho, looks like one of my cooks has mistaken the salt for the sugar, hmm? I’ll have to see to that later. This tastes like a dang cookie–”
His laughs then turned into desperate retching. Vivian and Lori scrambled to leave the room, finding George outside. He quickly took a key and locked the door. The retching then turns into an eternity of crying and worthless pleas, and all they do is wait. Finally, after the worst fourteen years in the kingdom’s history, there’s silence.
Vivian gives a little fist pull to the air, and Lori and her pull off the loudest high-five known to mankind. George gives a double thumbs up, bless his soul.

(+809 words)

Weekly #2
warning: this is a bit of a mess since a lot of it was written during cabin wars ajknfsjkgnk

Part One
395 words

The three word story I used for inspiration can be found here ( https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/35430300/comments/#comments-264694899 ) and below.

(I added more punctuation)
Oh, the things long forgotten haunt me as I traipse through lands I once knew—the sorrow overwhelming me as I reminisce on the past. The once beautiful things now are no longer. It's my fault, and I’m sorry.

I stumble through the wasteland.
Shaking fingers pulling my threadbare coat tighter around my shoulders, head down, eyes fixated on my feet. I won’t look up. I don’t want to see what this place has become.
The insistent buzzing that I’ve been hearing for hours has begun to morph into whispers and hisses, echoing around me. The voices are no longer drifting on the wind, they are muttering in my ears, closing in.
The dead are calling to me.
They know what I’ve done.
Their fury is tangible, a shimmering, shifting heat that ripples the air, the cacophony growing to a crescendo. My regret feeds it. Peeling off my skin in glass-shard splinters that shatter mid-air because “sorry” isn’t good enough for them and my remorse is worth nothing anymore.
I press a cold hand to my chest. I’m the only one of us whose heart is still beating, hurling itself against the confines of my ribs in a frantic rhythm—almost like it’s reaching out to the others. Trying to get to them through bone and flesh and skin because I wasn’t there for them when it mattered. Hearing their voices again like this makes hope instinctively rise in my throat—it turns bitter when I remember, and I almost choke on it. The others are long gone, bodies rotting beneath this very ground. I can’t forget that. I came here to keep my promise; I came to remember.
“Don’t you dare forget me,” she screamed in my face as the earth shuddered and cracked, taking her with it. “You can’t forget us. All of this is your fault.” Her mouth twisted as she spat the words. “Promise me you won’t forget it.”
And as the ground caved in, I turned and ran.
The world may have forgotten long ago, but I haven’t. The only promise I could keep.
I concentrate on my feet again. Not even the grass is alive anymore. My boots drag through sun-bleached dust until I can’t keep going any longer.
“I’m sorry,” I croak through cracked lips. “I tried to save you. I’m still trying.”
The dead hear me. Lifeless hearts trembling at the sound of my voice after all this time. Perhaps they’ll put their trust in me one last time. Perhaps they’ll let me stay.
I fall to my knees in the wreckage.
This time, I will not run.

Part Two
577 words total

Blurb—172 words

It was the 13th of July when they found her. Dead underneath the willow tree at the edge of town. A burnt-out match clutched in her tiny, cold hand; hair wet with last night’s frost.
No one recognised her, although they all agreed she looked familiar. No one knew where she came from. They decided they’d just bury her and try to forget she had ever appeared in the first place—that is, until she woke up.
They named her Thirteen, after the unlucky day she’d been found on. Let her stay in their town. And as she grew up, the little girl who’d come back from the dead, things began to happen.
Bones floating to the surface of the lake. Wood charring without a fire. Bouquets of poisonous flowers left on doorsteps. Ravens flocking to the willow tree. Old memories being dug back up, of a little girl that had gone missing nearly eighty years ago.
And as the small town’s dark secrets come to light, the past begins to repeat itself.

Story—405 words

I used @pages-of-ink’s blurb, which is below:

For the past month, Wayne has been receiving letters. They contain no signature, no return address. He has no idea who the sender is, but they know him — and they know exactly what will happen to him in the near future. At first, the messages are about simple, harmless events: he will find a coupon on the ground tomorrow, his favorite socks will go missing, his boss will be late to work next week. But as the letters keep coming, and Wayne strikes up a hesitant correspondence with this mysterious seer, it becomes clear that they are writing to him for a reason. They are trying to to warn him about something that is about to happen, something in his near future — but it may already be too late.

