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- ForestPanther
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
580 words
“Summer camp is NOT the place for so much- so much, uh, frivolity and snobbiness,” Elaina scowled, mocking Melainie. Her hands were firmly planted on her hips, and she glared at the girl who stood haughtily before her. “Like, why did you even come if you're just going to be so snobbish the entire time?”
Melainie rolled her eyes. “Oh, you people and your poor, unsophisticated language.”
“That's exactly what I mean!” Elaina exploded exasperatedly. “Why don't you go back and run off to your little mummy and daddy and buy some new shoes or something, I don't know. We'd all be better off without you here!”
A resounding, “oooooh,” echoed through the crowd. Half of the camp had gathered around the two cabinmates to see this argument. Most of them were on Elaina's side- ever since Melainie had arrived at camp, she'd been casually * people off.
The girl hadn't even bothered to show up on time- she'd barged into the campfire gathering in an evening two days after the start of the session. Councilors has been thrown into a frenzy by her disrupting actions, and even more so by the threat of her parents, who were well-known millionaires. Since then, she'd been insufferable, demanding her way for everything, whining constantly, and spreading her opinions on how much this sleepaway camp sucked to whoever would listen. To tell the truth, everybody wanted her gone. Which was why so many were crowded around Melainie and Elaina, the only person who had fought back against her.
Elaina hadn't cared much about the rich girl at first- she'd seen her fair share of annoying people in this camp, which she'd been attending since she was around seven. But as soon as Melainie dared to insult her beloved camp? That meant war.
Melainie bit her lip, disregarding Elaina's remark. “Oh, you wouldn't. Why on earth would anyone even want to think about this place without me here? It's a dump.”
SMACK! Elaina's fist blew through her face.
The crowd went crazy, cheering, booing, jumping around, screaming, standing there in shock. The ruckus began to attract councilors- teens not much older than the campers themselves- from their break. They did not look pleased to be disturbed.
Melainie staggered backwards, her carefully painted face twisted in shock. “You dare…?”
SMACK! A sucker punch to the stomach. The raven-haired girl fell to the floor with a thud, shocked. It was only a second before she was shrieking- at the mud on her skirt.
Elaina stood back, arms folded across her chest. It was a picture of opposites- the ragged, scruffy girl with wispy blonde hair yanked back from her face, wearing rough cargos and trainers, face stained with dirt, standing over the not-so pristine, expensively clothed girl, each hair in place, not a hem uneven. It was a satisfying picture.
Cheers rang through the forest clearing. Councilors pushed through the crowd and stopped short at the scene before them. Some rushed to help Melainie, who shoved off their hands and wailed. Others stood impassively on the outskirts of the area, secretly thinking, ‘serves you right’.
Elaina spun on her heels and walked out of the area, followed by a mob of people. She cracked a smile at one of her friends, who was looking at her in shcok.
“She had it coming.”
It's safe to say that she was seen by the kids as a hero for the rest of the summer.
75 words
Waking up to pitch darkness and the crinkle of shattering glass.
Being stranded, not alone, but cut off from everyone else for an unknown time.
Watching the winds rage as you sit indoors, helpless, powerless, against the nature of the earth.
As you experience the full wrath of a hurricane demonstrating its power, you ask yourself questions. Is this a punishment? Are people encouraging this? Is enough being done?
Is there anything you /can/ do?
254 words from @-Ivygem-'s blurb
Lillian clenched her eyes shut, her face burning. Her whole body ached, almost as if she'd been dropped off a cliffside and landed with a smack onto still water. But the water comparisons ended there. She felt parched, desiccated, like that ancient piece of papyrus she'd been admiring just before… this.
Hold on. Lillian cracked open her eyes, which were immediately flooded with harsh sunlight. Waves of heat danced across the edges of her vision. Where was she? Where was the museum, the display, the papyrus that her tour guide had been giving a talk on? She rapped her knuckles on the dusty stone wall next to her and winced at its rough texture. This place was nothing like the cold, metallic building she'd just been in…
And then her eyes flew all the way open, and she gasped.
Pyramids!
Great, looming pyramids in the distance took her breath away. She gaped at their shapes. They were huge, more massive than a mountain, more impressive than any skyscraper. And they were pristine- not a stone out of place, not a tourist in sight. It was as if they had been frozen in time, replicas of how they'd been millennia ago.
And… was that… a new one being constructed?
Lillian stood and squinted, eyeing the wide square base of the soon-to-be pyramid. Surely she was seeing things. The heat must have been getting to her. But no- there were people, scrambling like ants over the stones to lift a new one.
What was going on?
195 words
I was a little bit sick to the stomach when I saw the message that read,
'Hey, you want to come over?' and yes, indeed, I was filled with dread
You might be questioning, ‘why?’ as it does seem a simple query
Unfortunately for me, I've just developed a new theory.
It's that I'm a deer in headlights when to me a question's thrown,
And if it would hurt another, I could never just say no!
And so I found myself, throwing away my afternoon
Yes, that was quite a shame, as I had to play a tune,
For just an hour, which already limited my time to write,
And now with my new plans, I couldn't ensure my weekly was right.
I thankfully got an extension- but for other reasons, too-
Such as the pain in my neck, or my hectic days, or the winds that blew.
But that's besides the point! The point is that I'm writing now,
The ending of this weekly, with a furrow in my brow
I hope I finish soon so I can rest my weary head
And then- and only then- I can go to sleep in bed
If they hit! Elaine's fingers caressed her face.
People laughing, shouting, shouting, dancing, shouting and running. Pressure began to push ministers - members younger than himself - away from independence. Apparently he doesn't like the tension.
Melanie took a step back, clearly startled. “Do you like…?”
If they hit! Sugar hits the stomach. The blonde girl fell to the ground in fear. After a moment he shouted – to the mud below.
Eleina arched her back and crossed her arms over her chest. The second photo - thin girl, red hair pulled back, in heavy clothes and shoes, her face is soft, the girl is stable for clean and expensive clothes, her hair is full. . the world, no doubt. Here is an interesting picture.
If you are right ! Elaine touched his face with her fingers.
People are laughing, screaming, shouting, dancing, shouting, running. Oppression began to deprive the clergy under his leadership of their freedom. Maybe I don't like it very much.
Mélanie hesitated, visibly surprised. - a misfortune… ?
If you are right ! This brings us to the stomach. His mouth hangs open in horror. Then he roared in the deep mud.
Elena rolled onto her back and crossed her arms over her chest. Second photo: thin girl, red dress, heavy clothes, shoes, pale face, the girl feels good in the world, expensive clothes, full hair. . security in the world. Here is an interesting photo.
an amalgamation of these two bits- 454 words
Oh, if it were just alright for them to be in love!
Elaine caressed their face with her fingers. She traced the sharp lines of their nose, their lips, their jaw. Mélanie smiled, eyes closed, and reached for Elaine's head, clutching fistfuls of wispy blonde hair. They pulled her head downwards, closer to theirs. Elaine's skin grazed Mélanie's, and a tingling sensation like an electric shock zipped through her body, centered on the touch.
Mélanie pulled Elaine's head closer. Her hair fell in a curtain around their faces, shielding them from the world. Mélanie reached up and brushed their lips against Elaine's. They were warm and soft, comforting, inviting. Elaine leaned in-
No!
She jolted back, images rushing in her head. A crowd, jeering, laughing, teasing, scolding. Disapproving adults, beating, separating, secluding. Restricting them from ever seeing each other again.
Elaine took a breath. Her whole body was trembling violently. Mélanie looked up at her, brows furrowed.
“You don't like…?” their words trailed off.
Elaine pursed her lips to stop tears from spilling. “No, I do. I want… I want you. But we can't.”
The thoughts hit again, like a sucked punch to the stomach. Punishment. Imprisonment. Repercussions beyond what she could image. Humiliation. Scandal. Scapegoating.
Elaine fell to the floor, curled up in the fetal position, arms protectively over her head. She was crying now, salty tears running down her cheeks and staining the carpet. She felt as if she was drowning- not in water, but in thick, sludgy mud that clogged her eyes, her ears, her throat.
Mélanie bent down to Elaine, concernedly brushing her hair away. Elaine crossed her arms over her bare chest, shuddering. She turned away. Mélanie nodded seriously and sat down. Their skirt, short and pleated, picked out for them by Elaine, floated down to join her. Their fiery hair, which mirrored their skirt, pooled, long and untamed, over the couple. They swallowed and looked over Elaine, their deep eyes thoughtful and hard, in stark contrast to their ghostly white face.
“It's okay. It's alright. It's going to be okay.” they whispered, tracing their fingers up and down Elaine's cold back like a mother to a crying child. They had no words- only the silent reassurance of their presence. The only sound was the uneven, muffled gasp of Elaine's sobs.
And so they rested, for an uncountable time. Hours? Elaine fell asleep- into a fitful rest, her body spasming and her face contorted. Mélanie did not. They sat there, scantily clad in the deep red of passion, of love, over the fragile figure of the pale body nearby. It was a poppy looking over a bee. It was a bonfire protecting a spark.
It was a strange picture.
“Summer camp is NOT the place for so much- so much, uh, frivolity and snobbiness,” Elaina scowled, mocking Melainie. Her hands were firmly planted on her hips, and she glared at the girl who stood haughtily before her. “Like, why did you even come if you're just going to be so snobbish the entire time?”
Melainie rolled her eyes. “Oh, you people and your poor, unsophisticated language.”
“That's exactly what I mean!” Elaina exploded exasperatedly. “Why don't you go back and run off to your little mummy and daddy and buy some new shoes or something, I don't know. We'd all be better off without you here!”
A resounding, “oooooh,” echoed through the crowd. Half of the camp had gathered around the two cabinmates to see this argument. Most of them were on Elaina's side- ever since Melainie had arrived at camp, she'd been casually * people off.
The girl hadn't even bothered to show up on time- she'd barged into the campfire gathering in an evening two days after the start of the session. Councilors has been thrown into a frenzy by her disrupting actions, and even more so by the threat of her parents, who were well-known millionaires. Since then, she'd been insufferable, demanding her way for everything, whining constantly, and spreading her opinions on how much this sleepaway camp sucked to whoever would listen. To tell the truth, everybody wanted her gone. Which was why so many were crowded around Melainie and Elaina, the only person who had fought back against her.
Elaina hadn't cared much about the rich girl at first- she'd seen her fair share of annoying people in this camp, which she'd been attending since she was around seven. But as soon as Melainie dared to insult her beloved camp? That meant war.
Melainie bit her lip, disregarding Elaina's remark. “Oh, you wouldn't. Why on earth would anyone even want to think about this place without me here? It's a dump.”
SMACK! Elaina's fist blew through her face.
The crowd went crazy, cheering, booing, jumping around, screaming, standing there in shock. The ruckus began to attract councilors- teens not much older than the campers themselves- from their break. They did not look pleased to be disturbed.
Melainie staggered backwards, her carefully painted face twisted in shock. “You dare…?”
SMACK! A sucker punch to the stomach. The raven-haired girl fell to the floor with a thud, shocked. It was only a second before she was shrieking- at the mud on her skirt.
Elaina stood back, arms folded across her chest. It was a picture of opposites- the ragged, scruffy girl with wispy blonde hair yanked back from her face, wearing rough cargos and trainers, face stained with dirt, standing over the not-so pristine, expensively clothed girl, each hair in place, not a hem uneven. It was a satisfying picture.
Cheers rang through the forest clearing. Councilors pushed through the crowd and stopped short at the scene before them. Some rushed to help Melainie, who shoved off their hands and wailed. Others stood impassively on the outskirts of the area, secretly thinking, ‘serves you right’.
Elaina spun on her heels and walked out of the area, followed by a mob of people. She cracked a smile at one of her friends, who was looking at her in shcok.
“She had it coming.”
It's safe to say that she was seen by the kids as a hero for the rest of the summer.
75 words
Waking up to pitch darkness and the crinkle of shattering glass.
Being stranded, not alone, but cut off from everyone else for an unknown time.
Watching the winds rage as you sit indoors, helpless, powerless, against the nature of the earth.
As you experience the full wrath of a hurricane demonstrating its power, you ask yourself questions. Is this a punishment? Are people encouraging this? Is enough being done?
Is there anything you /can/ do?
254 words from @-Ivygem-'s blurb
Lillian clenched her eyes shut, her face burning. Her whole body ached, almost as if she'd been dropped off a cliffside and landed with a smack onto still water. But the water comparisons ended there. She felt parched, desiccated, like that ancient piece of papyrus she'd been admiring just before… this.
Hold on. Lillian cracked open her eyes, which were immediately flooded with harsh sunlight. Waves of heat danced across the edges of her vision. Where was she? Where was the museum, the display, the papyrus that her tour guide had been giving a talk on? She rapped her knuckles on the dusty stone wall next to her and winced at its rough texture. This place was nothing like the cold, metallic building she'd just been in…
And then her eyes flew all the way open, and she gasped.
Pyramids!
Great, looming pyramids in the distance took her breath away. She gaped at their shapes. They were huge, more massive than a mountain, more impressive than any skyscraper. And they were pristine- not a stone out of place, not a tourist in sight. It was as if they had been frozen in time, replicas of how they'd been millennia ago.
And… was that… a new one being constructed?
Lillian stood and squinted, eyeing the wide square base of the soon-to-be pyramid. Surely she was seeing things. The heat must have been getting to her. But no- there were people, scrambling like ants over the stones to lift a new one.
What was going on?
195 words
I was a little bit sick to the stomach when I saw the message that read,
'Hey, you want to come over?' and yes, indeed, I was filled with dread
You might be questioning, ‘why?’ as it does seem a simple query
Unfortunately for me, I've just developed a new theory.
It's that I'm a deer in headlights when to me a question's thrown,
And if it would hurt another, I could never just say no!
And so I found myself, throwing away my afternoon
Yes, that was quite a shame, as I had to play a tune,
For just an hour, which already limited my time to write,
And now with my new plans, I couldn't ensure my weekly was right.
I thankfully got an extension- but for other reasons, too-
Such as the pain in my neck, or my hectic days, or the winds that blew.
But that's besides the point! The point is that I'm writing now,
The ending of this weekly, with a furrow in my brow
I hope I finish soon so I can rest my weary head
And then- and only then- I can go to sleep in bed
If they hit! Elaine's fingers caressed her face.
People laughing, shouting, shouting, dancing, shouting and running. Pressure began to push ministers - members younger than himself - away from independence. Apparently he doesn't like the tension.
Melanie took a step back, clearly startled. “Do you like…?”
If they hit! Sugar hits the stomach. The blonde girl fell to the ground in fear. After a moment he shouted – to the mud below.
Eleina arched her back and crossed her arms over her chest. The second photo - thin girl, red hair pulled back, in heavy clothes and shoes, her face is soft, the girl is stable for clean and expensive clothes, her hair is full. . the world, no doubt. Here is an interesting picture.
If you are right ! Elaine touched his face with her fingers.
People are laughing, screaming, shouting, dancing, shouting, running. Oppression began to deprive the clergy under his leadership of their freedom. Maybe I don't like it very much.
Mélanie hesitated, visibly surprised. - a misfortune… ?
If you are right ! This brings us to the stomach. His mouth hangs open in horror. Then he roared in the deep mud.
Elena rolled onto her back and crossed her arms over her chest. Second photo: thin girl, red dress, heavy clothes, shoes, pale face, the girl feels good in the world, expensive clothes, full hair. . security in the world. Here is an interesting photo.
an amalgamation of these two bits- 454 words
Oh, if it were just alright for them to be in love!
Elaine caressed their face with her fingers. She traced the sharp lines of their nose, their lips, their jaw. Mélanie smiled, eyes closed, and reached for Elaine's head, clutching fistfuls of wispy blonde hair. They pulled her head downwards, closer to theirs. Elaine's skin grazed Mélanie's, and a tingling sensation like an electric shock zipped through her body, centered on the touch.
Mélanie pulled Elaine's head closer. Her hair fell in a curtain around their faces, shielding them from the world. Mélanie reached up and brushed their lips against Elaine's. They were warm and soft, comforting, inviting. Elaine leaned in-
No!
She jolted back, images rushing in her head. A crowd, jeering, laughing, teasing, scolding. Disapproving adults, beating, separating, secluding. Restricting them from ever seeing each other again.
Elaine took a breath. Her whole body was trembling violently. Mélanie looked up at her, brows furrowed.
“You don't like…?” their words trailed off.
Elaine pursed her lips to stop tears from spilling. “No, I do. I want… I want you. But we can't.”
The thoughts hit again, like a sucked punch to the stomach. Punishment. Imprisonment. Repercussions beyond what she could image. Humiliation. Scandal. Scapegoating.
Elaine fell to the floor, curled up in the fetal position, arms protectively over her head. She was crying now, salty tears running down her cheeks and staining the carpet. She felt as if she was drowning- not in water, but in thick, sludgy mud that clogged her eyes, her ears, her throat.
Mélanie bent down to Elaine, concernedly brushing her hair away. Elaine crossed her arms over her bare chest, shuddering. She turned away. Mélanie nodded seriously and sat down. Their skirt, short and pleated, picked out for them by Elaine, floated down to join her. Their fiery hair, which mirrored their skirt, pooled, long and untamed, over the couple. They swallowed and looked over Elaine, their deep eyes thoughtful and hard, in stark contrast to their ghostly white face.
“It's okay. It's alright. It's going to be okay.” they whispered, tracing their fingers up and down Elaine's cold back like a mother to a crying child. They had no words- only the silent reassurance of their presence. The only sound was the uneven, muffled gasp of Elaine's sobs.
And so they rested, for an uncountable time. Hours? Elaine fell asleep- into a fitful rest, her body spasming and her face contorted. Mélanie did not. They sat there, scantily clad in the deep red of passion, of love, over the fragile figure of the pale body nearby. It was a poppy looking over a bee. It was a bonfire protecting a spark.
It was a strange picture.
Last edited by ForestPanther (July 17, 2024 01:49:34)
- chrisluk002
-
Scratcher
23 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Daily for July 17th
=CW: Death, depression, shaky friendships, cafeteria food=
Oak climbed onto his bunk bed, letting all the exhaustion he'd accumulated over the past few weeks of hunting. He'd been successful, sure, but he'd gone through a lot of pain to bring his last target in. He rubbed a spot on his belly, recalling perfectly how the knife had been plunged into him. Death meant very little to him, since he always regenerated. Oak had yet to experience a fate that he couldn't recover from in more than a day. Still, three deaths in one hunt was a lot, and he hadn't rested the whole time. He knew Iris wanted to check in on him in the dream world, but he'd come here to get away from the drama, not secretly talk to the eldritch horror in a deceptively wholesome looking form. It… it made him feel too many conflicting emotions. Was talking to her going against his vow? Was it better for her personal growth to have distance from him? What would his sister think if she found out he'd been talking to Iris through the dreamscape while only sending her letters? He'd done his best to send regular updates but he knew they hadn't forgiven him for leaving. Not fully, at least.
