Daily 8

So it was very clear to me who to write to for this daily, and that person is my wonderful grandma! Just so you know, she is one of the most awesome grannies to have ever walked this earth.
First of all, she is *not putting her age in haha* and she goes skiing EVERY SINGLE YEAR! I mean, considering her age, which I will not mention(!!), that is incredible. I have seen some other people her age who can barely stand up (no offence, I’ll probably like that too if I carry on lugging the same bag to school every day for 6 years) and yet she manages to go full-on skiing down mountains, the full shebang! I mean, respect!
Another thing she’s awesome at is glassmaking! Not the one where you have the molten glass, she buys coloured glass and manages to make the most beautiful objects and ornaments out of them! I myself have a mirror made by her, as do my other sisters, my dad, my uncle and probably most of my family from her side! She has als made stunning lamps and little trinket boxes which are so cute <3
Like many other stereotypical grannies (SHE AIN’T STEREOTYPICAL THOUGH OH NO SIREE), she knits amazingly! Her wool collection is like my heaven, as I have only 9 different ones, but she has like 5,000,000,000 or something! She has these lovely soft fluffy wools and I just love them D

I go around to hers every week and the first thing I ask is what we’re eating! She always makes something very unexpected, and probably not the sort of thing an 11-year-old girl would usually eat! She’s amazing at cooking and the amount of meals she’s cooked for us is genuinely unbelievable. There was this one time when I was about 8 when she made a crab souffle or something which 8 year old me did not enjoy! Then one time she made the creamiest mushroom soup ever, and my granddad gave me the largest portion ever! Grandma always says I have eyes bigger than my stomach (meaning I pile loads of food onto my plate and never eat it all) but I wanted to prove her wrong that time! So I struggled through the whole entire bowl of the richest soup I’d ever set eyes on, and ended up feeling like I’d had 10 chinese takeaways at the end of it!! That was when she saw me finish and said ‘Well, that was a lovely starter!’

Never again.

And she is also great at baking! Whether it’s apple fritters or her famous pavlova, she never fails to impress!

Since I was tiny, she and grandad had been taking me and my siblings on trips! They always managed to come up with the best ways to please us: going to the zoo, picking pumpkins, bird-watching or riding in the wheelbarrow around her garden!

To sum it all up, I want to thank Grandma for being the most AWESOME GRANNY EVER and I’m sure she will continue to be! I hope everyone gets to have at least one Grandma like her, and when I’m a granny, I’m going to be the crochet and knitting queen just like her <3

March 8th Daily || 695 words

Never will you know how much I long to live closer to you once more. To assist you, and talk to you, and to just be by your side as often as possible.
To my dearest aunt, you amaze me ever so much. I don’t mean to insult my own dear mother by making this letter about her very own sister, although there is no denying what a wonderful part of this world you are.
I started life knowing you as merely that person who also visited during family gatherings. Never did I really grasp that concept of relatives outside of my own parents and grandparents. Eventually, once you had your first-born son, I saw you more as a way of asking how much your son had grown, awaiting the day I could hang out with a child who wasn’t my sister, and not a bumbling little infant. I did not see you for who you truly were when I was a wee little critter, just grasping the concept of awareness and conscious thoughts. Although, throughout the years, I began to see you as more.
First of all, you raised your two children very well. I could not ask for better, fun-loving cousins. They share my interests, and have interests of their own, and we learn off of each other. They are both fairly sporty (more than me, at least), they are both really interested in school subjects, instead of just believing school is a bore and the goal is to get out with the least amount of effort. They are human beings with a personality, even if they sometimes behave like the epitome of gen alpha kids and watch yt shorts for hours on end. The fact that you’re able to keep up with all of this despite every week you see them, you have to arrange everything yourself, babysitting, sports practices, etc, when you have your own life and business is very impressive, and definitely deserves a round of applause.
Second of all, your business. I know you’ve been passionate about this at least ever since your two boys were little. I remember coming over to your house and sampling your muffins, my mother telling me that you’d once like to start your own baking business. For the longest time, I thought you had given up. I was honestly a bit heartbroken to see you not achieve your dreams. Although, the shock on my face when I heard you had opened up your own gluten-free baking business just over a year ago was priceless. I am so proud that you have managed to get so far, especially within the business itself in the past year. Going from messing up your bread loaves to having cake commissions and cool looking cookie bundles that I could not dream of creating in a million years in that short of time span is beyond impressive! What’s even more impressive is that your little niche somehow gets a decent amount of customers, some who are gluten-free, others who are merely intrigued. Good job, and if you ever need someone to create advertisements, you can commission me free of charge.
Third, and probably the most impactful to me specifically, is when you were the first adult figure I came out to in December. The fact that you supported me with such ease and even went as far as asking how I’d like to be referred to around the family who I had not come out to was beyond relieving. And the fact that you’ve adapted to it so quickly is also super greatly appreciated. Even the little things like using my temporary nickname on Christmas presents (with a surprising lack of question from the rest of the family) or giving me suggestions of who would be the next person to come out to who would be supportive. I could not ask for more, to be honest.
In short, thank you so much for everything you do. I love you, and I honestly hope to one day get closer to you and get to know you better when I’m old enough to move, and have more freedom, etc. Thank you, truly.

Part 1:
The Iğnîshát people live around this “new” planet. They represent each of the elements as a god. Their language is a complicated flowing language. They believe that anything that happens is because of the will of the gods. They have different festivals for the different gods and different types of celebrations for those gods. In the winter, they have celebration for the night and snow gods. They hope there is not much snow and the night does not take over their planet. In the spring, they have the celebrations for the earth and water gods. This is for a good planting and for rains to come and stuff. In the summer they have celebrations for the fire and day gods. It is so that fires don't start and the day does not take over and leaves the night god alone. In the fall, they have celebrations for the and wind and lightning. They want the winds to protect them, and hope the fall storms do not bring about lightning.
The structure of this society is that the gods are at the top followed by the speaker who can converse with the gods. The speakers are followed by the royals who are followed by preists, then the scholars and warriors, then the working class and then the prisoners or slaves.
They make sure not to overuse the raw materials and the natural stuff is respected.
There are different tribes who pray to specific gods more than the other ones. Like tribes near the ocean pray to the water or wind more than tribes at the bottom of a mountain. But overall, they all have the same structure, but there are wars every now and then from the different tribes. Every so often, the royals meet in the central city to discuss stuff.

they build stone houses with wooden roofs or supports. They keep small gardens in front of each house. The size of the house and where it is depends on the position in the society.
335 words

Part 2:
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1096687265/

part 3:
“We do not support this idea of yours.”
“There is nothing wrong with it, you are just refusing to use what the Earth Goddess has given us!”
“The Earth Goddess giving us animals has nothing to do with deciding to suddenly eat them!”
“I saw them, though. The people who use the loud launchers eat it.”
“We are not them, have you seen the way they sl@ughter the animals? I refuse to be like them!”
“This is the only way we can survive… They already took Tũlwęṅaíi.”
“Then we take it back,” someone pounded their staff on the ground.
“We can't, there's no way we can take them on…”
“Then we're going to adapt.”
“How?”
“I have fashioned something new.”
The rest of the royals watch as they pull out a sleek bow and arrows and showed them how it worked.
“No. Absolutely not. This would enable our enemies to have incredible advantages over us.”
It escalated quickly. One side agreeing to use the new we@pons to defeat these people and then keep the we@pons stored away from the public. Another side saying they should use the these and then keep them. The third saying that they shouldn't use it at all.
They quickly turned to the gods, who for once, replied. A heavenly voice could be heard saying,
“There are costs and benefits with using this new technology, but we will guide you if you stray from the true path.”
Quickly, they turned back to fighting, not with their dagg@rs but with words for once.
“It's not safe. I have said this time and time again.”
“The gods said they will guide us on the right path, we must trust them.”
“I believe in them. Let us ask the Speaker.”
The Speaker is called, and a short, frail man comes in. The royals all bow to him once before stating their problem. He strokes his beard and then takes out a pouch of crystals and other materials needed for talking to the gods.
He made a circle of crystals, pouring sand in between, connecting the crystals and sitting inside. He then begins to chant and raw energy filled the room. His eyes glow and then he slumps to the ground.
The royals wait in agony for what seems like hours before he finally wakes up. He tells them how he went to the gods with this problem and they told him to tell the royals to go with what would save their land. The gods would take it from there if more fighting and other casualties broke out.
The look at each other before bowing to the Speaker who leaves, back bent over. They decide to train an elite group of people from the different tribes with this new technology before letting everyone use it. Plus, these few people were going to be the ones who were going to save their lost land.