Wayne found the first letter in the mailbox.
He didn’t think much of it at the time. He didn’t get letters often, but occasionally—he assumed it was the usual bank statement, or advertisement, perhaps an update from his grandmother. He found it odd that there was no sender information or return address—but whoever it was might have simply forgotten.
He slipped it into his jacket pocket, thinking that he’d read it later, and then simply forgot about it.
It was only at the end of the day—when he sat down on the couch, reached for the TV remote, and felt something sharp from his pocket poke him in the ribs—that he remembered to open it.
He pulled out the crumpled envelope, tore it open, and unfolded the piece of paper inside. He squinted at the small, scrawled handwriting.
You will open this letter at exactly 8:27pm.
A prank, huh? Wayne scoffed—but he still reached for his phone, tapping the screen. It lit up, just as the time flicked from 8:27 to 8:28.
Wayne froze. His heartbeat suddenly deafening in the silence of the empty house.
A coincidence, he told himself. They think they’re funny.
The letter fell from his fingers, fluttered to the floor. It landed on the opposite side.
And there was another message on the back.
The words swam in front of his eyes, his stomach clenched. He threw a glance over his shoulder—even though he knew there was no one there. There was no one there—right?
He leaned over, fingers snagging on the paper and lifting it into the air.
Your Netflix will not work tonight.
Wayne’s gaze turned sceptical. Perhaps this was just advertising mail after all. Well. He had no interest in another streaming service, or a TV technician, or whatever this was trying to sell. He clenched his fist, scrunching the letter into a tight ball.
With his left hand, he reached for the remote. Flicked the TV on. Went to Netflix. Waited for it to load.
Waited.
Stood up, crumpled paper in hand, walked over to the bin. Threw the letter in and tried to forget about it—although he still couldn’t shake his creeping sense of unease.
By the time he got back to his couch, Netflix still hadn’t loaded.
And as he sat down, he felt something in his jacket pocket poke him in the ribs—something in the shape of a new, crisp envelope.

Part Three
173 words

i went to the stables as my break—i am unapologetically a horse girl <3

leaning against the side wall of the stable, wood hard against your back (because the back wall was kicked down, splintered and knocked into the hedge, that time one of the horses got a fright)
nails rimmed in dirt, stained sleeves, dusty hoodie (the sponges and cloths are so tatty that you just clean bridles with your fingers now)
mud—and worse—that’s been caked onto your boots for years (you say you’ll wash them eventually, you never do)
but you don’t care—not right now, anyway (right now is only the brush in your hand and the horse beside you).

your hands smell like hoof oil and the sky smells like rain (eyes on the leather tack that can’t get wet, you’ll need to take it inside soon)
grey clouds billowing above, throwing you into shadow (you knew it would come)
wind ripples the trees down the hill (the paddocks are that way, do the horses have their waterproof covers on?)
and the first drops begin to fall (hood up, head down, you keep going).

Part Four
506 words

Original:
your hands smell like hoof oil and the sky smells like rain (eyes on the leather tack that can’t get wet, you’ll need to take it inside soon)
grey clouds billowing above, throwing you into shadow (you knew it would come)
wind ripples the trees down the hill (the paddocks are that way, do the horses have their waterproof covers on?)
and the first drops begin to fall (hood up, head down, you keep going).

Translated:
Your hands sweat like foot oil, the air smells like rain (the eyes of a skin bug that can't drain must be swallowed quickly);
White clouds roll in and surround you (you know it's coming).
the wind blows the trees down the hill (cuts, water in the house?).
The first drop begins to fall (head down, head down and on).

There’s the smell of rain in the air. It drifts on the bitingly cold breeze, rushing in from the south.
You know what that means.
It’s following you.
This isn’t just a chill on the wind—it’s the icy breath of the Hunters. The invisible souls of hundreds of long-dead soldiers, all controlled by a single mind. All fixated on a single target—you.
You hurry forward, steps crunching on the layer of pine needles underfoot. You won’t be able to outpace them, they’re gaining on you. You know they can hear your every gasping breath, every thump of your feet on the forest floor, every beat of your frantic, human heart.
You can’t keep on running. You have to confront them.
With sweating hands and trembling fingers, you pull a small vial out of your cloak pocket. Spiderlice eyes. The Hunters won’t expect you to have these—they’re from a rare, illegal hybrid that many believe died out long ago. You don’t have many—but they’re powerful.
You shake some from the vial onto your tongue. Pause, wincing at the texture, slimy and sticky and cold. You tip the rest of the eyes into your mouth, and swallow them all.
You can feel it begin to take effect immediately. A crawling sensation on your skin, trickling down your spine. A pricking behind your eyes, the pressure building, burning—
and suddenly, you can see what you couldn’t before.
Feel it, too. The wind begins to blow harder, colder, whipping your hair into your eyes. It brings the south’s creeping fog with it, crashing into you like waves, damp on your skin.
White tendrils of mist curl around your feet, blanketing the landscape, erasing it into an expanse of nothingness. The desolate world of the dead, that overlays your reality—and now, with eyes that aren’t your own, you can see it. Feel it brushing against your mortal skin. Hear the whispers of those trapped within.
You feel their gaze on you, burning hot where their breath is cold.
You whirl around. The fog rises on the southern horizon, and it’s in the shape of figures.
They’ve caught up with you.
You stand your ground.
They pour down the hill towards you. A waterfall of ghosts, taking everything in their path. Even in the waking world, the icy wind whirls itself into a hurricane, ripping the trees from the dirt and tossing them down the hill.
Reality and the world of the dead begin to blur together. Merging into one then splitting apart, your vision shaking and swooping, colours and shapes clouding through the haze.
This shouldn’t be happening. What was wrong with those spiderlice eyes?
You can’t tell the storm from the ghosts or the ghosts from the storm anymore.
You can’t tell up from down, living from dead, yourself from the Hunters.
You fall to your knees—your hands? You lower your head, head down to see the sky, and through the fog the wind the smoke the waves the breath the void the wreckage—
the first drop of rain falls.

critiiwijrejfenikedw for zai!