Oak growled, starting to feel angry. His fur turned dark as he punched the wall from his bunk bed. Why did he have to be responsible for Iris's happiness? Why was it on his shoulders to stop her from losing control and destroying entire cities? His fur darkened further, becoming a dark blackened maroon as anger bubbled up from his relentless heart. Cherry too. She'd saved him from his curse, but now more than ever it felt like he'd had to be the older brother. Did she actually miss him, or would she have been fine to replace him? She wiped out their parents after all. Did anyone even care about his feelings, or was he simply destined to be the mediator. To sort out everyone else's problems and pretend that he didn't have his own. What would happen if he told Iris he wanted some space? She'd go destroy a small town because it made her FEEL GUILTY. If he told Cherry that her and Iris fighting made him feel bad, she'd blame his friend and they'd start fighting more. And if he once told them how he felt right now… it could be the end of the world. It was always HIS job, HIS responsibility, HIS. FAULT.
The stone wall cracked and he pulled his paw away from it, pulling his paw close. He had tears in his eyes, and his anger started to fade as he looked at his paw. It was his fault… If he hadn't run into the forest that day, he wouldn't have been cursed. Then Cherry wouldn't have destroyed their village, and they would have grown up together. Iris wouldn't have developed a crush for him, and he wouldn't have broken her heart when he said he didn't feel the same way towards her. Oak sat there, feeling the silence of the room like the weight on his shoulders. He'd acted out again… relapsed, in a way. He couldn't think those things… if not for his own sake then for theirs… still, he felt a heavy burden from having to keep his friends happy for the sake of saving others from their destruction. This… probably wasn't the life most people lived… then again most people weren't immortal bounty hunters.
Oak heard his bunk mate coming in and quickly sat up to cover the damaged wall with his back. The lizard was muttering some of his chants to ward off evil spirits, which Oak found somewhat amusing, given he was something of a dark being himself. “How'd the last hunt though?” He asked the lizardfolk. “Fine.” He quickly stated. “Yours?” Oak looked at the small coin purse he'd gotten from his bounty. “I got scammed out of the full bounty. I thought about stealing the rest but I didn't want to leave paw prints…” Making enemies was inevitable in this profession, but he didn't want any government hunting him, no matter how corrupt. “Oh.” Was the lizard's only reply. “I… I'm going to get some dinner- it's your favorite flavor of slop today.” Oak huffed, laying down and gave a thumbs up without looking at him. He heard him leave and pulled out his mini knife, holding it over his head and twisting it around to see all angles. He saw his eyes in the reflection and paused. He stared at it for a while, before his mind went back to his childhood. Before the curse, before the bullying, when he was just a little kid and barely learning how to walk. The smile in his sister's eyes. The tender caresses of his mother. The face of relief on his dad after a late night at work.
He missed them… all of them…
There was one time where he'd been able to talk with his parents. A reaper, that's what the being had been called. It was a different one from the one Oak and his sister had come across together. He remembered them only by the cloak they had over their figure. Oak couldn't remember what they looked like beneath it, but remembered that they had been hunting him. They thought that he had been cheating at life by constantly cheating death, and wanted him to start playing fairly. Oak argued that life had cheated him, which led to the mention of his parents' untimely death at such a young age. The reaper seemed to feel sympathy, in some way, and offered to let him talk to his parents one last time. Oak agreed.
Oak watched as the reaper waved a hand, blue light coming out of their fingertips It formed into a magic symbol which he made sure to memorize internally. The symbol dissolved into a paranormal fog, filling the area in a matter of minutes. Oak lost sight of the cloaked figure, instead setting his sight on two ghostly figures. He remembered them from the last time he'd spoken with them. His sister had been there, and though he felt guilty for seeing them without his sister, he felt like he desperately needed this. His parents appeared before him, and his first impulse was to take their paws. However, his hand simply passed through theirs. He tried to speak to them but his voice caught in his throat. He didn't know what to say… He missed them so much, but now that they were here he didn't know what to do… it felt weird… and for the first time since he'd left the others, he felt complete and utter loneliness. He started crying, right there in front of the two ghosts. He felt their presence try to comfort him but it didn't matter. They were gone… He had no one left…
Thinking back to that moment, Oak imagined what he would have done differently. He'd ask how they were. He'd try to ask them for advice on what to do. They knew Cherry better than he did, at least to his perspective. He'd ask if he was doing the right thing. He'd tell them about Iris, see if they had anything to say about that. He thought about all those things, before putting his knife in its sheath. He didn't need to fix his friend's problems… someday he hoped he could feel less responsible for the lives of others, but for now that probably wasn't going to happen. He felt a little responsible for how Iris had ended up, and he wasn't sure if the pros outweighed the cons. He hoped someday he'd be able to open up to them. Maybe when he raised enough money to repair the village and get some commerce back in the ghost town. Oak didn't know a lot of things, but he knew there was hope, and that helped him keep going. Hope for… peace. That was something Oak knew he wanted. Peace.
Oak also knew that a sudden hunger was slowly emerging and he found that he couldn't remember the last time he ate. With the promise of under-cooked slop with little peppermints as dessert, he climbed out of his bed and removed the excess shadows that had escaped into the room, going to join his roommate for dinner.
(WC 1,400)
=CW: Death, depression, shaky friendships, cafeteria food=
Oak climbed onto his bunk bed, letting all the exhaustion he'd accumulated over the past few weeks of hunting. He'd been successful, sure, but he'd gone through a lot of pain to bring his last target in. He rubbed a spot on his belly, recalling perfectly how the knife had been plunged into him. Death meant very little to him, since he always regenerated. Oak had yet to experience a fate that he couldn't recover from in more than a day. Still, three deaths in one hunt was a lot, and he hadn't rested the whole time. He knew Iris wanted to check in on him in the dream world, but he'd come here to get away from the drama, not secretly talk to the eldritch horror in a deceptively wholesome looking form. It… it made him feel too many conflicting emotions. Was talking to her going against his vow? Was it better for her personal growth to have distance from him? What would his sister think if she found out he'd been talking to Iris through the dreamscape while only sending her letters? He'd done his best to send regular updates but he knew they hadn't forgiven him for leaving. Not fully, at least.
Oak growled, starting to feel angry. His fur turned dark as he punched the wall from his bunk bed. Why did he have to be responsible for Iris's happiness? Why was it on his shoulders to stop her from losing control and destroying entire cities? His fur darkened further, becoming a dark blackened maroon as anger bubbled up from his relentless heart. Cherry too. She'd saved him from his curse, but now more than ever it felt like he'd had to be the older brother. Did she actually miss him, or would she have been fine to replace him? She wiped out their parents after all. Did anyone even care about his feelings, or was he simply destined to be the mediator. To sort out everyone else's problems and pretend that he didn't have his own. What would happen if he told Iris he wanted some space? She'd go destroy a small town because it made her FEEL GUILTY. If he told Cherry that her and Iris fighting made him feel bad, she'd blame his friend and they'd start fighting more. And if he once told them how he felt right now… it could be the end of the world. It was always HIS job, HIS responsibility, HIS. FAULT.
The stone wall cracked and he pulled his paw away from it, pulling his paw close. He had tears in his eyes, and his anger started to fade as he looked at his paw. It was his fault… If he hadn't run into the forest that day, he wouldn't have been cursed. Then Cherry wouldn't have destroyed their village, and they would have grown up together. Iris wouldn't have developed a crush for him, and he wouldn't have broken her heart when he said he didn't feel the same way towards her. Oak sat there, feeling the silence of the room like the weight on his shoulders. He'd acted out again… relapsed, in a way. He couldn't think those things… if not for his own sake then for theirs… still, he felt a heavy burden from having to keep his friends happy for the sake of saving others from their destruction. This… probably wasn't the life most people lived… then again most people weren't immortal bounty hunters.
Oak heard his bunk mate coming in and quickly sat up to cover the damaged wall with his back. The lizard was muttering some of his chants to ward off evil spirits, which Oak found somewhat amusing, given he was something of a dark being himself. “How'd the last hunt though?” He asked the lizardfolk. “Fine.” He quickly stated. “Yours?” Oak looked at the small coin purse he'd gotten from his bounty. “I got scammed out of the full bounty. I thought about stealing the rest but I didn't want to leave paw prints…” Making enemies was inevitable in this profession, but he didn't want any government hunting him, no matter how corrupt. “Oh.” Was the lizard's only reply. “I… I'm going to get some dinner- it's your favorite flavor of slop today.” Oak huffed, laying down and gave a thumbs up without looking at him. He heard him leave and pulled out his mini knife, holding it over his head and twisting it around to see all angles. He saw his eyes in the reflection and paused. He stared at it for a while, before his mind went back to his childhood. Before the curse, before the bullying, when he was just a little kid and barely learning how to walk. The smile in his sister's eyes. The tender caresses of his mother. The face of relief on his dad after a late night at work.
He missed them… all of them…
There was one time where he'd been able to talk with his parents. A reaper, that's what the being had been called. It was a different one from the one Oak and his sister had come across together. He remembered them only by the cloak they had over their figure. Oak couldn't remember what they looked like beneath it, but remembered that they had been hunting him. They thought that he had been cheating at life by constantly cheating death, and wanted him to start playing fairly. Oak argued that life had cheated him, which led to the mention of his parents' untimely death at such a young age. The reaper seemed to feel sympathy, in some way, and offered to let him talk to his parents one last time. Oak agreed.
Oak watched as the reaper waved a hand, blue light coming out of their fingertips It formed into a magic symbol which he made sure to memorize internally. The symbol dissolved into a paranormal fog, filling the area in a matter of minutes. Oak lost sight of the cloaked figure, instead setting his sight on two ghostly figures. He remembered them from the last time he'd spoken with them. His sister had been there, and though he felt guilty for seeing them without his sister, he felt like he desperately needed this. His parents appeared before him, and his first impulse was to take their paws. However, his hand simply passed through theirs. He tried to speak to them but his voice caught in his throat. He didn't know what to say… He missed them so much, but now that they were here he didn't know what to do… it felt weird… and for the first time since he'd left the others, he felt complete and utter loneliness. He started crying, right there in front of the two ghosts. He felt their presence try to comfort him but it didn't matter. They were gone… He had no one left…
Thinking back to that moment, Oak imagined what he would have done differently. He'd ask how they were. He'd try to ask them for advice on what to do. They knew Cherry better than he did, at least to his perspective. He'd ask if he was doing the right thing. He'd tell them about Iris, see if they had anything to say about that. He thought about all those things, before putting his knife in its sheath. He didn't need to fix his friend's problems… someday he hoped he could feel less responsible for the lives of others, but for now that probably wasn't going to happen. He felt a little responsible for how Iris had ended up, and he wasn't sure if the pros outweighed the cons. He hoped someday he'd be able to open up to them. Maybe when he raised enough money to repair the village and get some commerce back in the ghost town. Oak didn't know a lot of things, but he knew there was hope, and that helped him keep going. Hope for… peace. That was something Oak knew he wanted. Peace.
Oak also knew that a sudden hunger was slowly emerging and he found that he couldn't remember the last time he ate. With the promise of under-cooked slop with little peppermints as dessert, he climbed out of his bed and removed the excess shadows that had escaped into the room, going to join his roommate for dinner.
(WC 1,400)
- pepper-and-a-pencil
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
word war 05 - kit - two minutes - no prompt - 174 words - win
guess who is going to do another round of mindless ranting to fix the word count so i win because oh wait now my brother my brother is rambling and i can’t focus that well he’s telling me about years and dates like buddy i literally need to type as fast as possible but my dogs legs are disabled so he’s singing mindless junk and talking about his broken messed up legs we still love the dog though he’s my favorite thing in the world don’t tell my other dog i said that haha
he’s talking about the world’s fastest typer and when i tell him to literally wait 55 more seconds he keeps going sobbing the voice of his coming out of his mouth needs to be quit for one more minute i swear sobbing i love him but that kid gets on my nerves bahaha any ways we’re about to watch soul surfer i love that move hehehe it’s great so anyways i have 3 seconds bye bye this has been fun
guess who is going to do another round of mindless ranting to fix the word count so i win because oh wait now my brother my brother is rambling and i can’t focus that well he’s telling me about years and dates like buddy i literally need to type as fast as possible but my dogs legs are disabled so he’s singing mindless junk and talking about his broken messed up legs we still love the dog though he’s my favorite thing in the world don’t tell my other dog i said that haha
he’s talking about the world’s fastest typer and when i tell him to literally wait 55 more seconds he keeps going sobbing the voice of his coming out of his mouth needs to be quit for one more minute i swear sobbing i love him but that kid gets on my nerves bahaha any ways we’re about to watch soul surfer i love that move hehehe it’s great so anyways i have 3 seconds bye bye this has been fun
Last edited by pepper-and-a-pencil (July 17, 2024 23:22:37)
- Whimsy_lux
-
Scratcher
73 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
wwkhdhwwi
Sorry this took a bit longer than I wanted. This is also a little all over the place, I’ve never been the most organized with my thoughts.
This is really good! I mean it, especially your descriptions, they’re so incredibly vivid and I feel like I can perfectly picture everything you were trying to portray: the sounds, smells, and the sights. This reads like an actual published book with how much detail there is and I’d love to read more. Hence why its a bit hard to critique but I’ll try my best.
Though you didn’t ask for me to focus on this, there are a few grammar/spelling mistakes. For instance, “She was young, newly made alpha. only two moons ago.” doesn’t really make sense. I think as a better transition it could be phrased, “She still remembers when she was first made alpha, it was only two moons ago and yet she was so young and inexperienced back then.” Or if that's too wordy because I tend to do that, something as simple as, “It was only two moons ago when she was the young newly-made alpha.” In the same paragraph you misspelled reverie, and there are few other typos I probably don’t need to point out, just putting it in grammarly would probably solve all of them.
Another thing I’d like to note is that I think the start of the flashback could be more emphasized. I was about to go on about the timeline because I thought the dream sequence at the beginning and her brother getting into an argument with the senior happened right after eachother so I was super confused why Rubus was there in the beginning, but then found bloody at the in the same scene.
I think the most awkward thing is how you transition from timeskip to timeskip. The first one took place right after the dream, but unlike the others there was no “2 moons earlier” indicator to show there's a timeskip. I feel you should either explicitly say it for every time skip, or not at all, mixing and matching creates confusion.
The next time skip was to show Rubus’s backstory and it was beautifully written but it was a bit jarring and the transition was a bit awkward. During this part of the story, everything has been third-person limited, following only Kestern. But then suddenly we see a scene Kestern wouldn’t know about, and it took me out a bit. I’m assuming this is a part of a larger story, so if it is, I think this would be more emotional if it was revealed after Kestern got to know Rubus more and he told her specifically. If it isn’t then I think it would be better placed after Rubus introduces himself with a little tweaking.
The ending was also abrupt, but I’m once again assuming this is a part of a larger story so it isn’t a big deal. I do think it would’ve been more satisfying if there was just some one sentence conclusion. Like something about how Kestern wouldn’t let herself lose another loved one like she did her brother.
Back to the brother and his whole conflict, I think you characterized everyone really well. Not only that but you did a good job of not antagonizing either character, both Kestern and her brother aren’t completely right but not completely wrong and it's hard to fully root for just one of them. I do think the argument leading to him leaving was a bit out of nowhere. Situations like this have probably happened multiple times before but I think a little more back and forth between the two of them where Kestern specifically references his reckless behavior would make her outburst seem less out of nowhere. It could also explain why her brother decides to permanently leave, maybe because she never trusts him or he feels unwanted.
I think you also could have elaborated more on why she didn’t go find him at all. Waiting a few days makes sense, but moons passed and she still thought he would come back? The reason could be character defining, especially as a flaw she has to overcome throughout the story. Was it pride? Was she so busy she forgot? Or did she really not care all that much? You also never showed if she even regretted what she said or not looking for him which would’ve added a bit more depth.
Finally, this is pretty small but when Kestern’s brother says, “Or I’d be a hero! C’mon, you know everyone hates the Bonepack for worshipping Kharlana!” It feels a bit info-dumpy. Instead you could say something like, “C’mon, everyone would love it if I had beaten the Bonepack senior, that Kharlana-worshipping geezer!” Or something along those lines. I think it would give the dialogue a bit more personality and feel less awkward.
So yeah, that’s about it. Again, this story was great, and I loved reading it. Everything was written beautifully, the dialogue was realistic and Kestern and her brother had a lot of depth even if the latter didn’t have much page time. Other than the flashbacks, the pacing had no issues and while I don’t know exactly what you mean by balance, I think everything flows well and nothing feels out of place. I was grasping for straws with this critique, so don’t take my words too seriously, most of what I said we're just vibes anyways. I’m honestly really intrigued to see where this goes!
Sorry this took a bit longer than I wanted. This is also a little all over the place, I’ve never been the most organized with my thoughts.
This is really good! I mean it, especially your descriptions, they’re so incredibly vivid and I feel like I can perfectly picture everything you were trying to portray: the sounds, smells, and the sights. This reads like an actual published book with how much detail there is and I’d love to read more. Hence why its a bit hard to critique but I’ll try my best.
Though you didn’t ask for me to focus on this, there are a few grammar/spelling mistakes. For instance, “She was young, newly made alpha. only two moons ago.” doesn’t really make sense. I think as a better transition it could be phrased, “She still remembers when she was first made alpha, it was only two moons ago and yet she was so young and inexperienced back then.” Or if that's too wordy because I tend to do that, something as simple as, “It was only two moons ago when she was the young newly-made alpha.” In the same paragraph you misspelled reverie, and there are few other typos I probably don’t need to point out, just putting it in grammarly would probably solve all of them.
Another thing I’d like to note is that I think the start of the flashback could be more emphasized. I was about to go on about the timeline because I thought the dream sequence at the beginning and her brother getting into an argument with the senior happened right after eachother so I was super confused why Rubus was there in the beginning, but then found bloody at the in the same scene.
I think the most awkward thing is how you transition from timeskip to timeskip. The first one took place right after the dream, but unlike the others there was no “2 moons earlier” indicator to show there's a timeskip. I feel you should either explicitly say it for every time skip, or not at all, mixing and matching creates confusion.
The next time skip was to show Rubus’s backstory and it was beautifully written but it was a bit jarring and the transition was a bit awkward. During this part of the story, everything has been third-person limited, following only Kestern. But then suddenly we see a scene Kestern wouldn’t know about, and it took me out a bit. I’m assuming this is a part of a larger story, so if it is, I think this would be more emotional if it was revealed after Kestern got to know Rubus more and he told her specifically. If it isn’t then I think it would be better placed after Rubus introduces himself with a little tweaking.
The ending was also abrupt, but I’m once again assuming this is a part of a larger story so it isn’t a big deal. I do think it would’ve been more satisfying if there was just some one sentence conclusion. Like something about how Kestern wouldn’t let herself lose another loved one like she did her brother.
Back to the brother and his whole conflict, I think you characterized everyone really well. Not only that but you did a good job of not antagonizing either character, both Kestern and her brother aren’t completely right but not completely wrong and it's hard to fully root for just one of them. I do think the argument leading to him leaving was a bit out of nowhere. Situations like this have probably happened multiple times before but I think a little more back and forth between the two of them where Kestern specifically references his reckless behavior would make her outburst seem less out of nowhere. It could also explain why her brother decides to permanently leave, maybe because she never trusts him or he feels unwanted.
I think you also could have elaborated more on why she didn’t go find him at all. Waiting a few days makes sense, but moons passed and she still thought he would come back? The reason could be character defining, especially as a flaw she has to overcome throughout the story. Was it pride? Was she so busy she forgot? Or did she really not care all that much? You also never showed if she even regretted what she said or not looking for him which would’ve added a bit more depth.
