329 words

my purple prison is one that i have always despised. from the moment i was born, i was thrown into a bundle of purple clothing. it reached a point where i was forced to tell people that purple was my favorite color, even though that couldn’t be further from the truth.

i painted my walls purple, fitting into the vision of a perfect girl; just as i should be. i broke my own heart just to heal yours. purple became a source of darkness for me, while it was your only flash in the night.

when we renovated the house all those years ago, i didn’t see anything changing. you wanted to move me upstairs, but i kept my walls purple, at least in my mind.

the walls were beige when i entered the room in the middle of the renovation for a preview. it was a stark contrast from the purple that i had grown to know so well. for the first time, i felt at home in my new living space.

“what color do you want the walls?” you had asked me, holding your ipad out to face me. the wallpaper website was set to a filter of purple shades of paint. it was an absolute disgrace to my eyes. that settled it; i couldn’t stand another moment of purple.

a month later, the renovation was finished. i woke up from my first night in my new room, sunlight streaming through the windows like ribbons in my hair. it was a blissful saturday, with no moments of pain in sight. my room was comforting enough to give me the start to the new day that i had always desired. as i pulled open the newly beige blinds, my room lit up in an instant. i couldn’t help but smile.

it has been three years since then. my orange walls are my escape from that purple prison. i have never once regretted the decision i made that day.

critique for fini, 362 words

Hi Fini!! This is absolutely amazing and this was such a fun piece to read. I love all the little details from it and I would absolutely love to read more of this story!! This will be mostly focused on letter #3, i hope that's alright <3 I do feel like there are some super subtle little grammar details that could really make each character’s written word more meaningful depending on how they feel as they write these. For example, in letter #3, the first paragraph, I feel like Amirana gives off a vibe of WANTING to back down, but not having a choice to do it, while in the rest of the letter it sounds like she doesn’t want to back down at all. If this was what you’re going for ignore this lol, but personally I would change the second line to “What message would that send to the people still living in chains?” as opposed to the original version, which imo, has a sort of underlying feeling of her wanting to do it but being unable to. For the second paragraph which is literally so beautiful, teach me please– I would maybe remove the line about how they laughed when they burned down the orphanage or move it to a separate line? I saw this writing tip on Pin so just ignore this if you don’t like the style, but it talked about how the bigger the thing IS, the smaller you write. Instead of writing about the horrors of war, write about a child’s burnt doll on the side of the road. Since we as the reader can’t see the scene where they are burning down this orphanage, it doesn’t feel as sad to us as it would to someone who was there. Instead of such a heartbreaking moment that we want it to feel like, it just feels like a sentence. It feels like an explanation as opposed to a gut punch. I hope this isn’t too harsh and that it helped you in some way!! If you end up posting more about these characters, please send it to me i would love to read more <3

Daily 14 || 385 words

The skies were an ominous greyish red as the volcano erupted.

Ash, fire, and rocks fell from the sky as Kilimanjaro ushered Sunset into the air. The two had been exploring the strange island when the ground had begun to shake, and now they were caught in the chaos.

“Be careful!” Kilimanjaro yelled as a black rock flew between the dragons, Sunset swerving to avoid it as she oriented them back towards Pyrrhia. Red lava poured across the rocky landscape, the two dragons anxiously diving towards the ocean, which looked grey from the sudden weather change.

Sunset's talons brushed against the water as they reached the ocean, which grew bluer as they escaped the range of the eruption. She let out a sigh, slowing down so her friend could catch up, the two calming down and panting softly now that they could breathe again.

“Phew,” Kilimanjaro sighed, looking back at the calming volcano. “We should be safe now.” She looked back at Sunset, who nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but it cut off into an abrupt “WATCH OUT-!” as the volcano erupted again, sending a firey red rock hurtling towards the two.

Kilimanjaro shoved Sunset aside, the rock smacking against her and sending her tumbling into the water. Sunset, panicking, dove down after her, getting under her Rockwing friend and beating her wings to try and keep her above the surface as the water grew greyer and ashier.

It was a few seconds before Kilimanjaro could reorient, quickly pulling herself and Sunset out of the water and the two flying nonstop until the eruption was only a grey cloud in the distance.

“Are you okay?” Sunset asked once they were safe and under pure yellow sunlight. “You saved my life…but…” Her eyes drifted to the massive impact crack stretching across Kilimanjaro's scales. Kilimanjaro looked at it as well, laughing a bit. “Eh, I'll be fine,” she said. “I'm an animus, remember? I should be able to heal that before it gets too bad.”

Sunset hesitantly nodded, before realizing something. “Hey wait, couldn't you have, like, enchanted the volcano to not erupt?”

“It's kind of hard to think of enchantments while trying not to die,” Kilimanjaro sighed, the two sharing an awkward laugh as they calmed, following the blue ocean back to land.

(This is written from the POV of a feline character. Can cats even see green? I probably should've looked this up– xDD)

Go!
Green like a traffic light, vivid and bright, urging me along.
Up!
Green like the forest leaves, smooth and fresh, straining towards the sun.
These notions of forward movement and growth are the founding tenets of my personal philosophy. I have seen the false greens of artificial grass and dollar bills, and I have decided they are nothing to get envious over. The bitter shade of jealousy is not one I wish to paint my life with.
But neither is the sickly tint of disgust, and thus I do not begrudge others their goals and desires, though they may differ from mine. It's been said that there is no way to know if the color I perceive is the same as yours, and as such, what I see as emeralds may be nothing but mossy stones to you.
I've made my peace with where I came from, accepting the olive branch it offered me. Life has a way of bringing forth good fortune like clusters of shamrocks, there to be sought and found by those who look hard enough. Admittedly, luck takes a while to come around sometimes, like fruit ripening in the summer. But wait long enough, and it will arrive. No pickle lasts forever!
I've spent my time sailing seas of teal on this little boat of mine, and the years have done me well. Seasickness has never colored my whiskers. But I'm getting older now, and a new type of green has come into its own. It is the green of the pixels on these gadgets called computers, a more radiant hue than anything I've ever seen before.
What will this color bring? I do not yet know, and I am afraid I will not be around long enough to find out. That is why I leave this to you, dear future, to make it something beautiful.
Go. Up.
Onwards.

daily (lets be real guys im never gonna format these again sob) 440 words

i. purple (the stage in which life is ordinary)
“new kids on the block?”
lisa blows a strand of hair out of her face. “yeah. a new family moved into the neighborhood. we met them last night, they seem really nice.”
“what are they like?”
lisa obligingly gives me the information i'm really interested in: primarily, whether they are interesting - or whether they're all five year olds with drippy noses and nosey tendencies.
“there's a girl a few years older than we are, a boy about our age, and twins, a boy and a girl, a few years younger.”
i nod. an addition to the neighborhood crew is always welcome, although i can't help wishing the oldest girl and boy were swapped. i'm terrible at talking to guys.
“what are their names?” i ask.
“isabel's the oldest, then mark, then joseph and rachel.”
that concludes the talk about the new neighbors. our conversation wanders off into the boy who passionately outpoured his love for lisa today (they had known each other for three days), and we spend a good quarter of an hour giggling over the poor dude's declaration. i've forgotten all about the new kids by the time i go inside for dinner.
ii. mauve (the stage in which i discover someone interesting)
i'm wasn't introduced to the new kids for two days, and it isn't so much an introduction as a “hi, sorry i tripped over you and sent both of us tumbling into the creek.
i wheel my bike out of the garage, settling the helmet onto my head. it's a lovely day, with a whisper of wind to keep the bright sun from being too oppressive.
now, please let me explain something. when i ride my bike, it's not for the exercise, or even because i like it (it can get pretty uncomfortable after a while, with the seat digging into your seat). i ride my bike because it's a great mindless activity for daydreaming. that in mind, you may understand better why i, intent on my handlebars, didn't see the other bike coming towards me until it was too late, and why i was on the wrong side of the road in the first place.
my thoughts scattered. i tasted dirt, sweat, and grass. there was a lot of incoherent shouting, mostly from me, some from the person who was currently so mixed up and tangled with me i wasn't sure i could tell whose limbs were whose.
it was further complicated when we splashed into the creek. i swallowed muddy water before somehow managing to gasp my way onto the bank.
”OW," i said.