Norman trotted through town, taking the same rocky path as always. His home, the mountain, was a long walk away, but it was always worth the daily trip to see the news in town. Norman sped up as he neared the news board at the center of the square. From here, he could see through the trees surrounding town that the board had a new poster! Its paper was still shiny, not wet or ripped like some of the others that had been hanging for a while, and it was bright blue.

Blue was Norman’s favorite color. Not only did it remind him of the sea at the edge of town, but the ship that belonged to the Fuzzy Raiders, his favorite group of pirates, had a bright blue flag. Come to think of it, that sign was exactly the color of their flag…

Norman gasped as he got closer to the sign. He read its words out loud, unable to believe his eyes: “The Fuzzy Raiders are looking for new members—tryouts will be at the beach tomorrow! The tryouts consist of three challenges, and the three best candidates will be accepted to the crew.”

Norman’s heart pounded. Could this really be true? He took one step closer, hooves shaking against the dirt path. He squinted at the bottom of the poster, but when he saw the writing at the bottom, his heart sank. In small text, it said, “Donkeys Only.”

Norman looked down at his hooves, which were covered in white fur. He didn’t have the short coat of a donkey, but the long, shaggy fluff of a mountain goat.

Norman sighed. He had known the rules of the Fuzzy Raiders and seen the posters of their ship, which was filled only with donkeys. He had expected this, but it was still disappointing to see that their rules hadn’t changed.

He could join another pirate group, like the Peg Legs or the Sea Terrors, that welcomed mountain goats like him, but his dream had always been to be part of the Fuzzy Raiders. Aside from their annoying rules, they seemed like the friendliest group of pirates ever to sail the seas. Rather than keeping all the treasure they found on their many adventures to themselves, they shared it throughout the land. Rather than caring only for their own crew, they often helped out other animals who needed them.

Years ago, the Fuzzy Raiders had passed through Norman’s town on their way to explore a faraway sea. He had only caught a glimpse of them for a moment, but from the moment he had seen the cheerful donkeys whinnying to each other about past adventures, he knew he wanted to be part of the crew.

Maybe next time the Raiders were in town the rules would be different, but he would have to wait for so long for them to return. Even then, though, it was possible that nothing would change at all.

Norman took one last longing look at the bright blue poster, feeling like the exact opposite of the smiling, eye-patch-wearing donkey that had been drawn on it. He turned from the board, ignoring all of the town’s other news from the past day, and plodded back down the path towards home.

First of all, I loved reading this, it was really interesting and if you ever continue this I would love to read more. You wrote it super well and I was always hooked which made it easy to continue reading and made me really want more. Your way of writing is also really beautiful and the way you described certain things was amazing.

How many days had it been since he was imprisoned here? Kai had long since lost count. He had long since lost many things he wished no one would ever have to lose. His title, his family, his home, who he once was. Now everything that happened before the invasion were just trifles. He so desperately wished he could go back to studying for tests, getting embarrassed by his older sister, denying crushes he’d swear to never act upon. Anything but sitting alone in a dungeon, withered and yet still rotting. A harbinger of suffering, living only to soon die.


Soon, being when She was done using him. If only soon would come.

This is a super good hook to the story and really sets the story. The only thing I would mention is this ended up being a little awkward to read and I had to go back a few times. I think the main issue was the amount of listing which slowed down the paragraph a little and the jumps between past and present tense.

Now it was getting hard to remember what his life was once like. Of the whimsical streets, the smell of sweetbread wafting through the air. Of joy and music and laughter. He’d run through the halls of the castle he thought of as a second home. He’d get caught by his sister asleep in the forbidden library. She’d try to chastise him, warning of its danger and how it’s forbidden for a reason. She’d never stay mad for long. He would feign an apology and she’d let out a sigh of relief, flashing a dazzling smile. One Kai would never see again.


The memories have blurred together now, fractures that will soon dwindle until nothing but ashes remain. Even now, losing himself within them has gotten harder, the faces were hazy and the voices were muffled. What did his father sound like? What was the color of his mother’s eyes?


What Kai did remember is what his sister always said. “Hey, I know it’s tempting but make sure not to get lost in your mind or you’ll never want to leave!” She’d laugh, warm as the three suns. He’d snap out of his daydreams, drool all over the book or tome he was reading. Then he’d ask her, “And what's so wrong with that?” his voice dripping with sass.


“I’d miss you,” She would reply always and without fail. He wondered where she was now. If she really did miss him. If she was still alive.


He really wished she never said those words because now he’d remember them and wake up. Wake up to the stale soot-filled air. To cold metal bars and obsidian walls. To his own bony fingers, loose clothing barely covering the ribs jutting out of his pale skin. To silence, only interrupted by his thoughts and his weakly beating heart. To the compunctious feelings that he was to blame. That he was helping a monster. That he was a minion to someone who’s killed his family. His people.


He killed his people.

This part was very interesting to read and I think you did an amazing job showing how much he missed his past life and you showed the memories really well. It also was cool to see the jump between him being nostalgic and feeling these emotions into guilt and knowing he wouldn’t be able to experience it again.

And still Kai was trapped, still he helped Her. This dungeon, this plight, this suffering. This was his retribution, as there was and will never be a way to atone. If it was his sister, she’d fight. Fists clenched, an aura of true mettle shining like starlight. She’d never let herself be controlled, she never would’ve given up. She’d be plotting some scheme to escape, somehow find a vantage point and never stop until she was free. She would've been long gone, maybe even started a rebellion, Kai surmised, it only made sense. She’s always been stronger than he was.


