Dear Luna,
It’s November 1st (technically November 2nd in UTC), and let’s just say, the last time I wrote a letter like this to future me, nothing I expected actually happened. Now I’m scared for my future. However, the last time I wrote a letter like this to you, even though what was expected didn’t happen, my life took a delightful turn. So I suppose I’m also excited?
Today was a nice day; I went to my weekly Friday class, and I did very well with Veryan!! Actually we worked very well together, and today was the first day off of the lead. We went down to the canal with J and S, but my other lesson was canceled, yet again. I’m really tired now, writing this.
I have some nice expectations for this November, but only you will know if those expectations were met. I want to reach my 45,000 word goal, work on my book finally, and all at the same time get good grades haha. By the way, future me, if you see this, please study hard!! I hope you do very well on all of your exams, and that you finally pick up a good study habit and time management. Most importantly, I wish you good health, lots of happiness, love, and good times.
Future me, if you ever see this, I’d like you to stop and answer these few questions.
Have you made any new friends? Making new, kinder friends has been on my mind lately.
How are you doing? How is your family and all of your friends? I hope you’re all okay, healthy, and happy.
How’s T? Lately I’ve been really worried about her and her mental health.
ARE YOUR GRADES OKAY?
Are R’s grades okay?
Are the girls, Ama, and Mot okay? They’re also very high on the list of concerns for the future. I hope all of them and all of you are safe and healthy.
What’s going on with politics and everything?
Anyways, I hope you continue to have good days like this in the future. I’m really excited to know which classes you’ll take in the next semesters, and whether or not you’ll find good art classes. Have a nice day, Luna, and thank you for taking this time to read this letter from your younger self.
Love, Luna, Nov 1/2 <3

“we are only as strong as we are united, as weak as we are divided” - @snowyfawnn’s profile

How ambitious. How naive.
A weak friendship was built off of an impossible goal and in the end came to empty promises anyway.
We were never a team. We were just a bunch of broken kids who wanted to save the world. How could we, anyway? We were outnumbered. It was the six of us against the entirety of the law.
What a shame. We’re still the same broken people we were at the beginning, but further cracked.
We’re only as strong as we are united.
Ha. We never were united. We knew we were always on different sides of the battle. None of us saw eye to eye.
I feel like an idiot.
The rain decides to match my feelings.
Rain soaks my gray sweater, and wettens my hair. It streaks down my face, like tears, crying for me. It’s heavy, the droplets pelleting the bridge I stand on. I’m a miserable, umbrella-less mess.
My hands grip the railing, and I stare into my reflection in the river. My image is distorted by the rain drops that shatter the water’s stillness and clarity, but I can see my hair is a tangled catastrophe, my skin is pale, and I have an aura that broadcasts the message that I’m sleep-deprived. I sigh.
I walk down the wooden bridge, reaching the stone path heading towards the exit of this lonely park.
The life outside of the park is no less bleak. The clouds seem to turn the world gray. This town is usually busy, but no one has the means to go out in this weather. Only a few poor people hustle down the sidewalk, hurrying to the safety of their cars or the shops across the street.
I don’t have a place to go anyways. I make my way across the road instead, reaching the bookstore, usually ignored by townsfolk. However, today is bad weather, so there are a few people browsing the bookshelves when I enter the shop.
I have my hands in the pockets of my jeans, my eyes scanning the store for anything interesting.
I lock gazes with a pair of familiar green eyes. Ugh. I turn to leave.
“Auri, wait, please!” The boy bounds up to me, grabbing my arm and forcing me to face him.
I yank my arm out of his grasp. “Gabriel, I don’t have time for this,” I tell him, quickly exiting the shop and closing the glass door on him. I can see the hurt and confusion in his eyes through the door. He wants answers. They all do.
But I’m selfish.
I don’t need another reminder of how I was always the problem.