Finally, this is pretty small but when Kestern’s brother says, “Or I’d be a hero! C’mon, you know everyone hates the Bonepack for worshipping Kharlana!” It feels a bit info-dumpy. Instead you could say something like, “C’mon, everyone would love it if I had beaten the Bonepack senior, that Kharlana-worshipping geezer!” Or something along those lines. I think it would give the dialogue a bit more personality and feel less awkward.
So yeah, that’s about it. Again, this story was great, and I loved reading it. Everything was written beautifully, the dialogue was realistic and Kestern and her brother had a lot of depth even if the latter didn’t have much page time. Other than the flashbacks, the pacing had no issues and while I don’t know exactly what you mean by balance, I think everything flows well and nothing feels out of place. I was grasping for straws with this critique, so don’t take my words too seriously, most of what I said we're just vibes anyways. I’m honestly really intrigued to see where this goes!
- icebunny11
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Name: Ava
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Once I had a dream where someone I loved was slowly dying. His arm had reached out to me as he sank into the water further and further. I could swim- I was a national champion, but my legs seemed like lead in the ocean. I tried desperately to reach down and grab him- I tried desperately to swim faster and to pull him back up to the surface, but all I could see was the fact that he was sinking faster than I was diving. His bubbles had started to cease and his eyes had started to close while my legs paddled furiously until he was so deep that I could see nothing but black darkness. I looked around, my hair floating above my head as my eyes burned with the sea salt. I tried to swim further but it was like there was a barrier- the moment I got too close to the dark part of the water it repelled me back. It pushed me away again and again until I was back at the surface, taking deep breaths of fresh air that he would never have again.
Only after getting the air back into my lungs did I look around and see the people standing at the shore. They were pointing fingers and laughing at me, almost as if to say- “Look at her, a winner of gold medals couldn't even save one boy!”
I had no energy to get back up and scream at them. I slowly paddled in the water, barely keeping myself afloat. All I wanted to do was sleep. Put my head back into a pillow and hope this was a dream.
When I woke up in the morning with my face laden with tear streaks, I sat up in my bed. It had been a dream. The ocean- the people- they had all been fake.
But the fact that he was dead was not.
Nat had always loved animals, and that was why she had been so excited about this field trip. She'd always wanted to be in a place full of butterflies, dragonflies, and ladybugs, but they had always been so afraid of her. Now, the school was practically inviting her to go to a place full of those beautiful butterflies! Apparently, a lot of people had been there before so the butterflies weren't as nearly scared of people as other ones. She was so happy she could practically jump with joy.
In the garden, she chose to sit separately from her teachers and friends. They were technically supposed to study about them, but Nat had sneakily opened her sketchbook and started drawing three of them resting on a pink flower just above her. She made no movements so as not to startle them, but she was the one who scared them away.
A clearly weird butterfly fluttered in out of nowhere, scaring the other three orange ones. It seemed to fly slightly sideways, causing it to bump into leaves. On further studying Nat noticed its wings were slightly lopsided. They were colored beautifully but mysteriously- a mixture of practically all the colors in the garden they were in. It landed lightly on her fingertips.
“I need to draw,” she whispered to it quietly. “Can you go away?”
Though the butterfly's eyes were too small to be seen by her, Nat could practically feel the judgment coming from the small creature. It continued to flutter upwards before setting down on her fingers again. Successfully scaring away at least fourteen more butterflies, she sighed and stood up, deciding to follow the attention-seeking butterfly.
As she followed it, she noticed it was flying through a part of the garden she didn't realize existed. Every time it fluttered forward it landed on a flower to gain its balance again, and the flower (whether orange, pink, red, or blue) glowed a pretty gold. Nat widened her eyes and continued to follow it, touching the flowers that had turned the sparkling gold but quickly retracting her fingers when she realized it turned them back to normal again.
They went through a steep [pathway before reaching a clear opening, where Nat gasped. It was a huge gold flower, with hundreds and hundreds of lopsided butterflies just like this one. It could fit perhaps half her school. The butterfly that had led her here settled delicately on one of the gigantic petals of the flower, and all, she could do was stare open-mouthedly at the wonderful sight.
“Woah.”
The sun in your eyes
matched the navy blue skies
though your eyes were not blue
to my surprise.
Your smile matched the beams
and spots and streams
of sunlight while you advised
the students in teams.
Your hair matched the way
the hair of regal horse's lay
With grey strands galore, it was
difficult to look away.
Your laugh was a sound
which could heal any wound
the way your eyes would
curl to be crescent mooned.
Your skin had the marks
of seas where a ship embarks
tossing and turning in the waves
of stretches and sharks.
Your words had an effect
to the crows that pecked
outside when you gave the
food to the cats who slept
Your hand I should have held
more, your fingers I should have felt
for now, I do not have another chance
for you to pat my hair while I'm in bed.
It was late at night when Nako put his phone down and sighed and put his phone down. His friend had started to talk incessantly for no reason and had clearly enjoyed wasting his time. All he had wanted to do was go to sleep, but glancing at the clock he realised that it was already one in the night. How could someone talk for that long without getting tired, Nako had no idea. His friend had actually spoken for two hours on HAIR advice- Nako's hair was, for one, not bad. At least he thought so. How could someone who was BALD talk about hair advice? For starters, his friend didn't even have hair! Nako wasn't sure you should get growing serum advice from someone whose head was shinier than his mother's kitchentop counter. Unfortunately, the mother in question trusted his friend's mother a little too much. She had gotten the hair products his friend had recommended in a snap of a finger.
Nako sighed, putting his head back onto the pillow. From there, his hair condition was only going to get worse. He tried so hard to maintain the health of his hair, but ever since using this shampoo and oils that his friend had recommended, it had been thinning and reducing in volume. He had a slight suspicion that his friend was running a bald mafia gang and was trying to include him in it by making him bald as well. That was when Nako knew he needed to close his eyes and get some rest because anybody who knew his friend also knew he was too dumb to even control one person other than him.
After around half an hour of trying to fall asleep, Nako sat up from his bed and clutched his head. It wasn't working- he was so tired that he couldn't even fall asleep. He tried counting sheep, counting horses, counting the number of legs the horses and sheep had if two sheep were disabled and three horses didn't have legs, but nothing he did put him to bed. He regretfully sat with his back against the bedrest, staring into the unknown, hoping sleep would catch him at some moment in time. Sleep did not, however, catch him at some moment in time and he sighed, picking up his phone from the cabinet beside him and typed out a text to his friend.
I hate you.
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Part 1- Three-word stories!
Words: 322/300
Once I had a dream where someone I loved was slowly dying. His arm had reached out to me as he sank into the water further and further. I could swim- I was a national champion, but my legs seemed like lead in the ocean. I tried desperately to reach down and grab him- I tried desperately to swim faster and to pull him back up to the surface, but all I could see was the fact that he was sinking faster than I was diving. His bubbles had started to cease and his eyes had started to close while my legs paddled furiously until he was so deep that I could see nothing but black darkness. I looked around, my hair floating above my head as my eyes burned with the sea salt. I tried to swim further but it was like there was a barrier- the moment I got too close to the dark part of the water it repelled me back. It pushed me away again and again until I was back at the surface, taking deep breaths of fresh air that he would never have again.
Only after getting the air back into my lungs did I look around and see the people standing at the shore. They were pointing fingers and laughing at me, almost as if to say- “Look at her, a winner of gold medals couldn't even save one boy!”
I had no energy to get back up and scream at them. I slowly paddled in the water, barely keeping myself afloat. All I wanted to do was sleep. Put my head back into a pillow and hope this was a dream.
When I woke up in the morning with my face laden with tear streaks, I sat up in my bed. It had been a dream. The ocean- the people- they had all been fake.
But the fact that he was dead was not.
Part 2- Take a story of your own, anything you plan to write, have already written, or a piece you're really proud of, and send a short blurb of that story Then, find someone else's blurb and claim it, using it to make a story of your own.
Words: 428/250
Their blurb: Nat goes on a senior field trip with the rest of her class near the end of the school year. The school sends them to a butterfly garden to explore and do a bit of studying, whether it be about the butterflies or related to their unfinished school work. While she’s there, Nat notices a butterfly different from the rest. It’s slightly lopsided, and the coloration is unlike any of the other butterflies. The butterfly won’t leave her alone, it keeps resting on her pencil or flapping on her notes. With a sigh, she stands up and swats it away, but it persists. She decides to follow the butterfly, and what she finds by doing so leaves her speechless.
Nat had always loved animals, and that was why she had been so excited about this field trip. She'd always wanted to be in a place full of butterflies, dragonflies, and ladybugs, but they had always been so afraid of her. Now, the school was practically inviting her to go to a place full of those beautiful butterflies! Apparently, a lot of people had been there before so the butterflies weren't as nearly scared of people as other ones. She was so happy she could practically jump with joy.
In the garden, she chose to sit separately from her teachers and friends. They were technically supposed to study about them, but Nat had sneakily opened her sketchbook and started drawing three of them resting on a pink flower just above her. She made no movements so as not to startle them, but she was the one who scared them away.
A clearly weird butterfly fluttered in out of nowhere, scaring the other three orange ones. It seemed to fly slightly sideways, causing it to bump into leaves. On further studying Nat noticed its wings were slightly lopsided. They were colored beautifully but mysteriously- a mixture of practically all the colors in the garden they were in. It landed lightly on her fingertips.
“I need to draw,” she whispered to it quietly. “Can you go away?”
Though the butterfly's eyes were too small to be seen by her, Nat could practically feel the judgment coming from the small creature. It continued to flutter upwards before setting down on her fingers again. Successfully scaring away at least fourteen more butterflies, she sighed and stood up, deciding to follow the attention-seeking butterfly.
As she followed it, she noticed it was flying through a part of the garden she didn't realize existed. Every time it fluttered forward it landed on a flower to gain its balance again, and the flower (whether orange, pink, red, or blue) glowed a pretty gold. Nat widened her eyes and continued to follow it, touching the flowers that had turned the sparkling gold but quickly retracting her fingers when she realized it turned them back to normal again.
They went through a steep [pathway before reaching a clear opening, where Nat gasped. It was a huge gold flower, with hundreds and hundreds of lopsided butterflies just like this one. It could fit perhaps half her school. The butterfly that had led her here settled delicately on one of the gigantic petals of the flower, and all, she could do was stare open-mouthedly at the wonderful sight.
“Woah.”
Part 3- You’ll be writing an ekphrastic poem on something that you saw or did.
Words: 151/150
The sun in your eyes
matched the navy blue skies
though your eyes were not blue
to my surprise.
Your smile matched the beams
and spots and streams
of sunlight while you advised
the students in teams.
Your hair matched the way
the hair of regal horse's lay
With grey strands galore, it was
difficult to look away.
Your laugh was a sound
which could heal any wound
the way your eyes would
curl to be crescent mooned.
Your skin had the marks
of seas where a ship embarks
tossing and turning in the waves
of stretches and sharks.
Your words had an effect
to the crows that pecked
outside when you gave the
food to the cats who slept
Your hand I should have held
more, your fingers I should have felt
for now, I do not have another chance
for you to pat my hair while I'm in bed.
Part 4- Put some of your writing into Google Translate multiple times and then write with the outcome.
Words: 404/400
Writing (original)- Groaning after cutting the phone call with her friend, she tried to put the pillow over her rest to get some more rest. However, it just resulted in a bad hair day and an even worse mood. After trying for half an hour just to get a single wink of sleep, Nako resigned and sat up in her bed, stretching her hands out grumpily.
Writing (after Google Translate)- After finishing the call with his friend, he took a deep breath and leaned back on his pillow. But from now on my hair condition will get worse. After about 30 minutes of trying to sleep, Nako let go and sat up in bed, waving his arms angrily.
Guess she's a guy now TT
It was late at night when Nako put his phone down and sighed and put his phone down. His friend had started to talk incessantly for no reason and had clearly enjoyed wasting his time. All he had wanted to do was go to sleep, but glancing at the clock he realised that it was already one in the night. How could someone talk for that long without getting tired, Nako had no idea. His friend had actually spoken for two hours on HAIR advice- Nako's hair was, for one, not bad. At least he thought so. How could someone who was BALD talk about hair advice? For starters, his friend didn't even have hair! Nako wasn't sure you should get growing serum advice from someone whose head was shinier than his mother's kitchentop counter. Unfortunately, the mother in question trusted his friend's mother a little too much. She had gotten the hair products his friend had recommended in a snap of a finger.
Nako sighed, putting his head back onto the pillow. From there, his hair condition was only going to get worse. He tried so hard to maintain the health of his hair, but ever since using this shampoo and oils that his friend had recommended, it had been thinning and reducing in volume. He had a slight suspicion that his friend was running a bald mafia gang and was trying to include him in it by making him bald as well. That was when Nako knew he needed to close his eyes and get some rest because anybody who knew his friend also knew he was too dumb to even control one person other than him.
After around half an hour of trying to fall asleep, Nako sat up from his bed and clutched his head. It wasn't working- he was so tired that he couldn't even fall asleep. He tried counting sheep, counting horses, counting the number of legs the horses and sheep had if two sheep were disabled and three horses didn't have legs, but nothing he did put him to bed. He regretfully sat with his back against the bedrest, staring into the unknown, hoping sleep would catch him at some moment in time. Sleep did not, however, catch him at some moment in time and he sighed, picking up his phone from the cabinet beside him and typed out a text to his friend.
I hate you.
Go back
Last edited by icebunny11 (July 17, 2024 17:01:20)
- 1lMaM
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
WEEKLY 2
PART 1: write a 300-word story based off three-word-stories.
“I reminisce of the time when we both had everything we wanted. It’s not like much has changed, but now I sit alone, the clock ticking and me sighing, feeling as if I am hollow. Lost.”
I have everything I could ever want.
The servant brings out another helping of afternoon tea, and I take another blissful orange cupcake and strawberry. The cupcake’s aroma envelops me in warmth and comfort, like a bubble of safety around me. I’m addicted to cupcakes. They give me some semblance of normality.
Ever since I lost you.
The other thing I’m addicted to is writing.
Letters. Endless letters that I want to give you but end up throwing into the fire. Letters saying something along the lines of ‘I wish you were here. Losing you made me cling to all the things you did. But I don’t want to become you. But… well, I guess I’m trying to, a little bit. Please come back.’ Maybe this one will make it. I’m confident I’ve got the wording right.
I miss you.
I never missed you when you went on business trips or fell sick and went to the hospital. I was worried sometimes, but I never missed you.
Not really. Not like I do now.
You dug a hole in my heart. I’ve tried to fill it with misshapen shards: I started writing letters, like this one, I like cupcakes now, and I might try riding your bike when I’m up to it. I’m not up to it now. That hole in my heart paralysed me. I just stare out the window you used to stare out of. The view’s nice, I guess. Not worth it.
What use is it anyway, when everything I do is thrown into the fire? When everything I am is anchored to a lonely window? When I feel hollow, like a speck of dust in space, like an old water bottle on its way to landfill? I’m just a patch of skin on an agonisingly long path to death.
What’s the point of living without you?
I’m lost.
(312 words)
PART 2: go to the bookshop, do a blurb, claim a blurb, write 250 words
“Courtney has been hiding in the shadows all her life. From her parents. Her friends. Everything. But she’s always dreamed of more than survival. And she may just get that life – but it’s way more dangerous, and there’s way more at stake, than she ever dreamed.
But can the future of the world rest in the hands of one girl?”
=
I’ve always been hiding.
When I was little, I’d contort my body into any container I needed to play hide-and-seek. Then I hid from my family, after learning most of the things I tried doing disappointed them. Then I hid from the people who hated me at school. There were a lot of them. In fact, most of the school hated me. But I could hide from them.
Now I hide from myself.
I hate myself. I hate what I’ve done to myself. To the world, if I succeed. And now I’m stuck with enemies all around me – I’m enemies with the Immortals, who’ve made me enemies with the three teens standing in their way. I’m enemies with anyone who’s ever known me. Anyone I’ve ever lived for. The world hates me now.
I lean back against the white wall, my hair falling around my face. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Something kindles in my stomach, and a thought comes into my head. I’m hated now, but I will be loved. I will be loved by many. And I know that it’s true.
Mango, Maverick, and Eva are all in the main room. We meet in the attic to discuss our situation, trying and toiling with ideas to escape the Immortals. I’m one of them, technically. We all have some kind of curse. Mine’s the thoughts of the future that slam into me sometimes. Useless. At least, useless in the context of escaping the grip of the Immortals. Unpredictable things are only a distraction, and we all know that. I’m the outcast, again, even among those I thought were going to be friends. They would have understood me in different circumstances. They’d have seen that I’m just like them.
Now I’m just a liability. Now I’m… nothing.
But I’m something to the Immortals.
So I hold onto it.
–
The one with white skin, white hair and white eyes gazed at me like I was something to her. And I held onto it like my greatest treasure.
There were seven of them, three others like me, hundreds of people who’d ever known me, and nobody had ever looked at me like that. Nobody had ever looked at me and actually seen me, seen me as a person and not a piece of nothing. Her name was Kora. I held onto that too. I memorised the hair white as mine was black, draping like cloth down her back, the face that looked white and delicate as fresh snow, the pure dress that bent and flowed like silk. But most importantly, I memorised that intent gaze. That gaze.
And she told me to throw away my life for them.
For her.
And I simply couldn’t refuse.
(461 words)
-Now set aside your device for 15 to 30 minutes, then come back-
PART 3: Write an ekphrastic poem for 150 words
I rest in darkness
Black save for the silhouette of a curtain
And a sliver of bleak moonlight through a pale rectangle
All is quiet
Then wind batters
Punches and kicks against old windows
Howls of wolves and ghosts in the cold air
But this is safe.
Then everything is still
I soak up the silence, precious peace and quiet
Save for the eerie howl echoing across the night
I shiver again.
Dark patches spread across the room
I shiver, crawling deeper into the blanket as shadows crawl closer
The shadows are black like the darkest reaches of the sky
As if they hide the monsters from children’s nightmares.
I close my eyes
And it’s like the world vanished
I can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing
And I feel nothing but precious warmth
My curled-up form tosses and turns
Shielded against the biting cold by a white blanket
Resting safe and comfortable on a black bed
Still I’m not satisfied.
(161 words)
PART 4: it’s your favourite… GOOGLE TRANSLATE- but go back through the weekly and choose some writing to destroy > for 400 words!
I'm always hiding.
As a child, I wrapped my body in various leather boxes. I hid it from my family. When they found out, it changed a lot of what I wanted to do. and hiding from enemies at school. There were many schools, in fact many that hated me. But I can avoid it.
Now I'm hiding.
You’d never guess it, but I’m basically modern Elsa.
You know, the one who sings Let it Go? The one who discovers she has ice powers, so she hides from everyone and everything? Yeah, that’s me. Except, I haven’t quite got to the Let it Go part. I don’t intend to.
But, yeah, I’m hiding from everything.
It started when I was four.
I was playing with Barbies, as you’d expect, and one of them was terribly annoyed at the other one. And she shot an ice bullet at them. And I made the other one fall on the ground, et cetera. And I did it again, and again.