(unfinished but im out of time lol)

March 15th:

“Is that the sound of fanfare? For today’s daily, give your character a throne and a palace, since it’s been decreed that they will rule for one day! For 250 words and 100 points, write about whatever their majesty sees fit: royal edicts, national holidays, or even silly laws! You can earn an extra 50 points for sharing.”

Author's Notes:
▸ these characters <3
▸ very dialogue heavy and not very proofread. I just had fun while writing, didn't really try to make it anything top tier. it's nice to write with no pressure sometimes :]

“Who decided to let me rule? It was a horrible decision,” Oath muttered as he placed a shiny golden crown on top of his head. He smoothened out his collar, trying out different angles as he glanced at his reflection in the mirror. “At least the clothes are nice.”

“Funny. I thought you would’ve loved to lead, seeing that you hate the former monarchs so much,” Riptide said, watching Oath from where he sat on a velvet stool.

“You’ve thought wrong. I am offended that my closest ally does not know that simple fact about me,” Oath tsked.

Riptide shrugged. He stood up and bowed. “What shall your first decree be, king?” He kept a straight face throughout his words, but his tone was teasing.

Oath glared at him. “Perhaps my first decree shall be that someone else would rule this place instead. I never wished to associate with royals, after all, let alone be one.” He scoffed.

“I think you’d make a good ruler, as long as you open your mind,” Riptide.said earnestly.

“I would make a good ruler? Dear me, I’ll have to suspect that you’re a different person than the one I journeyed with. Do tell, what is the childhood activity we used to bond with?”

Riptide raised his hand to his chin. “What a difficult question. My guess is that it definitely had nothing to do with rain. We did not play in the rain together.”

“Oh dear, it seems that you’re a fake. I shall now have to find the real Riptide while making sure you’re locked in the dungeons.” Oath flipped his hair as he exited the room, not bothering to look back as he marched on. “Let’s go reveal this terrifying thought to our friends.”

Riptide smiled as he followed.



“I think your first decree should be that princesses are allowed to visit their friends as much as they’d like. My mom would never let that rule happen!” Anastasia whined, slouching against the velvet couch.

Pierce patted her shoulder. “There, there.”

Oath shook his head. “Decreeing that rule would mean that I’d get to see you more. What a horrible thought that is.”

Anastasia gasped, throwing her hand over her heart. “I have been betrayed by King Oath of Glacieldge!” She crossed her arms and pouted. “My mother will hear about this,” she declared in her angriest voice, raising her arm high in the air.

Oath sighed.

“It’s good to see you too, Anastasia.” Riptide smiled.

Anastasia grinned and waved.

“Honestly? I don’t know I shall add a decree. I simply don’t trust myself enough to do that.” Oath scanned the room, taking in all of his friends. His gaze eventually landed on Riptide. “Ripple, you’re the most responsible one here. You should take the crown.”

“I’m your only friend that isn’t royalty. They would be more experienced in ruling.”

Oath glanced sideways at Pierce and Anastasia. “Well, correct. You’re still the most responsible, though. I believe they can agree.”

Pierce and Anastasia nodded.

Riptide sighed. “Just let me be your astronomer, and I’ll be fine.”

“You’re already the astronomer of Alacrity?” Anastasia pointed out.

Riptide pondered. “On second thought, perhaps it will be tiring to have two jobs at once.”

Oath groaned. “Today is such a predicament! I want the day to end so I shall no longer be the king, but I don’t want the former king and queen to rule.”

“You could give the role to your mother or something, maybe?” Pierce suggested.

Oath blinked. “That, is actually a decent idea. She’s a good leader.”

“I can leave and inform her of your decision, if you’d like,” Riptide said.

“I haven’t even made a decision yet!”

Anastasia stretched her arms. “I wanna leave anyway, even if it’s just to the garden. I need to use my legs right now!”

Pierce stared at her. “How is your physical tolerance so high?”

Oath stood up. “Yes, let’s visit the garden. I need to clear my mind before I can make any decisions.”

Word Count: 671

Daily - March 15

Tw: heavily implied murder

(Au of my wip comic idea where Century is the queen of the griffins. This has a similar style to the prologue (and epilogue I think?) of Skandar and the Chaos Trials by AF Steadman)

“Long live the queen!”
Century stood on the balcony, gazing down at the parade that had formed in her honor. Griffins marched down the streets with drums and trumpets, cheering for their new queen.
None of them know.
Her knees are trembling, her heart is pounding, her smile distorted. None of the spectators can tell, as far away as they are - but the advisors at her side certainly can, and, glimpsing into the future, Century can tell that at least one of them will approach her later, after the ceremony is over.
But none of them can truly understand.
The parade is almost over now, the dancers leaping into the air and spreading their wings for one final, climatic show. One final celebration.
The funeral had been set for tomorrow. A day of celebration, followed by a day of mourning for the old queen. Her body had been placed in the coffin already, the blood carefully cleaned up. She could have been sleeping, if you looked at her - but there was no warmth beneath her feathers, no breath in her lungs, no beat in her heart.
Even she never understood.
Her final moments. Clawing the ground, retching up blood, pleading to the Goddesses for mercy, slipping over the shattered pieces of her poisoned glass before collapsing for the final time. How little it had taken to reduce the regal Queen Distortion into a begging mess. How astounding.
Century had known exactly how it would play out, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch her mother die.
Her mother had never suspected the truth. There had been timelines where she had known, and Century would have to withstand the hurt and betrayal that illuminated her eyes with her last breath. But that had not happened, thank the Goddesses, and Distortion had believed in her loyal daughter to her grave.
But that was over now. Her mother was nothing but feathers and bones in a coffin, her spark of life having long fled. Shaking off the memory, Century turned back to her subjects.
The parade had ended, the griffins in it having scattered back into the crowd. Their heads were erect, eagerly awaiting her first address.
None of them will ever understand.
She stepped forward, already knowing exactly what she was going to say. That future was definite, set in stone. It was after the speech that the timelines diverged.
At least two griffins suspected her. This night could very well be the last of her life, if she did nothing.
But she wouldn’t, however tempting it might seem. The future told her where and how to act, how to make sure they could never, never tell anyone the truth.
Century finished her speech, stepping back from the balcony. Cheers erupted from the crowd.
“Long live the queen!” they cried, faith for Century glowing in their eyes, their hearts, their minds.
But none of them will ever know.

(488 words)

daily 15

Ten minutes ago, Liz’s life had changed. Temporarily.
She’s sitting on the throne, her feet dangling at least a foot from the floor.
The guards are watching, as if they know that she’s not supposed to be here, her hands trembling, gripping the edge of the throne. She doesn’t belong in this room.
“It’s only for a day,” Rhea whispers in her ear.
“My uncle lost his mind,” Liz hisses back. “The king lost his mind!”
“Liz!” Rhea nudges her. “He appointed you.”
Rhea has a good point. If Liz’s uncle made her ruler today, he must’ve had a reason. Liz is immediately renewed. She meets the eyes of the closest guard, and she knows. She’s ready.
She steels her voice. “I would like to issue a royal edict.”
“Oh?” says the guard.
“Yes. I need a piece of paper.”
“I can go,” Rhea interrupts hastily.
“No.” Liz’s gaze cuts across her. “Let the guard take care of it.”
Rhea is surprised. The guard barks an order. A minute later, Liz receives a small stack of paper.
She scribbles, muttering under her breath and crossing out words. Rhea peers over her shoulder.
“The banana law?” Rhea says, outraged. Her voice rises. “Liz, what are you doing?”
Liz ignores her. “It makes sense. Bananas ripen over time. My law will do the same. Once people get used to it, they’ll realize things are better this way.”
Rhea thinks her friend’s lost her mind. Still, she watches as Liz pulls out a new piece of paper and copies down the words from the last, going slowly and carving the words in her best handwriting.
This is what she sees:
THE BANANA LAW
1. Every month, citizens of the kingdom Ariliad are to bake pastries. They are free to follow a recipe of their choice, but it has to be a recipe for pastries. Any type of bread or cake is considered a pastry, such as croissants, pies, tarts, etc. Different varieties are highly encouraged.
2. They are to then line up at the palace entrance.
3. Several guards are to let them in.
4. A grand table will be prepared. The people are to set the pastries down.
5. They are to wait for the queen.
6. Once the queen blows her whistle, they are allowed to sit down. Everyone who participates is invited to the Sugar Fest, which will be a feast of pastries, bread and cake. Everyone is allowed to taste the food provided.
Rhea looks at Liz in shock.
Liz grins cheekily. “I think I’ll make a national holiday next.”

word count: 425 words

Daily 15:

Is that the sound of fanfare? For today’s daily, give your character a throne and a palace, since it’s been decreed that they will rule for one day! For 250 words and 100 points, write about whatever their majesty sees fit: royal edicts, national holidays, or even silly laws! You can earn an extra 50 points for sharing.