For good measure, they bow to the gods and offer some sacrificial food and say a short prayer, thanking them before leaving and ending the meeting.

510 words

part 4-
The two dials ticked that morning as the sun shone on the center gems. At the top of the temple, stood a cloaked figure. It was the preist or priestess. On this specific day, no one should know which one is doing the act of p0isoning the next ruler. The ruler of the water tribe, or the Ŏceīuņt tribe had multiple children, though no one knew who they were. The crowds assembled at the bottom of the tower, watching as the cloaked figure raises three p0isoned blades, one for each child. This would be the only test that everyone could view. It went into their backs. The first one turned pale. The second one stood taller. The third one crumpled to the ground. Within seconds, another cloaked figure took out three bottles of some liquid and gave them to each child. They soon recovered.

The current ruler told everyone to get back to their places. The scholars went back to their places of work, the teachers telling their student that this would probably be the only time they saw this in their lifetimes. The children were taught about their rituals and such that day. Meanwhile the workers were on the fields, since the sun shone in the perfect way that morning. The priests finished up that ritual before leaving.

A conch was blown, echoing through the tribe. People looked out of their huts in fear.
“The animals eaters are here!”
A group of people marched through the village, holding the bows and arrows. As soon as everyone saw them they swallowed before going into their protective areas. They split up, running through the forest. where they knew the other people would be. Meanwhile, back at the base they had set up, the other tribe warriors were there, getting rid of the stuff. They asked the different gods if they minded getting rid of the stuff in this way. In response, a fire started to burn. They threw boxes, paper, food, meat, anything that would burn into there. At the same time, there were still more warriors hiding in the trees incase someone showed up. There was stuff that wouldn't burn that was left behind. While wondering what to do, the ground shook as a hold appeared in the ground, going further than they could see. They wasted no time, throwing in all the stuff. The hole didn't close up, neither did the fire go away. But the fire wasn't spreading either…

The warriors hid once more, waiting for the people to return.

The warriors moved silently through the forest, listening for the footsteps of the animals eaters. It was there, loud as day. They didn't know how to move through the forest, being loud and yelling. The words they said made no sense to the warriors as they readied themselves. One of them let out a bird call, piercing through the air. They readied their bows in unison. Within seconds the animal eaters showed up. They wore clothes that looked strange. They were pale like the sand on the beach, and their faces were cruel. Someone let out the call of the jaguar and the arrows were let go at the same time. Many of them hit the animal eaters, some falling, others shouting in pain. They began to fire their g^ns wildly, but the arrows flew true, striking more and more of them down. The wind blew hard and fast. The animal eaters looked at each other in fear before the few that were left retreated back to their camp. Once they were gone, the warriors checked to see if anyone was hit. Unfortunately, there were.

Meanwhile, when they reached their camp, it was destroyed. The fire was still burning and they tried to spread it, but to no avail.
“We should leave. This place is freaking me out.”
“What will we tell the emperor?”
“Tell him what happened.”
“That these uncivilized people got us?”
“No. That our enemy state was there and we fought valiantly, but were outnumbered.”
That's when one of them noticed the hole. They pointed it out to the others, who said,
“It can't be that deep, I'll go down.”
They went down, and when the others called down, there was no response.
That was the last straw. The turned, taking the last of their things before getting to their ship and fleeing.

All the warriors thanked the gods, and the fire and hole vanished as if it was never there in the first place. Everyone headed back to the central city, where the rulers talked,
“Our brave warriors have saved Tũlwęṅaíi from the strange people. Unfortunately, a few of our warriors were k!lled in the process.” Everyone went silent as the names were read.
“Žinéia, Őbilǎç, Đöšǔti, Diɠéīņi, Tǘýisa, Giçsôit, Jǎţż.”
A few people began to cry. Faces fell.
“Their last rites must be performed before the souls leave.”
People approached the bodies laying on the ground, murmuring a few things in their ear, before the priests came. The priests began to chant, and different element gems were placed on the person by family before the bodies were burnt.

855 words
total: 1715 words

weekly 001: world building!! ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

part one: language and culture ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･:
word count: 360 / 350
Dynaphali is a fairy-inhabited forest in an island in the Adriatic Sea. They speak some modified version of English, incorporating little pieces of different languages that the humans that have visited have introduced. Whenever they speak, it sounds softer, almost like a whisper, but it takes on an aggressive tone, like a hiss. The Dynaphae are very nature-focused, with many of their traditions and beliefs revolving around the myths behind the glowing flowers found in their land. One of the primary myths that the fairies live by is the myth of the Gilded Forest, where many creatures and plants exist with magical properties. The Another myth is the Enchanted Lake, which is the lake that all fairy ceremonies are held over. Many fairies will use the water from the lake to grow their plants in hope that they would glow like the flowers in the Gilded Forest. The fairies of Dynaphali have a very skill-based hierarchy, since each fairy has a chance of getting what the like to call a Blossom. A Blossom is almost like a superpower, but with a very small extent of power. Some of these Blossoms can range from the power to increase growth of plants, or even carry small droplets of water with just a fairy’s mind. The Dynaphae with stronger Blossoms tend to rise higher in the ranks due to their irreplaceability and value in society. One of the strongest values of the Dynaphae is integrity, which means doing whichever task the higher powers ask of you in order to better society and living conditions. Fairies are consistently frowned upon if they try to stray from tradition and seek a life beyond nature. Those who adventure into the world of technology are banished, sent to a place unknown– but at this point in the timeline, so many fairies have accumulated there that it’s bound to surface as it’s own territory sooner or later. The Dynaphae are expected to rely solely on nature and doing everything by hand, for the fairies with higher power and wisdom believe it was their destiny to only use nature as to not damage the previously mentioned landmarks of nature.

part two: aesthetic boards ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･:
word count: 0 / 0
link: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1142395663/


part three: tech conflict ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･:
word count: 504 / 500

With the myth of Gilded Forest, back in the ancient times, the Dynaphaes would misuse the magical properties of the flowers. Many people debated on how the use of the flowers should be regulated, but eventually, the politicians just gave up on legislating the powers and let the fairies run free. Because of this, the fairies were destroying the forest in hopes of gathering more magical flowers than the others. So many of the flowers had dangerous properties, but some were just plain dangerous. One flower, the Golden Lily, had the power to revive fairies. The government didn’t know how to choose who to revive and who to not, so fairies took it into their own hands. Suddenly, everyone’s grandmas were back alive, and there was no longer a point in medicine. With all the revives, the population of Dynaphali increased drastically, and the economy recessed because of the sudden population increase. Everything collapsed, with fairies going bankrupt to lend money to the people returning to nonexistent lives. The country borders grew unsustainably, finally splitting into two separate empires. The two countries agreed to give up all their Golden Lilies, as they knew it would ruin their large empires, but the West Dynaphali kept one Lily secretly. Once the king died in a quest to a smaller nearby kingdom, the Lily was used to revive him, but the prince meant to succeed him was jealous, and manually turned off the king’s computer wiring in his heart. After Prince Lance became King of the West Dynaphali, the peasants rebelled against him. He wasn’t nearly as good of a ruler as his father, and tended to forget the priorities of his people while doing frivolous royal things. He’d use the flower to do stupid things with his friends, reviving each other after each fall down cliffs. But one day, during their adventures on the border of life and death, his friends decided to not revive their lovely King. After all, no one else knew about their activities, and no one would– or could– come to save him now. Without a ruler, West Dynaphali fell into revolution, and the monarchies succeeding King Lance’s rule continued to fail, the Empire of West Dynaphali finally dwindling to nothing but scattered villages after three centuries. But one fairy in the farming villages found another flower, preserved in the ruins of the castles after all those years. With that flower, the fairy, called Calliope, climbed her way to the beginning of her own empire. Over time, the flower wilted, but she had already grown her empire so much stronger than the Princes and Kings before. Eventually, she had the power to take over East Dynaphali, finally reuniting the two kingdoms after four centuries since the end of the original empire. Calliope was careful, and disposed of the flowers, hiding the Gilded Forest from future generations. She knew what would happen if she let the flowers exist freely, so she made them disappear from reality, and no one’s found a flower since.