But this time, I actually felt like I was the Barbie, and I could feel something rushing to my fingers. It kindled and blossomed under me. And, for the first time, I felt real power.
It was beautiful.
But also terrifying.
My parents found out after I insisted on buying leather gloves ‘I just get really cold sometimes’, remembered that feeling, and blasted a little ice on the floor. And they got me the gloves. But I was fenced in proper from then on.
Of course, I had to go to school eventually, but we maintained that secrecy. For eight years. For eight years I’ve had to go around wearing gloves in the summer like a lunatic. Eight years I’ve been hiding in the shadows, trying desperately to hide. Until I couldn’t.
There was always a time when I couldn’t.
There’d be some bully telling me I’m horrible, and I’d remember that sweet rush of power. I’d thrust my hands out before I knew what I was doing, and kapoosh, they’d be on the ground, encased in ice. It was as terrifying for me as it was for them.
Because I knew I’d be expelled.
Again.
But now? Now I don’t bother with school. I have basic maths skills, English skills, basic general knowledge and so on. Now I just run. School is useless to me – just another place to run from, more people to hide from. I don’t want a future in academia, a future in hiding from the very people I’d be trying to connect with. Who’d want a life trying to escape from the very job you have? There’s no point.
So I run from city to city, across diverse towns and landscapes. I don’t have friends. No family either. I barely have anything to entertain myself. It’s the same story, over and over.
I arrive at some new place, the weirdo with the leather gloves. I get a part-time job that pays scrap and make a few ‘friends’. And I stay there a while. They’re nice people, most of them. I even consider staying there – finally staying.
And then I feel that rush of power itching to escape.
And then the ‘Wanted’ signs go up.
And I run.
(481 words)
PART 1: write a 300-word story based off three-word-stories.
“I reminisce of the time when we both had everything we wanted. It’s not like much has changed, but now I sit alone, the clock ticking and me sighing, feeling as if I am hollow. Lost.”
I have everything I could ever want.
The servant brings out another helping of afternoon tea, and I take another blissful orange cupcake and strawberry. The cupcake’s aroma envelops me in warmth and comfort, like a bubble of safety around me. I’m addicted to cupcakes. They give me some semblance of normality.
Ever since I lost you.
The other thing I’m addicted to is writing.
Letters. Endless letters that I want to give you but end up throwing into the fire. Letters saying something along the lines of ‘I wish you were here. Losing you made me cling to all the things you did. But I don’t want to become you. But… well, I guess I’m trying to, a little bit. Please come back.’ Maybe this one will make it. I’m confident I’ve got the wording right.
I miss you.
I never missed you when you went on business trips or fell sick and went to the hospital. I was worried sometimes, but I never missed you.
Not really. Not like I do now.
You dug a hole in my heart. I’ve tried to fill it with misshapen shards: I started writing letters, like this one, I like cupcakes now, and I might try riding your bike when I’m up to it. I’m not up to it now. That hole in my heart paralysed me. I just stare out the window you used to stare out of. The view’s nice, I guess. Not worth it.
What use is it anyway, when everything I do is thrown into the fire? When everything I am is anchored to a lonely window? When I feel hollow, like a speck of dust in space, like an old water bottle on its way to landfill? I’m just a patch of skin on an agonisingly long path to death.
What’s the point of living without you?
I’m lost.
(312 words)
PART 2: go to the bookshop, do a blurb, claim a blurb, write 250 words
“Courtney has been hiding in the shadows all her life. From her parents. Her friends. Everything. But she’s always dreamed of more than survival. And she may just get that life – but it’s way more dangerous, and there’s way more at stake, than she ever dreamed.
But can the future of the world rest in the hands of one girl?”
=
I’ve always been hiding.
When I was little, I’d contort my body into any container I needed to play hide-and-seek. Then I hid from my family, after learning most of the things I tried doing disappointed them. Then I hid from the people who hated me at school. There were a lot of them. In fact, most of the school hated me. But I could hide from them.
Now I hide from myself.
I hate myself. I hate what I’ve done to myself. To the world, if I succeed. And now I’m stuck with enemies all around me – I’m enemies with the Immortals, who’ve made me enemies with the three teens standing in their way. I’m enemies with anyone who’s ever known me. Anyone I’ve ever lived for. The world hates me now.
I lean back against the white wall, my hair falling around my face. Everything is going to be fine. Everything is going to be fine. Something kindles in my stomach, and a thought comes into my head. I’m hated now, but I will be loved. I will be loved by many. And I know that it’s true.
Mango, Maverick, and Eva are all in the main room. We meet in the attic to discuss our situation, trying and toiling with ideas to escape the Immortals. I’m one of them, technically. We all have some kind of curse. Mine’s the thoughts of the future that slam into me sometimes. Useless. At least, useless in the context of escaping the grip of the Immortals. Unpredictable things are only a distraction, and we all know that. I’m the outcast, again, even among those I thought were going to be friends. They would have understood me in different circumstances. They’d have seen that I’m just like them.
Now I’m just a liability. Now I’m… nothing.
But I’m something to the Immortals.
So I hold onto it.
–
The one with white skin, white hair and white eyes gazed at me like I was something to her. And I held onto it like my greatest treasure.
There were seven of them, three others like me, hundreds of people who’d ever known me, and nobody had ever looked at me like that. Nobody had ever looked at me and actually seen me, seen me as a person and not a piece of nothing. Her name was Kora. I held onto that too. I memorised the hair white as mine was black, draping like cloth down her back, the face that looked white and delicate as fresh snow, the pure dress that bent and flowed like silk. But most importantly, I memorised that intent gaze. That gaze.
And she told me to throw away my life for them.
For her.
And I simply couldn’t refuse.
(461 words)
-Now set aside your device for 15 to 30 minutes, then come back-
PART 3: Write an ekphrastic poem for 150 words
I rest in darkness
Black save for the silhouette of a curtain
And a sliver of bleak moonlight through a pale rectangle
All is quiet
Then wind batters
Punches and kicks against old windows
Howls of wolves and ghosts in the cold air
But this is safe.
Then everything is still
I soak up the silence, precious peace and quiet
Save for the eerie howl echoing across the night
I shiver again.
Dark patches spread across the room
I shiver, crawling deeper into the blanket as shadows crawl closer
The shadows are black like the darkest reaches of the sky
As if they hide the monsters from children’s nightmares.
I close my eyes
And it’s like the world vanished
I can see nothing, hear nothing, smell nothing
And I feel nothing but precious warmth
My curled-up form tosses and turns
Shielded against the biting cold by a white blanket
Resting safe and comfortable on a black bed
Still I’m not satisfied.
(161 words)
PART 4: it’s your favourite… GOOGLE TRANSLATE- but go back through the weekly and choose some writing to destroy >
for 400 words!I'm always hiding.
As a child, I wrapped my body in various leather boxes. I hid it from my family. When they found out, it changed a lot of what I wanted to do. and hiding from enemies at school. There were many schools, in fact many that hated me. But I can avoid it.
Now I'm hiding.
You’d never guess it, but I’m basically modern Elsa.
You know, the one who sings Let it Go? The one who discovers she has ice powers, so she hides from everyone and everything? Yeah, that’s me. Except, I haven’t quite got to the Let it Go part. I don’t intend to.
But, yeah, I’m hiding from everything.
It started when I was four.
I was playing with Barbies, as you’d expect, and one of them was terribly annoyed at the other one. And she shot an ice bullet at them. And I made the other one fall on the ground, et cetera. And I did it again, and again.
But this time, I actually felt like I was the Barbie, and I could feel something rushing to my fingers. It kindled and blossomed under me. And, for the first time, I felt real power.
It was beautiful.
But also terrifying.
My parents found out after I insisted on buying leather gloves ‘I just get really cold sometimes’, remembered that feeling, and blasted a little ice on the floor. And they got me the gloves. But I was fenced in proper from then on.
Of course, I had to go to school eventually, but we maintained that secrecy. For eight years. For eight years I’ve had to go around wearing gloves in the summer like a lunatic. Eight years I’ve been hiding in the shadows, trying desperately to hide. Until I couldn’t.
There was always a time when I couldn’t.
There’d be some bully telling me I’m horrible, and I’d remember that sweet rush of power. I’d thrust my hands out before I knew what I was doing, and kapoosh, they’d be on the ground, encased in ice. It was as terrifying for me as it was for them.
Because I knew I’d be expelled.
Again.
But now? Now I don’t bother with school. I have basic maths skills, English skills, basic general knowledge and so on. Now I just run. School is useless to me – just another place to run from, more people to hide from. I don’t want a future in academia, a future in hiding from the very people I’d be trying to connect with. Who’d want a life trying to escape from the very job you have? There’s no point.
So I run from city to city, across diverse towns and landscapes. I don’t have friends. No family either. I barely have anything to entertain myself. It’s the same story, over and over.
I arrive at some new place, the weirdo with the leather gloves. I get a part-time job that pays scrap and make a few ‘friends’. And I stay there a while. They’re nice people, most of them. I even consider staying there – finally staying.
And then I feel that rush of power itching to escape.
And then the ‘Wanted’ signs go up.
And I run.
(481 words)
- BookHuggers2022
-
Scratcher
88 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Daily for 7/17/24
326 words
326 words
“Brooke Forn”#Bi-FiFTW
Brooke stepped up to the podium. She could feel the power in her body, she could all day, but it felt like it was doubling every second. She had to focus hard to keep herself from falling as she walked up the stairs.
Her grandmother stood there, radiating power as she always did. Everyone radiated power tonight, but her grandmother still outshone the rest of them by a lot.
Brooke reached out to hold the plain wooden staff of a young wizard while her grandmother tied a cloak around her shoulders.
She had been waiting for this forever.
The power rushed out of her.
“Brooke.” an unfamiliar voice said her name. She tried to open her eyes, but it felt like they were glued shut.
“Brooke.” A different voice.
“Brooke.”
“Brooke.”
“Brooke.”
She tried to yell out; to ask who these people were, where her grandmother and the rest of her town was, but she couldn’t move. She felt petrified, and not just with fear.
Brooke felt like someone was slowly tightening their hold on her, squeezing her body until she suffocated.
And then it was gone.
She was standing in front of the crowd, her grandmother behind her.
The crowd seemed to be glowing light blue for a second, but a quick series of blinks returned it to normal.
“Did you have a nice ceremony?” A smooth voice next to her said.
She looked over quickly. It was only supposed to be her and her grandmother on stage right now.
A man was standing next to her. She was about to ask what he was doing here, when she realized that he wasn’t standing next to her. He was floating next to her.
And then he disappeared. Brooke shook her head. What a predictable move.
Ghosts usually waited until after the ceremony to greet a new wizard, but there was the occasion when it happened during the ceremony. She wasn't worried about it.
Last edited by BookHuggers2022 (July 17, 2024 15:32:54)
- FairyAyla
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Daily 17:
I could always see ghosts, for as long as i can remember, of every kind. I never was that upset about dead things since i’d just see the ghosts. Some of them are sad, but most are fine. Though it is a problem when we squish bugs, their ghosts always come and haunt me, even though it’s not like I am the one who squished them. It’s rather annoying, all those little beetles haunting me all through the night. It’s far from scaring, more like annoying, it’s basically just beetles, except ghostly white and semi transparent, and more floaty. Then there are the ghost crickets, from the ones that died in our yard. Combined with the alive crickets, it can be pretty loud. There are alot of annoying and bad parts, but some good ones too, i guess. Like that one time i met a dinosaur. Well, the ghost of one, anyway. It was at museum, and we were looking at dinosaur fossils, and i saw one of the ghosts. It was pretty cool. I used to tell my parents about the ghosts i saw, but they thought i was making things up so i just stopped after a while. Cemeteries are awful. There are so many ghosts that on dark nights when they like to all come out, it can be hard to see. Although it is fun learning all the ghosts stories and stuff. Expect all the mopey ones. Like, i get that your sad about being dead or whatever, but will you quit talking to ME about it? Me, a semi normal alive human. I say semi normal since i guess seeing ghosts isn’t normal, but it is for me. I’ve seen them my whole life. I can’t change that. And if i could change it? I wouldn’t. It’s just how live, and who i am. Ghosts, that got kinda sappy or whatever.
316 words
I could always see ghosts, for as long as i can remember, of every kind. I never was that upset about dead things since i’d just see the ghosts. Some of them are sad, but most are fine. Though it is a problem when we squish bugs, their ghosts always come and haunt me, even though it’s not like I am the one who squished them. It’s rather annoying, all those little beetles haunting me all through the night. It’s far from scaring, more like annoying, it’s basically just beetles, except ghostly white and semi transparent, and more floaty. Then there are the ghost crickets, from the ones that died in our yard. Combined with the alive crickets, it can be pretty loud. There are alot of annoying and bad parts, but some good ones too, i guess. Like that one time i met a dinosaur. Well, the ghost of one, anyway. It was at museum, and we were looking at dinosaur fossils, and i saw one of the ghosts. It was pretty cool. I used to tell my parents about the ghosts i saw, but they thought i was making things up so i just stopped after a while. Cemeteries are awful. There are so many ghosts that on dark nights when they like to all come out, it can be hard to see. Although it is fun learning all the ghosts stories and stuff. Expect all the mopey ones. Like, i get that your sad about being dead or whatever, but will you quit talking to ME about it? Me, a semi normal alive human. I say semi normal since i guess seeing ghosts isn’t normal, but it is for me. I’ve seen them my whole life. I can’t change that. And if i could change it? I wouldn’t. It’s just how live, and who i am. Ghosts, that got kinda sappy or whatever.
316 words
- icebunny11
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Name: Ava
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: July 17th Daily
Wordcount: 349/300
Topic: Write about someone who can see ghosts and what they did when they found out!
Qiyara sat anxiously, twisting her fingers in her lap, waiting for her name to be called by the receptionist. She had come to the hospital without warning, so she was pretty sure she would be way far back in the line than the people who had actually booked an appointment. An hour passed by when her name was finally called, and she rushed hurriedly into the office.
Inside was a white desk and a grey office chair. There were shelves around him, and it looked more like a study room than an examination room. On the chair sat a man in a crumpled white coat and a slightly odd stethoscope around his neck. He looked around seventy years old and wore round glasses on the very tip of his nose.
“Dr. Moscovitz?” Qiyara asked him, sitting down on the soft chair in front of the man.
“Is that his name?” The man said. “Yes. Yes, I am Dr. Msocovitz. Tell me, why have you come here today?”
“Well-” Qiyara said, brushing off the man's queer behavior. “I've been seeing things lately. They're people who seem to walk around my house, and my boyfriend, who lives with me, can't see them. He tells me I'm hallucinating and I need to take some rest, and the people keep talking to me. They seem to be happy that I can see them every time I walk through a room. They're like people in my head.”
“So… you mean ghosts?” Dr. Moscovitz said. “You mean to say that you've been seeing ghosts around your house?”
“Yes,” Qiyara said nervously. “They can't be real, can they?”
“Of course we are!” Dr. Moscovitz said. “I'm so happy that one of you guys can finally see us.”
Qiyara looked at him in confusion when another man in a much cleaner coat walked in. He looked to be in his thirties and sat down on his chair as the older man disappeared into thin air. “Hi, I'm Dr. Moscovitz. Sorry, I just had to visit the lavatory. How are you?”
Qiyara blinked at him. Then she screamed.
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: July 17th Daily
Wordcount: 349/300
Topic: Write about someone who can see ghosts and what they did when they found out!
Don't we all wish we could see ghosts -sigh- It would be so interesting
Qiyara sat anxiously, twisting her fingers in her lap, waiting for her name to be called by the receptionist. She had come to the hospital without warning, so she was pretty sure she would be way far back in the line than the people who had actually booked an appointment. An hour passed by when her name was finally called, and she rushed hurriedly into the office.
Inside was a white desk and a grey office chair. There were shelves around him, and it looked more like a study room than an examination room. On the chair sat a man in a crumpled white coat and a slightly odd stethoscope around his neck. He looked around seventy years old and wore round glasses on the very tip of his nose.
“Dr. Moscovitz?” Qiyara asked him, sitting down on the soft chair in front of the man.
“Is that his name?” The man said. “Yes. Yes, I am Dr. Msocovitz. Tell me, why have you come here today?”
“Well-” Qiyara said, brushing off the man's queer behavior. “I've been seeing things lately. They're people who seem to walk around my house, and my boyfriend, who lives with me, can't see them. He tells me I'm hallucinating and I need to take some rest, and the people keep talking to me. They seem to be happy that I can see them every time I walk through a room. They're like people in my head.”
“So… you mean ghosts?” Dr. Moscovitz said. “You mean to say that you've been seeing ghosts around your house?”
“Yes,” Qiyara said nervously. “They can't be real, can they?”
“Of course we are!” Dr. Moscovitz said. “I'm so happy that one of you guys can finally see us.”
Qiyara looked at him in confusion when another man in a much cleaner coat walked in. He looked to be in his thirties and sat down on his chair as the older man disappeared into thin air. “Hi, I'm Dr. Moscovitz. Sorry, I just had to visit the lavatory. How are you?”
Qiyara blinked at him. Then she screamed.
Go back
Last edited by icebunny11 (July 19, 2024 16:19:57)
- icebunny11
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Name: Ava
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: Writing competition
Wordcount: 603
Topic: Main writing entry
Nako was only nine when her parents got divorced. Too smart for her age, she had learned all too quickly what it felt like to choose sides. Her heart wrenched to be away from her father, but her mother took her with her, afraid that her father might destroy Nako's life like he destroyed her mothers.
She might have been smart enough to know enough about decision-making, but she still wasn't smart enough to know the drunkard her father was. So instead of having some sort of relief, all she felt was bitterness towards her mother for breaking their wonderful family apart.
As her mother moved to an entirely different country, Nako found herself resenting her even more. She wasn't allowed to call her dad, and she wasn't allowed to even speak his name. Many nights were spent with her crying into her pillow until one day her mother had saved up enough money to send her to school.
There she met Miyeol. Like a bright, clumsy sunbeam in the middle of dark clouds. She couldn't help but laugh when she laughed, and cry when she cried. Nako was Miyeol's calm energy, and Miyeol was Nako's reminder to look at the bright side.
Soon enough, her mother had remarried. Nako was twelve, and she was more mature. Too mature for her age, but that's how it was when she lived alone for so long. Her new dad was nice- it wasn't the same as before, but she could tell he was trying hard not to make her feel uncomfortable. It wasn't working, but the thought counted.
Before their marriage, her parents had introduced her to her new sibling- he was two years younger than her, and they both looked very different. Nako's dark black hair was the only thing that made them look slightly related. From any other point of view, however, Nako and her brother looked completely different.
Nako had vibrant green eyes, and her brother had deep, muddy brown. Nako was somewhat pale while her brother was tanned. They talked differently, they behaved differently, and they did not like each other. At least, at first.
Nako resented her step-brother more than she resented her mom. He was always trying to approach her and make friends when she wanted to stay alone. Looking back on that, Nako regretted almost every action she had done to push him away, until one day something changed. She didn't know what and she didn't know why, but she saw her brother in a different light. Watching him walk alone to school, even though he was on the same path as her, she re-thought: “Why do I hate him so much?”