443 words

I should’ve seen the signs from the beginning.
He knows my mother, and I know she loves flowers. And he knows too. So he decided to use my love for her against me.
My mother gave me a large book on flowers when I was in primary school. I loved that book to death—I studied every little word.
That book gave a detailed description on hundreds of flowers, including what they meant back in the Victorian Era.
He had a copy of it as well.
The first warning came with a single flower on my doorstep. One that made my blood run cold. A rhododendron, signifying danger. I didn’t know who it was from. There was nothing else on the doorstep besides the flower. I didn't know what it was warning me about. I couldn’t figure out if someone thought it was pretty and left it there, or if someone was trying to tell me something. Someone who knew me.
I was extra cautious that first week. After all, a rhododendron signifies danger. I dropped my guard after about two weeks. Silly mistake.
The second warning came with another flower, this time in my mailbox. Someone was trying to send me a message, I was sure of it. A trefoil layed on top of my mail that day.
Revenge. Revenge for what? I tore that flower to pieces, because I had to be honest, it was scaring me at that point.
I was starting to figure it out, however. This was connected to my mother. I hadn’t seen her in six years. She wasn’t a big part of my life anymore, and everyone knew it. She had left for the States a long time ago. So why was this all tracing back to her?
These flowers…
Danger, revenge. I couldn’t piece it together. How did it involve me?
Japanese Kerria. That was my final warning. It arrived on my desk, sitting peacefully in my room. However, my blood had run cold. Someone got into my house. How?
A japanese kerria means thoughtlessness.
Thoughtlessness? I hadn’t a clue what I was being warned of. But it came to me in a dream.
These warning flowers were all because of my selfish mother. Of her past. It’s come to haunt me.
And now I’m stuck here. I’m trapped in this greenhouse, filled with all of the flowers I’ve studied in my life. I swallow.
Thoughtlessness. It applies to now. Oh how could I have been so ignorant? This greenhouse is also a clue.
All of the flowers here… they are trying to tell me something. And I don’t know what it is yet, but I have a feeling that it’s big, and it’s definitely dangerous.

453 lol

Daniela

All my life, Father has told me that he saved me from the witches. However, he also was good on informing me that I'm a witch myself. Nobody knows that I'm not actually a princess, however it's quite obvious. I don't resemble the royal family at all.
I sometimes wonder about his real daughter, the one who was taken by the witches, according to his story. It's been fourteen years since she disappeared, and five years since the family stopped looking. I know that Father would trade me for the real princess any day. But they're probably over it anyway; he and the queen have had several other children after her, I suppose to cope with the loss.
Some days, I wonder if I was ever actually saved. I wonder if I was stolen, just as the real princess was stolen right under the king's nose. I know that I arrived at the castle after the girl disappeared. When she was taken, I wasn't even born, actually.
“Oh, Daniela!” My thoughts are interrupted as the door to my chambers burst open behind me, and I'm greeted by my much more princess-y friend.
“Hello, Anne.” She shuffles in, her hands on her hips as she studies me, stretched out on my bed and my face in my pillow.
“What are you doing sulking in your room?” she asks, crossing her arms over her chest.
I laugh. “It's muddy outside—I don't want to get dirty,” I reply.
“You make a good point. But hey! I'm feeling bored. Remember you promised me we'd go to town one day.”
“Today is not the day,” I grumble, my words a muffle in the pillow. “Can we go on a warmer, less rainy day?” I roll over, now staring at the ceiling, laying on my bed like a star. “Plus, I just got this dress, and I don't want to immediately ruin it!” I scrunch the light purple fabric of my dress, sighing.
“You're right,” Anne says, tapping a gloved finger on her chin. “It does look good on you, but wouldn't it look nicer in town? My next three weeks are all busy, I can't wait that long!” She plops down on the bed, pouting.
I contemplate it. I have nothing to do all day. I don't feel like studying or learning or doing anything really. Ugh. Anne always wins these conversations.
“Fine.” I sit up, swinging my feet over the side of the bed. “You win. Let's go to town.”
“Oh, wonderful!” She calps her hands together. “We should take Ivy as well.”
“No. She's just going to ruin the experience with her pessimistic comments.”
“Dani, dear, you're just as! Anyways, there's so much to do! Which town should we visit? Ooh, I know, we should visit a fortune teller!” she squealed. I groaned, rubbing my eyes as she took my hand and dragged me out the door.



Monica

“This is YOUR fault!” I growled at Dorian.
“No, if you hadn't taken that giant bag to lug around, then maybe we would've made it on time to the bus!” he yelled back at me.
“Hey! Respect your older sister. And besides, if it wasn't for that frog of yours, maybe we would've been able to walk faster!”
“You're not my… never mind. It's both of our faults. But what are we going to do now?” His words stung, even though he hadn't completed them. I know what he was going to say.
“We can't go to our aunt's, she'll tattle on us to mom and dad,” I think out loud. “Where else could we go?” I sigh.
“Somewhere far away,” Dorian suggests. “I think I know a town. I can get us there in a flash.”