part four: story ⋆.ೃ࿔*:･:
word count: 892 / 800

Daphne sighed, letting her white lacy dress pool around her as she sat on the grass. Her mother was off on another one of her tangents, telling her to be grateful that she was ‘blessed’ with Blossom of Healing, though Daphne considered it to be a mere nuisance. She would always have to work with the healers, her whole life, without getting to choose her own path. Being born with a Blossom, of any sort, meant that the career path was non-negotiable. Of course, Daphne wasn’t mad that she would be able to help people– of course not, but she had never considered healing to be the most interesting thing to do. There were so many fascinating ways that gardening could be used to help the elderly, and she was on the verge of cracking the code to cultivating vines that would assist older fairies in getting to-and-from their respective treehouses.
“Daphne.” Her mother harshly urged her back to reality and away from her thoughts, shaking her head in her berating way. “This is not the proper… proper way to spend your time with such a valuable gift!”
“Mother, I am more than just my /gift/,” Daphne said exasperatedly. It was no use, her mother seemed to be sure that Daphne’s only purpose in life revolved around her ability.
Her mother gave her a look, a condescending look of disappointment. “You don’t understand how many people would to have what you have.”
“Well, I’m not other people,” she huffed, crossing her arms across her chest. “Can’t you see, I can do both? I can fulfill my… my /purpose/ and continue with my work, Mother. I can, I really can!” Daphne hated that she sounded whiny, like a little child, but her mother never understood, and that certainly wouldn’t change now.
Her mother was pacing across the grass, leaving footprints in the bright green. Daphne itched to ask her to stop, to sit down and stop pacing frantically around the garden. “I will not have you disgrace yourself with whatever this is. This whole mess!” She hissed, throwing her arms out at the mess of vines and flowers. She went over and tore a vine from its trellis.
“Mother, stop,” Daphne cried. “Please, I’ve worked so hard.”
“Daphne Lily Starling,” her mother pressed sternly. “I know you have so much potential, and I will not have it wasted toward these improper activities.” Her mother had engraved her ‘destiny’ into Daphne at birth, her own way of ensuring it would work out. Although Daphne’s first name came from her grandma, her mother had insisted that her middle name take after the infamous Gilded Lily. That was her mother’s little guarantee to everyone that she would follow the path to benefit all of society, her promise to the community. It was petty, Daphne thought, for a middle name had no power in choosing life paths. Not that her mother would care. “Listen to your mother! These trivial little quests will not get you the fame you deserve, the status we could have with your Blossom!”
Daphne swallowed, glaring at your mother. “Status this, fame that! You’re so perfectly obsessed with people knowing my name, all so that they’ll know yours! Mother, you’re just going to be another forgotten fairy, and you know it! That’s all your afraid of, being forgotten in the sea of more important people.” Daphne yelled, shutting her eyes.
Her mother looked at her as if she was struck by her own daughter’s hand. “Don’t you dare tell me what it means to be forgotten. You’re nobody! All you are is your power, nobody has value beyond their power. My father– your grandfather– is remembered by nobody but us. Nobody!” She screamed. “And when we’re gone, who’s going to remember us, Daphne? Nobody. Without a Gilded Lily, nobody is anymore than their name, if they’re even remembered. Keep us alive, Daphne, keep us remembered!” Her mother had stalked toward Daphne with each scream, towering over her.
“Can’t I be remembered for something other than my powers? Gods, Mother, all I can do is heal a scrape! I’ll be remembered even more if I continue with my research, find something that can really help us.”
“Leave this house. Come back when you’re ready to use your powers. Do your research… somewhere else.” Her mother no longer sounded angry, just… tired. Daphne wanted to scream, ‘Don’t you care about what I want?’ But she didn’t, and instead stood up without a word. She walked over to her mosaic of trellises.
“Fine. I’ll leave. You can go ahead and burn the vines for all I care. I’ve done all the research I need.” Daphne stalked away from her mother, out of her garden, and floated down to the ground out of their treehouse. She had lived there for her whole life, but it was time for a new chapter. She’d leave home, probably live in some kind of mole-dug cave for a while until her mother asked her to come back out of pity. Quite frankly, she had been waiting for a reason to leave home. This was… well, perfect. Of course, Daphne wouldn’t admit the pang in heart burning leaving her mother, and she’d just have to wait until her mother apologized first to admit anything.

daily 07

Dear Grandma,
Thank you so much for everything you did.
My favorite memory was the summer we came over to your house. I remember you smiling at me as you took the cake out of the refrigerator and I got to blow out the candles.
That summer, you brought me happiness every day. You were there for me when I scraped my knee and cried, you were there for everyone in the family. We loved you so much, Grandma.
You bought me so many nice things, like paper crafts and origami. You showed me how to fold the paper in half and how to cut it after, so that when it was finished it was a perfect symmetrical heart. You bought me cute hair clips, hair ties, bracelets, and necklaces. You even got out your prettiest necklaces when I wanted to look at them, and I felt the pearls slip through my fingers, delicate and as gentle as tears.
You were always so kind and helpful, and you never seemed to run out of patience. You never complained, and you saw the best in everyone. You understood me, even though I wasn’t fluent in speaking your language.
That summer, I told you that I wanted to be just like you when I grew up. You looked at me and laughed. I loved your laugh.
Mom misses you a lot. You were so important to her, and you mattered so much to all of us. Grandpa misses you, and so does Dad. The word “family” would always include you, and when you left we felt like we’d fallen apart.
But we feel peace now. And we miss you so much every day. I know you won’t ever read this, but I want you to know that we’ll always remember you.
We love you so much.

word count: 304 words

Letter to my Grandmother (306 words)

Dear Grandma,

Ever since I heard your story, I have looked up to you with so much respect and kindness. Throughout your life, you underwent so many hard things. I don’t know everything that you went through, but what I do know is you went through something that no one should have to. (for the sake of posting this, I won't elaborate) Early in life, and even lately, you’ve gone through extremely difficult things, and the only time I've seen you cry is at a funeral.
From the outside, you’re sweet and soft-spoken, but inside is the strongest person I've ever met. Someone who smiles even though it’s hard. Someone encouraging even through the most difficult of times. Someone who is able to express themselves in many different ways, but the most prevalent being through art. Your paintings are beautiful, and I’m proud to say that it was my grandma who painted those works. When I do pottery with you, I see your creations and I’m practically in awe. I can tell you’ve spent years perfecting your skills, and it’s paid off, since your works are stunning.
Above all, your personality is just a beacon of light in the hardest times. Even when you’re going through something difficult, your faith and your strength is outstanding. You’re always the most uplifting person in the room, and I can always look to you to make the most out of every situation. You know that old saying? “When life gives you lemons, make lemonade?” You’re the living equivalent of that, and that is one of the things I strive to be the most.
I’m so proud to have you as my grandma, and you’re one of the people I look up to the very most. Thank you for always being kind to me and for your radiating positivity. There’s hardly anyone I respect this greatly.

Love you bunches!

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭୨ ASSIGNMENT 8 ୧ ⊹ ˚₊‧

Whether it be a family relative or somebody you look up to, today, you're going to be writing them a 300 word letter, thanking them for all their resilience.

Dear Sylvie,

Hello! I, admittedly, do not talk to you much. Part of that is probably because I do not know you in real life, and only know you behind the screen. However, that doesn’t make you any less of an amazing person! Noah is one of our mutual friends and we both like the hit Roblox game Daybreak 2, so I’ve always wanted to talk to you more! I think you’re a really awesome person! I love playing Specter with you during my lunch period (even though I die every time and you and Noah carry) and I like to join you whenever you’re playing Daybreak. I also think your art style is really cute, and I’m really glad your playercard managed to get in the game! I haven’t talked to you much, But I think you’re a very cooly cool person and would love to get to know you better! We both share a hatred for Kyle Wolfe (this is a joke) and despite the fact you say you hate Serena Wolfe we both know that’s a joke. I haven’t played PHIGHTING much but I know you, Mika and Noah play it a lot so I may have to play it more. I love your edits and I just think you’re a funny person overall. I’d love to meet you someday if we ever could when we’re older, and I really hope we both stay in contact for a long time. People say that online friends aren’t real friends, but you ARE a real friend, and I hope you know that. You’re a great, funny person, I know I’ve said this already but I really would like to know more about you. Thank you for being such an awesome and amazing person, and hopefully we’ll learn more about each other in the future!

From,
Mildred

| ♞ | ୨ 307 words

Dear Mother,

I'm honestly not sure how to start this letter because of how much you do for me and how much I have to thank you for. I don't think you truly understand how much I love you and that no one else would be as great of a mother to me as you. No matter how bad I mess up, you are there and you help me. No matter how disappointed in myself I am, you are proud of me and my efforts. When I get up the courage to talk about my worries, you are kind, supportive and always ready to listen. You take the time out of your day to take me to my many practices and events. When I'm stressed, you are the first to notice and try to help. For years I've looked up to you and your faith and how you handle situations. I just admire you and again, I wish you knew how much I love you. When I doubt myself, you have faith in me and you trust my abilities. Sometimes I get annoyed with you because you're so calm and you trust my abilities, but in a way it makes me feel better.