An air of cold signaled the end of his interim isolation. Kai didn’t even have to hear the harsh footsteps clashing against stone to know She was coming. Now he could sense Her, like a shadow always lurking, always watching, never seen. With all She had done to him, Kai wouldn’t be surprised if their souls were linked, like a dog chained to the owner’s leash. Her cold sneer was ingrained in his head. She wore the same one when She entered.


Pitch black hair spilled down Her shoulders, atop of it was a crown adorned with amethyst and red diamonds. Royalty and spilled blood. In Her hand was a chalice, murky liquid swirling within the cup, the same dark color as her eyes. They were devoid of light yet somehow Kai could see a faint flicker of wickedness within them. Perhaps it wasn’t even there, he just knew Her too well.


She stared down at him, a look that couldn’t even be described as disgust plastered on Her face. “You’re looking worse for wear. You still surprise me each time I come down here, even at your worst you still manage to look even more pitiful.” She said bluntly. Kai spat at her feet.


Her face morphed into one of barely restrained fury and she grabbed him by the hair dragging him roughly against the bars. Despite this, her voice was deathly calm. “I’m tired of your ingratitude. Here you have shelter, I feed you, I sustain you!”


“You torture me!” He growled back, his voice sounding hoarse and alien coming from his lips.


“You could be dead.” She seethed.


“I wish I was.”

The way you write and describe emotion is really stunning and you showed Kai’s resentment really well. If I was to say one thing I would love if you expanded more on what their relationship used to be like either in this part or later on.

His sister was alive. She was alive! He felt as if fireworks were going off in his mind, though the joy erupted into pure unadulterated rage. She was going to make him kill his own sister? The only person who kept him sane when he was stuck in the hell She put him through? The thought revolted him. Kai had committed unforgivable acts that had kept him up until his body shut down, but he’d die before he ever hurt her. That anger gave off a spark. A spark of power.

This paragraph read a little awkward to me, I’m not exactly sure why so don’t take this too seriously but I think it was the difference in emotion that felt odd to read through.


This was a super interesting plot and I was entertained the whole time, I thought your writing was phenomenal and I couldn’t find and big weaknesses and I thought your descriptions, dialogue, and everything was just well done. I hope this was somewhat helpful and I hope you did well on this assignment because you definitely deserve it!

Daily for 16 July 2024
(555 words!)
───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

Cassian

Mother hasn't let me go out ever since the fires began.

They've stopped today. Our government, the Council claims that it was because of a few gas leaks. That's not what the screams suggest. I hear screams and the clash of metal against metal during the night, coated in the same amber glow.

I grab my leather satchel, pocket watch, a notebook and several books I have to return to Ridgeview Central Library. I take my sundial from the sunlit windowsill where I've arranged wooden sculptures in a line. It's small and beautiful and mahogany-colored, numbers etched in beige. I tilt it towards the sunlight and the gnomon's shadow slashes across the dial, landing on a number.

My friend, Aada gave it to me. She had tousled my hair as she had tucked it into my hands.

“What's this, Aada?”

“A sundial. T'was my great grandma's.” She grinned.

I had unfolded my hand and stared at it. “That's for keeping time, isn't it? It's really cool.”

“I wan' ya to keep it,” she had declared, auburn curls bouncing and eyes twinkling.

“Oh no,” I said, flustered. “Don't. I don't have much use of it, I have my pocket watch.”

“Cassian.” She squeezed my shoulder and I looked up at her. “I promised myself I'd give it to a younger sibling if I got one. An' unfortunately, I don' have anyone else.”

Something warm welled up inside me, like sunlight, threatening to spill over. “Thank you, Aada,” I beamed and hugged her around the middle, which was as high as I could reach back then.

But she disappeared last year, along with twenty others. The fires began to get worse and worse, as did the sounds at night. The Council didn't spare our region a second glance. I want to do something about the whole situation. Draw attention to the Council's neglect, the crumbling infrastructure ever since they were voted in, the prices doubling and poor getting poorer. Bring in some justice.

Quinn

The library has been my only refuge since the fires began. More specifically, the forbidden wing of the library, if I'm being frank.

The Council says it's from gas leaks. Me and my family are safe. Their guards stop by our house often, to keep an eye on us.

I still can't fight off the feeling that something's wrong. They protect us Idunians and our interests. They've done okay since they were voted in, if it's as the reports say.

I hear the slap of my boots against liquid as I stride down the street. It's covered in a colorless, foggy liquid. They'd warned us that it was acidic, that it could disintegrate living matter, buildings and other objects.

It's so quiet. It was just yesterday that there was the clang of swords in the streets. Occasional gunshots ringing through the air. I shake my head, trying to jerk these thoughts out.

A low, buzzing hum passes through the air above me. I tilt my head up at the gray sky and see a large airship gliding past, emblazoned in crisp black with the government's pentagon-shaped logo. It rushes past, as if unwilling to linger over the town.

“What's wrong?” I yell at it. “Why are you not acknowledging this place? What's up with the fires?”

