ℰmily's swc writing forum

emililies

hey, it's emily! welcome to my swc writing forum. please refrain from posting here, and talk to me in my profile comments!

swc sessions
☤ sci-fi (july 2024)
☁︎ bi-fi (november 2024)
❅ illu-fi (march 2025)
ꕥ gothic (july 2025)

Last edited by emililies (June 30, 2025 23:37:33)

emililies

ꕥ gothic masquerade
july 2025

word goal: 2900/15,000 (19.33%)
last updated: 7/6/2025

dailies
7/1
7/2
7/5
7/6
7/9

weeklies
week 1 (7/3-7/9)

word wars

critiques

others

Last edited by emililies (July 13, 2025 10:54:22)

emililies

1k intro
7/1 daily ꕥ 1042/1000 words

Hi! Nǐ hǎo! Lí hó! ¡Hola! Hai! That’s me saying ‘hello’ in the languages/dialects I know and the ones that I’m learning. Honestly I’ve never actually said hello in chinese or hokkien before but that’s what they always teach beginners so that works. I know English, Mandarin Chinese, and the Hokkien dialect. Currently, I’m learning Spanish at school, learning how to read and write Chinese, and learning Malay! Anyways, I’m Emily, a highschooler that uses she/her pronouns. I live in the EST timezone, which I must say is the bEST one

. A little about me: I’m an istj (last time I checked), beaver, and green. If you couldn’t tell, I like taking personality tests, haha. This session will be my one year swciversary for this account and my sixth ever! Also, it’s my first time co-leading and I’m doing it with the wonderful Willow, Snowy, and Niko <3. I can already tell this session is going to be a good one and I’m so excited to talk to many of you.

TMI/Random Fact #1: I just got glasses two weeks ago. I’ve been telling my parents that I actually have such bad eyesight but they never believed me and said I was spending too much time on my phone (which I probably am but still). They only believed me once I failed my eye test at school. I took the test and I could see the last two rows at all. It felt like the eye test lady was judging me. I got a letter a week after the test that I need to get my eyes checked up. Now I have contacts and glasses and WOW I’ve been missing out for so long I can see so clearly now.

Starting off, I love love love love LOVE STEM. It’s such a big part of my life ahhh. Math(s) and the sciences have by far always been my favorite subjects (Sorry English, middle school English has ruined the class for me. However swc has healed my love for reading and writing <3). I don’t really know how to explain it but I just really enjoy all aspects of science and math. I do want to give credit to my dad for showing me the world of math, beyond the adding and subtracting, when I was younger. I think that’s where my love of math started.

TMI/Random Fact #2: We did these timed worksheets with math facts in second grade. I lied to my second grade teacher that I knew division because I was done with my multiplication facts but in fact I didn’t. Me and this one kid were the only ones that had all our multiplication facts memorized so second grade me really wanted to be smarter than him. Because I wanted to keep my ego in tack, I taught myself division using khan academy that night and had to do division facts the next day. I honestly don’t remember how it went, haha.

I don’t know how my love for science came to be but it has definitely grown throughout the years. I think I probably talk the most with my science teachers which is crazy because I’m scared of talking. I’m currently an ambassador for STEM at my school and I applied for the regional leadership council and got in without an interview! I plan to pursue biomed engineering or comp sci.

Although I don’t plan to pursue anything in the arts, but it has also always been such a big part of my life. I’ve always loved drawing and I find it fun to explore different mediums. I haven’t been doing much of it because of my busy life now but I did so much of it in middle school. 6th grade was the first time I had ever touched a prismacolor. I had really wonderful art teachers, and they really pushed me to do hard things. Additionally I’ve always loved music. When I was little my parents bought me a keyboard and some beginner piano books and I self taught myself how to play (along with a little bit of help from my mom). I don’t really play much anymore but I’ve been teaching my younger sibling recently. I also was involved in my school choir all of middle school. It was genuinely so fun and I really liked my director. I was planning to continue in high school but I ended up quitting because I didn’t really like the environment (created by some of the people in the choir) and the scheduling of classes didn’t really work. Some of the artists I listen to right now: Taylor Swift, TXT, and many more! I’m open to new artists and song suggestions! I started listening to kpop during covid (started with BTS) and had a phase where I was absolutely obsessed. Still love the genre but I mostly listen to TXT and that’s it. I don’t really keep up with all the new groups and I prefer to stick with 3rd and 4th gen. I’d love to chat about kpop! I’ve also been really into musical theater. Even though I don’t think you’ll ever see me on stage, I’m an avid musical watcher/listener. Some of my favorites: Hamilton (first one I’ve ever watched), Maybe Happy Ending, and Little Shop of Horrors. OMG I almost forgot writing. I love writing so much! Currently I’m in the planning process of a new sci-fi story :O

I am also such a big foodie! Everything food related, I love. It also doesn’t help that I’m a swimmer so I’m constantly hungry, haha. My favorite food right now is the mashed potatoes that I had at IKEA and the malatang I had for dinner. The IKEA mashed potatoes are so gooddddd.