Aside from your faith in me, there are many other admirable things about you. For example, you single-handedly the best cook I've ever met (don't tell grandma or aunt Marcy wink). Honestly, your Mac n cheese is better than KFC's or Bob Evan's and that's saying something (HAHAHAHAHA). You are also extremely creative (not as creative as me ). Like for example, our trunk or treats at the school! You always come up with the best ideas for decoration! I could keep going about how awesome you are but that might take a few thousand words so I think I'll stop here. I love you more than you could ever imagine and always will. I love you, Mom.

~321 words

Weekly 1 - 3/2-3/9

Language & Culture (772/350 words):

You are hopping off a boat towards your destination. What awaits you, you ask? Waves pour in from the side of the canoe, but you don’t mind. The sand by the shore glows white, and the water is a stunning sapphire blue that mesmerizes you. Carefully, worried you’ll mess up some little detail, you step out of the boat and face the country in awe. You are standing in front of AIsi’i, Idylle, a beautiful Mediterranean coastal village, where money is irrelevant and trade and equality rule supreme! Above all, the island of Idylle values honesty and fairness, and it raises its children to think similarly. Once you decide to leave, you’ll seldom have greedy thoughts.
If you roam through the streets of this quaint little village, you’ll see many people wave, smile, and say hello in a language (and manner) you may not understand. They’re speaking Idyllian, a dialect you may not be familiar with. It has only 18 letters, which makes it sound even easier than English! However, Idyllian is a tonal language, which means that a word can be spelled the same but mean totally different things. In Idyllian, “home” and “garden” are spelled the same way (ae’er), but are pronounced differently, so they mean different things.
Obviously, we know you won’t be a master of the language if you’re just a tourist. However, you can learn some simple gestures that will make any Idyllian impressed! When you’re entering someone’s home, tap your shoe once and their door frame twice. If they tap the door frame once, that means you’re welcome in their home. Be cautious to do this when visiting Idylle. Another gesture you can do when shopping out in the marketplace is knock on the product they offer after you’ve bought it. This is assuring them you’re happy with your choice and that it is high quality.
As you walk down the streets, a sweet melody fills your ears. You turn, and you see a street performer playing a beautiful sound on her flute. You realize there are drums accompanying her and many other instruments are playing in the background. Idylle is a music-loving country, and you’ll hear cheerful, happy tunes as you step throughout the marketplace.
You notice a shrine, three statues surrounding them. One, the first King to rule Idylle. King Luca, the sole leader who established the customs of the country. Second, in the middle, the goddess the kingdom worships and whom the country was named after. Ide, the goddess of generosity, is worshipped and loved by the country as a whole. And third, the smallest (and most easily replaceable) is the current King of the country, King Theo, who rules the country with grace. People are placing offerings by their feet, and you smile and bow before making your way on.
You notice someone’s shushing you, beckoning you to follow them. Wary, you obey. As you walk down the steps, you notice a glowing amethyst stone that nearly blinds you, its aura drawing you towards it.
“This is where Idylle draws its magic from,” they say. “Ide has blessed it. With it, we can manifest its power and use it to help others, although…” They look up, their eyes glowing purple. “Some may use it to their own advantage.”
You walk out in wonder, curious as to who knows about it or how they use it, but no one seems fazed when you look in the puddle and see your eyes glitter purple.
Glancing around, you see the people smiling as they continue to chatter, even when you walk up. You place your hand on the table, but it slides in between the fabric of the tablecloth and the table’s wooden edges. You pull your hand back in bewilderment. No one glances your way anymore, as if you weren’t there at all.
Soon enough, though, you notice the shopkeeper meet your eyes and nearly jump back in shock, interrupting their conversation. She laughs and says something you can’t understand.
You nod and bow, walking away in confusion. Maybe this place was stranger than you thought. As you continue on, your mood brightens. Everyone is as cheerful as they were when you first arrived, which perks you up. People are smiling at you as they walk by, and you walk back towards the beach, glancing in awe at the breathtaking sunset.
In conclusion, Idylle is a country with a rich history and houses many people with kind hearts, some holding a secret that could destroy civilizations. Although some parts may sound dangerous, it’s a warm and loving place always open to people like you.

Geography and Memorable Locations:

https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/829406228

Technology (913/500 words):

Now that you've got a feel for Idylle’s culture and geography, you’ll be fascinated to hear about the Crystal of Enchantment. You may have seen it before, and you’ve noticed its effects after glancing its way. Many people respect the Crystal of Enchantment, but few know about the history behind this special stone.
Many years ago, Luca Calleras (also known as King Luca), the founder of Idylle was given this stone because of his dedication and belief in the goddess Ide. He was so grateful for her gift that he built his entire country about her, and taught his people that generosity and consideration were some of the most important values they could have. They placed it on a special pedestal, which was how the people of the young country were able to communicate with Ide.
One day, the young King Luca decided he was going to figure out what made the crystal so special. Determined to figure out what he could do with it, he spent hours, days, sitting next to the crystal in an attempt to communicate with Ide. She refused to reveal to him the capabilities of the crystal, mostly because she had no clue what the crystal could do, and she was curious to find out what he would do with it, and how long it would take for him to disobey her and mess with the stone. Desperate, King Luca grew more impatient and wanted to see what he could do with the crystal.
It was late at night, and he was careful to make sure no one was around.
He placed his hands on the crystal, a forbidden practice because of how blasphemous the connotations were. Immediately he felt a rush of power flow through him, and when he glanced at his reflection in the sharp, jagged cuts of the stone, he saw his eyes glow purple.
Grinning, he immediately rushed to the palace to make an announcement to all his people. He tried calling for everyone from the tower, but no one seemed to hear him. Confused, he reached for a drink and was shocked when it floated straight into his hand, seemingly refusing to release from his mind’s grip until he tightened his fingers around the glass. Perhaps it was a coincidence, he thought, but even he himself doubted it. He should try again. Something heavier this time.
He held his hand out towards the vase perched on his bedside, and it flew up, knocking the flowers out and spilling the water everywhere, but the vase did end up in his hand. King Luca grinned, glancing in the mirror. His eyes still glowed purple, and he wondered how long it would last.
A worrying thought suddenly popped into his head. What if this magic was all part of something bigger? What if his people knew about this power, and they were all going to use it against him? They were probably going to lock him in his tower with this harnessing ability, or worse. They would turn Ide against him and curse him forever.
The thought kept him up at night. For days, he would sit in his library, secluded, and practice the new power he had discovered. Whenever the purple in his eyes faded, he would sneak out when no one watched, and touch the crystal. He held on a little longer each time, curious as to how long it would last.
King Luca began to keep a journal, writing down each of his findings on the worn-down pages. He began spying on people from afar, trying to see what he could discover. One day he found out he was able to hear the thoughts of one of his servants, a young boy. The boy had been thinking about something vague that he couldn’t quite decipher, but he had mentioned something about a “group meeting.” He began to test this on everyone he found, but he was never able to read anyone else’s, much to his dismay. He became obsessed with the crystal’s power, and with finding out what the boy meant in his thoughts.
Every day he grew more mad, trying to find it out. People became concerned, since they thought the King had simply disappeared. They had no clue he was exactly where he always was, just invisible.
A panic had spread throughout the kingdom, but Luca himself barely noticed, too preoccupied with his studies to care.
By the time the King had passed, his son had already taken over the kingdom, and no one realized he had died. They all assumed he had died many years before. It was rumored he had touched the crystal so long, his body still has yet to be found, and he still haunts the palace to this day.
The next king, King Nico, understood the dangers of the crystal and asked Ide to place it somewhere else, somewhere that no one would be able to find it. She understood, now grateful to King Luca. He demonstrated the dangers of the crystal, and she made sure to hide it so that no one could find it.
Unreliable souls have been rumored to have found the crystal in certain locations, but each location has been explored and found empty. The rumors still circulate the country, but they have died out over the past few decades. Hope is not lost, however, since you are here, visiting Idylle.
Perhaps someone like you would be able to locate the crystal…

Incorporating your World into your Writing (988/800 words):