As always, there is no answer.

okayyyyyyy weekly for dystopian here!
this took so looong

Pt. 1 of the weekly –>
(382 words)
The blue ocean covers the horizon, it stretches out as far as the eye can see. Standing on the sandy shore, Sarah felt a sense of wonder and freedom wash over her. She had always been drawn to the ocean, the sound of crashing waves, the sun’s soft glow on her face, and the salty breeze that always seemed to be perfect. She could spend days by the water, dreaming about the wonders of the sea.

When she was younger, Sarah would always daydream about going on a great adventure across the open sea. Now, as an adult, she longed to recapture that sense of that boundless possibility. It wasn’t the best time in her life; she felt trapped in a job she didn’t want and felt unfulfilled. Sighing* she continued to dream on.

One sunny morning, Sarah made the decision. She couldn’t take it any longer and decided to embark on a sailing trip along the coast. She rented a small sailboat and set out into the vast ocean. As the salty breeze filled her lungs, she felt a surge of exhilaration as she navigated the gentle swells.

As the hours passed, Sarah found herself lost in the priceless beauty of the ocean. The deep blue waters seemed to whisper secrets of ancient voyages her ancestors used to make, and of the worlds that lay beneath the water. For the first time in ages, she felt truly alive, free from all the constraints of her everyday existence.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, it cast a golden glow across the water. In that moment Sarah made a promise to herself. She vowed to embrace the unknown, to chart a new course in her life with the same courage and determination that guided her through the waves. The ocean had always been by her side, her constant companion, and now it had granted her the clarity she so desperately sought.

Returning to shore at midnight, Sarah felt alive and free. The blue ocean was still stretched out before her, but now she faced it with a new sense of purpose and optimism. She knew that, like the tides, her life could ebb and flow with change, and she was ready to embrace whatever lay beyond the boundless horizon of the sea

Pt. 2 of the weekly –>
(50 words blurb)
Sarah found freedom by the vast blue ocean. Feeling trapped in her boring job, she embarks on a sailing trip. As she navigated the gentle swells, she found herself consumed by the beauty of the ocean. This experience inspired her to chart a new course in her life with courage.

(317 word)
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.

Pt. 3 of the weekly –>
(230 words)
Ally stands by the shore, her heart pounding,

Nervous for the race; her mind in a clutter.

The wind whispers secrets, the waves gently sway,

But in her uncertainty, she feels so lost.



Her boat gently rocks, calming her even,

But doubts and worries continue.

The sails flap eagerly, ready to set sail

Yet Ally's fears still weigh heavily on her heart.



Her competitors stand tall, faces flashing at her as she walks by,

Their confidence seems to contrast to the nerves she feels.

As the race draws near, the tension seems to fade,

Replaced by determination, and the prize in mind.



The water's expanse stretches far and wide,

A challenge, but such beauty.

Ally sails through the waves,

Up and down, side to side

Each gust of wind, each shift of the sail,

Brings her closer to victory, and she can’t stop now.

Her worries are gone,

The water is softly splashing her,

The wind is softly blowing against her face





The finish is ahead, a beacon in the water

It’s getting closer, and her heart beats faster

She’s almost there.

She crosses; finishes

She doesn’t look back



As she returns to shore, her nerves were left behind,

Ally's smile shines brightly, with a sense of peace in her mind.

For though nerves will come, and doubts may arise,

She knows she can conquer, the ocean as her guide.


Pt.4 of the weekly —>

(What came out from the google translate) —->Jack handed her the cup. “Do you want to eat the soup I made?” He dipped the spoon into the soup and tried something he had never tried before. “This is good. Zach said with a smile. ”I did it for you.“ ”I don't know, but now I have the revenge I've been planning for weeks.“ Lucia said with a smile. eight! Then it started to change if same.

(449 words)
A light blue cup, 4 inches tall, and 3 inches wide to be exact. Lucy always paid attention to that sort of thing; she never really knew why. “Do you want to eat the soup I made?” Zach asked Lucy, handing her the blue cup. “Yeah, thanks.” When she looked inside the cup, she saw the spices starting to swirl to the top. Weird; He knows I don’t like spicy soup, maybe this one wasn’t meant for me, she thought. “I forgot the spoons, let me grab them really quick.” Zach said as he started walking towards the kitchen. Lucy investigated Zach’s cup and saw nothing in his soup, so she swapped the cups and sat back down on the fuzzy coach. It was made from 50% cotton, the rest polyester. Those were some of the useless facts swirling around in her brain. When Zach sat back down, he dipped a spoon into both their soups. “I tried something I have never tried before.” Zach said as he picked up his soup and started to eat it. Lucy did the same.

“10” Zach said. “I’m sorry, what?” Lucy said.

“9” Zach said, looking meticulously at her. Lucy’s mind raced, what is he doing?

“8” Zach said with a creepy smile.

“7, I did it for you Lucy."

“6.” “Zach stop it, you are scaring me.”

“5” Was Zach trying to hurt her? What had she done?

“4” It was then when it hit her, THE SOUP!

“3” “Well Zach, I hope you don’t mind that I switched our cups, did you?” Lucy said with a smirk.

“2” Lucy said now, and Zach clutched at his throat

“1” “NO, must… Get… revenge… on… Zach fell to the floor with a loud thump.