Nako realized that it wasn't her hate for the boy in the way, but her hate for change. It was only when she was 15 had she realized that she did not hate her mother or her new family, but she hated the thought of forgetting her father, and she would just have to accept it. Hard as it was, it was the only way Nako could ever become a better person.
So, though not that day, Nako made an effort to communicate with her brother. It was hard at first since she was used to shooing him away. After a month or two, they had become inseparable- Miyeol was her reminder to stay happy, and her brother was her reminder to just stay. Whether happy or sad, her brother had somehow taught her that you have to move on in life. It doesn't matter whether you wanted to or not- the world would not stop.
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: Writing competition
Wordcount: 603
Topic: Main writing entry
Accept, Forgive, Forget
Nako was only nine when her parents got divorced. Too smart for her age, she had learned all too quickly what it felt like to choose sides. Her heart wrenched to be away from her father, but her mother took her with her, afraid that her father might destroy Nako's life like he destroyed her mothers.
She might have been smart enough to know enough about decision-making, but she still wasn't smart enough to know the drunkard her father was. So instead of having some sort of relief, all she felt was bitterness towards her mother for breaking their wonderful family apart.
As her mother moved to an entirely different country, Nako found herself resenting her even more. She wasn't allowed to call her dad, and she wasn't allowed to even speak his name. Many nights were spent with her crying into her pillow until one day her mother had saved up enough money to send her to school.
There she met Miyeol. Like a bright, clumsy sunbeam in the middle of dark clouds. She couldn't help but laugh when she laughed, and cry when she cried. Nako was Miyeol's calm energy, and Miyeol was Nako's reminder to look at the bright side.
Soon enough, her mother had remarried. Nako was twelve, and she was more mature. Too mature for her age, but that's how it was when she lived alone for so long. Her new dad was nice- it wasn't the same as before, but she could tell he was trying hard not to make her feel uncomfortable. It wasn't working, but the thought counted.
Before their marriage, her parents had introduced her to her new sibling- he was two years younger than her, and they both looked very different. Nako's dark black hair was the only thing that made them look slightly related. From any other point of view, however, Nako and her brother looked completely different.
Nako had vibrant green eyes, and her brother had deep, muddy brown. Nako was somewhat pale while her brother was tanned. They talked differently, they behaved differently, and they did not like each other. At least, at first.
Nako resented her step-brother more than she resented her mom. He was always trying to approach her and make friends when she wanted to stay alone. Looking back on that, Nako regretted almost every action she had done to push him away, until one day something changed. She didn't know what and she didn't know why, but she saw her brother in a different light. Watching him walk alone to school, even though he was on the same path as her, she re-thought: “Why do I hate him so much?”
Nako realized that it wasn't her hate for the boy in the way, but her hate for change. It was only when she was 15 had she realized that she did not hate her mother or her new family, but she hated the thought of forgetting her father, and she would just have to accept it. Hard as it was, it was the only way Nako could ever become a better person.
So, though not that day, Nako made an effort to communicate with her brother. It was hard at first since she was used to shooing him away. After a month or two, they had become inseparable- Miyeol was her reminder to stay happy, and her brother was her reminder to just stay. Whether happy or sad, her brother had somehow taught her that you have to move on in life. It doesn't matter whether you wanted to or not- the world would not stop.
Go back
- lokiously
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
weekly 3
Part 1: Switching Perspectives by Alana
374 words
Lia's POV (154 words)
The giant ice monster stared down at me, like a towering skyscraper looking down at an ant. For the first time, I was ready to cry. Where did Kai go?
“You do not scare me!” I lied to the monster. It's piercing, cold eyes shot me down to crumbles in a second. I could feel the cold in me now. “You-” I stuttered, my teeth chattering already. “You cannot take him away from me”
The giant laughed. “Who are you to say what I can and cannot do, young one? I am King of the Ice!”
If this was a movie, I could hear the strings playing dramatically. “Where is he? Where is my brother?”
“The boy…” the giant churned out his words in monotone, without feeling. It irritated me so much. Tears started streaming.
“Where is Kai?” I scream. Give me my brother back!“
The giant sighed. ”You will never. He is gone."
Kai's POV (115 words)
A monster the size of a cloud looked deep into my eyes, my heart beating ever faster. The heat was getting to me more and more, ever since this monster has been in sight. It was like it's a burning ball of fire just waiting to explode. A volcano, essentially. I've always wanted to see one, but now that I'm basically in front of it, I want to get out. Finally I stood immediately in front of it, in fury. I lashed out, demanding to see my sister.
“She's gone,” the giant said.
“You idiot,” I say. “I can hear sense your lies.”
“Oops,” the giant said. “Forgot about that.”
My bet's on it's lying.
Lia's POV (105 words)
“No!” I know he's lying.
The giant let out a big laugh, pointing at my stubbornness. But I can feel him. Kai is there. Just on the other side.
“If only I can reach…” I murmur.
“What was that?” the giant questioned. “You cannot simply reach. He is too far.” He tilted his head in pity. “If only….”
I scrunched my eyebrows together, focusing purely on one thing: Kai.
“What are you doing?” the giant asked, with a little falter in his voice.
I let out the force within me and I can feel myself connecting with the Side. Yeah, I'm getting my brother back.
Part 2: Unreliable Narrators written by Yume
List of traits of why my narrator is unreliable:
She doesn't know the story whatsoever
Narrator forgets names, places
Needs the characters to remind her what's happening
She drifts off into her own world every so often
Basically a naif
300 words
Good luck!
Part 3: Metafiction (written by Kiara)
For the third part of this weekly, we will be exploring metafiction! Metafiction is a style of writing where characters are aware they are in a fictional world. To learn more about it, check out this wonderful workshop by Fae! Once you are finished reading, the next step is to brainstorm 2-3 literary tropes. Then, write 400 words about a character noticing and openly acknowledging or criticizing these tropes.
Best of luck and happy writing!
Part 4: Self-Insertion (written by Niko)
You have reached the final part of the weekly! Step into your own shoes and get your pens ready for this task! Now that you have created your world and a character, write 400 words of a self-insert into the world created in the part above, being sure to write yourself in an impartial style. Write from the oc's point of view - how would they interact with you? Make sure to include the character you made originally seeing and reacting to you.
Outro (written by Luka)
Hey there swc-ers! You've made it to the end of our second weekly <3 Before you submit, let's put things into perspective and make sure you have everything you need:
Your weekly should be a minimum of 1400 words for it to count. Submit it by July 23rd at 11:59 pm UTC in the Main Cabin in order to earn 3000 points for your cabin!
Part 1: Switching Perspectives by Alana
374 words
Lia's POV (154 words)
The giant ice monster stared down at me, like a towering skyscraper looking down at an ant. For the first time, I was ready to cry. Where did Kai go?
“You do not scare me!” I lied to the monster. It's piercing, cold eyes shot me down to crumbles in a second. I could feel the cold in me now. “You-” I stuttered, my teeth chattering already. “You cannot take him away from me”
The giant laughed. “Who are you to say what I can and cannot do, young one? I am King of the Ice!”
If this was a movie, I could hear the strings playing dramatically. “Where is he? Where is my brother?”
“The boy…” the giant churned out his words in monotone, without feeling. It irritated me so much. Tears started streaming.
“Where is Kai?” I scream. Give me my brother back!“
The giant sighed. ”You will never. He is gone."
Kai's POV (115 words)
A monster the size of a cloud looked deep into my eyes, my heart beating ever faster. The heat was getting to me more and more, ever since this monster has been in sight. It was like it's a burning ball of fire just waiting to explode. A volcano, essentially. I've always wanted to see one, but now that I'm basically in front of it, I want to get out. Finally I stood immediately in front of it, in fury. I lashed out, demanding to see my sister.
“She's gone,” the giant said.
“You idiot,” I say. “I can hear sense your lies.”
“Oops,” the giant said. “Forgot about that.”
My bet's on it's lying.
Lia's POV (105 words)
“No!” I know he's lying.
The giant let out a big laugh, pointing at my stubbornness. But I can feel him. Kai is there. Just on the other side.
“If only I can reach…” I murmur.
“What was that?” the giant questioned. “You cannot simply reach. He is too far.” He tilted his head in pity. “If only….”
I scrunched my eyebrows together, focusing purely on one thing: Kai.
“What are you doing?” the giant asked, with a little falter in his voice.
I let out the force within me and I can feel myself connecting with the Side. Yeah, I'm getting my brother back.
Part 2: Unreliable Narrators written by Yume
List of traits of why my narrator is unreliable:
She doesn't know the story whatsoever
Narrator forgets names, places
Needs the characters to remind her what's happening
She drifts off into her own world every so often
Basically a naif
300 words
Example by Luka
Character: Detective Grant Langston
- Full of pride, overly confident and jumps to conclusions
- Infatuated with Daisy Parkwell
Surely it was her. Lucy was the only person in the room that could never truly stand William, and that was well known. His disappearance was surely foul play on her part, and only a detective could see the truth. Fortunately I was one, and I knew Lucy's innocent act wouldn't hold up much longer. Those crocodile tears would dry up soon.
Daisy looked at me with a look in her eye I couldn't decipher. She was as pale as a ghost, but who could blame her? A kidnapping would make anyone petrified, so petrified that they'll begin mumbling to themselves. So terrified that they'll tell themselves it wasn't their fault. Just like Daisy.
However, a culprit can never do the things Daisy was doing. All they can do is hide behind a screen made of false tears, a common case with criminals. Therefore, I resolved that I would tear down Lucy's screen with my bare hands, comfort my dear Daisy, invite her for dinner, and celebrate with a perfectly-aged ‘70’s Carlo Rossi. All in that order.
Good luck!
Part 3: Metafiction (written by Kiara)
For the third part of this weekly, we will be exploring metafiction! Metafiction is a style of writing where characters are aware they are in a fictional world. To learn more about it, check out this wonderful workshop by Fae! Once you are finished reading, the next step is to brainstorm 2-3 literary tropes. Then, write 400 words about a character noticing and openly acknowledging or criticizing these tropes.
Example by AliaIt's your job to create an entertaining story, Isla remembers her father saying. They're all watching you.
- the chosen one
Isla takes a deep breath, glances up at the ceiling. She seems alone, in her little workshop surrounded by rolls of paper and pots of ink, but she's not. She's never alone. There's a whole world watching her.
How does one even create an engaging story? she wonders. What is she supposed to do? She's not been chosen by the gods for any special purpose, found no special object, learned from no wise old mentor. She's just…her. In what world can she create a story entertaining enough for all who want to read it?
Best of luck and happy writing!
Part 4: Self-Insertion (written by Niko)
You have reached the final part of the weekly! Step into your own shoes and get your pens ready for this task! Now that you have created your world and a character, write 400 words of a self-insert into the world created in the part above, being sure to write yourself in an impartial style. Write from the oc's point of view - how would they interact with you? Make sure to include the character you made originally seeing and reacting to you.
Example by Mabel
I pondered in the garden, dangling my legs off a bench, deep in thought.
Suddenly I heard footsteps approached. Unsure, my head shot back just to see a tall, brunette girl standing in front of me. She gazed deeply into my eyes, wanting something.
“Who are you?” I blurted out, my hands jittering. What did this girl want with me? She raised an eyebrow.
“I’m Mabel,” she said calmly with practically no expression on her face, fingers stroking through her hair as she patiently waited for a reply.
“What do you want with me?” I whispered. She could barely hear me. I took a deep breath out.
“I need your help.”
Outro (written by Luka)
Hey there swc-ers! You've made it to the end of our second weekly <3 Before you submit, let's put things into perspective and make sure you have everything you need:
1. Write three 100-word scenes, with the first and last have a different perspective than the second | 300 words
2. Brainstorm and write a scene using unreliable narration traits | 300 words
3. Brainstorm two trope/conventions and write a scene with a character acknowledging/criticizing it | 400 words
4. Insert yourself into your world and have your OC react to you | 400 words
Your weekly should be a minimum of 1400 words for it to count. Submit it by July 23rd at 11:59 pm UTC in the Main Cabin in order to earn 3000 points for your cabin!
Last edited by lokiously (July 18, 2024 02:03:42)
- Natt519
-
Scratcher
77 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Writing for a critique (I’m not trying to actually spell it lol)
{this is currently unfinished- this writing is gonna be about half of the story (and I’m planning on a sequel to it, as well)! I’m writing this for the writing comp, though, so i wanted to see how i was doing so far <3}
Word count: 908
Oasis. Some call it a city of dreams. Others say it's a curse, a remnant of Pre-Flood that will be destroyed one day. I call it home.
It's been two hundred years since Flood. Pre-Flood humans burned fossil fuels, polluted, and warmed Earth to its literal melting point. The glaciers melted, and the sea level rose, and rose, and rose. By the time the Pre-Flood humans actually acted, it was too late. Some places were safe, but many couldn't get to those places. Those years were called the Years of Tragedy.
Now, the sea has fallen, but we only have half the amount of land that we used to. Cities are crowded, even parts of Oasis. We have a place to live, at least, so we're grateful. It's almost like before Flood, the older people say.
Almost.
——–
I sat at my desk- the middle, almost back, right on the edge by the window. In my opinion, the best seat. Ms. Blunden was telling us about the construction of the wall. It surrounds Oasis, protecting us from the sea. Usually, we don't need it- only when we have a big storm. Then, the sirens blare. People panic, even though we aren't supposed to, as everyone rushes to their basements. There, we wait, talking in hushed whispers as we wait for the sirens to stop. That hasn't happened in a while, though. It's a bit strange, honestly. Global warming made the storms worse and worse, but now we don't use fossil fuels, or pollute. I guess that's why, but I don’t really know.
I tried to turn my attention back to Ms. Blunden, but Ashla, my best friend, elbowed me. I ignored her. She waited a moment, then-
“Pada!”
I still didn't look at her.
“Pada Louise Avrum!”
"What?“
”Wanna come over after school? My mom found some SUPER old DVDs- like, almost 250 years old- and a DVD player she hooked up to our HoloVision. One is about a magic school or something, and the other I think is about these people fighting this super cool masked robot dude.“
”Sure! But can you please focus on the lesson? I need to take notes.“
”Your notes are filled with doodles anyways,“ Ashla said, rolling her eyes, but she obliged and began to scribble in her notebook.
———-
It began to rain during the last few hours of school, so I didn't end up going over to Ashla's house- nobody is allowed to go outside when it's raining. It's just one of the laws that we have now, to keep us safe.
Later that night, I lay in bed, listening to the rain thrumming against my window. If it didn't stop by tomorrow morning, then we wouldn't have school. I've read books from Pre-Flood where students went to school for 9 months every year. With the rain, we usually end up going only 7 or 8. I still wonder what it was like back then. How many people knew that they had to change, but just wouldn't? Flood could have been avoided. People could have survived. But it happened, all of it, because they were just too stubborn to see it.
Will we make that same mistake one day?
☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆
The next morning, it still hadn't stopped raining. No school today, I suppose. As I crept down the stairs, I heard my mother whispering nervously to my father- I hadn't know they were up yet. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help eavesdropping. ”Huge storm…another flood? …will the wall…“ I could only catch bits and pieces, but I got the gist of it. What if all this rain meant another flood, or a big storm? Would the wall protect us?
I heard footsteps as Mom and Dad walked into the kitchen- I wouldn't be getting any more information out of them right now. My cat, Holly, padded over to me, meowing until I scratched her ears. She's a calico. I found her when I was 9, when she was just a kitten. Someone had abandoned her, even though that's against the law, and I've had her ever since- 4 years, now. She followed me as I went downstairs.
Mom was already in her studio, and Dad was eating in the living room as he watched the news. I grabbed Holly's food from the cabinet, pouring her some- if I didn't then I'd be meowed at all during breakfast. Once she was content with her breakfast, I poured myself some cereal- strawberry milkshake flavored (yum)- and went into the living room to see what was interesting my dad so much.
”We've been tracking a severe storm that's about 20 miles away from Oasis. It's moving slowly, so it could dissipate by the time it would reach us, but make sure to be prepared. Stock water and food in your basements and make sure you have a phone or radio with you. Remember…"
I stopped listening after that. A severe storm? We hadn't had one of those since… I think I was 8 or 9. Hadn't they gotten better? I put my bowl on the table and walked over to the window. I could see dark clouds in the distance, and there was the rumble of thunder. My spoon shook, rattling against the sides of my bowl. The clouds looked… different, though. There was a red glow around them, and every few seconds I saw something that looked like red electricity sparking around them.
What was going on?
{this is currently unfinished- this writing is gonna be about half of the story (and I’m planning on a sequel to it, as well)! I’m writing this for the writing comp, though, so i wanted to see how i was doing so far <3}
Word count: 908
Oasis. Some call it a city of dreams. Others say it's a curse, a remnant of Pre-Flood that will be destroyed one day. I call it home.
It's been two hundred years since Flood. Pre-Flood humans burned fossil fuels, polluted, and warmed Earth to its literal melting point. The glaciers melted, and the sea level rose, and rose, and rose. By the time the Pre-Flood humans actually acted, it was too late. Some places were safe, but many couldn't get to those places. Those years were called the Years of Tragedy.
Now, the sea has fallen, but we only have half the amount of land that we used to. Cities are crowded, even parts of Oasis. We have a place to live, at least, so we're grateful. It's almost like before Flood, the older people say.
Almost.
——–
I sat at my desk- the middle, almost back, right on the edge by the window. In my opinion, the best seat. Ms. Blunden was telling us about the construction of the wall. It surrounds Oasis, protecting us from the sea. Usually, we don't need it- only when we have a big storm. Then, the sirens blare. People panic, even though we aren't supposed to, as everyone rushes to their basements. There, we wait, talking in hushed whispers as we wait for the sirens to stop. That hasn't happened in a while, though. It's a bit strange, honestly. Global warming made the storms worse and worse, but now we don't use fossil fuels, or pollute. I guess that's why, but I don’t really know.
I tried to turn my attention back to Ms. Blunden, but Ashla, my best friend, elbowed me. I ignored her. She waited a moment, then-
“Pada!”
I still didn't look at her.
“Pada Louise Avrum!”
"What?“
”Wanna come over after school? My mom found some SUPER old DVDs- like, almost 250 years old- and a DVD player she hooked up to our HoloVision. One is about a magic school or something, and the other I think is about these people fighting this super cool masked robot dude.“
”Sure! But can you please focus on the lesson? I need to take notes.“
”Your notes are filled with doodles anyways,“ Ashla said, rolling her eyes, but she obliged and began to scribble in her notebook.
———-
It began to rain during the last few hours of school, so I didn't end up going over to Ashla's house- nobody is allowed to go outside when it's raining. It's just one of the laws that we have now, to keep us safe.
Later that night, I lay in bed, listening to the rain thrumming against my window. If it didn't stop by tomorrow morning, then we wouldn't have school. I've read books from Pre-Flood where students went to school for 9 months every year. With the rain, we usually end up going only 7 or 8. I still wonder what it was like back then. How many people knew that they had to change, but just wouldn't? Flood could have been avoided. People could have survived. But it happened, all of it, because they were just too stubborn to see it.
Will we make that same mistake one day?
☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆ ☽ ☆
The next morning, it still hadn't stopped raining. No school today, I suppose. As I crept down the stairs, I heard my mother whispering nervously to my father- I hadn't know they were up yet. I know I shouldn't have, but I couldn't help eavesdropping. ”Huge storm…another flood? …will the wall…“ I could only catch bits and pieces, but I got the gist of it. What if all this rain meant another flood, or a big storm? Would the wall protect us?