A silhouette of a tree blocked the window on a small hut lining the shore of Verra, Idylle. Iris threw back the covers sloppily blanketing her bed, watching the pale red light peek through the windows. It wasn’t quite daytime yet, she concluded, so maybe she could head to the beach and watch the sun rise from below the water. Her parents and 10 year old brother, Jonas, were still sound asleep, so she slipped on her day clothes quietly, careful not to wake anyone up. The front door creaked slightly as she opened it, but only Jonas stirred slightly. As soon as she closed the wooden door, she breathed a loud sigh of relief. Normally, her parents didn’t allow her to leave the house before they did, so she was kind of sneaking out? She would be responsible, though.
Iris shivered with delight at the morning spring wind. It was clear outside, and there wasn’t a single soul on the shores that morning. There were canoes beside the lapping water, with paddles sticking up in the sand from whenever the last boaters came back to shore. It was barely light outside, sure, but that meant no one would wake up for a while. Perhaps no one would notice she was gone, at least until around the seventh hour. But, as she looked up at the sky, she realized it was nowhere near the seventh, perhaps the fourth or fifth hour. She would have plenty of time to canoe and then come back. She might even get a wink more of sleep. That was an additional bonus, though. First she would have to keep watch on the sky and make sure she would get back in time.
That wouldn’t be a problem, though, Iris thought impatiently. She did a double take to make sure no one was watching her before sprinting towards a beautiful cedar canoe. It seemed old, but she was sure it would work fine. She picked up two paddles from the sand and plopped them straight into the seat behind her. She pushed the canoe where it was barely touching the sand, stepping in carefully and sitting in her seat. Picking up a paddle, she pushed the canoe away from the shoreline, and she was on her way!
Iris snatched up the second paddle, making sure not to go too fast since it was barely morning, and now that she was out on the water the waves seemed rougher than usual. Thankfully, Idylle’s geography made it so the country curved around, almost like the land was protecting her. The waves were a deep blue, almost black. It didn’t reflect the sunlight, rather than the light still coming from the moon. It was almost eerie, in a way.
It was growing lighter out, but as she traveled, she kept getting farther and farther away from the shore. Iris was beginning to panic. A riptide, maybe? As she tried to paddle back, she realized that the waves continued to pull her in. Anxiety clouded her senses, and she pushed harder on the paddles, trying to force it back to shore. She noticed a faint, purple light behind her, and confusion replaced where terror had once been. What could that be?
Trapped in her curiosity, she had hardly realized the canoe was drifting towards it. The waves pummeled over her head in a steady rhythm, and she had no time to process what was happening until the waves knocked her out of the canoe and submerged her into the dark water.
Terrified, Iris opened her eyes to see a blinding purple glow from the bottom of the sea. It pulled her towards it, and she was running out of oxygen fast. She tried to swim away from it, but the current was too strong. She felt like she was plummeting towards her doom. Red clouded her vision, and she was sure she was going to die. She wanted to let go, let the water fill her lungs. It was the easy way out. She drifted downwards, and she almost let her grip on reality fade into a watery oblivion.
A sharp poke startled her awake, and Iris suddenly realized that she was no longer drowning. She was breathing, somehow. Air bubbles floated upwards from her lips, and she was no longer being pulled in by this mysterious light source. What could it be, and why could she breathe? She was more confused than relieved. Light poured in from the surface level, but she didn’t want to leave just yet. She wanted to know more about her mysterious savior. Its glittering aura drew her in, but as she glanced up at the flashes of sun that reached the ocean, she realized with a start her parents were going to wake soon.
Iris sent a silent prayer of thanks to Ide, because the goddess must have blessed her and given her a second chance. She darted up to the surface, reaching for her canoe. She didn’t know where it was, but it flew towards her from the left and she had to duck before it hit her in the head. She swam towards it, noticing her paddle floating a few metres away. She reached for it, and it flew to her hand instantly. What was going on? As she swam back to shore, curiosity and confusion swelled in her head. What was that mysterious purple light, and why did it save her? Uncertain, she chalked it up to some strange divine intervention, but she didn’t want to be too sure.
As Iris reached the shoreline, the sun was higher in the sky than when she’d started. She had to guess that it was around the eighth hour. Much later than she’d intended. As she set the canoe aside and stuck the paddle in the sand, she glanced at her reflection in the ocean, noticing something strange.
Her eyes glowed purple.

March 8 2025 Daily
Thus begins the most awkwardly written letter I've ever made in my life-

To my lovely history teacher.
Being there throughout our school's trials and tribulations is no easy feat. I mean, wrangling my grade alone, of whom has the collective personality of a theatre kid, is no easy feat (especially given our propensity to talk). Throw in being a first time teacher of our 7th graders, and you certainly have a lot on your plate. I am eternally grateful for your decision 2 years ago to take a chance on our odd little school. Without you, I don't know where we would be. Most likely stuck in the revolving door of You-Know-Who's endless conversations (While I love his classes and all, having him for subjects like AP Gov would probably drive me a little batty). I thank you for your marvelous ability to get us to settle down and do our work while also being personable and allowing us yappers storytime. In all honesty, I feel like we haven't given you the thanks you deserve. Not stealing your car is kind of a low standard to meet, but while we are well behaved and respectful, we also, I think, can be whiny and rather reluctant to do our work. I hope you know that while we can complain, we appreciate everything you do for us (the disdain stems from the subject matter). I mean, after all, you do seem to embrace the “we all suffer together” attitude, and you know how much better that is than a teacher who places the suffering squarely upon our shoulders. Anyway, this is kind of a loopty-looping letter (which will never really reach you), so, of course back to my original point. It is International Women's Day, and I think that you ought to be recognized. I hadn't ever really thought of a teacher as a close friend before you came along. There is a reason, I suppose, why I always go to your room in the morning. I hope that after I graduate we will keep in touch, for I would hate to loose a figure like you in my life, one who is smart, and funny, and who tells good stories. So … that is the end. Goodbye. Keep getting better soon, Miss!
-Hail

369 words

critique <3
201 words


This is an intriguing piece, it's fun and suspenseful and makes me very curious about your character's motives and history. Even if you aren’t ever going to continue it. It’s definitely one I’d love to know more about!!

So for ways to improve it I would suggest fleshing out her motivations, so she sneaks around and reads, why? Why does she do that? What motivates her? Did she discover something about her mother or her sister that pushed her to investigate?

And then fleshing out a little bit of the scenery or relationships. Why does she feel the need for secrecy? What is her relationship with her father? Why does her father get angry so suddenly when he sees her? Is this a normal thing? Just the little things that might help the reader understand her a little better. <3

And maybe a better transition or something similar from when she's reading to when her father comes in, just to smoothen everything out a bit.

Remember that these are only suggestions!! <3 Thank you for letting me critique your piece! It was a joy to read and analyze!! <3
Let me know if you’d like me to elaborate on anything further.

critique for 1IMaM

“Hold up!” someone shouted behind Charles Becker, and he felt the gun at his head.

The first thing I noticed was how we’re immediately getting into the action, while this approach can work, I feel in this piece it would be better if you began with just a short paragraph describing Charles doing regular bank teller things, and then going a complete 180 when the robber comes.

His heart pounded at the thought of the bullet through his brain. He was going to die. The man’s every movement made the floorboards creak, and his wet breath sank down Charles’ neck.

I believe this should be reworded as "the thought of the bullet going through his brain.” I also think “He was going to die” implies that it’s saying that he will die in the future. It should be something like “He felt like he was about to die.” or “If he didn’t listen, he would die.” I also think “The man’s every movement” doesn’t make it clear on if it’s Charles’ or the robber. I’m assuming it’s the robber, so it should say something like “The robber’s every movement.”

“I’m Mr. Morgan,” the man said in his ear.

It doesn’t make much sense for a robber to refer to himself as ‘Mr.’ So something like “I’m Jack Morgan” would make more sense. I’m sure you’ve also heard of the ‘said is dead’ advice, so I’d say replacing said with ‘whispered’ would be good.

Jack Morgan. Worst criminal Australia knew. It was probably that same gun that had killed seven police officers and helped him raid the barracks at Clunes. Charles was prepared for this.

Love the detail saying what’s going on with the gun! Though, rewording it to something like ‘The gun at Charles’ head was probably the same one used to kill seven police officers and raid the barracks at Clunes’ in order for it to flow nicer.

“Eh, I said who are you?”

I believe instead of ‘Eh’ it should be something more similar to ‘Hey!’

“M-Mister Becker. The bank teller.”

“Anything behind that door?” He pointed a large finger in front of Charles.

Charles tensed. Did he give up early? He kept as still and silent as he could, giving the police upstairs a few more seconds, every breath tightening his throat more.

I think something earlier on, saying that there was police upstairs would make this make more sense. At this moment, I was like “What? There’s police upstairs? Since when?” So, having a sentence earlier on saying this would make it make much more sense.

“No,” he managed.

Perhaps saying something like ‘to squeak out’ after managed would make it make more sense.