TMI/Random Fact #3: I ate taro bread for breakfast and I’m hungry right now asdfghjkl I want lunch.

Some more of my passions: swim, reading, baking, crocheting, and I can’t think of any more right now but I’m sure I have more.

I could write more but like I said I am very hungry so I’m going to go find something to eat now asdfghjkl so bye! I hope you enjoy the chaos of swc and make so many memories <3.

Last edited by emililies (July 1, 2025 15:45:57)

emililies

motivational note for another camper
7/2 daily ꕥ 377/250 words

note for @rainbow236

Hi! First off, welcome to SWC! I hope you have a great time and this session is the first of many! No matter how much you write, I’m sure you will enjoy yourself in this community.

Anyways, I’m Emily, one of the co-leaders from Gothic. I’ll try my best to motivate you, but I hope you achieve your goals!

5,000 - 8,500 is a really solid word goal! My first ever word goal was 8,000, haha. Don’t worry too much about achieving it. If you participate in a few of the dailies, weeklies, in-cabin activities, and many others, I’m confident you’ll reach that goal by the end of the session! Many of the prompts are really fun and they might inspire you to start a writing project out of SWC

YOU GOT THIS!

Getting in the habit of writing can definitely be hard, especially if you don’t usually do it much. But I think you can achieve this goal, and SWC is great for doing so! What might make it easier is to think of it as something you enjoy instead of forcing it upon yourself. Remember life > SWC (even though sometimes it feels like life = SWC). You don’t have to do every daily, weekly, etc. especially if you are just starting to get used to writing everyday. Do what you enjoy and hopefully you will feel inspired to create something! I’m sure you will reach this goal by the end of this session.

I’m sure that you will make friends this month! This community is amazing and you’ll most likely find people with shared interests. Just be your authentic self and you’ll find many friends

.
I’m also a perfectionist over my writing and I often find myself deleting things after typing. My advice is to challenge yourself to writing for a set amount of time or number of words (lets say 10 minutes). No stopping, unless you see red squigglies. Then after the set amount of time, go over it. This satisfies the perfectionist side but also might help with progressing on your writing! It is a hard habit to get over but YOU GOT THIS, I KNOW IT!

Once again, I hope you have an amazing first session! See you around!

Last edited by emililies (July 2, 2025 01:15:17)

emililies

write about an object without mentioning the name
7/5 daily ꕥ 300/300 words

Meet the companion you didn’t know you needed. In a world that rarely slows down, there exists a creature built for stillness. With a body crafted for softness, this plush brings a gentle and calming presence to any room. No matter how old you are, there is a universal appeal. It’s timeless and cozy, a perfect little friend for your bedroom or couch.

Its size is part of the charm. Standing at 100cm (or approximately 39.3 inches for the Americans), it is perfect as an emotional support system, a buddy for binge watching your favorite shows, or as a lazy roommate that overstays its welcome. It’s large, but not impractically so, just enough to fill your arms and your soul with soft, cuddly goodness.

The fur is a muted brown and is smooth to touch. The fabric has a velvety feel that insists on being hugged and snuggled with.

Its rounded silhouette is all gentle curves, no rigid structure, a lazy best friend. Proportions exaggerated, its large belly that you can lean into and dangling limbs that embraces you will effortlessly put you at ease. The companion is a gentle soul, with bright eyes and a soft smile. Once you see it, it’s hard to resist. You will want to buy the plush, feel the warmth it gives, and embrace it in a big hug.

By buying, you aren’t just investing in a decorative plush. You’re investing in a lifestyle. A lifestyle that’s slowed down, relaxed, and cozy and so many different ways. You’re also investing in yourself, getting the best sleep and healing your inner child.

So, invest in this lazy friend. Do it, it’s worth it. Bring this (not so) little guy into your home, and experience the comfort of the jungle forest.

Written from personal experience.