I heard footsteps as Mom and Dad walked into the kitchen- I wouldn't be getting any more information out of them right now. My cat, Holly, padded over to me, meowing until I scratched her ears. She's a calico. I found her when I was 9, when she was just a kitten. Someone had abandoned her, even though that's against the law, and I've had her ever since- 4 years, now. She followed me as I went downstairs.
Mom was already in her studio, and Dad was eating in the living room as he watched the news. I grabbed Holly's food from the cabinet, pouring her some- if I didn't then I'd be meowed at all during breakfast. Once she was content with her breakfast, I poured myself some cereal- strawberry milkshake flavored (yum)- and went into the living room to see what was interesting my dad so much.
”We've been tracking a severe storm that's about 20 miles away from Oasis. It's moving slowly, so it could dissipate by the time it would reach us, but make sure to be prepared. Stock water and food in your basements and make sure you have a phone or radio with you. Remember…"
I stopped listening after that. A severe storm? We hadn't had one of those since… I think I was 8 or 9. Hadn't they gotten better? I put my bowl on the table and walked over to the window. I could see dark clouds in the distance, and there was the rumble of thunder. My spoon shook, rattling against the sides of my bowl. The clouds looked… different, though. There was a red glow around them, and every few seconds I saw something that looked like red electricity sparking around them.
What was going on?
Last edited by Natt519 (July 17, 2024 17:59:04)
- silverlynx-
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Daily 17
550 words
I stepped from the silvery moonlight through the creaking door into yawning darkness. It cloaked me like a freezing shawl wrapped around my shoulders. I shuddered violently.
“Hello?” I whispered, my voice breaking with fear. “Hello, is anyone home?”
Silence.
I looked down at the little business card.
Amelie Krolis
Funeral Directors
Rolls House
This was definitely the place. It totally fit the theme ‘funeral directors.’
“Excuse me?” I called out, a little more confidently.
No answer. Again. I wish Marian could have come with me. It was her who said she'd do it in the first place. I smiled softly. You could never count on Marian. She always dropped out.
That was when I heard it. The sound of fear. The sound of hate. The sound of death.
It was an eerie harrowing wailing that bounced off the walls, faint, yet coming closer. It penetrated fear into my heart and my blood turned to ice.
“Marian? I think we should go.” I said over my shoulder. I could hear it coming closer. And closer. And closer.
It was just a heartbeat away and I could almost reach out and touch it, and yet when I looked behind me… nothing.
“Marian!” I yelled, swallowing anxiously. “We really should go. Now.”
I heard a distant rustling and a muffled squeal. I bit my lip. She'd chickened out. And left me on my own with this creature.
I could feel its presence an inch away from my face, a harsh biting wind slapping my cheeks. I tried to scream but I was frozen. I tried to relax but I was frozen. I tried to run but I was frozen.
All of a sudden there was a freezing invisible grip on my trembling hand and it was lifted up into the air. I saw the ends of my fingers turn a startling white and tendrils of ice started twisting around my arm. Steam rose from it to create a chilling cloud around my head.
Let me go!
In the back of my head there was a blood-curdling laugh. I flinched, my heart hammering in my chest, pumping loudly.
“Marian!” I screeched desperately. “Help me!”
I felt it, less than an inch away from my face. The air in front of me wavered and I felt two hands on my cheeks and icy lips pressed against mine. I felt my own hands grow cold and my body started to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly there was a sharp shot of pain down my throat and I felt as though my insides started to shrivel away slowly. It pulled away and the air shimmered and revealed a dark hooded figure staring at me menacingly.
“Who are you?” I breathed.
It pulled down its hood.
“Miriam!” I cried in surprise. “I thought you didn't want to come…”
She gazed at me sorrowfully.
“I'm sorry. They made me.”
“Who did?”
“The ghosts. They come at night and suck out my soul while I'm asleep until there's nothing human left. They made me bring you here. They made me do this to you.”
“Do what?” I asked, my brow furrowing.
“That.”
She pointed at me. I looked down nervously. I closed my eyes. And snapped them open.
These creatures were ghosts. And so was I.
550 words
I stepped from the silvery moonlight through the creaking door into yawning darkness. It cloaked me like a freezing shawl wrapped around my shoulders. I shuddered violently.
“Hello?” I whispered, my voice breaking with fear. “Hello, is anyone home?”
Silence.
I looked down at the little business card.
Amelie Krolis
Funeral Directors
Rolls House
This was definitely the place. It totally fit the theme ‘funeral directors.’
“Excuse me?” I called out, a little more confidently.
No answer. Again. I wish Marian could have come with me. It was her who said she'd do it in the first place. I smiled softly. You could never count on Marian. She always dropped out.
That was when I heard it. The sound of fear. The sound of hate. The sound of death.
It was an eerie harrowing wailing that bounced off the walls, faint, yet coming closer. It penetrated fear into my heart and my blood turned to ice.
“Marian? I think we should go.” I said over my shoulder. I could hear it coming closer. And closer. And closer.
It was just a heartbeat away and I could almost reach out and touch it, and yet when I looked behind me… nothing.
“Marian!” I yelled, swallowing anxiously. “We really should go. Now.”
I heard a distant rustling and a muffled squeal. I bit my lip. She'd chickened out. And left me on my own with this creature.
I could feel its presence an inch away from my face, a harsh biting wind slapping my cheeks. I tried to scream but I was frozen. I tried to relax but I was frozen. I tried to run but I was frozen.
All of a sudden there was a freezing invisible grip on my trembling hand and it was lifted up into the air. I saw the ends of my fingers turn a startling white and tendrils of ice started twisting around my arm. Steam rose from it to create a chilling cloud around my head.
Let me go!
In the back of my head there was a blood-curdling laugh. I flinched, my heart hammering in my chest, pumping loudly.
“Marian!” I screeched desperately. “Help me!”
I felt it, less than an inch away from my face. The air in front of me wavered and I felt two hands on my cheeks and icy lips pressed against mine. I felt my own hands grow cold and my body started to shake uncontrollably. Suddenly there was a sharp shot of pain down my throat and I felt as though my insides started to shrivel away slowly. It pulled away and the air shimmered and revealed a dark hooded figure staring at me menacingly.
“Who are you?” I breathed.
It pulled down its hood.
“Miriam!” I cried in surprise. “I thought you didn't want to come…”
She gazed at me sorrowfully.
“I'm sorry. They made me.”
“Who did?”
“The ghosts. They come at night and suck out my soul while I'm asleep until there's nothing human left. They made me bring you here. They made me do this to you.”
“Do what?” I asked, my brow furrowing.
“That.”
She pointed at me. I looked down nervously. I closed my eyes. And snapped them open.
These creatures were ghosts. And so was I.
Last edited by silverlynx- (July 17, 2024 18:23:47)
- silverlynx-
-
Scratcher
100+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Critique for Krm!
To start off with, I loved reading through this. The plot was very clever and there was a really good balance of adjectives/ similes / metaphors to making the piece too dense which I really liked, because it helped with the flow.
Overall, you could have added a few more single words or really short sentences in the first two paragraphs as you said that this part was fast-paced but it felt a little bit like it was dragging. Just add something super staccato e.g Resounding footsteps. Clattering amour. Clenched fists. etc
I also think that you could put the speech on different lines as it makes the piece less dense and it makes it look neater altogether and creates that fast-paced style you were ultimately looking for. I think the sentence ‘The cool air feels like freedom on his face, rolling with
sweat - ’ sounds a little strange. I really like the first phrase, as it’s very descriptive but ‘rolling with sweat’ isn’t like anything I’ve heard before and (please don’t take this offensively, I'm just tryna be honest <3) is a little gross?
The rest of this paragraph was amazing and really well-written! This was my favourite part <3
I loved the idea of a Potion Shop, as it is a really cool scene for a story and quite an ethereal setting! However, I am a little confused by the phrase ‘every spring gust’ because I don’t really understand that, but that might just be me being dumb lol
I think for ‘Shay starts to giggle and then it turns into both Shay and Callum laughing’ you could take out the second ‘Shay’ because it makes the flow not as smooth, and replace it with a pronoun.
I don’t have any bad comments on the rest of it! I loved the creepy ending and the suspense you added!
I loved critiquing this and I think you’ve done a really good job with it! I don’t think the flow was bad at all, but you could just work on the pacing and the clarity of a few phrases a little
I loved working with this piece with all its clever descriptions and suspense making me want to read more! I look forward to seeing what other writing you create!
I hoped this critique helped and thank you for letting me critique it!
To start off with, I loved reading through this. The plot was very clever and there was a really good balance of adjectives/ similes / metaphors to making the piece too dense which I really liked, because it helped with the flow.
Overall, you could have added a few more single words or really short sentences in the first two paragraphs as you said that this part was fast-paced but it felt a little bit like it was dragging. Just add something super staccato e.g Resounding footsteps. Clattering amour. Clenched fists. etc
I also think that you could put the speech on different lines as it makes the piece less dense and it makes it look neater altogether and creates that fast-paced style you were ultimately looking for. I think the sentence ‘The cool air feels like freedom on his face, rolling with
sweat - ’ sounds a little strange. I really like the first phrase, as it’s very descriptive but ‘rolling with sweat’ isn’t like anything I’ve heard before and (please don’t take this offensively, I'm just tryna be honest <3) is a little gross?
The rest of this paragraph was amazing and really well-written! This was my favourite part <3
I loved the idea of a Potion Shop, as it is a really cool scene for a story and quite an ethereal setting! However, I am a little confused by the phrase ‘every spring gust’ because I don’t really understand that, but that might just be me being dumb lol
I think for ‘Shay starts to giggle and then it turns into both Shay and Callum laughing’ you could take out the second ‘Shay’ because it makes the flow not as smooth, and replace it with a pronoun.
I don’t have any bad comments on the rest of it! I loved the creepy ending and the suspense you added!
I loved critiquing this and I think you’ve done a really good job with it! I don’t think the flow was bad at all, but you could just work on the pacing and the clarity of a few phrases a little
I loved working with this piece with all its clever descriptions and suspense making me want to read more! I look forward to seeing what other writing you create!I hoped this critique helped and thank you for letting me critique it!
- Cobalt_Titan
-
Scratcher
23 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
LOGAN'S DAILY: 7/17/24
Elizabeth sat down in the living room of her new house with a sigh. “Can we do anything for you, honey?” her mother asked. Elizabeth glared at her. “You’re not real.” With a wave of her hand, the two projections that had pretended to be her parents faded away. She stood up, grabbing her bags and started lugging them up the stairs. She dragged them to the room at the end of the hall and threw them on the bed, too tired to do anything else with them today. “Who are you?” a voice asked from behind her. Elizabeth jumped, barely keeping herself from screaming. She slapped a hand over her heart and pointed a finger in the direction the voice had come from. “Revelare.” All of a sudden, a translucent girl with wild curly hair appeared in front of Elizabeth. Her arms were crossed and she was looking at her with an annoyed expression. “I’ll ask again, since you’re clearly a witch and that makes your identity even more intriguing. Who are you?” Elizabeth sucked in a breath, trying to collect herself. “My name is Elizabeth. And you’re a ghost.” “And you’re a witch,” the ghost observed dryly. Elizabeth sat down on the bed, tilting her head to take her in. “What’s your name?” “Alice Vaine. 1839.” “I’m sorry?” Elizabeth asked. “I d1ed in 1839. Which is why I’m dressed in these wack clothes.” Confused at the anachronism, Elizabeth looked her up and down. Her one-piece frock was torn and her sunbonnet was askew. “Ah. And you…d1ed here?” “Around this area. This particular house has been unoccupied for years. And then you came, so naturally, I decided to investigate.” She paused. “You should know all of the ghosts are in the basement. They don’t come out unless there’s a new moon, and even then, they’re always kind of confused. Victor and I are the only ones who live up here.” “Who’s Victor?” Alice pointed somewhere behind Elizabeth. The witch twisted around to see a pale — the translucence of ghostdom made him all the more paler — boy floating behind her. He raised a hand in what Elizabeth assumed was greeting. “Hi,” Elizabeth said, still rather perplexed. Victor inclined his head. “He doesn’t talk,” Alice offered. “Long story. So why are you here?” Elizabeth turned back to her. “Also a long story. If you don’t mind, I’d just like to get some rest.” Alice shrugged. “If you say so. Vic?” The two ghosts disappeared, leaving Elizabeth in the room alone.
Elizabeth sat down in the living room of her new house with a sigh. “Can we do anything for you, honey?” her mother asked. Elizabeth glared at her. “You’re not real.” With a wave of her hand, the two projections that had pretended to be her parents faded away. She stood up, grabbing her bags and started lugging them up the stairs. She dragged them to the room at the end of the hall and threw them on the bed, too tired to do anything else with them today. “Who are you?” a voice asked from behind her. Elizabeth jumped, barely keeping herself from screaming. She slapped a hand over her heart and pointed a finger in the direction the voice had come from. “Revelare.” All of a sudden, a translucent girl with wild curly hair appeared in front of Elizabeth. Her arms were crossed and she was looking at her with an annoyed expression. “I’ll ask again, since you’re clearly a witch and that makes your identity even more intriguing. Who are you?” Elizabeth sucked in a breath, trying to collect herself. “My name is Elizabeth. And you’re a ghost.” “And you’re a witch,” the ghost observed dryly. Elizabeth sat down on the bed, tilting her head to take her in. “What’s your name?” “Alice Vaine. 1839.” “I’m sorry?” Elizabeth asked. “I d1ed in 1839. Which is why I’m dressed in these wack clothes.” Confused at the anachronism, Elizabeth looked her up and down. Her one-piece frock was torn and her sunbonnet was askew. “Ah. And you…d1ed here?” “Around this area. This particular house has been unoccupied for years. And then you came, so naturally, I decided to investigate.” She paused. “You should know all of the ghosts are in the basement. They don’t come out unless there’s a new moon, and even then, they’re always kind of confused. Victor and I are the only ones who live up here.” “Who’s Victor?” Alice pointed somewhere behind Elizabeth. The witch twisted around to see a pale — the translucence of ghostdom made him all the more paler — boy floating behind her. He raised a hand in what Elizabeth assumed was greeting. “Hi,” Elizabeth said, still rather perplexed. Victor inclined his head. “He doesn’t talk,” Alice offered. “Long story. So why are you here?” Elizabeth turned back to her. “Also a long story. If you don’t mind, I’d just like to get some rest.” Alice shrugged. “If you say so. Vic?” The two ghosts disappeared, leaving Elizabeth in the room alone.
- BookHuggers2022
-
Scratcher
88 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Weekly #3
1558 words total
1558 words total
Part 1: Switching Perspectives
392 words
Kerri
“What do you want this time?”
Kerri’s brother, Matt, looked at her strangely. “Can you just help me with this writing that I have to do for ELA?”
Kerri was tired of ELA. She was planning on an English Major in college, but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend the rest of her life writing or helping other people with writing.
But she said yes anyway. It wasn’t Matt she was mad at, and he didn’t deserve to suffer for her impatience.
Matt showed her the computer. It was open to a Google Doc with the title ‘Day in the Life of a Racer.’ His teacher was obsessed with the concept of ‘Day in the Life of.’
And she was always the one who ended up writing them for Matt.
Matt
Kerri. Snappish. The two words didn’t fit together, but was the only way he could think to describe his sister right now. All week really.
He was going to switch to homeschooling his senior year so he didn’t have to deal with whatever it was she was dealing with.
He didn’t really want to bother her right now, but his ELA teacher never explained anything, so Kerri always had to do it for him. I was never a problem, simply how they dealt with it. Kerri would joke that it was her practice for being an ELA teacher someday.
“You know, if you ever become a teacher, you’re still going to have bad days.” It was a nasty, backhanded comment, but he needed her out of this funk.
Kerri
Kerri stuck her tongue out at Matt. It was childish, she knew, but she’d had a long day of not being childish, and she wanted a break. Matt wasn’t giving her a break anytime soon.
Matt ignored her. “Okay, so if I want to show that he is unhappy with racing, but too good to quit, would I phrase that vaguely, like a thought, or in dialogue, or in emotions?”
Kerri sighed. If she did become an ELA teacher, she was going to help her students in class, so they didn’t bother their older siblings at home.
“Depending on what you want your story to sound like, you could do any of them.” One of them was probably better than the others, but she didn’t care which one it was.
Part 2: Unreliable Narrators
342 words“Mr. Park.” The man looks up from the paper. “There has been a development in the case.” I’m nervous. ‘The case’ is the massacre at a restaurant. Nobody survived.
- Weak alibi
- Nervous answers
Except for maybe me. According to the judges, at least. I left the restaurant early after breaking up with my girlfriend. But nobody can prove it, because I went and sat and bench and sulked for an hour.
By then, the restaurant was already attacked. And my ex was k1lled too.
Of course, the judges say this is a perfect motive, my breaking up with her right before the massacre.
And, the gun found had my fingerprints on it.
I don’t get who wants me to go to jail. In fact, only my charm and quick thinking with alibi’s-sorry I meant memory kept me out.
“We have recovered the security tapes.” Oh no.
“Really?” I say. I might be stuttering. “Did you check for tampering?”
The judge glared at me. “Yes, actually, we did. Did you know that apparently it was never tampered with.” This is worse. I thought what I did would be enough to show on the scan. What did I do? Nothing, it was a joke.
“And do you want to know who did it?” It was a rhetorical question, and it made me nervous.
“Did you know that the restaurant owners could probably tamper with the cam and it wouldn’t be found?” It is a weak thing to say.
The judge looks at me over his glasses. It is such a villain thing to do. I bet he was the one who was at the massacre.
“Let me ask you,” I say. “Do you have an alibi for the night of the crime?” My voice is high despite the above-it-all facade that I’m going for.
“Yes I do.” The man says. “And we just found a hole in your’s.” He’s definitely the one who wants me in jail. Probably because he’s jealous. From the look on your face, I can tell you agree with me.
Part 3: Metafiction
338 words
“Welcome to the world of Fantasy!” I tell the tourists. Most of them belong somewhere else, but people like to travel here when nothing is happening. A lot of people who travel here end up staying here too, because They are only written about once.
Most of the character’s end up choosing a world to stay in, but it doesn’t always match their original genre.
This group today has a father and daughter out for some bonding time. Their name tags say Ros and Allie Lyan. Three girls who had met on this trip and became best friends quickly. I think their names are Brooke, Isla and Avery.
There is an older lady and her granddaughter-Maria and Elle. There is a Set of Characters from the same world. I don’t know their names, but they look very dreary, and are wearing grays and blacks. None of them have spoken or done anything, so my guess is they were very poorly developed.
There is a family of four, the two children looking to be about in high school. None of them are wearing their name tags, but I think the mom’s name is Alicia and the daughter’s name is Kerri.
There is a teenage couple; I think their names are Millie and Sam talking to another couple, Xan and Kay. And last and maybe least, a man who doesn’t have a first name, probably just part of a short piece. He is probably the most annoying character here.
A message pops up on my screen from ‘Author.’ Author loves what I do, because it helps keep the characters busy so they aren’t bothering Author to write about them all the time.