Jack Morgan, gun still at Charles’ head, went through the table he was sitting at, papers and drawers scattered on the floor. There was definitely armour under that shirt Morgan wore. Or maybe he was just huge. His head just about grazed the ceiling. The man tried the door-

I think adding ‘with his’ before gun would have it make more sense. I also think it should be a comma instead of a period after wore. I also think a way to make it flow nicer would to make it say something like “Or maybe her was just huge, after all, his head just about grazed the ceiling.” Adding the transitional word can indicate the relation the two sentences have with eachother.

“Oi, the key.” He turned frighteningly fast.

Charles tried to find the courage to delay, but the gun was still there. And the face behind it didn’t care about one little life.

I think instead of ‘the face behind it’ it would make more sense to say something like “And the man holding it” since his face isn’t really behind the gun.

Where were the police?

Something along the lines of “When will the police come?” Would make more sense, since we do know where the police is, they’re upstairs.

He got the key out of his pocket and laid it on the table.

Morgan stuck it in the door, kicking it open, a sickening shoe print now stuck in the wood. He looked at it for a moment, hopefully appreciating the way Charles’ father had made every wall and door with meticulous hands.

A man came tromping down Charles’ stairs, a familiar bag in his hands. “Cops are stuck. Got this too.”

Maybe replace ‘a man’ with ‘another man’

The police were gone, sitting useless when they were needed most. The man waved the bag for Jack Morgan to see, the bag with the hole in the bottom and the beer stain. The bag that held seven hundred and fifty dollars.

Giving specific details the bag showing it’s importance really makes it stand out, great job with this!

They’d found it.

Jack Morgan saw it and grinned like a madman. “Eh, there’s some meat. Blasted cops are gonna hate us now, eh, Harold.”

The money was gone.

“There’s more,” Harold said. Charles couldn’t see a single gun on him.

Keeping that one, brief sentence about Harold not having a gun is so awesome. This is important later on, but since it’s just one sentence readers won’t pay attention to it until the later events signify its importance. Awesome job here.

He was still grinning. Harold tossed the money around, contaminating every note, and Charles felt sick knowing the bank’s money was being handled by criminals. Was there anyone out there? He glanced out the tiny window, knowing it would be in vain…

Specifying what is contaminating every note would make it make more sense.

Someone was there.

His uniform wasn’t great, and he probably wasn’t the best policeman, but he’d do.

But how would he get the man’s attentio-

The room next to him erupted with sound. Jack Morgan smashed tables looking for any scrap of money in the room, ripped open drawers, ruined the floorboards. He’d let himself smile if he wasn’t being held at gunpoint. Sure enough, the bedraggled policeman’s head perked up, face creased in worry, already on his feet towards the bank. Ha.

The door flew open, and a man covered in scars ran in. “Cops are coming.”

Charles watched, smile tugging at his face, as the place burst into utter chaos.

Remove the comma and put ‘with a’ before smile for it to flow better.

They talked to, yelled at, shoved each other; anything to get out of the place. Harold told Jack Morgan to kick the wall down, and they looked around to shoot Charles, but he was already across the room and halfway up the stairs. The man with the scars was kicking down the wall now, next to where Charles had been. Charles didn’t know how much he enjoyed watching people getting desperate until that moment with them all in a mess, running from the men who risked their lives to stop criminals like these. Jack Morgan shoved himself to the front of the house, right at the door.

The police came storming in.

Jack Morgan’s huge frame blocked the door, shooting even as bullets came at him. Harold ducked behind him, shooting from behind his leg, as the man with the scars kept kicking. Jack Morgan’s hands… were by his side, one covering Harold’s face. What? Why wasn’t he shooting? He had a gun…

Earlier it said that Jack Morgan was shooting, unless this is just me reading this wrong, I think the first shooting should be replaced with ‘standing’

But Harold didn’t.

He’d given Harold his gun and stood there, unprotected. To save the others.

But of course, he fell soon enough, bullets through his chest. There was one police officer left, his gun trained on the unprotected man kicking down the wall. Charles felt for his gun. The man was defenseless. He didn’t deserve to die like that. He didn’t deserve it. The policeman’s finger hovered over the trigger, ready to shoot-

It doesn’t make sense for there to be one police officer left at the moment. I think you should explain where the others went, like they stormed into the place and went upstairs, a reason should be provided. I also think it just…doesn’t make sense for Charles to have a gun? Since he could’ve used it earlier, why would he just be feeling for it now? I think it would make more sense for Charles to have gotten the gun Harold had from Harold dropping it or something.

But Charles shot first.

This one sentence is so impactful, and it leaves such a great impression on the reader. Great job!

The plot and direction the story took was great, the story’s writing is great. However, there were many plot holes that should be patched. Additionally, I noticed a lack of figurative language. I think adding more figurative language (similes, metaphors, personification, etc.) could really make the story even better! This isn’t bad by any means, the story was already good, there‘s just room to improve it!

| ♞ | ୨ 719 words

312 words! for an irl friend of mine who is gender questioning but sometimes identifies with female terms so i figured it still counts lol

— — — —

dear friend,

you have no idea how inspiring you are. you once told me that you don’t believe you’re emotionally intelligent. honestly, i never believed that for a second. you have stood by your own thoughts and opinions for years, and you have been honest with me about things that you haven’t told most people.

when we first met, i was on the heels of mental recovery. i had lost everyone who was previously important to me, and i never in a million years would have thought that i’d find someone like you to completely turn my life around. from your silly karaoke performances to your various club leadership positions, you have inspired me in your own way - simply by being yourself, by finding the strength to fight for true justice, by being there for me when i thought i was alone.

i look forward to teasing you in a coffee shop whenever you visit me. it means the world that i could message you at any time, and even past midnight you’d still be awake to talk to me and give me advice on almost anything (except stem - we both know that’s more my thing) without a second thought. we’ve had deep conversations about controversial topics, and you never fail to amaze me with the compelling way you speak about your beliefs.

it feels like i’ve known you forever, even though it’s only been a few years. when life knocks you down, you get back up again (regardless of whether or not i flood our messages with reputation quotes) and you make the best out of every situation. you take me seriously, accommodating for anything that i could possibly need.

thank you for inspiring me in more ways than one, and i can’t wait to go on that birthright trip we always talked about!

with love,
your honorary twin

daily for myth, 419 words

Dear Mrs. B,

I didn't even know how to start this letter, even though you're never going to see it.

I wonder what it's like to see a former student years later. Am I still the same? How much, in your eyes, have I changed? I'm still a writer like I wanted to be and I still do Academic Team. In a way, that's because of you, not my mom or brother. If it hadn't been for you, I never would've continued. If it hadn't been for you, I would've abandoned it every time I felt like I would never be enough for it, for my parents, for anything.

I know you never knew about how much I struggled in the fifth grade. My anxiety was at an all time high, so horrible that I could barely ever think of anything else. Until practice came. Because there, I *was* enough. There, I was good at something; I was the Language Arts person on the team, the one who my teammates would give quick glances every time a question about a book came up because they trusted me that I knew it, and so did you. Those glances from them, the glances from you? They were small, barely noticeable sometimes, but they meant so much more to me. Because all of you relied on me and I knew I could do it. Because you encouraged me to keep going, keep trying, even when I felt like giving up. Because you didn't think I was worthless like I did.

I remember that time in third grade, when I gave you that story about the red panda. It was honestly a terrible story, even for a third grader, but I can't tell you how happy I was when I gave that to you and you read it out to the class. I was less shy back then, but I was still afraid to share my writing, and seeing someone read it out like it was a masterpiece of literature gave me courage to keep writing. And would you look at that? Here I am, years later still writing. You won't get to see it this time, but if you did, even if this letter was absolute garbage, you'd still read it with that proud look on your face and I'd still be trying to hold back a smile while you did.

I wonder when I'll see you again. Soon, hopefully. I'm going to State next week. Wish me luck.