After a strange turn of events, Devi was now king (for a day), and he was ready to give out the BEST LAWS EVER. Firstly, they had gotten a softer throne, since the old one was very uncomfortable. And then xe were ready to give out THE BEST LAWS EVER. “Alright. As my FIRST decree, I will now make Pie day a national holiday, and no one has to work on Pie day. Instead, they will eat pie.”
“Do you mean Pi day or Pie day?” Asked the advisor “Yes.” Devi said. Unsure what to do, the advisor just made both national holidays. “And on Pie day, everyone gets free pie of their choice delivered to their house.” Devi said “What about the people who don’t like pie?” The advisor asked “EVERYONE likes pie!” Devi said loudly, the advisor sighed. “Why did anyone think THIS guy would be a good king?” The advisor muttered. “And whenever you win something, you get a trophy, AND pie. Or donuts. Also my mom and Lucy and Camiela and my grandma all get free pie whenever they want. And so do I.”
“Are all your laws and decrees going to be about pie?” The advisor asked. “Maybe.” Devi said. “Also, everyone gets all the food they need, and money.”
“That’s… actually a good law” The advisor said “Hey! All my laws are great!” Devi said “Hehe. Being king is fun.”
“Can I be queen?!” Camiela screamed as she ran into the room. “YEAH!” Devi screamed back, jumping up. “So are you two married?” The advisor asked “NO.” The both said. “EEEEEEEEE! Your gonna be a GREAT queen!!” Devi squealed “Yeah!” Camiela said, grinning. “Wait. Devi. To celebrate. Let’s. Get. Pie!!!”
“YES” And then Devi and Camiela ran off and invited Lucy to come over and they all ate pie. The end.

307 words

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

◪ Noͦ 15
Wordcount: 317/250
Topic: Royal Verdict
Points earned: 100+50 for proof
Cabin: Bi-Fi

The crown felt heavy on my head. The decisions I had to make for my kingdom weighed down on my shoulders, the pressure of protecting my people far too much to bear. I could not even face my council, afraid of the judgemental stares.

This particular sentence was never spoken by Ximena Abaroa.

In contrast, she was quite enjoying herself. Soohee was pretty upset about it too, which gave her all the more joy. She huffed and sat with crossed arms, muttering about how “she's a convict” and “I'm the one leading this mission.” She clearly hadn't made enough of an impression as Ximena had done on the emperor. Now that she had all rights to royal declarations, she couldn't wait to get the larger part of credit for this case. Maybe her sentence would be reduced more than it was promised after they had found out she had complete control over Atlantis. That must be enough to convince them, right?

“Lim, stop sulking,” she chided, Soohee looking up from her seat and shooting a glare at the temporary ruler. “It's not fun being queen when my partner is wallowing away in self-pity.”

“Well-deserved self-pity, I might add,” Soohee grumbled, her eyes still filled with irritation. To her, Ximena was no better than the dust underneath her doorframe- she was made to work with her due to a pact with her father. The surprise on Soohee's face when she realised that his dear daughter was in jail was a sight to pay for.

“I command it,” she said playfully, knowing she was walking on eggshells. Soohee's head dropped for a few seconds before raising again, a forced smile on her face. Her eyes portrayed all the horrors she was going to make Ximena endure once the 24 hours had ended.

A shiver of excitement ran down her face. She was starting to get the detective to crack.

289 words

Due to a complicated bureaucratic mix-up, Ted was now King of Cats for a day.
“First,” he said, “I order you to get me some tacos.”
“Butler!” called the advisor. “Fetch his majesty some tacos.”
The butler scurried off.
“Now,” said the advisor, “for your royal decrees…”
“Lady Yellow Quackington will now be Duchess of Duckingshire.” Lady Quackington was his rubber duck who he carried everywhere.
The advisor frowned. “Your majesty, there is no duchy called Duckingshire.”
“Make her duchess of something else, then.”
“There are no vacant positions for duke or duchess, your highness—it’s a hereditary position, you know—and, with all due respect, I don’t think the current lords would take too kindly to being replaced.”
“Hmph. Make her queen, then.”
“Er… is… she your consort, then?”
“What?”
“That is to say, well, are you married?”
“What? No, we’re not married. She’s a rubber duck.”
“Forgive me, your highness,” sighed the advisor. “But you see, queen is a position traditionally reserved for the reigning monarch or the monarch’s wife.”
Ted harrumphed.
“Now, your majesty, if I may, perhaps you should consider some tax cuts—”
“Sounds boring.”
“Yes, well, I can write up all the necessary documents for you; you’ll just need to sign it…”
“Sign what?”
“The new law.”
“What new law?”
“I mean the—”
“I’m making a law that everyone has to give me tacos.”
“That’s not the sort of—”
“Also, make every tuesday Taco Tuesday. Everyone gets tacos. Taco parties everywhere.”
The scribe scribbled that down.
“Very well. We’ll make Taco Tuesday a national holiday. Now—”
Ted yawned and stretched. “Now I’m going to take a nap. New law: don’t disturb me when I’m sleeping.” And he curled up on the throne and closed his eyes.

Weekly 2
1972 words

(I wrote this all about the same characters)
Content Warning: Mentions of d3ath, bl00d, war etc so if u don’t like sad stories then this isn’t for you)
Part 1

Scene 1
(I wasn’t really sure what to do for this so I just wrote… this haha)

I raced through the crowds, my heart thundering in my chest. My eyes scanned the throngs of people for Lena.
“Lena!” I screamed. “Lena!”
A plane whirred overhead. The sound of bullets pierced the air. Desperate cries for help echoed through the city walls. Tears streamed down my face. Bl00d blossomed from a wound in my arm. War had begun.
“Elijah!”
Relief washed through me. A young woman darted towards me, her hijab flying in the wind behind her. She tucked wisps of hair underneath it as she raced towards me, her face flushed. Her belly was rounded and large. My wife was eight months pregnant by now. I had to keep her safe. Whatever it took.

She reached me and clung onto my arm.
“So many deaths.” She murmured. I nodded. I had seen them as well. People’s eyes glazing over. Inhaling their final breaths. Uttering their last words.
“Keep my baby safe.” A mother told me breathlessly, the life escaping her eyes. “Please. DO whatever it takes. She has to live. Promise me…”
She gripped my hand. “I promise.”
A small sigh escaped her lips. Her eyes became dull and unseeing. I gently closed them with the tips of my fingers.

The words still resonated within me. As so many others did. Standing there in my lab coat, they saw me as someone who could help them. Who could comfort them. Who could save them.
Truth was I couldn’t. No matter who I was. I couldn’t end this war.
“Doctor!” A raw voice called. “Doctor!”
I turned and saw an old man, clutching the hand of a little girl.
“Take her,” he begged.
I smiled at him softly as the life bled out of him, just like the mother. The little girl gazed between me and the man in confusion.
“Grandad? Grandad?”
She sounded quiet and scared.
“Where is he? Bring him back, Doctor. Bring him back, please.”
My lip wobbled as I took her hand and walked her away.
“Your Grandad’s in heaven now. You’ll see him again one day.”