Lucy’s heart was thumping out of her chest, was he, dead? She crouched on the floor next to him, checking if he was still alive. Nothing. She closed her eyes, thoughts swirling throughout her mind. What if he’s not dead? What if that was you? What if… What if.

When her eye's opened Zach was still on the floor. She felt a tear drop down her cheek, what did she do? Why would anyone want to kill her? She stood up, her long brown hair draped beside her in a tangled mess. Would anyone believe her if she said he tried to kill her, but instead got killed himself? When would people begin to find out? She can’t stay here, she thought. When she went inside the kitchen she took some food, water, some clothes, and headed out the door. This was all his fault. Now she wanted answers.

7/16/24 - 589 words
Caregiver, real-fi, economic hub/workplace, pathetic fallacy
❝Is it me, is it really just me? Does everyone have it together or are they all pretending?❞

The bustle of Grand Central was, quite frankly, extremely overwhelming. Enya stood to the side of one of the train platforms, staring up at the stairs leading to the probably even busier building. She gripped Ethan’s hand tightly, eyes darting back and forth from the staircase to him. “Are you ready to go up?” He shook his head and she let out a harsh breath of hair, fiddling with the loose fabric of her dress. “Ethan, I know it’s scary but we’ve got to go up and meet your grandpapa. He really wants to meet you.” She could hear the trains chug chug chugging along, going and going and going, no matter the circumstances. Even if one of them had a slight problem they would run the normal lines, never stopping until the work was done. “We’re going to go now. Okay? Come on.” She led him up the staircase, smiling softly all the while so she could reassure him. The chug chug chug gradually faded as they entered the main building, replaced by the tippy tap tap of persistent feet that never stopped. She found it easier to pay attention to smaller sounds but she knew Ethan hadn’t developed that skill yet, all he could hear was the loud murmur of conversations and the barely understandable announcements from the booming speaker. She wrapped an arm around him, leaning down so he could see her better.
“Honey, look up. There are constellations on the ceiling. Remember the stories we heard about them?”
He looked up “Mama, why is it all circle-y?”
“That’s a dome. Architects think they’re nice looking and so they build them. There’s a cool trick we can do once Grandpapa gets here.”
The little boy’s eyes lit up and he studied the constellations with more interest while they waited.
She kept an arm around him to make sure he didn’t wander off and let her eyes wander. Drinking in the hubbub. A large clock was on the wall, ticking away determinedly, it seemed sad somehow. The arms turning with a concealed melancholy. The whole world seemed to swirl around her like that. Bittersweet leaves falling to the ground, persistently chugging trains, old and broken iPods, parroting the same music they always did as though the worn out phrases would eventually gain some meaning again.
“Enya!” called a booming voice.
She flinched too loud, the thought flashed through her mind before being buried. It wasn’t the time to be sensitive.
She smiled “Hey Dad!” She looked down to Ethan, the reassuring smile still on her face. She gestured towards her father and let Ethan walk over to him.
tick tick tick, pitter pat pat, chug chug chug the bustle kept going, louder than it was before. Too loud. The boards with train departure times flickered slightly, they were unmanned and unmoored. There was no one there they had to work for and the noise overwhelmed them. They did not need to pretend to work perfectly if they had no one depending on them in that very moment. She pulled at the loose fabric on her dress, her eyes darting around.
“Mama!”
She looked back at her son.
“Grandpapa told me ’bout the ‘isperinf thing. Wanna try?”
She grinned, the clocks face kept ticking, “sure! You go to one side with Grandpapa and I’ll go to the other!”
She began the walk, trying not to touch too many people, trying to ignore the din of noise. One of the boards flickered off. It was too loud here.

Weekly #2

Author's Notes:
✦ if you can't tell, all of this is extremely rushed
✦ i genuinely can't remember the last time i did a weekly. it was probably like 5 sessions ago or something :sob:
✦ actually kinda happy with this! i think it would be very good if i edited it a lot

Part 1:
https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/35430300/comments/#comments-264676814
“Sometimes they fight each other when times get rough, but that’s just one more reason to love them.”

With a frustrated groan, Pierce crumpled up the paper in a ball and threw it against the wall. It bounced back and landed at his feet. He kicked it lamely.

“This is helpless!” he whined, slouching against the wall. “At this point, I’ll never find the answers.”

Riptide glared at him from where he was researching. “We all will find the answers,” he said. “You don’t gain anything from just giving up. Give it a chance.”

Oath sighed, watching them interact.

Anastasia leaned over to Oath’s ear. “Here we go again,” she whispered.

“Yep, Oath nodded.

“I know that!” Pierce said, putting his hands up. He let them flop to his sides again. “But sometimes it feels useless.” he murmured, lowering himself to the floor.

Riptide stood up. His eyes were locked on Pierce, furious and determined. He marched over.

“Here it comes,” Anastasia mumbled.

“Useless? Are you saying this is useless?” Riptide snapped, each word punctuated by an irritated question mark. Pierce opened his mouth to speak, but Riptide cut him off. “This quest, this research may be the only thing to save the world from utter destruction! Nobody else would do this job, so we’re doing it for them. And you’re calling it all useless?”

Pierce got up, his usual shy expression replaced with an enraged spark. “I’m not! I’m just saying it feels useless! I know how important this quest is, and I’m not willing to actually give up anytime soon!” he said. He crossed his arms. “You take things too seriously all the time, Riptide.”