Last edited by emililies (July 6, 2025 14:31:12)

emililies

spoof on the summer I turned pretty
7/6 daily ꕥ 153/150 words

As far as Tummy Honklin was concerned, summer is the only season that mattered. Every June, Tummy, her mother, Coral, and her brother, Cheven travel to Siblings Beach to spend their summer with Susanna Banana and the Chickener boys at their beach house. But this summer is different. She gets contacts and her braces come off so every boy at Siblings Beach is drooling over her, including the two Chickener brothers. The older one, Chadrad, tries to act nonchalant and quits football. Tummy has had a crush on him for forever but now he’s having mood swings so she feels distant. He’s like the most confusing guy ever. The younger Chickener brother, Bradimiah, loves Tummy and would do anything for her. She creates a love triangle, accidentally causes a family feud and just dramatically swims away, and has the worst main character syndrome in the world. This is The Summer I Turned Petty.

Last edited by emililies (July 6, 2025 14:32:43)

emililies

weekly 1: character development
7/3-7/9 ꕥ 1415/1000 words

part 1 (223/150 words)

Celia Song is highly sensitive and doesn’t take criticism well. This is true especially when it’s targeted towards something she is really passionate about. She often tries to avoid criticism entirely which hinders her ability to improve upon herself. When she does receive criticism, it changes her mood drastically and obstructs her focus.

In general, Celia is an overthinker. She gets greatly influenced by what people say and assume that they are dismissing her. Additionally she spends a lot of time thinking about her interactions with other people, and regretting things that she could have done better.

Another weakness is that she’s uncomfortable with conflict and she tries to avoid it. She fears confrontation, rejection, and the possibility of negative consequences.

She’s also reluctant to open up. Whenever her struggles are brought up, she is afraid of being vulnerable, not wanting to burden someone else with her issues. What she doesn’t realize is that she is unintentionally creating distance in her relationships.

Celia often puts others before herself and is extremely selfless. This becomes a problem because she continues to repress what she is feeling to continue her work on helping others.

She’s also quite naive, and thinks she knows everything about the world. Having lived a sheltered life, she didn’t experience much of the pain caused by losing someone close to her.

part 2 (211/200 words)

In the beginning, Celia is a quiet and very intuitive person. She’s emotionally intelligent and able to understand others without them uttering a word. She wants to be able to help everyone.

For most of her childhood, she lived a very sheltered life. Her parents sheltered her from the pain of the outside world. She has always been familiar with the idea of grief but has never experienced it before. Because of this, she believes grief can be resolved and no one will need to be in pain.

When she begins experiencing the emotions of her patients, she begins realizing that grief isn’t something you fix but something you carry. At first, she saw grief as a virus: locate it, isolate it, clean it. Once she experienced the grief of her patients, she realized that grief is flawed. Celia also realizes that grief is not just sadness, but it’s also identity. She feels the attachment that her patients had with the people they lost.

By the end, Celia’s more self-aware. She’s cautious about what she lets in and begins setting boundaries. She also learns that she also should take care of her own needs along with helping others. Now, she doesn’t see empathy as just her job but as a choice.

part 3 (236/200 words)

Celia’s main motivation in the beginning is to help people. She believes that by removing grief, she’s doing good and helping others live happier lives. To her, grief is a simple idea, something that can be deleted easily. She wants to prove to herself in the clinic and to be seen as capable, useful, and emotionally strong. It keeps her compliant but disconnected. These ideologies most likely stem from her upbringing where she was praised for being selfless and in control. Her parents planted the idea that feeling too much was a flaw.

When she begins working at the clinic she realizes that she feels an emptiness that she doesn’t know how to explain. She feels something’s missing but doesn’t know what it is. Through her dreams she feels the sadness but it is an unexplained feeling. This pushes her to be curious and subconsciously seek for her own truth.

She starts to have a motivational shift once she sees herself in her patient’s memories. She shifts her priorities to learning the truth and finding out her identity. Her motivation becomes personal since the system stole something from her. This sparks Celia’s rebellion against the system.

In the end, she wants to be able to experience, even if it hurts. She chooses grief over ignorance and no longer wants to be cleaned or “fixed”. Her final motivation is “If pain means I’m real, I want it”.

part 4 (745/450 words)

They warned her not to feel too much.

“Observe, don’t absorb,” her supervisor had said, handing her a neural cord like it was just another tool, no more dangerous than a stethoscope. “You’re not a therapist, You’re not a friend. You’re a filter.”

Celia nodded, but it never really sat well with her. She had always felt things too much. The emotional signatures of strangers lingered with her longer than they should have.