Scene 2

(I wrote this from the perspective of the little girl in the last scene - Jayla <3 I also used a lot of long sentences since all my old teachers told me to stop making my sentences super long. Basically stop using asyndeton so this is for them!! Also actively trying to break the rules is so annoying and this is terrible. Prepare yourself </3)

I stumbled through the rubble, tears threatening to spill, my heart racing as I gripped the hand of the stranger that was striding in front of me, his jaw set, his eyes widening at every turn we took. I felt numb, hollowed out inside from grief. Having to watch Grandad die, bl00d trickling down from the corner of his mouth, his whole body shaking uncontrollably in sheer pa1n and terror, not wanting to d1e and leave me alone, by myself. That was when he let out a roar, screaming for the nearby doctor to take me and look after me. He told me he was scared to d1e, and I had to stay with the doctor, no matter how much I may want to leave him. Now I was following behind the doctor, my hand clammy in his, blocking out my emotions knowing how much they would overpower me, taking me over and forcing me to the ground in a heap of sorrow and remorse. I couldn’t let that happen. I had to survive, For Grandad.

“I’m scared.” I said quietly. “Can you carry me please?”
He smiled down at me. “Of course,” he whispered.
He lifted me up into his arms, a shivering baby in his left, me in his right and struggled on.
“When will I see Grandad?” I asked sadly.
He glanced down. “Hopefully not for a long time.”
I frowned, upset. “What does that mean? I want to see him.”
He shook his head sadly. “He’s in heaven. You have to wait for your time to come. And that time is not yet.”
“OK.” I said mutely.
We carried on until we reached a woman wearing a dusky blue hijab.
“Hi, Elijah. Hi…what are your names?”
“Jayla.” I said softly.
She smiled softly. “Nice name. And the baby?”
Elijah shrugged. “I don’t know. But we should name them. I think they’re a girl as well.”
The lady bit her lip. “Heidi?”
I nodded eagerly. “I like that!”
She gave me a thumbs up.
“Welcome to the family, Jayla and Heidi.” She said.

Part 2

“Jayla.”
“Yes!” I called from the back of the classroom, the sharp edges of the seat digging into my skin. The uniform hung from my skinny arms and the trousers pooled at my feet. I was practically swimming in the shirt.
“Now this is our new girl, Jayla. I want you all to be nice to her. Is that clear?”
Everyone murmured agreement. The teacher beckoned me to stand up. I got to my feet.
“Jayla, would you like to tell everyone about yourself?”
No, I didn’t. But I didn’t have any choice. The teacher might scold me - no, beat me - if I didn’t.
“Jayla! Headmaster’s office, now!”
I scrambled towards the dreaded room, desperate to get it over and done with.
The sharp pain shooting up my back. The unexplainable scars I tried to tell Granddad about.
How I was whipped till I collapsed to the ground. But worst of all, the internal pain. The sorrow and guilt swimming inside me, horror coursing through me. pulsing through me. How my ears would ring with the shouts of the teachers, the laughs of the children gazing at me. gazing. unfriendly. unforgiving. unending.

“Jayla?”
The teacher’s worried voice brought me back to reality.
“I’m Jayla from A-Afghanistan and I-I…”
I trailed off, not sure what to say. The teacher glanced up at me.
“Are you OK? Why don’t you tell us what you want to be when you’re older?”
My lip trembled. “I want stop war. I want no pain. I want happiness.”
I paused. The teacher looked distraught.
“Thank you, Jayla. I’m Miss Parbha. Now, you can take a seat and we will start the lesson.”

As I sat down, sniggers echoed around me. It brought back memories. But these children were 12 and 13. Not 5.
“I want stop war!” One child’s voice laughed.
“I’m J-J-Jayla f-from A-Afghanistan and I-I… can’t speak English!”
Laughter rippled through the room. Fiery anger rose up inside of me.
“No laugh! That not nice!” I told them firmly.
They just laughed. I sat back down forlornly and put my head in my hands. What was I going to do?

Part 3

Emotion: Grief (why did i do this to one of my original characters??)

I felt my knees buckle, and I tumbled to the ground.
Her eyes, glassy and unseeing.
Tears cascaded from eyes, making my ripped muddy lab coat sodden.
Her raw terrified scream as the bullet hurtled towards her.
A hand pulled me up, begging me to stay awake.
Her hand in mine growing icy cold as I stayed by her side, willing her to wake up.

“Elijah! We need to go!”
Jayla’s urgent voice snapped me out of my daze. Just because my wife was gone, it didn't mean the children were too. I scooped them up and raced for the hospital, the muscles in my legs aching and sore. I had to keep them safe. Snipers were stationed all around the city, planes were whirring overhead, bullets whistled through the air every few seconds.

“Give me the children!”
Ali, one of the nurses, beckoned to me. I handed them over. I had to. I was too weak to take them anymore.
“Elijah!” Jayla screamed. “Stay with us!”
Ali grinned. “You’re all safe with me. I don’t bite.”
I nodded at her in appreciation. The moment they were out of sight, I fell into a nearby chair, my breathing fast and shallow. All I could think about was Lena. Her death. Grief clawed at my belly, wreathing its thorny vines around my heart, sharp and unforgiving, sending shots of pain through my body, making my head spin. I clenched my fists around the armrests, my knuckles turning a defined pearly white, trying to regain my vision, trapped inside a cage of sorrow and despair, clutching at the bars closing in on me, leaving me a huddled shadow in the midst of the swirling red mists of anguish and torment.
Hands shaking me.
I wobbled uncontrollably.
Voices telling me to get up.
A numbness spreading throughout me.
A pair of arms wrapping around me.
Jayla hugged me tight, her head barely reaching my thighs.
“We need you to stay with us.” She murmured.
I nodded mutely. But right now I couldn’t.
“Go play with Ali.” I told her, my voice cracking.
She stumbled off, her head hanging low as spots clouded my vision and once again I tumbled to the ground as darkness enveloped me.


Part 4

(From the perspective of Jayla)

We walked through the scattered rubble, not uttering a single word. The silence hung between us, yawning. Unspoken words echoed through the air. How would we survive? Where were we going to go? When was the war going to end?

That was the thing. It might never end. Not for me anyway. The paralysing nightmares that invaded my sleep each night would keep coming. Never stopping. I gripped Elijah’s hand and stroked the baby’s hair. It was deadly thin, hacking coughs escaping its lips every few minutes. They struck me hard. How could people attack us when this happened? When babies who had just entered the world were so close to dying. When their childhoods would be filled with war and terror and pain and death. How could they?

“My father is soldier working for them,” I blurted out. The guilt had been gnawing at me for so long, eating me up from the inside out.
Elijah glanced up, his eyes watery and full of concern.
“What?” He asked incredulously. “He works for the - the people who did this to us?”
He gestured at the surrounding area. Homes toppled to the ground, ash fluttering from the sky, flames still crackling as they greedily licked up the sides of trees and fences.

I nodded, my lip trembling. His brow creased with betrayal.
“And y-you on his side?”
Hollow emptiness.
“I don’t know - well, I - I sort of been helping him. He ask me to give him facts about you and the hospital and scares me. He tells me he going k1ll me and you and baby if not. I could not refuse. He follows us most of time, from about 100 metres back in the trees. He can’t hear us though.”

Elijah let out a shuddering breath. “But do you agree with what’s happening?”
I shook my head violently. “No, I never. It terrible. But I don’t want you die. Or baby. Or me. This country needs you for now.”
He sagged. “I deserve to die, anyway.”
Panic spread through me. “No, we need you!”
He shrugged. “What will we do now? You’ll have to carry on giving him information, right?”

“Yes.”
I knew that voice. Gravelly and deep. My father.

The grassy plains stretched along the horizon for miles, and the sun glimmered in the sky, shining its luminous light amongst the vibrant shades of pink and yellow scattered in the clouds. It was as if someone had blended those two colors together using a brush that hadn’t been washed after its last dip in yellow. Anyone would have been in awe of such a mesmerizing sight, but for those who lived in the valley of Yamato-Hitraki, this was an everyday occurrence.