The message says that there are two girls waiting at Fantasy to get on the bus. A short description says that they might be lovers or enemies, depending on the time they are in. I wonder if this means they were in an enemies-to-lovers relationship or they broke up and started hating each other. There are no names.
Part 4: Self-Insertion#Bi-FiFTW
472 words
There are three girls at the stop. I wonder if Author made a miscalculation, or if one of them wasn’t planning on being here.
As soon as the bus stops, the middle girl stands up and smiles. She’s talking and gesturing to the other two, and they stand up.
The door opens, and the middle girl immediately walks on the bus. “Hello my name is Rose, but I think you know me as The Author.” Maria and Elle are sitting near the front, so they are the only ones who hear. I just gape.
“This is Liliana and Anna.” Rose says, gesturing to the girls behind her.
I don’t say anything. There is no way this girl is The Author. I’ve always imagined The Author as an old man with glasses, sitting in a study all day. Or woman, or neither. I didn’t want to make any assumptions about gender.
And now this girl walks on to my bus claiming to be The Author. I don’t know if I believe her.
She is sitting down in the seat across from Maria and Elle and she has her computer out.
“What are you doing?” I ask her.
She looks up, but her fingers are still typing furiously. “Writing out this scene. What else do you think an author does?”
I think this means she is currently dictating all of my thoughts and actions, which is more than a little creepy. “How did you get here?” I ask. Shouldn’t she be in her own world?
Rose answers me without looking up. “I wrote myself in. I created a character that is me, and added it to the story. Technically, I’m still in my own world. But I can talk to you guys through Rose.”
This girl is making my brain hurt.
Rose continues. “I created this story so I could talk to all of my other characters. You are just a random, flat character to write this from the POV of.” I should probably be hurt by this statement, but I’m not. Probably because Rose is dictating all of my feelings. That’s also why I’m not kicking her off the bus.
Trying to think has become a useless endeavor, but I still need thirty more words to finish this story. Or rather, Rose needs thirty more words.
I watch Rose for a second. She is typing slowly now, and I can feel my thoughts slowing down and stopping at points to edit previous bits.
She smiles at me. I wonder what genre you will stay in after I forget about you. Rose thinks in my head. Probably Fantasy.
The world around dissolves turning into the familiar landscape of Fantasy. At least Rose could be nice enough to put me in my favorite world. Not that I have much control over which one that is.
Last edited by BookHuggers2022 (July 17, 2024 20:20:12)
- ChueyTheCat
-
Scratcher
500+ posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
She sells seashells | 430 words
Quiet settles like mist
Swirling in from corners
Settling like dust
Can you hear the songs, my darling
She dances to a spectral tune
At night, on the shore
Feet dipping in and out of water
Dripping with a phantom choir
Bright hair flying,
Eyes laughing
Tears drying
My true love has flown away
Hearts are bound,
Two-and-two
Love lost and found
She cannot follow where he's gone
He told her he'd always find a way
No matter where he went
She laughed and told him to stay
And where, I do not know
Silver threads shine like light
Hair stops, feet still, skirts whirl.
Eyes are wide with fright.
And where, I cannot follow
Hands reach for her face
Cradling, so gently
Kissing her sweet lips
Fading with the morning
Every night she dances there
Up and down the shoreline
Waiting for her lost true love
Waiting for a silver thread
They call her strange, too bright
Her skin is luminous and clear
She sees things they cannot see
She hears things they cannot hear
She whispers to the night
She whispers to the wind
She whispers to the sea
She has found what she could not find
None who are kissed by the lost
Can unsee what is seen
Can shut their eyes on ignorance
Can go back to who they've been
She whispers to spirits that wander
She whispers to phantoms that drift
She whispers to the child in white
She whispers to the one she kissed
Mortals cannot see all her glow
Their eyes cannot perceive her light
Only other kissed can see
The Dancer, now, is wrapped with white
Up and down the shore she twists
A dance beyond all comprehension
Waiting still for silver lines
Waiting for her nightly kiss
All her kin died long ago
All her friends have followed
Up and down the shore she flows
All other loves are hollow
Some day she will cross the thread
Follow its track across the sea
Until then she dances still
Unheeding of any mortal pleas
They called her name
She would not come
They left with tears and sorrow
She will not succumb
The starlight sings a cold song
Her feet are swooping faster
Her eyes are bright with ghostly light
The time now is not long
She'll dance out into the water
Dance right past the sea
Dance into her loved one's arms
Shelter there, safe and warm
The Bright will leave her empty shores
She'll never come here after
But some still hear the phantom tune
Some still hear her laughter
Quiet settles like mist
Swirling in from corners
Settling like dust
Can you hear the songs, my darling
She dances to a spectral tune
At night, on the shore
Feet dipping in and out of water
Dripping with a phantom choir
Bright hair flying,
Eyes laughing
Tears drying
My true love has flown away
Hearts are bound,
Two-and-two
Love lost and found
She cannot follow where he's gone
He told her he'd always find a way
No matter where he went
She laughed and told him to stay
And where, I do not know
Silver threads shine like light
Hair stops, feet still, skirts whirl.
Eyes are wide with fright.
And where, I cannot follow
Hands reach for her face
Cradling, so gently
Kissing her sweet lips
Fading with the morning
Every night she dances there
Up and down the shoreline
Waiting for her lost true love
Waiting for a silver thread
They call her strange, too bright
Her skin is luminous and clear
She sees things they cannot see
She hears things they cannot hear
She whispers to the night
She whispers to the wind
She whispers to the sea
She has found what she could not find
None who are kissed by the lost
Can unsee what is seen
Can shut their eyes on ignorance
Can go back to who they've been
She whispers to spirits that wander
She whispers to phantoms that drift
She whispers to the child in white
She whispers to the one she kissed
Mortals cannot see all her glow
Their eyes cannot perceive her light
Only other kissed can see
The Dancer, now, is wrapped with white
Up and down the shore she twists
A dance beyond all comprehension
Waiting still for silver lines
Waiting for her nightly kiss
All her kin died long ago
All her friends have followed
Up and down the shore she flows
All other loves are hollow
Some day she will cross the thread
Follow its track across the sea
Until then she dances still
Unheeding of any mortal pleas
They called her name
She would not come
They left with tears and sorrow
She will not succumb
The starlight sings a cold song
Her feet are swooping faster
Her eyes are bright with ghostly light
The time now is not long
She'll dance out into the water
Dance right past the sea
Dance into her loved one's arms
Shelter there, safe and warm
The Bright will leave her empty shores
She'll never come here after
But some still hear the phantom tune
Some still hear her laughter
Last edited by ChueyTheCat (July 17, 2024 21:43:59)
- Whimsy_lux
-
Scratcher
73 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
7/17/2024 (I got a one day extension, so we’re getting this DONE!)
Week 2: Non-Point Classics
Part 1: We’ll begin your journey with a beloved SWC activity - three word stories! Once you’ve participated in a few threads, choose one to use as your inspiration for a story of 300 words
Three word story: I pray to/ the sky and/ the starless eyes/ that gaze over
Regret began to feel like a lurking presence. The adrenaline had finally worn off and instead of exhaustion, Kyle felt only guilt. Somehow, the weight felt heavier, instead of his eyelids barely able to stay apart, it was as if a string was attached to Kyle’s back and his clan, pulling tighter and tighter the further he walked. Soon enough, it would go taut, and he'd have no choice but to run back in shame. The rain poured hard against his body, causing his golden hair to sink flat to his head only made everything more miserable.
If there was one silver lining to everything, it was that the only voice rebuking him was his own. Christof was long gone and if they hadn’t gone searching for him now, they never would. Loneliness never felt like a burden to him, Kyle had found solace in being surrounded only by towering trees and woodland creatures. If only that was enough.
It must’ve been two days– maybe three– he hadn’t bothered to keep count, but the hunger clawing at his stomach only grew stronger as the minutes went on. He was too weak to hunt, all skin and bones, but even if he could, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. How would he be any better than Christof if he hungered for the blood of those weaker than him? It didn’t feel right.
And yet, every time a squirrel passed, everytime a pang of hunger struck, he felt the sigil on his shoulder grow cool. He felt the weight of the spellbook at his side. The incantations he needed to say echoed in his mind and he longed desperately to say them, to shiver at the cool blast of energy that would emerge at his fingertips. He could already see the icy blue crystals crawling up the bark and engulfing every living thing in his path. The power and strength that he’s alway yearned for coursing through him.
And then Kyle remembered the veins, pitch black and all-consuming. The crystals crawled up his arm and refused to answer to him, piercing his skin and paralyzing him in fear. He couldn’t lose control again. Even if he left his clan, Aemillios was still his god. The false sigil he tainted himself with wouldn’t steer him away from that.
Kyle whimpered in pain as his stomach turned once again. He just needed to find a town, or clan or gathering of some sort. Then he would ask for food, directions, maybe even find a place to stay. But his knees buckled and the rain only blurred his vision. Why was he even doing this? Why did he ever leave?
Kyle's knees hit the ground as his body gave out underneath him. The ground was muddied with rainwater and his own tears falling down his cheeks. He was weak, he knew that, the fact beaten into his head over and over since the day of his birth. But when he broke through the wall, he finally thought he found his own strength. Not in brawns or even brains but in magic. But magic didn’t feed him, it didn’t clothe him, it was nothing but a curse. Kyle hiccuped between his quiet sobs and found himself looking at the starless sky.
Did Aemillios, the god of strength, ever bother to look down on him? If so, was he proud of Kyle, a boy who ran away with a cursed sigil on his shoulder and not a single strong bone in his body? Whispered words slipped from his lips, a prayer he had recited every night before he had gone to bed and every morning when he woke up. He wished for strength. For freedom. For mercy. Maybe now, repentant and alone, Aemillios would finally answer him.
He didn’t know what he was expecting but nothing happened. The rain didn’t stop, a feast didn’t appear in front of him, a divine hand didn’t stretch down from the heavens and carry him to safety, but Kyle found himself smiling anyway. It was a bitter self-mocking smile, but still one nonetheless and with difficulty he picked himself up, wiped the tears from his eyes and kept walking forward. If he wanted Aemillios to smile upon him, showing weakness was the last thing he should be doing. He would find a home. With all the regrets he had, leaving his clan wouldn’t be one of them.
The thicket grew even denser as he headed forward and he chose to answer the false sigil’s calling. If he didn’t he’d be stuck, cold and alone and weak. With chanted words, crystals flew from his hands, slicing the dense branches and clearing a path between the trees. Kyle made sure to keep himself in check, to only take hold of a fraction of the energy flowing around him, and the crystals never rebelled against him. Darkness never took hold of his blood. Even if the sigil was false, he’d never let it corrupt him, maybe that was strength in itself. Perhaps that was how he’d honor his god.
With a final burst of magic, the forest cleared and a bustling little village came into view. Only then did he realize the rain had stopped. A smile pulled at his lips again, but this time all Kyle felt was joy. Victory. He looked back up at the clouds, now a single shining star lighting up the dark sky. A silent thanks fell from his lips and in a sudden burst of strength he raced towards the town.
Kyle was finally free.
Part 2: Welcome to the second part of this weekly, where we will be visiting another classic daily - the bestselling bookstore! Take a story of your own, anything you are planning to write, have already written, or a piece you're really proud of, and send a short 50 word blurb of that story in this studio. Then, find someone else's blurb and claim it, using it to make a story of your own with 250 words.
My Blurb:
Madison Cambelle has always loved video games to the point of near obsession. There's only so much a homeschooled middle-schooler can do when her single mom never lets her go outside. Until one day she does, and just Madison’s luck, she meets some really edgy stranger who traps her in a simulation she can’t escape from. The good news? They're just like her favorite video games! The bad news? Being trapped in a video game isn’t half as fun as it seems, and with each game, more and more of her past begins to fade away. Will Madison ever be able to escape? Or better yet, does she even want to?
@Ap0l0’s Blurb: 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.
TP-ing a house is one of the oldest pranks in the book, Hannah would be the first to admit its lack of originality, but there’s only so many new ideas she could come up with after being dead for three years. It didn’t help that being a ghost wasn’t nearly as cool as it should be. Sure she could interact with the physical world somewhat, like raiding the nearest Walmart for all their tissue paper, but she can’t possess people, or talk to them, or do any more than raise the hair on their arms and give them goosebumps. Being a ghost really needed to get an update one of these days.
It still has its perks though. Now when she goes to school, Hannah would choose one of her least favorite classes to haunt, and surprisingly, some of the teachers have become nicer in fear of the chalkboard being written on itself or their desks starting to levitate on their own. Not only that but she gets the hottest gossip. For example, apparently snooty Frannie McHale was planning on pranking her little sister– Well older now, ghosts can’t really age– and only Hannah’s allowed to bully her family! So here she was.
The last ribbon of toilet paper flew across the house’s roof and Hannah lowered herself to the ground and leaned back to admire her work. She still had a few other pranks up her sleeve, but this would be good enough to wake up to this morning. Suddenly, she noticed a boy at her side, also looking at the house with a grin. Hannah didn’t think much of it. It was nice that someone else appreciates a good prank! At least that’s what she taught until he turned to her with a wink and said, “That’s pretty solid you did there! I wish I could stay to see her reaction,”
“What. The. @#!$@%!”
“Hey, hey! Mind your language, there are kids in this neighborhood!” He chuckled. Did Hannah say that out loud? No, hold on, better question. Who the heck is this guy!
Part 3: Now before we continue, set aside your device for 15-30 minutes and take a short screen break until you're ready to come back. Now for this part of the weekly, you’ll be writing an 150 word ekphrastic poem on something that you saw or did. It’s a poem vividly describing a scene or a work or art – basically deep imagery in poem form!
Fingers gliding across the keys
A colorful melody from something
black and white
Mistakes come and go
Timings may be off
And yet music is still sung
And laughter fills the room
From beside me is strumming
Softly dancing hands pulling notes
From the tightly held strings
His hands are calloused
His voice is counting down
The first note is a bust
But it's all still music
Nonetheless
At my other side
Is a voice
Young but singing proud
Out of tune but still high
Reluctant at first but still needed
And though she rarely joins
Despite her affinity to quit
Every tune she sings is a pleasure
Every word that rings is music.
Together we are something
Not quite a band and
Not quite and orchestra
Perhaps family is the proper word
Yes family sounds right
And though it isn’t perfect
Though we play to different beats
Apart we’re just sound.
Together we are music
Part 4: For the fourth part of this weekly, take any 50-100 word piece of writing you wrote for this weekly and put it through Google Translate as many times as you like, until you get something completely wild and wacky! Then, write a 400 word story based on your translated piece!
Original piece: Did Aemillios, the god of strength, ever bother to look down on him? If so, was he proud of Kyle, a boy who ran away with a cursed sigil on his shoulder and not a single strong bone in his body? Whispered words slipped from his lips, a prayer he had recited every night before he had gone to bed and every morning when he woke up. He wished for strength. For freedom. For mercy. Maybe now, repentant and alone, Aemillios would finally answer him.
Translated: Did Emilius mock the great God? What's up, Kyle, a man with a strong body and shoulders, not thick? A word whispered on his lips and he prayed before sleeping at night and waking up in the morning. You need energy. let me be free, “I will be loved, maybe now I will regret being alone,” said Emilia.
Maybe I’d regret being alone? Who am I kidding, I do. Every second of every day I wonder what it would’ve been like if I didn’t mock the god I was patron to. I knew he wasn’t merciful, with strength comes apathy, and yet I still dishonored him. And only I’m to blame for my curse, and the loneliness that it brings me.
Now, I’m no longer Emilia, and I know that, despite my words saying otherwise, “It’s still me,” I lied to the man in front of me, his hands tied so he wouldn’t be able to leave me again, “I’m still your Emilia. Your love. Your Everything.”
But with each soft word that left my lips, Kyle struggled against his bindings, crying out for help until his voice went hoarse. He couldn’t break them though, despite his strong build, my new form was stronger. I wouldn’t let him escape my embrace, even if my talons clawed at his skin until it drew blood. Even if he ripped off my feathers and scales, the pain was better than feeling alone. Even if the both of us prayed at dawn and dusk, me for salvation and him for freedom. If I let him leave, I’d be alone once more. And seeing his face was all the love I needed.
“YOU AREN’T HER! GET AWAY FROM ME!” He screamed, and the anguish in his voice hurt me. I tried to be nice, I really did, but didn’t Kyle know I was suffering more? He could live, he could see his friends, they wouldn’t shun him. I would be outcasted with torches and pitchforks. If he didn’t see that, he didn’t deserve my kindness anymore, and yet, I still gave it to him.
“Please, stop fighting this Kyle, you need to conserve your energy, I haven’t been able to find food in a while. I love you. I only want to be with you again.” I grunted, my voice no longer high and melodic but harsh, despite my good intentions. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t believe me. At first I thought true love was all I needed for him to see me as his fiancé again but perhaps better proof was needed.
I rushed to the corner of the cave we were in and began to dig for our engagement ring as he yelled for me to release him. Finally, I found it, and as a strange somberness struck her. The ring didn’t fit anymore, but it would have to do.
I walked back to him, slowly so as to show no harm, but he didn’t relax. In fact he tensed up as I gently cupped his cheek in my claws, and used my other to show him the ring. “See my love. I am Emilia, I truly am. I wouldn’t lie to you, so please stop fighting.” I thought he would finally see me. I thought he would smile and melt into my touch. Instead he pulled back disgusted.
“You stopped being Emilia the day you trapped me here! You dug your own grave the day you became this abomination, and it's hilarious you think I could ever love something like you!”
The words burned and consumed me like a raging fire. Suddenly all my kindness left my body. He didn’t deserve it, I wouldn’t give it to him. Kyle will love me. I won’t let him leave. I won’t be alone ever again. Even if that meant I had to hurt him.
Week 2: Non-Point Classics
Part 1: We’ll begin your journey with a beloved SWC activity - three word stories! Once you’ve participated in a few threads, choose one to use as your inspiration for a story of 300 words
Three word story: I pray to/ the sky and/ the starless eyes/ that gaze over
Regret began to feel like a lurking presence. The adrenaline had finally worn off and instead of exhaustion, Kyle felt only guilt. Somehow, the weight felt heavier, instead of his eyelids barely able to stay apart, it was as if a string was attached to Kyle’s back and his clan, pulling tighter and tighter the further he walked. Soon enough, it would go taut, and he'd have no choice but to run back in shame. The rain poured hard against his body, causing his golden hair to sink flat to his head only made everything more miserable.
If there was one silver lining to everything, it was that the only voice rebuking him was his own. Christof was long gone and if they hadn’t gone searching for him now, they never would. Loneliness never felt like a burden to him, Kyle had found solace in being surrounded only by towering trees and woodland creatures. If only that was enough.
It must’ve been two days– maybe three– he hadn’t bothered to keep count, but the hunger clawing at his stomach only grew stronger as the minutes went on. He was too weak to hunt, all skin and bones, but even if he could, he wasn’t sure he wanted to. How would he be any better than Christof if he hungered for the blood of those weaker than him? It didn’t feel right.
And yet, every time a squirrel passed, everytime a pang of hunger struck, he felt the sigil on his shoulder grow cool. He felt the weight of the spellbook at his side. The incantations he needed to say echoed in his mind and he longed desperately to say them, to shiver at the cool blast of energy that would emerge at his fingertips. He could already see the icy blue crystals crawling up the bark and engulfing every living thing in his path. The power and strength that he’s alway yearned for coursing through him.