Daniela

We arrived in town, and just as we stepped off the train, we were immediately flocked by groups of people. I'm sure the rumors that spread were wild.
“Is that the princess?”
“Those are royals!”
“What are they doing in town?”
“Down with the royals!”
“Oh look, the princesses!”
Everyone knew who we were. We couldn't catch a break.
“I'm already hating this, Anne,” I complain.
“Oh hush. Dani, we only just arrived,” she replies as we walked down a narrow, cobbled street, trailed by a small army of soldiers.
“I'm hungry. Do you want to eat?”
“Sure! Great start to our trip, a brunch!” Anne is such a cheerful person. Sometimes it is infuriating.
We find ourselves seated at a small cafe. I stare out at the commoners, at how they live their daily life so freely, so blissfully. I envy them a little, I must admit. I lean on the round table, hands folded. Anne had our guards hide, to make it feel like a normal brunch as just two friends, two common people. I had changed from my rich purple gown to a violet sundress before we left, and had my hair braided down my back.
Anne pinched me as our waiter came out, a smile on her face as he approached the table. She was always like this. I rolled my eyes.
The waiter stops at our table, a look on his face like ‘I’m so done for today.'
“Hello, how may I help you?” he asks. Anne stares up at him dreamily, clearly lost in his appearance. He has light blue ice, dark hair, and a name tag on his apron, telling us his name is Mark.
“I… uh… can I order the raisin pudding?” I ask, sighing.
“Yes, me too!” Anne says cheerfully.
“Sure, that'll be—” he's cut off by a scream. I nearly jump out of my seat, seeing one of the soldiers sprawling on the ground. On top of him, a boy, with dark hair, pale skin, and dark eyes helped a girl up. She reminded me of the king. Both she and the boy had dark clothes and hats on.
Witches.


Monica

The moment we arrived, I saw the royals. One of them was staring at us. I realized why.
“Dorian,” I said, tugging on his sleeve once he helped me up. “You landed us on someone.” I rolled my eyes. My eyes trailed back to the princess, sitting at a cafe table. She wore light dress, had dark hair, nearly black eyes, and she looked incredibly similar to Dorian.
He had followed my eyes to where mine were pinned, on that princess.
“Hey… she looks like—”
I felt a pang of jealousy, and surprise, because again, I could finish his sentence in my head.
She looks like his dead sister.

1094 words urghhh

@Strawberry-Lemon “…That's what happens when you make a bargain with witches”


He stared at her, in the light of the rising sun. The girl was watching the world out the large window, her hands pressed against the glass, eyes wide in what seemed to be wonder.
“Azriel…” she began, drinking in the beauty of something as simple as the sun waking up the morning. “This is what you wake up to everyday?” Her voice was sad, full of longing. He pitied the girl, despite what she was.
“Just a glimpse of it,” the boy replied, folding his hands over his chest. Seeing her, how her eyes widen at colors painted across the sky, made him realize how much his town lacked gratefulness. After all, she's been locked up in a giant tower all sixteen years of her life.
And what had he been doing? Helping his idiot father hunt all the rest of her people down. He couldn't tell her that. Let her be free from worry, betrayal, and pain.
“Wow,” she breathed. The sun illuminated her face, lighting it up in gold, like something you'd see in a painting. He looked away. Guilt plagued him, swirling it his gut.
“Look, Celia,” he began.
“Hm?” she turned to him. He could feel the knife sitting under his coat, waiting to be used. Waiting to be used kill her, like he had originally intended. It was short. Created for the effect of a long and painful death. Purposefully designed for a witch.
That knife might have to wait forever, for he was trapped. He could not kill the witch. Not because of the goodness in his heart, but because of the deal he had struck with her. He had something he wanted from her, and he could get it if she's dead. She wanted something too, but she hadn't told him what yet. That was part of their deal.
“I…” He could end the deal right now. He could end it, kill her, and make his father proud. That was what he once wanted. He rested his hand on his coat, right on top of where the knife would be.
“Um…” He met her eyes. She knew what he was trying to say, she could read the fear and guilt in his eyes. Her eyes were no longer shining, but dark and her expression emotionless. For the first time since they made their deal, she looked… terrifying. He suddenly seemed to remember how important his father's mission was.
Celia wasn't playing around. “You think I don't see that knife of yours, hiding under your thick coat. Don't think I forgot where you came from. This deal hasn't been completed, and you can't break it anyways. After all…” He took a step back. Something great was at play here. This is why all witches should be eradicated. They should be removed from the face of the earth.
“I have something you want, and you know it. You have something I want.” Any bit of trust she gained from him was immediately shattered. She paused, studying him. She laughed lightly, any darkness disappearing from her face. She covered her mouth as she laughed. “Oh please. I won't kill you, I'm not like that. However… I don't know about you.” She shrugged. “I only did that to scare you, lighten up.” She brushed passed him, punching him lightly on the arm, in a friendly manner. He felt sort of embarrassed, the way he let himself freeze up like that, when she didn't even mean to do any harm other than strike some fear into his bones. He swore she was able to hear his heart hammering in his chest.
“I'm going outside, if you want to meet me there,” she called from the mudroom. Azriel surveyed the long dining hall, now that it was empty.
His breathing was heavy, and his fists were clenched.
He supposed, this is what happens when you make a bargain with a witch.
So she knew? She, without hesitation, made a deal with a witch hunter? It made him question what his side of the deal was. Would he be able to complete his part, too? Or would he just become indebted to her, bound to follow her the rest of his life? Would she even be able to complete her side of the deal?
To tell the truth, he didn't know if she could. Her part of the deal required a lot of magic, and he hadn't seen her perform one Wonder yet. She just told him she'll handle it.
The sunrise had turned from a pretty orange to a pastel pink by now, and he sighed, resting his hands on his hips.
He was scared. Would she really be able to do it?
He swallowed. Would she be able to bring Petra Edgans back to life?