The valley was quite vast in size as it was mainly made up of nature that thrived in the land. The one community that did live in the center of the land worked together to harvest the surrounding crops. As the snow banks began to melt - a sign of spring and new beginnings - the cherry blossoms that were a predominant sight in the valley began to blossom. Everywhere you looked, shades of white and pastel pink were present. It was almost like living through a surreal fantasy; something you could only hope for, but would never come true no matter how hard you wished. Although the valley was known for its breathtaking beauty, it was more commonly remembered for all the legends and prophecies that revolved around it.

At the time, the Elders from above as well as common ritual leaders would use their psychic abilities to predict the future. These theories were then stored in orb-like spheres, all encased in glass, to protect them from the eyes of the darkness that lurked within the shadows. Protected at such security, they were forgotten as time went on - despite this, countless greedy individuals did take an occasional hike up to the Ancient Temple of Lost Secrets. As expected, they were met with such fatal deaths since the temple was sealed by the magic from the Elders. Centuries passed and as time went on, the _____ were lost to wind.

Now a millenia later, our story begins…

“Sakura,” the hoarse yet sweet voice called from behind, “make sure you return before nightfall. You must know by now how dark it gets at night. The girl’s brown hair flashed past the door as she sprinted away up the valley. Alongside her was a tiny red panda, some might even say that he was her sidekick. Before running down to the stream nearby, she shouted back a reply, hoping that the winds would carry her words.

“Sobo, don’t worry! I’ll be back before then. Though, don’t you know that the stars are the prettiest in the night sky, when we can see their luminous glow?”

With that, the young girl continued running, the wind blowing against her face turning her cheeks a bright shade of rosy red. Although it was only starting to get warmer, most would’ve described this weather to be pleasant. As Sakura ran down the hill nearby with her red panda, Popo, beside her, she felt as if she was flying. The spirits of those who had fallen before, those who were looking after her - it felt as if they were raising her into the sky for a long awaited embrace. Finally arriving at the grand cherry blossom tree, Sakura settled near the trunk of the tree, and stared at the pleasant view beneath her. Doing so, she brought out a tattered dairy, the cover almost broken in pieces, but known to be hand crafted with love. After briefly staring into the abyss, Sakura opened the diary and laid it down in her lap. Petting back Popo’s red and white fur, a feeling of silk, she began to write.

“Dear Okaa-san and Otoa-san,

I hope you’re doing well up above. It’s been a while since I last talked to you.. Please don’t be too mad. It’s been quite hard trying to navigate life by myself, but I assure you that I can hang in there. Sobo takes care of me with all of her heart every day, but deep down inside I know that she still weeps your death. At times it feels as if I’m responsible - if I hadn’t pushed and been so needy… you may have been still alive to see me not having to write this.

With every word I write, I can feel a tear trickling down my cheek. It’s as if I’ve kept them in for so long that they’re just waiting to burst. My heart feels stiff, as I’m gasping for air. Despite the beauty that thrives around me, I feel so hopeless and lonely.

Popo has been here, and I guess he’s trying to peer into my book right now. Without him, I don’t know if I’d still be alive to tell you all this. It’s as if time is just ticking away, and I can be myself here. No one will question the tears or ask me why I’m holding onto the pain. Putting up with this act is not as easy as it seems, and I don’t know how much longer I can hold on.

There’s the update on my life- I hope you’re doing better up above.
Sobo says that the night sky is a dangerous place for a girl, but I’d like to believe that there’s more to it than that.

Lots of love from your daughter,
Sakura”

As soon as she finished signing the letter, tear droplets began to stream down her face. It was as if a dam had just been burst after carefully circulating the water for years. There was no end in sight, but Sakura needed this. A chance to free those bottled up emotions, and to finally accept. It seemed ridiculous to just move on. She proceeded to close the book, and began looking up at the sky. The clouds continued to drift around - where in this world were her parents now?

Sensing that something was up with Sakura, Popo tried his best to cheer her up. He climbed into her lap and started to roll around like a happy dog who had just gotten a treat. She began to chuckle - Popo was the one thing that she could count on.

“Aww Popo! Come here, who’s a good boy?” Gaining back some strength, she began to run after Popo. He was heading down the hill towards the bean crops nearby. “Popo! Don’t go there, we need to go back before nightfall, otherwise Sobo will never let us come out again.”

Running after him, Sakura tried to catch him before he caused any more trouble. The two quickly rushed back into the house just in time for dinner. It was as if time had just been ticking away, because as soon as the duo entered the house, Sobo was anxiously waiting for them.

Week 2 Weekly

Part 1: breaking common rules
Overusing rules
258 words
Not using said; showing and not telling

“Maya, I need you,” I called. Each stair creaked under my weight as I stepped onto it. “You and your amazing tech abilities.”
“What is it?” asked Maya, her eyes flicking from her book to me.
“Wicked is on neither archive.org nor YouTube, and a google search found nothing. Can you find it for me?”
“I can try.” She stood from the couch and set her book on it facedown; her footsteps clacked against the floor as she crossed the room to pick up her laptop. She put one thumb on the bottom of it and inserted the other thumb between the computer’s two halves, and pulled it open. She tapped on the keyboard keys before exclaiming, “Shoot, no internet.”
“What?” I gasped. “It was working a minute ago!”
“Maybe it was,” she conceded, “but it’s not now, at least not on my laptop. Which—*—is also almost dead. Can you find the charger?”
“Why can nothing ever be easy?” I cried. After a beat, I added, “That was a rhetorical question. I could list many reasons why things never seem to be easy…”
“I know you could,” she stated. “But it would be more helpful if you got me a charger.”
I bobbed my head up and down. “Right,” I agreed. I turned, my view of the room shifting, and my heels clicked against the floor as I walked around the room. Where could the charger be?
“I guess I could try your old computer,” Maya suggested. “Assuming we can ge the internet to work on that.”

Breaking rules
285 words

I headed down the stairs. “So I found that Victorian slang dictionary you mentioned,” I said, “and it is so cool. It’s called Passing English of the Victorian Era, and it was written by this Edwardian guy about Victorian slang, mostly from around London.”
“Where did you find this?” asked Maya.
“On archive.org. I printed it out, here—” I held up the stack of pages. “And— well, look at this. Abney Park. It was the name of a cemetery in east London, and it started to be used figuratively, like” — I began reading from the printout in a Cockney accent — “‘Poor bloke, he’s gone to Abney Park’ — to being dead.”
“Huh.”
“And some of it could be quite useful — like agreeable rattle, which means a chattering young man, although we could use it for people of any gender.”
“Is there any entry for a disagreeable rattle, when you wish the person would shut up already?”
“Hmm…” I started scanning the page, before deciding not to take the question that seriously. “Anyway, I think we should bring that back. A lot of this, actually — got the woefuls? Or Got the shutters up, which means surly, because of the appearance of a closed shop.”
“That is neat,” said Maya. “But no one will know what you’re saying. No one will know what you’re talking about if you say someone’s ‘gone to Abney Park.’”
“Yes, that is the problem. Although if I only use the more intuitive ones, maybe it’ll work…”
“But at least it won’t sound as dumb as if you used, like, 70s slang. You wouldn’t sound cringey; just weird.”
I nodded. “Isn’t it interesting how language evolves over time?” And so began my monologue.