With love,
Natt

Dear Mom,
You know letters aren't really my thing. If it weren't for you, I'd probably never get any written at all. But today's SWC daily prompt is to compose a letter to a woman in your life who you look up to, in recognition of International Women's Day, and I couldn't think of anyone better than you. You've always been my biggest supporter, helping me learn, achieve, and make big decisions. I'm more grateful to you than I could possibly put into words.
You've read books to me my whole life, and this is undeniably a major factor in why I ended up as smart and imaginative as I am now. Every time I get a good grade in school, every time I complete an awesome project, and every time I solve a new problem, it's a sign that all your hard work is paying off. Those seeds you planted back when I was little are coming to fruit in every accomplishment I make.
You've taught me so much over the years. No matter what stage of my life I'm facing, you've been there to give advice and help me succeed. From basic life skills to financial tips, you've guided my path through this big, confusing world, always looking out for me. I don't know where I'd be without you.
And this isn't even a tenth of everything you've done for me. There's all the events you've researched and driven me to so that I can have new experiences. There's the way you make me the best burritos ever, with extra cheese and all. There's the silly moments we share when referencing the dumb movies we've watched together. (uuUuuHhh? xD) And a million more things besides. Some of which I'm probably not even aware of yet, that I won't truly appreciate until I'm much older.
I hope you know how much respect I have for you and all the effort you've put into raising me well. I know it hasn't been easy; life rarely is. I know I frustrate you sometimes. But I love you so, so much.
You say you're not artistic, but I am your creation; you have shaped me more than any other individual. I am what you raised me to be. And I'd say I'm coming out pretty well, don't you think?
Thanks for everything.
Love,

Cabin Wars:

397 words, character swap with Mouse! I crept quickly between the shadows of the buildings, keeping my head down to avoid any interaction. While I had gained at least some partial control over the unbearably long limbs humans seemed to be cursed with, I had no idea how to interact with them, and I didn’t want to. They had nothing to offer me, anyway. Not to mention that they despised everything I loved, which made the idea of any friendship about as appealing as the idea of being stuck in this torturous form for any longer.

Without the wings I had learned to rely on, I merely had my own wits and a will to rival even the most fiery of my kind. I had learned to stay on the edges of towns, near to the dragons. If–no, once–I returned to my dragon form, I would need to get out of the human towns as fast as possible. It wasn’t like I yearned to stay longer than I had to.

There was no way to avoid it now, I had to cross into the open. I couldn’t expect to find everything I needed on the very edges of town, I had to venture deeper. I stepped into the sunlight pouring into the streets, joining the hustling crowd. This never would have gone well for the dragons, if you were flying you got your own bubble of space. Right now, I was bumping into people left and right and could hardly see where I was going. It was unbearable, especially when they all chatted endlessly about trivial matters. What would it take for a little peace and quiet to fall upon them?

It took me a moment to realize there was a girl speaking to me, walking parallel to me and practically screaming into the weak human ears I had been cursed with. I ignored her, swinging my head the other way as I shoved through the crowd, desperate to get away from the unbearability of it all.

Escaping the crowd, I stepped into a sheltered pocket of space between two buildings, and slid to the ground. It had been a terrible idea to try and get farther into the city at all, and all I had done was manage to get even more lost than I already was. I was back on the edge of town, nearly in neutral territory between the two.

✦ Write 200 words about a character finding an unexpected gift. What is it and how does it change their life? (+1 fragment)
She glided into the room, held by some unknown force that propelled her on. She felt numb, unaware of the troubles plaguing the city, the troubles she had caused. Her eyes flitted from shelf to shelf, taking stock of the situation in a way she had trained herself to do. Everything seemed to be exactly as she left it, not an inch. Everything, except the parcel carefully placed on the center of her bed.

She grabbed it cautiously, pulling the twine and undoing the bow done on the top of it. The paper unfolded to reveal what seemed to be a harmless book, but she had learned to never take anything at mere face value. The cover was unmarked, so she had to flip to a random page to get a sense of what the book was detailing. However, further inspection revealed the book was written in no language known to her, and in the same strange dialect as the books she had found in the secret cavern from the collapse. She thought it was a meaningless waste of time until a diagram drawn on one of the pages caught her eye. She noted eraser marks and it slowly dawned on her: this was someone’s personal journal. Whoever that someone was, they were drawing the king’s ruby ring, with each facet of the gem marked with a different rune.

The king’s ring wasn’t just for mere decoration. It was connected to magic. 242
✦ Write 300 words about a character making a difficult decision that will impact their future. (+2 fragments)
The vial shook delicately in her hand, although her gaze was unwavering. She stared ahead to Erik, the boy prince. An arrogantly selfish boy who in no right deserved to die. Even if he did, could she survive doing this to Rohan? She had lost her sister, too. It had destroyed her. Maybe Rohan and Erik’s relationship was different, in a way, but it was no less strong than her and June. What she would give to have June back.

The thought solidified her choice in her mind, the only way to move forward and have any hope of getting her sister back was to poison the prince. She had come here with one reason in mind, and she planned to leave with the same one. She cursed the world for making her fall in love with Rohan, her enemy, and vowed to be stronger. She was an amazing actress. All she had to do was pretend to love him the same way she had before, even if it broke her heart. Even if it broke his heart.

She moved toward Erik, unsure where Rohan was and hoping he was far away. When she drew near, she found him to be conversing excitedly with yet another new girl, his drink disregarded on the ground. As inconspicuously as she could, she moved around him in a full circle, giving him a wide berth, and positioned herself somewhere in the brush behind him. She uncorked the vial, careful not to let any of the liquid inside touch her hands. Despite the task, her hands were surprisingly steady as she poured a drop into the glass holding his drink.

But from the corner of her eye, she saw his hand absentmindedly reaching for his drink, and nerves poured through her system as her vision blurred for a moment and her hands began to violently shake. When her vision cleared, she could see every drop of the poison being poured into the cup by a hand she quickly drew back.

Maybe too quickly, though. A drop came in contact with her knuckle, and it immediately seared through the layer of skin, feeling like she had put her hand in a bonfire, then covered it in gasoline and let it cook some more. The smell immediately met her nostrils, and she scrambled back quickly, praying to every god listening that Erik wouldn’t be able to smell it.

But of course he couldn’t smell it, he was slumped over his glass, maroon staining his lips as the girl’s screams covered up the sound of her escape, and the sound of her pounding heart. 438

✦ Write 400 words about a character facing their greatest fear. (+3 fragments)
Ana’s hands shook as she raced through the halls, the sound of leagues of men pursuing her filling her ears and almost drowning out her pounding heart. But nothing could drown out her own thoughts, and the realization she would be caught. When she was caught, she had no doubt it would break Rohan’s heart all over again, and in turn break hers. No matter how much she tried to convince herself to stay neutral, she couldn’t. No matter what she did, some tiny part of her would always belong to Rohan, and yearn for the sense of peace she felt when she was with him.

BAM! Her face collided with a wall, a dead end she hadn’t seen coming when she had glanced over her shoulder to check the distance of herself and the guards. Stars danced through her eyes as she slid to the ground, and quickly felt someone tackle her down. Where she had struggled to breath before, the wind was knocked straight from her lungs and her faint gasps of breath echoed through the now silent hall as she tried to regain her breath.

“Don’t suffocate her, I want her alive.” Her eyes slowly danced to the man before her, not wanting to believe it.

“Rohan,” she gasped, eyes wide as she pleaded for some sympathy that he didn’t have left. His eyes only darkened at her words, and he looked completely betrayed as the toe of his boot came slamming into her chest, knocking the breath out of her lungs once more.

“Prince. You will address me with respect!” For a moment, she could see a flash of the king in him. It scared her. But she thought he saw the flash of the king in himself, too. It did not scare him. He nodded to the guard pinning her down, who lifted her effortlessly and quickly shackled her.

Rohan unfurled a piece of paper from his pocket, and in the moment she felt just as betrayed as he had. Maybe she had betrayed him first, but this piece of paper? He had been lying in wait, a snake waiting for the perfect moment to attack. “Anastasia XXXXXX. You are charged on the counts of poisoning a royal, destroying parts of the castle and leading the rebellion. Your sentence is being decided, but due to the severity of your crimes, it is most likely death. Signs of resistance will not be met kindly, so I suggest you comply with what we tell you to do.”

Her eyes were wide, but she said nothing. She even said nothing when he called her the leader of the rebellion, although that was far from true. But she couldn’t contain herself when she noticed the dead look in his eyes, an icy cold that matched how she felt. “Ro–Prince Rohan, please.”