798 words

Hi authors note—-DON’T READ PART ONE I BEG OF YOU!!! Actually, this is one of the worst weeklies I’ve done so far. I hid part one at the end because it sucks, and I’m kind of experimenting with the constant character voices. I suppose I should include more dialogue, but it’s too late and I’m too lazy to do anything lol. Happy reading!! (I would love if you didn’t read the other parts of the weekly as well lol but that’s the introvert in me speaking).

I am an anomaly. The odd one out. The imposter.
I wish magic was a common thing. However, it’s not.
I’d die for the gifts I was born with, if anyone ever found out.
This world is so gray, so bleak. I can’t believe humans live like this. In fear, in fear of everything. It’s saddening, to be truthful.
I am a witch. That’s what they call me. What a harsh word. I wish there was a kinder name for my people. We like to call ourselves enchanters. What a wonderful name, is it not?
My magic is a distraction, really. People get so caught off-guard when they see someone like me perform a wonder.
It’s not that strange. I suppose, if I was in their shoes, I’d be scared too. Imagine, living a perfectly normal life, everything you do by hand. There is no such thing as magic, where with the flick of a wrist you relocate an object.
How horrid to live this way.
It’s not that hard to learn, really. But they’re afraid. They’re afraid to become like us. You don’t have to be born with magic to learn it.
I feel so out of place in this little town. I wander the streets, and people cast glances at me; I’m not even wearing dark colors. However I should’ve worn some sort of hat to shade my eyes.
Those born with magic may have different colored eyes.
I shove my hands in my coat pockets. This place is unfamiliar. I keep my head low, to avoid running into witch-hunters. I shouldn’t be here anyway.
I’d be kicked out immediately if anyone were to see me. I should go. But I need to be normal, I need to live among people. I need to cast a very powerful spell, one to turn me into a commoner like these people. To rid me of all magic.
It’s sad. But I’m cast out from

324 words
status: lost

The man was strange. His eyes were even stranger, with all sorts of colors mixed into his iris, sort of like a rainbow. Dimitrius decided to call him a unicorn man. Shady unicorn man.
The unicorn man held out a hand, asking Dimitrius for five coins.
He was hesitant, but it was for the sake of his older sister. He could be the hero this time.
“Five coins it is, then,” he said.
He placed the coins in the unicorn man’s palm, in which the man stashed away in his secret coat pocket. It was too quick for Dimiti to figure out which one.
“Alright,” the man said. “I’ll tell you what you need to know.”
He nodded eagerly.
“You sister…” the man looked down, pursing his lips.
“Let’s just say, she wouldn’t want you looking for her.”
“What do you mean by that?” Dimitri asked.
The man leaned in close, his breath smelling like rotten fish. He tried not to gag.
“She’s been taken.”
“Well, I know that!” He exclaimed. “What do you think I’m here for?”
“Fine. I have a way to find her.”
Dimitri had the feeling that maybe this was a bad idea.
Shuffling through some papers (that Dimitri still couldn't figure out where the man go them from), the man pulled out a rusty brown envelope that contained some sort of think object inside.
“This is a map.” The man pulled out a black cube, Completely dark, there was nothing to it at all.

249 words
status: won
thank you @lilyjen for warring with me <3

It’s a game of cat and mouse, The huntress and the hunted. I am the huntress. The host is the hunted.
They won’t expect it, I know. They think I’ve been their most loyal ally, to stick to them and with them to the ends of the earth.
To be truthful, I feel kind of bad. I never meant for it to got this far. I suppose a lot can happen in three days.
I’ve already eliminated half of the hosts. Two down. But I’m sure they’ve caught on that something is happening within their group. When their teammates haven’t responded yet to them, and it’s been days.
I feel guilty to, but I can’t do anything about it. I was chosen for this role, and I don’t know what will happen if I don’t fulfill it.
Actually, I do. And it’s awful.
But I must continue with my task. I must eliminate the last two hosts, and claim my spot at the top of the pyramid.
I will control the rest of the countr
(lol timer went off there)

175 words
status: won

To travel to the past… I stand out. I’m like a goose in a field of ducks. I feel so out of place. These people talk with funny accents and words, and I’m afraid to open my mouth and give myself away.
“Come on Ayla,” I tell myself.
I remember seeing these black and white films of people in the 40s, however here everything looks so much more vivid.
I’m like in a movie myself. Everyone laughs, no one seems to be upset… however I see very much difference in the clothing, the food, and the people. There are far more polite people wandering on the streets—people who actually care how they look, unlike me, who basically went out in pajamas today. I feel silly, really. I laugh. All of these people are so classy. I’m like… like a peasant now. I must look ridiculous to these people.
I’m in a world of black and white. Literally, except with all of the colors instead of a black and white, staticy film. I’m like an imposter.
I walk down the street, looking for a clothing shop. I can‘t go around the streets of New York looking like this. People would probably think something is wrong with me/
My hair is down, which I see a large difference than the rest of the citizens. All of the women have their hair up. I look down to avoid eye contact.
These people are kind of elegant. However, I see a shortage in men in the streets. I suppose that most are out at war.