“Well, excuse me for not being a mind reader! I’m just trying to keep everything in check, and you’re certainly not helping.” he retorted, rolling his eyes.

“Okay, you both, you can stop now,” Oath said, coming in between the two, receiving glowers from both of them. “We’re all friends here, right? All amazing superheroes who will save the world? Let’s stay calm, okay?”

“You both do this like all the time, doesn’t it get tiring?” Anastasia sighed.

Riptide and Pierce replied with nothing, but their glares were enough to communicate.

“Fine,” Riptide scowled, striding away.

“Fine!” Pierce yelled, leaving.

“How long until they make up?” Anastasia asked, standing next to Oath.

“A day this time, I reckon,” Oath replied.



Pierce sat alone in the library. Nothing but candles illuminated the room.

He sighed. He did it again. Always messing things up, him. How was he supposed to keep a kingdom together if he couldn’t even keep himself together? He wasn’t fit to be a prince, let alone a king. Even Oath, lazy and sarcastic, would be a better ruler than him. Wait, no, Oath wasn’t lazy. Now he was just insulting others, another terrible trait. Pierce sniffed.

A knock came on the door, echoing throughout the room. He gasped. No, nobody should come in, nobody should see him like this. But he shouldn’t keep them waiting, no. Pierce hastily wiped his tears away, coughing a few times. He approached the door hesitantly. It creaked open to Riptide with an emotion that was difficult to place.

Pierce almost slammed the door in his face before realising that no, that wasn’t very a kind thing to do. So he and Riptide stood there awkwardly, silence between them, no eye contact.

Riptide cleared his throat. “So… hi.” he said.

“I’m sorry,” Pierce blurted. “I’m sorry, I was angry and tired and frustrated but that isn’t an excuse, and I should have considered how much this mission means to you before opening my mouth.”

“I’m sorry too,” Riptide said. “I should really try to control my anger more. You were just expressing yourself, and I shouldn’t have lashed out.”

“Are… are we all good now?” Pierce asked.

“Yeah, I guess.” Riptide said.

Pierce put his hand out. “Friends?”

Riptide shook his hand. “Friends.”

They exited the library again, chatting and laughing.

“That was less than a day,” Anastasia said.

“My predictions aren’t always correct, but they are mostly accurate.” Oath argued.



Part 2:
Author's Notes:
✦ kinda unfinished but still goes past the word minimum
✦ i feel like i didn't do this story enough justice, sorry :,D it was a very cool concept though and i love it very much

Blurb: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/35430301/comments/#comments-264788696

Original plotline by @lilyjen:
https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/35430301/comments/#comments-264824648

Entry #294

Dear diary,
Today our band travelled to Aameur. It’s best known for its beaches. It took at least, what, five to eight hours to get there? So yeah, it took quite a while. We were absolutely exhausted, tired, and sweaty. It was great, though! The beaches were wonderful indeed. I guess you could say we had our obligatory beach episode.

Afterwards, we visited the local library to learn more about the government there. It’s an interesting system, that’s for sure. Jared wrote hundreds of notes, about it. It’s fun learning about other areas and cities!

I’m tired and hungry, so this isn’t a very long entry today. It’s around 11 PM, and I’m sitting on my inn bed about to go to sleep. I’ll go ask Georgia for some sour gummies before I do, though, because I don’t wanna be hungry right before bed.

Sincerely,
Madeleine



FIRST entry

agghgghhhhh hi I guess??
so this is a diary. madeleine urged (a.k.a. forced) me to keep one because I keep having difficulties remembering everything and stuff. also I think she just wants someone to talk about diaries with. she’s like totally obsessed with bullet journals and things like that. she should convince jared instead. he loves writing more than us, probably. (for legal reasons, that was a joke. he’s watching me write this. he’s protesting. ok sorry.)
okay so… my name is georgia. I play the drums in our band!! I love dogs and cats and parrots and sour gummies and crocheting and drums and music and a bunch of other cool things.



Jared’s notes for today:
- Aameur’s laws and government is definitely interesting. Notes are found on pages 28-45.
- Found a lost piece of paper by the beach. It had some sort of cryptic message. Georgia and I are working on deciphering what it says. I think it’s the classic caesar cipher? Haven’t figured out which shift yet, though. Here’s what it wrote: BZMS KIZMNCTTG, NWZ BPMAM EIBMZA TQM LIVOMZ. TMIDM EPQTM GWC ABQTT KIV.
- Discovered that I like mint chocolate ice cream wayy more than I thought I did.
- Practiced the electric guitar a bit. I’m really becoming good at this!
- Wrote a song about Ezra and showed it to him. He likes it! I don’t think he knows it’s about him.
- Checked into an inn.



Untitled poem #38
by Ezra Maxie

Oceans rise, fires flare
Disaster strikes and the world has turned
Yet here with my friends, in this symphonic band
I feel a sense of peace
Like I belong somewhere
Within these chaotic lands

Untitled poem #39
by Ezra Maxie

When will you open your eyes and see
That I’ll be here for you
Whenever you need me?