Part 2: purposely incorrect grammar
306 words

Mmph. Sleep. Sleeping. Why you here? Go away. Too early. I’m fine. I slept fine. What time is it? Doesn’t matter. Too bright. Maybe I close my eyes. I already close my eyes. How many eyes? What was that, something something, Robert… Siblings. Bad, siblings bad, no, brother bad, oldest bad. Martha good. She was… doing something. Escaping. They all were. From Roger, no, Robert.
Funny dream, should remember it. Remember in the morning, tomorrow, rememberrrr, oh no it is something, tomorrow. Today. Hmmm. Something. What was I thinking about? Go back to sleep. No, no, no sleep… Something. Sleep. Awake. Be awake. Or he’ll, your dad, he’ll come tell you again to get up. Why. Too early. No, late, too late, should get up, stay in bed, cozy, tired. Not enough sleep. Up too late. Should’ve woken up earlier… No, gone to bed earlier. That. Slept through the night. Insomnia. Is it insomnia, or just… you know. not sleeping. where you’re thinking about something… What were we thinking about? That story. That story with the people, the people who… No, that’s the dream, the story. The story is different, the one where they do stuff. Read, I mean. No, that’s not right, they do… something else. Kiss. No. No, stop. Brain turn off.
Something… Something something, we win. I love that movie. I should rewatch it… Get up. It’s morning. It’s late, you need to get up, you have stuff to do, you’re hungry… Hmm. THere was that other story, with the people from the show… I like that one. I’ve told it too many times. Don’t need to, to do it again. Need to… get up. Eat breakfast. Get dressed. Already dressed. Am I? Get better dressed. Perfect clothes. No, there’s no, I don’t need perfect clothes, what’s the occasion?
Up. Get. Up.
Hnnnnghh.

Part 3: asyndeton
300 words exactly

Goodbye hall we played tag in, hall where my sister took her first steps, hall we used as a runway for a fashion show. Goodbye yellow walls painted just for us, window that sun comes through too early, ceiling I stared at for hours while laying in bed. Goodbye ceiling people—ballerina, samurai, grumpy lady, man in the hat.
Goodbye floors where we danced, where we ran, where we built train tracks. Goodbye ceiling fans, the ones that worked well and the one that made that concerning noise. Goodbye wall that I drew on with crayons before I knew any better. Goodbye door with the glass knob, and doors with the normal knobs, and empty doorway where we played You Can’t Get Past Me.
Goodbye full length mirror that I brushed my teeth in front of, that I admired outfits in, mirror where my cat scared herself with her own reflection.
Goodbye bedroom; the bed will be taken from you soon. Goodbye bathroom. Sink, toilet, bathtub, shower. Goodbye kitchen, barely big enough to fit our table. Cabinets, drawers, counters. Stove, fridge, microwave. Goodbye living room. Bay window, wood-paneled wall, floor scratched from years of shoving chairs and toy blocks around.
Goodbye closet, the best hiding place. Goodbye pantry, where I stole handfuls of sugar and thought I was so sneaky. Goodbye basement that I almost never entered, with your cinderblock walls and concrete floor and two bare light bulbs; I will wave to you from the top of the steps.
Goodbye ceilings and floors and windows and doors. The feeling of my feet on your wood floorboards, my fingers running across your painted drywall. Goodbye rooms where we lived and breathed, laughed and cried, ate and slept. Rooms I walked through every day of my life and will never enter again.

Part 4: Non sequitur dialogue
373 words

“I wish everyone would shut up about Steven’s pool party,” Cathy complained. “Of course he invited three quarters of the class but not us.”
“It’s too early for a pool party, anyway,” said Susan. “Who goes swimming in May?”
“He just can’t wait to show off his fancy new pool.”
“And his fancy house.”
“Just in case anyone forgot his parents are rich.”
“It’s a boring house, too. Who wants their house to be all white?”
“It’s better than gray.”
“Is it? Gray hides dirt better. Plus there’s a house on my street that’s like, dark gray with white windows, and it looks kinda nice. Better than the plain white ones, anyway.”
“Yeah, but the light gray ones?”
“Ugh.” Susan made a face. “Yeah, those are the worst.”
“And it’s not like they need to hide dirt. They probably have someone was their house anytime it gets even a speck on it.”
“I bet they have it repainted. Every month. A fresh coat of white paint.”
“Anyway,” said Cathy, “we’ll have way more fun than we would in Steven’s cold pool.”
“Yeah,” said Susan. “Hey Cathy?”
“Yeah?”
“I’m a fairy.”
“What?”
“A fairy,” Susan repeated. “Not the kind with wings, the kind that can shapeshift and stuff, although I haven’t actually figured out how to do that yet. I’ve been meaning to tell you…”
Cathy shook her head. “You’re joking.”
“I’m not. My mom told me a couple weeks ago. She’s a fairy too, and she can do lots more magic stuff. She’s teaching me, but she doesn’t have that much time with her work and stuff.”
“You’re serious.”
“You can’t tell anyone, okay? It has to stay a secret.”
“Of course. But, what, your mom is secretly magic and you are too?”
“Yeah.”
“And this is… a real thing?”
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
“Sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I was kinda still getting used to it.”
“It’s fine.” What else could you say? “But, you can do magic? And shapeshift? Or, learn to?”
“Yeah.”
“Wow. That is so cool.”
“Right? Also, Mayday is this big fairy festival and my mom’s taking me to the fairy realm for it. I don’t know if humans are allowed, but I’ll ask her of you can come.”

return to table of contents

Critique w/ Ivory
original post

General Overview:
This piece is wonderfully written! It captures the reader's (my) attention right from the start and builds suspense really well! I also love how you uncover details about the background throughout the progress of the story. And of course- the dramatic plot twists <33

Here's a more specific critique:

today is your wedding day. i ought to be excited. after all, i’ve been in your life for several years. i ought to love the fact that you fell for someone. i just hate that she isn’t me.

I love how you started the story with this short paragraph! I feel like the way you make each sentence short and simple creates some sort of rhythm that sets the reader into the story. It also makes the last sentence more abrupt - there is absolutely no warning of this sudden twist. Aside from that, nothing to say!

something old, something new, something borrowed, something… i don’t own anything blue. i threw out all of your belongings when you broke up with me, telling me that she was who you had wanted. unfortunately, this means that i cannot give you the typical quartet of wedding gifts. blue is your color, but me? i see red.

Ooh the reference to the saying! Love how you incorporated it fluently into your piece! I do have a question about the colour blue though - it is mentioned that blue is the groom's colour, but does that mean it is his favourite colour, or is the wedding blue-themed? Or perhaps the groom owns a lot of blue things? It would be a bit clearer if you could include a phrase or two about this

i can’t stay hidden anymore. i throw open the door to the ceremony, standing at the end of the aisle. does your bride find me as beautiful as you once did?

The change from the narrator's thoughts to the wedding scene is pretty abrupt. For a better flow of the story, consider adding something like ‘I push away my thoughts, sliding back into reality’ or something similar. Aside from that, the last sentence also leaves me wondering. Why is the point of view of the bride important for the narrator? Or is it a random thought? Again, this question is a bit too sudden. Maybe add a sentence in which the narrator describes seeing the bride at the other end of the aisle, something that could introduce the question the narrator asks herself.

she stares at me in confusion, and i realize something: she’s not to blame. she has no idea that you had left me for her. it is in my best interest to protect this girl, to save her from you. her face has gone pale, and i nod at her, signaling a potential sense of peace. “i object,” she screams at the officiant. and with that, i run down the aisle.

This paragraph does a good job of advancing the plot, but I think it could use some refinement to make the story flow better. I'm a bit puzzled at why the bride's face turns pale after merely seeing the narrator. Do the characters know each other already? Does the narrator's expression tell something to the bride that makes her attitude change? Also, the change in the bride would eventually lead to her participating in the (insert word) of her future husband.

only a moment later, the chaos stops. the entire room is looking at us in horror, but i can’t help but smile. “something old, something dead,” the bride whispers, rewriting the stereotypical line. “something borrowed…”

Again, the flow can be improved. As there was not any mention of potential ‘chaos’ before, a reader might be confused. Of course, with some thought, we can relate that the narrator and the bride were the ones who started chaos by putting a sudden end to the wedding; and when we read the next paragraph, we know that groom is dead, too. However, to facilitate the understanding of what is happening, you could either put some indication in the paragraph above about the chaos unraveling, or you could add something at the beginning of this paragraph. A more detailed description of the scene might be useful too - perhaps describe the reaction of the guests (are they stunned in silence at first, do they shriek and cry after the surprise has passed?).
And then, I just have to mention it - I absolutely love the reuse of the same line ('something old, something…'). It creates a parallel image to the first few paragraphs - and it's great ^^ I also like the foreshadowing of the (insert word) of the groom - in fact, I think it could be emphasised so that it really leaves a mark in the reader's mind. For example, you could write ‘ “something old, something…”, she paused, and a sly grin found its way onto her lips “(insert the word that you used).” ’

“here’s your something red,” i add, staring down at your unconscious self. “i always liked red better than blue, anyway.”