261 words
status:???

@starryy-silk: “saving people does not make you a hero”
The laughs echoed around the halls, bouncing off the walls and ringing in my ears. I was going to go insane. The girl stopped laughing, eyeing me up and down. What was that look for, I thought? She began to
40 words!

Challenge: No using the letter e

This is going to ruin you. It’s going to distort your world, and finish off by ravaging it totally. It will show up by your 23rd birthday. It always shows up, snaking through your mind and obtaining control of you. It’s your family’s jinx. You will not own your sanity soon.
You poor girl. So kind and loving. You play on your own, for no child is willing to play with a girl who has a family jinx.
You don’t know what’s coming for you—nobody told you a thing. You don’t know what I did to your family that chilly August morning, in 1896. I’m guilty, for it is not fair for you to carry this awful jinx on your back and not know that you do. I’m going to undo that horrifying, slaving jinx, but only for you. I want you to know joy, as your past family did prior to 1896. You will not go along your way without control of your mind and body.
Amara, young monarch, look up.
Look up and find a familiar man, watching you with pity.
I want to cut you from your jinx’s chains. You don’t know your family, and I want to hand you my apology for that.
You finally look up.
“Papa!” You laugh, flying into my arms. I hug you, also laughing as I spin you around.
I know it’s soon that you’ll find out I’m not actually your Papa, and that I’m not mortal.
I know it’s unfair that I’m acting as your dad.
I know I will hurt, dropping you as you will pass, as all mortals do.
Having offspring is not for an immortal, in fact, my kind is against bringing souls into this nonstop trap. So I want to hold on to you, my girl.
Until I kill your jinx, I will go on with this act. I want to hold on to it for as long as I can.
325 words

Luna: Welcome everyone to Luna's Annual Talk Show! Today, I'm bringing on a very special guest. Some of you might know him… let me give you a hint. He was the mascot of scratch writing camp in march 2024. Did anyone guess already? If not, I'll tell you. Everyone, please welcome to the stage, Mr. Gurtle the pirate. (coughs) Er, yes, he's in his pirate take over phase. Gurtle, please introduce yourself.

Gurtle: Arr. Me name's Gurtle. Fire. Arson. Writing. Chaos. Arr.

Luna: (laughs awkwardly) Erm… Gurtle… that's not in the script.

Gurtle: Me no care. Arr.

Luna: Uh– let's move onto the first question. Mr. Gurtle, what was it like being balrog-gurtle that one time? I suppose you never dropped the chaotic part of your act—

Gurtle: Me loved fire. Chaos fun. People annoying. Being large fun. Arr.

Luna: (whispers) Gurtle, follow the set script! …Anyways. Onto the next question! What's your diet! Everyone's dying to know what you like to eat. What are your favorite snacks?

Gurtle: Me love links, yummy. Links arrrre tasty. Eating links equals chaos. Me also love chaos. Arrr.

Luna: Gurtle! This is not what we rehearsed! Answer normally! We have an audience here, you have to behave! (sighs) Next question. What made you decide to eat the forums these past few months?

Gurtle: Hey! Forums are yummy. Chaos is fun. I love destruction, turmoil, and making swc-ers run around in panic for fear of having to use projects and comments to post their dailies. Arrr.

Luna: You just love chaos, don't you. You used to be such a good Gurtle Turtle…

Gurtle: Hey! That’s rude. Be nice Luna. Anyways. Me love choas, yes. Arrr. Being pirate fun. Arrr.

Luna: Gutle. I think that’s all the time we have for today. Thank you for joingin us today, I hope… not really… that you’ll join us again soon! By the way, do you think you can stop eating forums for the next month? Do whatever you want in december though.