“Guards, take her away.” 476

⋆ WEEKLY #1: worldbuilding ⋆
total words: 2116
part one: language and culture (523/350 words)
when i was like 10, i did as most kids did - i started a story in a journal from five below, one that was surprisingly complex but still most definitely cringy (i know, i’m facepalming just thinking of it). but i saw this weekly and thought: hey, what if i finally brought justice to little veni’s chaotic and concerning world? so, let‘s begin the suffering!
the vthyaresh people are shapeshifters to a specific animal, which shapes a number of aspects in their society - avians are regarded as the highest class, then deer, foxes, rabbits, and so forth in a way that is somewhat logical. being a tight-knit community and rather accepting, these “classes” don’t define them much besides associating them to one of the original six families and their respective trades (merchants, woodworkers, leaders, etc.) this form of organization is not strictly stressed or enforced, and is mostly observed still for its ancestral and now borderline religious history.
originally nomadic, the vthyaresh are now mostly settled into a small village nestled in a valley, two sloping hills encasing them. there are cabins of wood, lightly cobblestoned roads, and places for buying or trading goods. it’s named, surprise, vthyare. they are surrounded by thick forests and rough terrain for miles, which is used for food and resources. since there is snow on the ground for much of the year food is hard to grow and farms are largely unsuccessful, and the population largely depends on hunts (mostly fish because we’re avoiding cannibalism here…) and foraged goods such as berries and mushrooms. in more recent years with the population having grown, there are a number of smaller impermanent settlements in a dozen-mile radius around the main village, mostly consisting of groups who still prefer to camp in tents.
existing somewhere in the north of scandinavia, the vthyare’s language and culture has elements absorbed from interactions that happened long ago - since then, they’ve broken off of those societies and formed their own. their words still have the same kind of lilt but are so heavily accented that it’s hard for someone to just come and understand them, usually assuming that the language is brand-new and undocumented (partially true).
vthyaresh religion varies per family, but they all worship some aspect of nature under unspecific names. think making offerings to the Wind, the Sun, Moon, and etc. astronomy and corresponding astrology is also very important to their culture, positions of the stars being used to tell seasons, predict weather, and by highly respected prophets to foresee the future. community celebrations include having large bonfires to begin each season, and also an annual feast each year just before the dead of winter settles in order to make the most of the little harvests.
oops back to the shapeshifter thing which was actually kind of important: people have masks of their animals which are worn during religious celebrations and parties, and also most don’t prefer to shift much as it is actually painful and they do just as well without all that trouble. again with the cannibalism thing everyone has agreed to be pescatarian (loophole saved amirite)

part two: geography and memorable locations
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/1144325981/

part three: technology (559/500 words)
in the midst of the frost season, there is a knee deep coating of snow fallen over the quaint village of vthyare. the storm has taken a pause, paper white skies holding their breath - for keisha, it sounds like a perfect time to go and explore. she watches the roads from her spot on the slick rooftop, burgundy red shawl wrapped over her shoulders. it is quiet and a little too eerie for what is her usually lively home, and any other month there would’ve been schoolchildren running about or the man who sold bread making his daily rounds.
which, fair. it was essentially impossible to move about in the powder flooded outdoors… having an idea, the young girl runs inside to where her father, a blacksmith, is peacefully sipping coffee by a roaring fire.
“what is it?” he asks without looking up from his novel. it must’ve been a good one.
“father, is there any way we could clear the streets?”
he hums over this for a second. “keisha, you know the city people have tried and failed to shovel, the snow has frozen solid a while ago. besides, we’re fine as it is - everyone’s got food, our home is nice and warm.”
keisha pouts, now sitting cross legged on the patterned carpet. “but i want to go play outside.”
“why?”
“it’s boring here. i haven’t talked to anyone but you in a week,” she sighs dramatically, falling back to spread her arms out on the floor. her father’s lips twitch in amusement.
“i’ll see what i can do, then.” he glances at the fireplace, then heads to his workshopping room and keisha waits excitedly.

the first prototype he comes up with is some form of supersized blowtorch. it has a large opening covered with a grate, meant to harness the fire and instead utilize its heat. there is a large fan situated towards the back of the bulky machinery, walls lined with something flammable, and the whole thing is sent into action when a lit match is inserted into a rusty opening.
“that looks dangerous,” keisha remarks when her father hoists the thing over his shoulder, hat over his head and opening the door to go and try it out.
“you asked for it,” he smiles. “besides, what could go wrong?”
the young girl goes back up to her rooftop to watch, knowing her father was slightly insane but also a genius. this contraption would either not work or be the saving of the village. she wraps the shawl tighter around her face.
the match is inserted and the fan is spurred into life, an immediate wave of heat and red-hot fire illuminating the snow a warm golden color. she cringed, as the machine is hurriedly switched off and the buzzing stops - the fire goes for longer but eventually that fades too.
“was that supposed to happen?” she asks accusingly. she receives a grunt that had a fifty percent shot of being approval.
“i will… work on it.”
despite that, a small circle of cobblestone had effectively been cleared, and keisha calls her friend over. they build a snowman on the still warm rocks, laughing.

in the end, the thing that does work is simply a shovel with edges sharp as a knife. the menace of a blowtorch sits unused in the blacksmith’s basement.

part four: final writing piece (1034/800 words)
erika’s first, and now likely last, solo hike had spiraled into a disaster.
it had started when talk of a mysterious mountain way up north began - a huge, looming thing which previously had not been recognized by scientists. odd, considering mountains didn’t tend to appear overnight, and this one was actually the largest and an endpoint of a previously famed range. it was unique in that way, having existed so quietly in the corner for who knew how long and completely undetected by footfalls of humankind. rumors circling in her city said that maybe it held some kind of magical power, or that it was hiding something epic like a dragon’s lair. some of the musings sounded silly, but curse (or bless) her ambitious soul, erika wanted to be the very first to reach its peak. she would reveal the truth to the world, and maybe secure a spot in history. perhaps they would even name the thing after her.
she was slightly under experienced, yes, but so what? she had done hard climbs before even if they were in the company of her friends. they hadn’t helped her out too much, surely. plus, it wasn’t like this was everest, just a random spot in her tame country of norway. without much of a second thought she packed her bag and hopped on a train.

it was way colder than she’d expected. she shivered despite the sweat beading on her forehead, and her phone had lost signal hours ago. she was already here though, and giving up would be a pathetic move.
when her ankle slipped on a sneaky patch of ice, she’d thought the swirling aurora would be the last thing she’d ever see. not a half-bad scene, in her opinion.

~

day one.
i’m not sure how many days i’ve been out, but here i am and finally awake. after digging in my drenched bag, this journal happens to be one of the few things that is slightly recoverable, even if it’s pages are wrinkled and damp in some places. i, The Fool, may not become a famed explorer anymore but i do have a shot at a successful publication. this is my chance to tell a story inspiring enough to out-fool all the other fools.
i will start from the fall. the moment i hit the ice, i knew i should have never come, and i believed i would die being proven wrong. it was a terrible feeling, the trees and failure both over me. but then came the men, who must have carried me to their camp because that seems to be where i am now. i do not remember much and fear for my mental state, but if i recall correctly they wore long hooded coats of fur and had warm, strong hands. their eyes were kind.
the tent i am in is made of strong canvas painted in colorful patterns, and the glow of the fire outside bleeds through its walls. it is surprisingly warm. there is a steaming bowl of soup at my feet.
and here comes a shadow - i will thank them.
until tomorrow.

day two - morning.
last night, i had the most pleasant conversation with the women who came into my tent. i did not understand much of what she had been saying, her tongue felt comfortingly familiar but all too far from what i am used to. still, i know she had come to check on me, and rebandaged my leg, which i wasn’t even aware had been broken.
anyways, she introduced herself as saffron and i mostly listened to her talk with that sweet voice, my own throat too dry plus the added obstacle of not knowing what to respond. she mentioned some words such as “travel” and “town”, so i think i may end up somewhere else by afternoon today. i wish i could thank these people more in some way, they are the only reason my soul is not adrift in an afterlife.
(if i could mention, they also give me an unexplainable cryptid vibe. like they are about to tear my flesh open. how do they thrive here in these hellish conditions? not to mention the mountain i came here originally for, do they have something to do with it? are these people even documented as real? whatever the case, i remind to myself that their kindness makes up for it. right?)

day two - night.
as i had earlier predicted, i am now in a charming little town. it’s obviously a very locals-only sort of situation, everyone has similar clothes patterned similarly to that tent, and they all speak the same song-like language. i feel very much like an outsider, but they have been so welcoming and the village children came up to greet me with baked goods. saffron made the short walk here with me as well as another man, young and nimble, leaving behind the rest of the camp. i didn’t ask any questions, wanting to remain polite.
my leg feels much better than just last night, the sweet smelling balm they used must have been blessed. still, the other two were open to being human crutches.
i write this in a small log cabin, it’s cozy and smells of cinnamon. it must be a guest house and there’s a thick cloud of dust on everything, so it could be assumed i’m the first traveler to come in a long, long time.
overall, it’s nice here. there was an engraved tree on the way in reading “vthyare” - saffron said that’s the town’s name. i’ve never heard of it before, and i’m literally a geography major. mysterious, in the good way. it’s very lively here for such undesirable conditions, everyone carries on life just as if it were summertime (thinking on it now, why hadn’t i waited until summertime to do the trek? not like anyone else would be as crazy as me to want to do it).
i wonder when i will get to go home, we seem far from any other life. surprisingly, i look forward to waiting it out if the community continues to be as pleasant as it has been.

(to be continued)