Just some appreciation! #294
by Ezra Mazie

Maddy, Georgia, Jared, Sophie, Kas <3


Part 3:
Author's Notes:
✦ technicallyyy i didn't see this during the break, but i took a lot of breaks during the entire week so i hope this counts :,D

Wheels are dragged across the carpet floor
Luggage rumbling loudly
A sky full of clouds, dark in the night

Outside, grey runways stretch across the grass
Signs illustrate warnings and text
The distant light of cars flicker in the distance
Planes soar into the aster sky, taking flight

Fluffy clouds cover the cornflower skies
Taking over the windows
The city’s light shines down below
Cars scurry like ants
Buildings shrink into dust
As we fly high above the world

Darkness arrives
Sending the morning sunlight away
The city is gone
And only clouds cover the ink
The airplane’s lights dim
And everything goes dark
As my eyes shut closed

Lights are turned back on
My eyes open again
We are almost there
The city looks like stars on the ground

The plane lands
And the grey runways are here again
Signs that illustrate various things
Luggages are pulled down

We exit the airport
Drive home safely
And watch as the trees, buildings, streetlamps, world
Passes us by.



Part 4:
Author's Notes:
✦ the paragraphs were translated separately

Original:
“Oceans rise, fires flare
Disaster strikes and the world has turned
Yet here with my friends, in this symphonic band
I feel a sense of peace
Like I belong somewhere
Within these chaotic lands”

“When will you open your eyes and see
That I’ll be here for you
Whenever you need me?”

Translated:
“Sea levels are rising and fires are burning
Tragedy and the world is changing.
Here's a piano play with a friend.
i am quiet
I wonder where they are
In these powerful countries"

“When you open your eyes and see
I'm waiting for you here
Do I need time?”

“Whoa, you have a piano in your home?” Evan asked, racing over to the monochrome instrument.

“Yeah, I like playing sometimes, I guess,” Derek answered, following his friend.

Evan sat down on the bench. His hands hovered over the keys. He glanced over at Derek, a silent question, and Derek nodded in reply. Evan glided his hands over the keys, creating a melody that was admittedly a little bit hard on the ears. Okay, yeah no, it was really bad.

“I never learned how to play anything,” Evan said as he smashed the keys randomly. “Never got patient enough to.”

“You can still try,” Derek offered.

Evan flinched as he played a particularly loud note. He stopped playing, but kept staring down at the piano. “We have a ukelele, guitar, flute and clarinet at home. I tried to play all of them on many different occasions, but it just got rather boring. Music isn’t my thing, I guess.”

“What is your thing, then?”

“Well, probably like video games and stuff. Social media, beating creepers in Minecraft, watching videos, talking to you.”

Derek smiled slightly at that last part.

“Anyways, this is your home, not mine, so you’re the centre of attention. Can you play something?” Evan said, sliding off the seat and gesturing his hands towards the piano.

Derek hesitated. He hadn’t practiced in a while. School and extracirriculars got too busy. He nodded eventually, though, and sat down.

He stretched his fingers. He shuffled the music sheets, searching for something that was easy enough for him to play.

He settled on a piece that his mother had written. Lyricless, a soft tone, good for his level. He started to play.

The music filled the room, echoing throughout the halls. The sound drifted gently across the room, surrounding them both with a calming tune. It reminded Derek of biking through the neighbourhood on a windy afternoon, of waking up at dusk for a field trip, of sitting in the room alone with no sounds but a few flips of a good book. It reminded him of childhood, basically. It’s been at least a few months since he played the piece, so he got a lot of notes wrong, but Evan didn’t react at all to it. He just bobbed his head along, smiling and doing a few silly dances.

The song ended in around 30 seconds. Derek stopped, stared at the music sheet, eyebrows furrowed at how bad that was. Wow, he should really practice more if he ever wanted to be good at this.

“That… was the best thing I’ve ever heard.” Evan said.

“And here we find a hyperbole in its usual habitat, also known as Evan Grey’s mouth,” Derek said.

“Okay, so I barely listen to any music at all, so it’s not too high of a compliment. But that was still really good!”

Derek smiled. “Thanks,” he said. “But what do you mean you barely listen to any music at all? It’s like the best thing ever?”

“It’s just not very fun for me.”

“You don’t even listen to video game OSTs?”

“Nope.”

“Okay, so I entirely respect your opinion, but I’m going to show you this specific soundtrack…”

They talked for the rest of the day, with some piano practice here and there.



Derek stared at his piano in the dimly lit room.

He recalled hanging out with Evan in this specific room, by that specific piano, playing severely off-tune pieces and having fun. It was a distant memory now, and he couldn’t remember much of those days. He’d give anything to have them back again.

He was quiet, silent. He turned away from the piano and walked away.

He wondered where Evan was now. He wondered wherever he was in the world, which country and which time, if he thought of Derek and music and the time they spent together. If he would ever come back.

If he did return, Derek would wait until that day, that time, that week and month and year.

He would wait.



Part 1 Word Count: ~667
Part 2 Word Count: ~591 including blurb
Part 3 Word Count: ~167
Part 4 Word Count: ~673
Total Word Count: ~2,098

raya's daily july 16th

Lover - a passionate character seeking love, usually romantic
Bi-Fi/Comedy - a genre which emphasizes humor and includes wacky, amusing elements
Surrounded by Enemies - a place of danger where the characters are without allies or safety
Plot twist - a sudden change to the expected direction of the plot

0/500 words