Gurtle: Hm… I’ll consider it. Arr. Thank you for having me, dear Luna. I can’t guarantee I won’t eat the leaderboard again though. But I can make an exception for the forums. Anyways. Me is leaving, arr. Bye!
373 words

Based off of the song, Pure Imagination
“Come with me…” they whisper, reaching out of the shadows with their hands made of darkness. I'm hesitant. But I'm curious. What's beyond the world of color, and what do you see when you step into the realm of the shadows? I reach out.
“And you'll be…” It's tempting. “In a world of pure imagination!” Their voices are distorted, I fear them… but I'm also intrigued. I step forward.
My fingers lick the shadows. I feel a chill run down my spine. Nothing happens, and I stand there for a moment, confused. Then I'm pulled forward by something invisible, and I plummet into the abyss of darkness.
Thump. Thump. Thump. My heart rate slows, but I'm not dead. The beat of my heart disappears entirely; it's as if I never had a heartbeat at all. I don't know why I don't oppose it entirely.
I take a look around me, at this world. It's completely black and white. My hands are like an animation, lagging as I move them around. There's no color. Not even me, I'm colorless. Grey.
“Marcella…” my name is whispered, stretched out, distorted, like a word to play with on the tongue. Something brushes my shoulder. I spin around, wide-eyed, finding a shadow, standing tall behind me. He was in the form of a human. He took my hand gently and kissed it. But that kiss burns for reasons I don't know why. I steal my hand back, rubbing it as I observe him.
“Welcome to the playground,” he tells me, his voice echoing across this strange realm. “You can do whatever you like here.” He motioned with his hand, and with a flick of his wrist, he transformed the gray shadows into a town, just like the one I used to know. However, it was colorless, still black and white. Lonely. Empty. Lifeless. “Imagination… it's yours to play with,” he tells me. “You can do /anything/ you wish.” These words… they make me want. I want to stay here and create using the lovely colors of the darkness. I scare myself.
Because at the same time, I wish to refuse his deal, get out of here and into safety.
But these shadows, they're powerful. It's as if all of a sudden, all I want is that power. To be able to create out of purely nothing.
It's purely… imagination. Right?
My hand still burns. I can't remember the color of my home world any longer. This realm does something to you, I realize. And if I stay, everything I was before shall simply become nothing to me. I'll become another lifeless shadow.
“No…” I whisper, running my hands through my hair. I feel emptiness pouring into me, dripping into my mind and my heart. I can't let this world overtake me.
“In a world of pure imagination…” another voice sings. None of this is right.
But how did I get here again? I remember falling, and as I fell, the color I used to remember faded. So I must go up and reach the light.
I stare at my hands, my vision blurring. With the power of imagination, I can do anything. Especially create a staircase to climb back home… or somewhere that's not here.
I look up at the shadow that once stood before me, but he is gone.
No distractions. I must form these stairs. I squeeze my eyes shut and concentrate. I can do anything I like.
“Oh Marcella… you aren't thinking of escaping, are you?” These voices taunt. They've caught onto me. That means that whatever imagining I was doing was working. My eyes flutter open, and I drop my mouth at a large winding staircase climbing upwards.
I ignore the voices, instead beginning my journey up the stairs.
It isn't long until I notice the stairs behind me are crumbling, eating away at my creation. I pick up the pace.
“Dear Marcella… you must know, any creation can be destroyed,” the voices echo.
That might be true, but as long as I keep myself focused on maintaining the vision of the stairs, they won't crumble. Surely not. I swallow.
It is working. My mind is clear, and I am reaching the light and keeping the stairs together, sort of… but oh, my hand burns so bad. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts. It must be the kiss that shadow gave me. I can't let it distract me though. I must keep going. I feel the color slipping back into my world. Yes, I see color, but my head is starting to hurt. I stumble upwards, climbing dozens more stairs. The stairs finally break underneath me, but with what little strength I have left, both mental and physical, I leap.
I hit the ground. I don't know where. However, I can see color again.
I open my eyes. I'm in my bedroom. I sigh.
All that must have been a dream. My heart races, and sweat beads down my neck. I breath heavily.
So then why… I look down at my hand. There's a scar there that wasn't there before.
Strange. I get the feeling that this isn't over.
858 words