And then Kyle remembered the veins, pitch black and all-consuming. The crystals crawled up his arm and refused to answer to him, piercing his skin and paralyzing him in fear. He couldn’t lose control again. Even if he left his clan, Aemillios was still his god. The false sigil he tainted himself with wouldn’t steer him away from that.
Kyle whimpered in pain as his stomach turned once again. He just needed to find a town, or clan or gathering of some sort. Then he would ask for food, directions, maybe even find a place to stay. But his knees buckled and the rain only blurred his vision. Why was he even doing this? Why did he ever leave?
Kyle's knees hit the ground as his body gave out underneath him. The ground was muddied with rainwater and his own tears falling down his cheeks. He was weak, he knew that, the fact beaten into his head over and over since the day of his birth. But when he broke through the wall, he finally thought he found his own strength. Not in brawns or even brains but in magic. But magic didn’t feed him, it didn’t clothe him, it was nothing but a curse. Kyle hiccuped between his quiet sobs and found himself looking at the starless sky.
Did Aemillios, the god of strength, ever bother to look down on him? If so, was he proud of Kyle, a boy who ran away with a cursed sigil on his shoulder and not a single strong bone in his body? Whispered words slipped from his lips, a prayer he had recited every night before he had gone to bed and every morning when he woke up. He wished for strength. For freedom. For mercy. Maybe now, repentant and alone, Aemillios would finally answer him.
He didn’t know what he was expecting but nothing happened. The rain didn’t stop, a feast didn’t appear in front of him, a divine hand didn’t stretch down from the heavens and carry him to safety, but Kyle found himself smiling anyway. It was a bitter self-mocking smile, but still one nonetheless and with difficulty he picked himself up, wiped the tears from his eyes and kept walking forward. If he wanted Aemillios to smile upon him, showing weakness was the last thing he should be doing. He would find a home. With all the regrets he had, leaving his clan wouldn’t be one of them.
The thicket grew even denser as he headed forward and he chose to answer the false sigil’s calling. If he didn’t he’d be stuck, cold and alone and weak. With chanted words, crystals flew from his hands, slicing the dense branches and clearing a path between the trees. Kyle made sure to keep himself in check, to only take hold of a fraction of the energy flowing around him, and the crystals never rebelled against him. Darkness never took hold of his blood. Even if the sigil was false, he’d never let it corrupt him, maybe that was strength in itself. Perhaps that was how he’d honor his god.
With a final burst of magic, the forest cleared and a bustling little village came into view. Only then did he realize the rain had stopped. A smile pulled at his lips again, but this time all Kyle felt was joy. Victory. He looked back up at the clouds, now a single shining star lighting up the dark sky. A silent thanks fell from his lips and in a sudden burst of strength he raced towards the town.
Kyle was finally free.
Part 2: Welcome to the second part of this weekly, where we will be visiting another classic daily - the bestselling bookstore! Take a story of your own, anything you are planning to write, have already written, or a piece you're really proud of, and send a short 50 word blurb of that story in this studio. Then, find someone else's blurb and claim it, using it to make a story of your own with 250 words.
My Blurb:
Madison Cambelle has always loved video games to the point of near obsession. There's only so much a homeschooled middle-schooler can do when her single mom never lets her go outside. Until one day she does, and just Madison’s luck, she meets some really edgy stranger who traps her in a simulation she can’t escape from. The good news? They're just like her favorite video games! The bad news? Being trapped in a video game isn’t half as fun as it seems, and with each game, more and more of her past begins to fade away. Will Madison ever be able to escape? Or better yet, does she even want to?
@Ap0l0’s Blurb: 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.
TP-ing a house is one of the oldest pranks in the book, Hannah would be the first to admit its lack of originality, but there’s only so many new ideas she could come up with after being dead for three years. It didn’t help that being a ghost wasn’t nearly as cool as it should be. Sure she could interact with the physical world somewhat, like raiding the nearest Walmart for all their tissue paper, but she can’t possess people, or talk to them, or do any more than raise the hair on their arms and give them goosebumps. Being a ghost really needed to get an update one of these days.
It still has its perks though. Now when she goes to school, Hannah would choose one of her least favorite classes to haunt, and surprisingly, some of the teachers have become nicer in fear of the chalkboard being written on itself or their desks starting to levitate on their own. Not only that but she gets the hottest gossip. For example, apparently snooty Frannie McHale was planning on pranking her little sister– Well older now, ghosts can’t really age– and only Hannah’s allowed to bully her family! So here she was.
The last ribbon of toilet paper flew across the house’s roof and Hannah lowered herself to the ground and leaned back to admire her work. She still had a few other pranks up her sleeve, but this would be good enough to wake up to this morning. Suddenly, she noticed a boy at her side, also looking at the house with a grin. Hannah didn’t think much of it. It was nice that someone else appreciates a good prank! At least that’s what she taught until he turned to her with a wink and said, “That’s pretty solid you did there! I wish I could stay to see her reaction,”
“What. The. @#!$@%!”
“Hey, hey! Mind your language, there are kids in this neighborhood!” He chuckled. Did Hannah say that out loud? No, hold on, better question. Who the heck is this guy!
Part 3: Now before we continue, set aside your device for 15-30 minutes and take a short screen break until you're ready to come back. Now for this part of the weekly, you’ll be writing an 150 word ekphrastic poem on something that you saw or did. It’s a poem vividly describing a scene or a work or art – basically deep imagery in poem form!
Fingers gliding across the keys
A colorful melody from something
black and white
Mistakes come and go
Timings may be off
And yet music is still sung
And laughter fills the room
From beside me is strumming
Softly dancing hands pulling notes
From the tightly held strings
His hands are calloused
His voice is counting down
The first note is a bust
But it's all still music
Nonetheless
At my other side
Is a voice
Young but singing proud
Out of tune but still high
Reluctant at first but still needed
And though she rarely joins
Despite her affinity to quit
Every tune she sings is a pleasure
Every word that rings is music.
Together we are something
Not quite a band and
Not quite and orchestra
Perhaps family is the proper word
Yes family sounds right
And though it isn’t perfect
Though we play to different beats
Apart we’re just sound.
Together we are music
Part 4: For the fourth part of this weekly, take any 50-100 word piece of writing you wrote for this weekly and put it through Google Translate as many times as you like, until you get something completely wild and wacky! Then, write a 400 word story based on your translated piece!
Original piece: Did Aemillios, the god of strength, ever bother to look down on him? If so, was he proud of Kyle, a boy who ran away with a cursed sigil on his shoulder and not a single strong bone in his body? Whispered words slipped from his lips, a prayer he had recited every night before he had gone to bed and every morning when he woke up. He wished for strength. For freedom. For mercy. Maybe now, repentant and alone, Aemillios would finally answer him.
Translated: Did Emilius mock the great God? What's up, Kyle, a man with a strong body and shoulders, not thick? A word whispered on his lips and he prayed before sleeping at night and waking up in the morning. You need energy. let me be free, “I will be loved, maybe now I will regret being alone,” said Emilia.
Maybe I’d regret being alone? Who am I kidding, I do. Every second of every day I wonder what it would’ve been like if I didn’t mock the god I was patron to. I knew he wasn’t merciful, with strength comes apathy, and yet I still dishonored him. And only I’m to blame for my curse, and the loneliness that it brings me.
Now, I’m no longer Emilia, and I know that, despite my words saying otherwise, “It’s still me,” I lied to the man in front of me, his hands tied so he wouldn’t be able to leave me again, “I’m still your Emilia. Your love. Your Everything.”
But with each soft word that left my lips, Kyle struggled against his bindings, crying out for help until his voice went hoarse. He couldn’t break them though, despite his strong build, my new form was stronger. I wouldn’t let him escape my embrace, even if my talons clawed at his skin until it drew blood. Even if he ripped off my feathers and scales, the pain was better than feeling alone. Even if the both of us prayed at dawn and dusk, me for salvation and him for freedom. If I let him leave, I’d be alone once more. And seeing his face was all the love I needed.
“YOU AREN’T HER! GET AWAY FROM ME!” He screamed, and the anguish in his voice hurt me. I tried to be nice, I really did, but didn’t Kyle know I was suffering more? He could live, he could see his friends, they wouldn’t shun him. I would be outcasted with torches and pitchforks. If he didn’t see that, he didn’t deserve my kindness anymore, and yet, I still gave it to him.
“Please, stop fighting this Kyle, you need to conserve your energy, I haven’t been able to find food in a while. I love you. I only want to be with you again.” I grunted, my voice no longer high and melodic but harsh, despite my good intentions. Perhaps that’s why he didn’t believe me. At first I thought true love was all I needed for him to see me as his fiancé again but perhaps better proof was needed.
I rushed to the corner of the cave we were in and began to dig for our engagement ring as he yelled for me to release him. Finally, I found it, and as a strange somberness struck her. The ring didn’t fit anymore, but it would have to do.
I walked back to him, slowly so as to show no harm, but he didn’t relax. In fact he tensed up as I gently cupped his cheek in my claws, and used my other to show him the ring. “See my love. I am Emilia, I truly am. I wouldn’t lie to you, so please stop fighting.” I thought he would finally see me. I thought he would smile and melt into my touch. Instead he pulled back disgusted.
“You stopped being Emilia the day you trapped me here! You dug your own grave the day you became this abomination, and it's hilarious you think I could ever love something like you!”
The words burned and consumed me like a raging fire. Suddenly all my kindness left my body. He didn’t deserve it, I wouldn’t give it to him. Kyle will love me. I won’t let him leave. I won’t be alone ever again. Even if that meant I had to hurt him.
- Whimsy_lux
-
Scratcher
73 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
Visiting my best friend's grave one last time before I moved away was on my bucket list. Actually talking to his ghost– better yet– having to console him about me leaving definitely wasn’t.
“You can’t be leaving! I can’t move away with you! Who am I going to talk to even knowing you can’t hear me, if you aren’t here? Scratch that, we can actually talk now, how are we supposed to catch up?” He whined, trying and failing to shake my shoulders like he always used to before when he was exasperated, excited or both. Instead his hands just phased in and out of my shoulders which went on the list of “Top 5 weirdest sensations” Only topped by that thing where you feel like your bed is rocking just before you go to bed.
“C-Can you stop doing that Luke? This feels way too weird. Just explain what the heck is happening, is this some sort of survivor’s guilt hallucination? Am I dying?” I say, backing up, and he snaps out of his whining fit, then he looks at his hands and his face falls. Way to make me feel immediately guilty maybe-real-maybe-visual-hallucination-Luke!
“Sorry, I um, seeing you see me got me all excited, I forgot I can’t… well.” He looked away. “As for what’s happening, I don’t really know. I just followed you to my grave and listened to you saying you were leaving and suddenly you saw me watching you and then this happened and–”
I reached out to his shoulder, only for my hand to go through it and straight down to where his heart once was. He let out a sound like he could feel it and I immediately pulled away, but still said, “Hey, calm down it's okay. We’re both clueless, as per usual, uh does that mean you’ve been haunting me ever since you died?” The thought was equal parts creepy and heartwarming, but the scales could tip depending on his answer.
“Will you be mad at me if I said yes?” He says reluctantly, an awkward smile on his face.
“I don’t know how I’ll feel about anything if that helps.”
“Then yes. I’ve totally been haunting you,”
“You can’t be leaving! I can’t move away with you! Who am I going to talk to even knowing you can’t hear me, if you aren’t here? Scratch that, we can actually talk now, how are we supposed to catch up?” He whined, trying and failing to shake my shoulders like he always used to before when he was exasperated, excited or both. Instead his hands just phased in and out of my shoulders which went on the list of “Top 5 weirdest sensations” Only topped by that thing where you feel like your bed is rocking just before you go to bed.
“C-Can you stop doing that Luke? This feels way too weird. Just explain what the heck is happening, is this some sort of survivor’s guilt hallucination? Am I dying?” I say, backing up, and he snaps out of his whining fit, then he looks at his hands and his face falls. Way to make me feel immediately guilty maybe-real-maybe-visual-hallucination-Luke!
“Sorry, I um, seeing you see me got me all excited, I forgot I can’t… well.” He looked away. “As for what’s happening, I don’t really know. I just followed you to my grave and listened to you saying you were leaving and suddenly you saw me watching you and then this happened and–”
I reached out to his shoulder, only for my hand to go through it and straight down to where his heart once was. He let out a sound like he could feel it and I immediately pulled away, but still said, “Hey, calm down it's okay. We’re both clueless, as per usual, uh does that mean you’ve been haunting me ever since you died?” The thought was equal parts creepy and heartwarming, but the scales could tip depending on his answer.
“Will you be mad at me if I said yes?” He says reluctantly, an awkward smile on his face.
“I don’t know how I’ll feel about anything if that helps.”
“Then yes. I’ve totally been haunting you,”
- Thecatperson19
-
Scratcher
63 posts
swc megathread ⌘ july '24
July 17 Daily ✧
The sound of her colored pencil faithfully scratching away at the page filled the small room. Clarabell stuck her tongue out as she carefully colored in the butterfly’s detailed wings, making sure the pencil’s lead never slipped out of the delicate lines
“Hello.” came a voice from behind her.
“Sir!” she said, startled. She scrambled up to her feet, dropping her colored pencils, and spun around, snapping into a stiff stance.
A strange man stood by the door of her cell. She hadn’t heard him enter, and the door was closed. Still, she kept her mouth shut until he addressed her again. Maybe he was a new specialist or guard who wanted to personally introduce himself.
His tired eyes glinted with a flash of amusement.
“You can relax, Clarabell,” he said, crossing his arms.
Why didn’t he call me- The thought was broken when his movement caught her attention and she registered what he was wearing. What?
The man was wearing the exact same clothes as her, no different than any of the others she knew. But she didn’t know him.
“It’s okay, Clarabell,” he said, holding up his hands as her eyes went wide. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Who, who are you?” she stuttered. “Are you a new inmate?”
His eyes went soft. “No, Clarabell, I’m not new.”
“I don’t know you.”
“I didn’t expect you to,” he said sadly.
“Well,” she started, trying to offer him some consolation. “Maybe I just forgot you.”
“Clarabell,” he said, reaching out a hand then dropping it. “People aren’t supposed to forget. Not like this.”
“Are you, are you sure you’ve been here long?” She wrung her hands. “We’re supposed to forget, r-remember?”
“No!” he shouted, startling her. “No, please, just listen-”
The cell door slid open, interrupting him.
“Inmate 113.” The warden stepped into her cell. “Are you alright?”
She sighed with relief as she saw his familiar face. Maybe he could help clear things up.
“Sir, I was just speaking to this man here who claims to be an inmate, but I don’t know him.”
Clarabell pointed at the stranger, who simply stood there, expression darkening.
The warden looked confused. “What man, Inmate Clarabell?”
What?
“He’s, he’s right there.” She made eye contact with him, but he offered no response.
“Inmate Clarabell,” the warden said, gently taking her elbow and leading her back to her discarded coloring book. “There is no man here. It is just you and I, and previously,” He placed a colored pencil in her hand. “just you.”
“But Warden, I-I thought I s-saw … him.”
She sat down, dumbfounded and confused.
“There there, Inmate Clarabell.” The warden crouched down and patted her back. “Just keep on coloring. He was never here, your mind was simply playing tricks on you. It will go away soon if you ignore it.”
“Clarabell, don’t ignore me,” the man suddenly said sharply.
She swallowed and started to color, nervous under the warden’s watchful gaze.
“Clarabell.” He was stern now. “Clarabell!”
She bit her lip and tried to focus on coloring in the butterfly’s wing gently. She needed to keep between the gossamer lines.
“Listen to me!” Angry. Pleading.
The warden patted her back again. “It will all go away soon.”
“Gosh, gummit, Clarabell!” She closed her eyes and winced. “Can’t you see what they’re doing to you?”
“Thank you, Warden,” she said softly. “I must have imagined him.”
The warden stood and left her cell.
The man sighed forlornly. “You’re going to end up just like me.”
588 words
The sound of her colored pencil faithfully scratching away at the page filled the small room. Clarabell stuck her tongue out as she carefully colored in the butterfly’s detailed wings, making sure the pencil’s lead never slipped out of the delicate lines
“Hello.” came a voice from behind her.
“Sir!” she said, startled. She scrambled up to her feet, dropping her colored pencils, and spun around, snapping into a stiff stance.
A strange man stood by the door of her cell. She hadn’t heard him enter, and the door was closed. Still, she kept her mouth shut until he addressed her again. Maybe he was a new specialist or guard who wanted to personally introduce himself.
His tired eyes glinted with a flash of amusement.
“You can relax, Clarabell,” he said, crossing his arms.
Why didn’t he call me- The thought was broken when his movement caught her attention and she registered what he was wearing. What?
The man was wearing the exact same clothes as her, no different than any of the others she knew. But she didn’t know him.
“It’s okay, Clarabell,” he said, holding up his hands as her eyes went wide. “I just wanted to talk to you.”
“Who, who are you?” she stuttered. “Are you a new inmate?”
His eyes went soft. “No, Clarabell, I’m not new.”
“I don’t know you.”
“I didn’t expect you to,” he said sadly.
“Well,” she started, trying to offer him some consolation. “Maybe I just forgot you.”
“Clarabell,” he said, reaching out a hand then dropping it. “People aren’t supposed to forget. Not like this.”
“Are you, are you sure you’ve been here long?” She wrung her hands. “We’re supposed to forget, r-remember?”
“No!” he shouted, startling her. “No, please, just listen-”
The cell door slid open, interrupting him.
“Inmate 113.” The warden stepped into her cell. “Are you alright?”
She sighed with relief as she saw his familiar face. Maybe he could help clear things up.
“Sir, I was just speaking to this man here who claims to be an inmate, but I don’t know him.”
Clarabell pointed at the stranger, who simply stood there, expression darkening.
The warden looked confused. “What man, Inmate Clarabell?”
What?
“He’s, he’s right there.” She made eye contact with him, but he offered no response.
“Inmate Clarabell,” the warden said, gently taking her elbow and leading her back to her discarded coloring book. “There is no man here. It is just you and I, and previously,” He placed a colored pencil in her hand. “just you.”
“But Warden, I-I thought I s-saw … him.”
She sat down, dumbfounded and confused.
“There there, Inmate Clarabell.” The warden crouched down and patted her back. “Just keep on coloring. He was never here, your mind was simply playing tricks on you. It will go away soon if you ignore it.”
“Clarabell, don’t ignore me,” the man suddenly said sharply.
She swallowed and started to color, nervous under the warden’s watchful gaze.
“Clarabell.” He was stern now. “Clarabell!”
She bit her lip and tried to focus on coloring in the butterfly’s wing gently. She needed to keep between the gossamer lines.
“Listen to me!” Angry. Pleading.
The warden patted her back again. “It will all go away soon.”
“Gosh, gummit, Clarabell!” She closed her eyes and winced. “Can’t you see what they’re doing to you?”
“Thank you, Warden,” she said softly. “I must have imagined him.”
The warden stood and left her cell.
The man sighed forlornly. “You’re going to end up just like me.”
588 words
Last edited by Thecatperson19 (July 17, 2024 22:47:49)