Super great, dramatic ending!! Nothing particular to say!

Summary:
My critiques tend to get messy- so here's a brief summary of the points mentioned:
- adding details to make the storyline flow better (e.g. transition from thoughts to reality; from 3rd to 4th paragraph)
- adding information to explain character behaviour (e.g. reason behind the change of the bride's attitude and why she potentially takes part in the (ahem) of her future husband)

Overall, your piece was very well written with a captivating plot - it really made me want to read on! I also admire - yes I do admire - how you can slide those super important dramatic plot twists so that they catch the reader unaware!
I hope this helped, and if you have any questions about whatever part I might be unclear about (I'm not sure about my explaining skills oops-), feel free to reach out!
Umm… also, I hope I didn't sound too harsh - if I did please excuse me that was not my intention at all, I can get carried away ^^"
(776 words of critique)

Word War
word count - 162 words

The words echoed in my mind, “the fate of the world rests in your hands.” I could still picture the day he said that to me. How different it would have all been if he had just picked someone else. Most people said that I was the lucky one, or whatever you want to call it. But this was just a glorified curse. I was burdened with this destiny I need to fulfill, when I never even asked for it in the first place.

It was crazy how people suddenly changed their entire persona when talking to me. I was still the same old me, and here came all the hate comments. People were jealous, and I honestly couldn't blame them. But why, why would they ever want the chance to experience life from my shoes. The second I fail, and I definitely know that I am going to, there's going to be havoc. I can feel it already. Well, isn't that

Daily 15
(this is super rushed and doesn’t even have a proper start or end sorry)

I grinned. This was the day I had been waiting for since she was a child. Since I had escaped the war. Since I had decided what I was going to be. What I was going to do. I still remembered my exact words.
“I want stop war. I want no pain. I want happiness.”
They had stayed with me ever since. And here I was, on my coronation day. My coronation. A smile tugged at my lips.
“And now welcome… QUEEN JAYLA!”
A booming voice echoed from the speakers. I inhaled deeply. This was it.

I stepped out into the dazzling sunshine, blinking as my eyes adjusted. I was immediately met with loud, deafening cheering. I laughed. A reporter stepped forwards and took the seat opposite me. All the cameras swivelled to look at me, their lenses boring into me.
“So, Jayla, you won the Monarch for a Day competition! How do you feel?”
She thrust a microphone at me. I cleared my throat.
“Well, I wasn’t expecting it for sure! But I’m so glad I can make some changes to this country, even if they only last a day. Everyone’s going to have the best day today.”
The reporter nodded. “So, you’re allowed to change the laws. However you want. They’re up to you, for today. Could you tell us what you’re going to do?” She asked, turning towards the crowds.

“First of all, everyone gets to come to my palace and demand whatever food they want. The cooks have been hard at work for the past two days creating all kinds of confectioneries imaginable! There will be mango stations scattered around the city, where you can get just a whole mango or turn it into a smoothie, bake it, fry it, make mochi with it, make ice-cream with it and more all from my newly invented MangoVender!”

‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭୨ ASSIGNMENT 15 ୧ ⊹ ˚₊‧

“Ku~mo!”

I sat up and groaned, sleeping had become hard after growing an extra 4 arms. I stood up from the cold floor of the cave and looked up at the voice that I was met with.

“What do you want, Yuri?” It was a quick and snappy question, though that was always the way I talked to him.

“You’re the ruler of Munsia today! Go do ruler things!”
“I’m sorry- what?” I stared at Yuri for a moment, waiting for him to exclaim ‘just kidding!’ or something along those lines. “Munsia- Munsia doesn’t even have a ruler? That’s not how our government works-“
“Well, the spirits wanted to try it out, and let’s just say I put in a good word for you!”
“I- you’re not even among the trusted spirits.”
“Hey! I am! So, what would you like to do as a ruler? I can relay your messages to the spirits since you’re gonna be too scared to show yourself.”

I thought for a moment, before taking out a piece of paper and ink, just the texture feeling old. I sprawled some things down, and Yuri looked down at it.

New Laws for Munsia:
Children raised in temples will be allowed to go outside, and will no longer be forced to live a sheltered life
It will not be a requirement for temple people 18 years of age to continue worshipping their deity, they will be allowed to choose what they would like to do with their life.
People with curses will not be discriminated against.
It is no longer forbidden to make further developments on exorcisms.

Yuri took the paper and smiled as he stared down on it, he knew the personal significance it had for me.

“Alright Kumo. I’ll send this to the spirits soon.”

| ♞ | ୨ 300 words

Daily 15: Ruling the Kingdom (Ides of March)
word count - 270 words

Clutching Silas' hand, we both ran into the chamber together, oak doors pushed aside, revealing our kingdom's throne room. It had only been a few days since Amaria was exiled from our kingdom, but father did not have a single look of regret in his eyes. Sure, they looked more tired than usual, but he greeted us with pleasantries as soon as we stepped in.

I could smell fresh jelly tarts being made in the kitchen below - my favorite. Coronation day was coming up and I was beyond thrilled. The kingdom was definitely different, afterall, Amaria did try to get rid of both Silas and I. However, there was a sense of relief that came with it. Us sisters had always been close with one another, but this feud seemed to have broughten us closer. There was no more hierarchy bossing around or anything of that sort, really.

Things were just as they were meant to be and I felt glad. I reached out to the throne that my father offered with open arms. I had never imagined this day would come, but sitting on that chair, feeling the velvet brush against my palms, I knew that this was where I was meant to be. Queen of Floravia, that's me, Sariyah. I simply chuckled, finally realizing that this is what my life would be like going forward. A changemaker, one that my people could look up to and count on. I was ready to make the change with the honour bestowed upon me. I was ready to lead.

Weekly two:

tw for drugs, a bit of violence, and some censored cursing <3

Part 1:
I sat perched on the leather armchair, my hand dangled over one of the sides, a joint between my fingers.
“Amirrora,” Mak snapped, her tone drawing my attention.
I exhaled, blowing smoke through my lips. “Yeah?”
Kai rolled her eyes. “You need to stop. This is getting out of hand.”
My lips cracked into a small smile. “A girl’s gotta have a smoke. Cut me a break, Kai… I have newfound horrors to bury.”
Mania sat across from me, her eyes alight in the sort of desperate satisfaction you could only get from holding power over the heads of those who had always had it. Seris rubbed her eyes like she’d been smoking just as much as me, but we all knew what she wouldn’t admit. She could feel them too. It had nothing to do with the drugs or the money or the tiredness she claimed every single day. The reason Seris was falling off the edge of reality like I had done so many times was because the visions, the drowned, the people had crawled their way into her head and made themselves a home. Seris couldn’t come back like the rest of us. She was too stuck outside of their reality for too long. I knew it. She knew it. Ever since I had drowned and been sent away, Seris saw it everywhere. The truth. She couldn’t hide from it now that I was back. It was in every sign. The bathroom graffiti. The walls painted in blood. There was nowhere she could run to be rid of it all.

“Seris?” Vexal asked, her head tilting like it always did when she was about to ask a question she knew you didn’t want to hear.
“Hmm?” I responded, absentmindedly searching through my head for what she could possibly want.
“You look tired.” Her tone wasn’t argumentative, but it was firm. “You should get some sleep. Long day tomorrow.”
“Hmm…” I responded again.
Dev was at her shoulder, looking for my reaction. They were all so… concerned. About me. It felt unnatural. Creepy, even. I didn’t feel like they were watching over me because they cared, but because they thought I was… what? A snake?
They’d be right, if so. Sure, I had never physically sold them out to someone, but they knew as well as I did what to look for. They were watching me. Waiting for when I left.
When I woke up in the middle of the night with a corpse on my ceiling they didn’t come when I screamed. They weren’t there when the waters called me back to them, screeching my name from the depths of the abyss. They didn’t hold me back. They weren’t trying to help me. THey were waiting, watching, for me to shatter into pieces. So they could pick me up and put me back together as a better version of myself.
“Seris?” Dev said, her voice cutting through the silence. “You good?”
I nodded my head as my vision swam. Darkness took over the world I could see, turning the faces of the people I loved into mindless death.
I shook myself out of it. Smiling, I faced them. “Going to bed. See you guys in the morning.”