I rested my head in my hands. Nothing made sense. Was all our work from the past few months all for nothing? I had to juggle figuring out Menander's murderer for Luka's sake, breaking my curse, and figuring out how to escape this island. I hope no one blamed me for the tears that fell down my face and pattered on my lap.
“Celia…” my name was spoken. Luka announced his presence in a hushed voice. He rested a hand on my shoulder, a silent sort of comfort while I cried. I'm near the breaking point. If I could undo everything that I'd done in the past three months and start over, I would.
“What's plaguing you?” he asked. I looked down at the desk in front of me, the items clattered over it. I sighed, wiping my tears with the back of my hand. Nothing adds up. The letters… the apron… the necklace… it doesn't connect. It doesn't…
“Nothing,” I reply, looking down. I fidgeted with my ring. He folded his honey-brown hand over mine. “You do realize that you aren't alone in this. You have us,” he said. He was referring to himself, Emeri, and Lio… but I didn't even know where the latter two were. It was pointless even trying to cheer me up. Nothing he could do at the moment would lift my spirits. “I wish to be alone,” I whispered. Alone in the dark, with only the candlelight to keep me company. Luka nodded silently.
My mind still couldn't help but try to solve what was happening. The letters told us some crucial information, but I couldn't figure it out. The riddles didn't do anything to help me. Curse that witch who plagued me with my jinx. She made my life a nightmare.
Wait. I gasped.
The letters! The coin! I couldn't believe I hadn't seen it earlier. The curse, the letters, the typewriter, all of it was intertwined. And that coin was placed only to throw us off of our path. Suddenly everything made sense. My brain formed the story.
The murderer was a witch. Or wizard, in his case. And he was the one who cursed me.
It started right at the beginning of the murder. The man who was murdered was seen earlier that day buying a necklace for his wife. Just an hour later, his final breath was taken as he fell to the ground.
The shopkeeper of the jewelry store had been the one to witness it: the dead man and a hooded person pulling out a knife, stained red, and fleeing the scene. The shopkeeper immediately noticed the necklace was gone. The police pinned the blame on the person who was found in possession of it: a thirteen-year-old boy who matched the height of the murderer. The true murderer had lived in peace for the next four years while the boy was on the run until she stumbled upon a girl with a determination to solve the murder scene, for she knew something wasn't right. From there, the murderer continued to trick the girl with red herrings—the coin, the empty can, the stolen money—and convince her that it really was that boy all those years ago. Until that boy, Luka, pointed out that didn't add up. The girl—me—only now realized how wrong she'd been. And she knew how to prove that Luka was innocent.
565 words

I remember the first thing I noticed upon arriving on this strange island.
Magic. It shouldn't exist. Most of the time, it ends up in the wrong hands. It was the one thing that stuck out to me on this island. People use and practice it like it's an everyday thing when it doesn't even exist as an idea in any other place on this planet.
I remember thinking this island was strange. Unreal. And I know in my heart, I don't belong amongst these people. Never will.
I almost died when I first arrived here, thanks to magic. It was purposeful, the attack.
I don't really remember what I did. I stepped into someone's magical field or something or upset someone. But the next thing I knew, just moments after I stepped out of the healer's hut, a bandage wrapped tightly around my head and my arm in a cast, I was pelted with fire. Fire! I still have a scar on my eyebrow from that day. At that moment, I knew I was going to do whatever I could to get off this horrid island. It's been… 8 years. I'm no closer to leaving than I was before.
Magic is no stranger to me than it is now. There's proof in that statement in the way it still scares me. As I watch Lio, threads of white light circle around his project, like a hawk circling its prey. It nears me, turning dangerously close to my torso. I lean backward, a fearful expression on my face. I envy my friend at the way he confidently manipulates the magic, bending it to his will and threading it into his gadget.
I feel silly still, knowing his magic can't hurt me, but I retract at it getting near me. Lio doesn't notice. He never does anymore, because he knows he can't help this fear.
I'm just a normal person, I will never be used to seeing what he sees everyday, what makes a big part of his life.
“I'm done, Luka!” he exclaims. I watch as the last of the light is sucked into his gadget. I doubt his project is going to work this time—it never really does anyway. I won't tell him that. He needs me to believe in him. “Actually, I just need you to fetch me one more thing.”
“What is it? What do you need me to get?” I ask, glancing down at the table in front of us. The candlelight glints off of the metal of his gizmo—I wasn't paying attention to what it was when he told me. I lean forward in my chair, resting my hands on my knees as he turns towards me with a grin. Oh no.
“Remember those girls we met at the market? I need you to get me a lock of one of their hairs—preferably the red-haired one.” Another thing I'm still not used to. Back in my home country, crime was not a thing. Mainly because no one was cursed, everyone was spoiled, and the government treated the people well, giving everyone a fair chance at living a good life. Here, nobody cares. A lock of hair, a dead body, or injuries, those are common things that you find being asked of you.
I sigh. “No, no. That's not happening. You get the hair.” I nearly gag saying that sentence. Nobody on this island is in their right mind.
I'm never going to get used to that. I can never get used to this life: not the magic, the crimes, the unimaginable, never ever.
It's too bad I can't leave this place.
Too bad I can't escape yet.
Because even though I don't fit in, at least no one here cares that I murdered someone. At least, according to the rest of the world.
638 words

prompt:


Dear Kai,
I hate you. There. I said it. It comes in only letter form, I know. I've been meaning to say this ever since I met you. And I mean it, I tell you. I mean it. However, I should be saying this to your face. You don't deserve to be spared from the wrath of loud, angry words spoken so that they can scar your no-good heart. These words written on paper are duller than the sharp ones spoken with the right tone of voice.
Day one you lied to me. I should've expected it. You are a cold-blooded murderer anyway.
I write this to you from prison. Do you know who made me end up here? You did. I took the fall for your heartless acts. I took the blame because once upon a time, you stained a knife red. And because I truly cared for you, I let myself become the villain. This island is crazy. It gave you the title “the hero with the purest heart”. You are no hero.
Anyway, let me get to the point. I write this to you because these are my last words, and I want them to be spoken before I die. I wish I never had met you. This comes from me with the purest of hearts. Not really. I still don't get it, though. You had all the chances to come clean. You were lying to me, yet you still held the hero title somehow. Why didn't you ever come forward as a hero, then? Why did you hide in the shadows? Perhaps there is no real way to escape the island because of you. And you still let me go forward with the idea that there was. You could've stopped me and spared me from the heartbreak of realizing my hopes were far too high.
I sigh as I write this. Dear Kai, I want you to remember the man whose life you've ended. I want you to endure the pain he endured, realizing his life was to end at the hand of a hurt young boy. You've doomed yourself, dear Kai. Karma is a knife, and it's coming to get you. Your end will be given to you by a loved one, the person you trust most.
I've lost all sanity. I feel that my threats in this letter will turn out to be empty promises in the end. They are mere selfish wants. I'm no better than you.
I have no more words for you, for you do not deserve to read my pain and my anger. One last thing: goodbye.

- Your hopeless idiot, Celia

- - -
TW: mentions (the idea of) death
- - -

A/N: Thank you so much Eevee and Bea for critiquing <3 And thank you for taking the time to read this, I appreciate it :]
Yes, I did change the little text break decoration or whatever it's called after I submitted this— hope that's okay haha.

Edit 22/12: I had to remove a few words because it was exceeding 2000 words and I felt bad >.< by the way, the text break decoration are excluded from the official word count and the “m o m e n t” counts as one word <3

prompt key:
N. the first 100 words
i. incorporate an image/symbol of some sort that unearths a memory in the main character
ii. include a “creation”/origin story about your character
iii. your character is forced to make a decision they didn't want to do
iv. your character must trade or barter in order to receive something they want
v. your character comes across writing that no one can decipher. they must figure out a way to decipher this writing
vi. incorporate a poem or poetry into your writing
vii. write a part of a story in a play script format
viii. incorporate the supernatural/spiritual into your writing
ix. your character shows empathy and helps an animal
x. incorporate a dreamtime character into writing
xi. your main character has a “dark day”, a time where they doubt everything they've gone through, and question their choices, decisions and capability
xii. your character has a morally grey moment - a time where they do something that may not align with their regular morals
xiii. character development in a protagonist that changes them from a “character” to a
hero

Daily 2 - March 2
453 words

“Quick! Go to the comments of the main cabin and post five words of your choice for someone to use in a story. Then, pick someone else’s five words to use in a story of your own! Write 300 words to gain 200 points for your cabin, and an extra 100 points if you decide to share your lovely writing piece with us.”

words used: winter, secret, chalice, flower, heart

thread of purely misc writing proof because no one is going to believe that I've written this otherwise
most of it is unfinished
don't read it's all silly crusty musty writing

Daily 3 - March 3
848 words

“I love brunch- waffles and juice and fruit, oh my! Brunch is what's called a portmanteau- combining two words to create a new word that contains the meanings of both of your original words, like cosplay (costume and play) or smog (smoke and fog). Comment three words and then claim two words someone else has commented. Combine those two words and write an advertisement for your new creation! Your ad should be at least 350 words to earn 300 points for your cabin, plus 150 if you share proof!”

words used: orange, pen

WORD WAR WITH @selkie-
563 words
No prompt
Chaos level: 100%

WORD WAR WITH CHUEY
150 words
Prompt: The sun isn't just a spicy dish to eat on birthdays.
Chaos level: 73%

WEEKLY 1
2312 words
2000 points

pt i - 998 words
pt ii - 0 words
pt iii - 512 words
pt iv - 802 words

WORD WAR WITH SOPHIE
205 words
Prompt: “Is it a bad time to tell you I'm claustrophobic?”
Chaos level: 100%

WORD WAR WITH EM
520 words
Prompt: none
Chaos level: 100%

CRITIQUITAALJRLJERLEJF
340 words

“Look at you!” Ixhilla drawled out, gesturing to Azulnatto's blank, emotionless face as she sat on her liquid-like throne, her hands laying still on her lap. “You've not been the same lately.”

“It seems everyone was friends with Ropyronas except you, really,” Droquet said, hiding his smile behind a pale ghostly hand.

If Azulnatto was thankful, angry, or felt any sort of emotion, her face did not show it.

“Can we focus on the topic at hand?” Lunova said with irritation, flicking up her chin at the server in the corner.

Daily 4 - March 10
535 words

“You've probably heard the phrase ”A picture paints a thousand words“. But since we're writers, we can also do the opposite. While you hopefully won't be writing one thousand words today, pick a random picture and write however many words describing it and telling its story. ”