Part 2:
The night was filled with horror. I screamed, pleaded, begged for help, only to wake up to the silence. Silence.
Silence was a funny thing, wasn’t it? It felt so hollow, so empty and vast, but the words that filled it were the true voids. I had no one left. Nothing. No one coming to save me, no one left to help stop the terrors I had unearthed.
Kai was my first friend. She gave me this. She gave it to me, put it in my hands just to show me that she could take it all away if I so much as disappointed her. She would really do it, too. I knew that. She knew it. Vexal knew it. We all knew it, stared it down, thought about it long and hard before doing what we always did.
We stayed.
Vexal was my first real friend. She stayed when no one else did. Not with Kai, not with the group, but with me. She didn’t have a reason to. She was given the choice to leave, to run away from the problems I gave her.
She didn’t.
She was always there, smiling through the ashes as the wreckage fell around us.
I couldn’t ask for someone better, because, to put it simply, no one better exists.
Dev. Oh, how I hated Dev. She was so much stronger than me. She wasn’t waiting for me to rebel. She did it and she knew I wasn’t going to.
She was waiting for my crash and burn.
And as much as I wanted to tell her she could keep waiting, we all knew it was coming.
Mak.
Mak was… well. She was Mak. She was the same as she always was and the same as she would always be. Just like me, in that regard. Except she was so much… better. She was all there, all the time. She wasn’t an absentminded horror that lurked in the shadows where people left what they wanted to forget. She was front and center, sparkling next to everyone that loved her, firm in her beliefs and who she was.
She was everything I could never be.
She was everything I despised.
But God, I wanted to be her.


Part 3:



Fear. You know what it is. The hit of adrenaline, the shaking that never quite fades. The quiet thoughts that you usually have shoved into the darkest corners of your head raging, throwing themselves around in your head making you question even the most basic of realities. I knew what I had to do. I knew what I already had done. Why was telling my own friends, my second family somehow more stressful and scary than what I had really done? I mean, I had… I had broken, what, like seventeen laws? I broke dangerous people out of a high security mental hospital. They were criminals. Arsonists.
My friends.
Dangerous.
Well.
They weren’t really my friends yet, in any case.
But they were definitely dangerous.
My hands shook as I mentally prepared for the conversation I knew I had to have. I couldn’t hide this from… my own sisters.
I had to look them in the eyes and tell them I had jeopardized our entire lives to save people who didn’t even know reality.
I pictured Kai’s face.
Her eyes.
She was going to call the police on me.
She was actually going to have me arrested for this.
She
She was going to have me in jail.
And Vexal.
What would she say?
Seris
You’ve
Harmed
Us
All
And I would have to look into her eyes and explain why I was willing to throw away everything for vigilante justice. I would have to stare down Mak and tell her that everything she worked for was worthless.
That I had ended it.
Us.
I had harmed us.
For what?
A couple of crazies?
We worked from the bottom up just to throw it away for three people who were, realistically, better off where they were?
No.
No.
This was Kai’s voice in my head.
Not mine.
I did the right thing.


Part 4:
Seris had us gathered in the living room. Well, it wasn’t really a living room. It was two couches in our tour bus. Whatever. She had us sit there, me next to Dev and Kai and Mak across from us.
Mak smiled up at her, glancing at her shaking hands. “What is it, Seris?”
“Nothing too serious, I hope!” Kai laughed, but she was worried. Seris never did stuff like this, these random announcements…
She took a shaky breath. “Okay. So…” She paused, inhaling again. “Ugh. Sorry. Anxiety.”
“It’s not a problem,” Dev said, glancing up at her. She wasn’t smiling, but she had to be wondering what was happening too. “Continue when you’re ready.”
“Seris, if you don’t wanna do this, you don’t have to. It’s okay.” The voice was mine, encouraging her to keep the peace.
“Yeah, it’s really okay,” Kai agreed. “We don’t mind.”
Mak smiled. “You can just tell us later, okay?”
Dev got to her feet, and I stood up too.
Seris’s voice shot through the room, louder than I had heard her ever speak before. “Don’t.”
Begrudgingly, Dev sat back down. “Seris, come on. We really don’t have time for this.”
Seris bit her lip. “Dang. Uh, you guys remember Amirrora, right? My friend from middle school?”
Kai looked amused but also majorly annoyed she had sacrificed time for this conversation. “Yeah, why? You been missing your friend or something?”
“She’s a criminal, Ser!” Mak hissed. “Why miss her?”
“Oh, Christ. Okay. Don’t be mad,” Seris said, her voice wavering. “Just spit it out, Seris… I… I helped Amirrora and her friends escape jail.”
The silence was deafening.
It was so loud.
Too loud.
The silence was screaming.
There was no shot you could hear a pin drop over the silence that consumed all of us.
Because what the actual hell?
“What did you DO?” Kai was on her feet, her voice shaking the room. “Seris, what is wrong with you? You did what?”
Seris wasn’t shaking anymore. “I freed them. I helped them escape. I don’t regret it. I’m… I’m not afraid of you, Kai.”
Kai snorted, her eyes burning with rage. “You really should be! Mak, call the police.”
“Mak, don’t do it.” Surprisingly, it was Dev. “Let’s just hear everyone out.”
Mak looked taken aback. “You too, Deverelle? After all we’ve done?”
And then eyes turned to me. Some furious. Some afraid.
“Vexal?” Kai’s tone was sharp. Ticked off.
My mouth opened and then closed. My throat was dry. “I… I don’t….”
Seris swallowed. “Vexal. You’ve been there since day one. I trust you with my life. The choice is yours.”
No. No it wasn’t. The choice was never actually mine.
It was always theirs.
It was hers. Kai.
I met her gaze.
She knew.
She knew what I would pick.
Safety.
But Dev’s hand was on my shoulder. “Vexal, listen to me. I know you value your safety above this, and I know how hard you had to fight for it, but… I mean, come on, V. Would you really sell Seris out to the police? For what? Because she made a mistake?”
“A mistake?” Mak shrieked through a distorted laugh. “A mistake. No. No. Deverelle, this was no mistake. She wants us dead. She wants us to be in that little hospital instead of her psycho friends. She needs help.”
“Shut the hell up, Mak.”
It wasn’t me.
It wasn’t Dev.
It was Seris.
She was standing up for herself.
“Yeah. You heard me.” Seris was walking up to her, shoving her nose in Mak’s face. “Back off.”
Mak backed up, repulsed. Kai caught her and took her place, facing off again Seris. “Seris. What the hell has gotten into you?” She sighed. “Mak, call the police.”
Mak smirked. “On it.”
Her fingers hit the buttons before anyone could stop her. She hissed into her microphone, talking to the police in a hushed tone.
But I was more focused on Seris and Kai.
And more particularly, Seris’s fist currently on its way to Kai’s face.
“No!” I yelled, but there was no stopping Seris when she was like this.
Kai was right. She was off the deep end.
Just like Amirrora.
Kai’s face was dripping red. Blood from her nose dripped down her chin, dribbling down her front. She was… she was shocked.
Seris didn’t do stuff like this.
Seris was afraid. She was always afraid.
Not anymore.
A woman stepped through the front door of the tour bus, her hair tied up in two blond twintails. She was wearing a police uniform, and my heart skipped a beat.
Seris was going to jail.
The woman sat down where Kai and Mak had been sitting, facing the five of us with a strange expression on her face. “Hello. My name is Kania Moore, and unfortunately, I am not a cop.”
Mak was reaching for her throat.
But Kania caught it.
“I think it’s best that you back off, Mak. I go by Mania now, and if you check my records, you’ll find something very interesting.”
I watched her, my heart racing in my chest.
“I was recently released, along with my wonderful friend, Amirrora.”