In the clinic, ceiling panels curved overhead like folded paper, glowing gently, casting no real shadows. Everything was white or pale gray, so emotionless. Even the potted plants look like they'd been grown in a lab: perfectly symmetrical, lightly dusted, incapable of dying. Screens floated in the air, suspended by nothing visible. They displayed patient intake data, memory diagrams, and marketing slogans: Restoration. Renewal. Relief.

The clinic was quiet, too quiet. Nothing in the space made a sound it wasn’t supposed to. No echo, no hum, not even footsteps. Patients always came in looking like they hadn’t slept in weeks. Many didn’t speak. They just signed the consent forms, stared at the floor with an empty gaze, and waited to get “fixed”.

It wasn’t supposed to hurt.

The process was noninvasive. It matched the patient’s emotional imprint, mapped their mind pathway, and extracted the grief. No pain. Just relief.

That’s what they promised anyway.

Celia worked as an operation technician, and her job was to complete the sync and extraction. She sat behind the system and watched as it did most of the work, sorting through all the memories and isolating the grief by identifying its chemical formation. All she had to do was view it and contain it. Simple. Once that patient was finished and “cleaned” she’d move on to complete the procedure with many others.

She was good at her job, maybe even too good. Everytime she used the system, it seemed to sync faster, as if it knew her.

Lately, she had been dreaming of places she didn’t know. An endless field, a dark room, a voice calling a name she didn’t answer to.

She disregarded them as just a minor side effect of her job. Nothing too serious.

But the dreams kept coming, every time she blinked she could see them again.

Sometimes, when she looked in the mirror, she didn’t know if her reflection was entirely hers anymore.

-ꕥ-

The patient’s name was Chris Shuman. Mid forties. Request wants a partial dampening of his grief. Target: loss of a partner, unresolved.

Celia didn’t pay much attention to the grief index, letting the computer handle all the metrics. People weren’t numbers but the system treated them as such.

She adjusted the neural cord around his temple and headed over to the computer. The man gave her a small nod but said nothing. Most of them didn't.

The system started the sync.

She waited for the memory to load. It was slow, grief always is. Happy ones zipped through like static while the painful ones stuck like slime.

Memory detected.

Tomato pasta in a pan and red wine. They swayed to the music, something Celia didn’t recognize. His wife laughs mid sentence as she stirred the pan. Then: Cold metal bed rails, the smell of disinfectant, the buzzing of machines, wires and tubes hooked up to a lifeless body. Crying. Then silence.

Celia stayed neutral. She had been trained to stay distant even though she was fully immersed in the memory. But then, something glitched.

In the corner of the memory, a flicker.

A person.

Celia blinked. Once. Twice. Focused.
It was a little girl, standing at the side of the memory like she didn’t belong. Two braids, and a red coat. Her hands gripping onto a letter. She wasn’t looking at Chris, but straight through the memory. At Celia.

Celia knew her.

Knew the shape of the little hands and the girl’s round, dark eyes. Knew that it unmistakably was her.

She tore off the headset.

The man stirred. “Is it over?” he asked, groggily.

Celia swallowed, then nodded, voice thin. “Yes. The session is complete. You might feel minor headaches or a little lightheadedness for a few hours.”

He begins to get up, rubbing his eyes. “You know, I’ve seen that girl in my dreams before. The girl in red. But, I don’t think she was ever real.” he says absent-mindedly.

Celia didn’t respond.

Because she was real.

She didn’t know why she was in the guy’s dream.

I originally had 1000+ written and it was going to be 2000+ words long if I kept going but I didn't feel motivated anymore so I just cut it down at a cliffhanger

Last edited by emililies (July 13, 2025 10:47:55)

emililies

song lyrics
7/9 daily ꕥ 152/150 words

I’ve been having a hard time adjusting
Telling myself I won’t go there
Oh, but I know that I won’t care
when I break it’s in a million pieces

Time, curious time
Gave me no compasses, gave me no signs

Where do we go now?
Where do we go now?
Where do we go now?

I used to know but I’m not sure now
I’ve seen the world, done it all, had my cake now
Watching it burn
At the bottom of the abyss

The water filled my lungs, I screamed so loud
But no one heard a thing
I had a feeling so peculiar
That this pain would be for Evermore

This road is not unfamiliar, this road is unfamiliar
You ask me again if I know the right path
Maybe it’s time to say goodbye
‘Cause I’m getting pretty f* tired

You’re on your own, kid
You always have been

Songs (in order)
this is me trying - Taylor Swift
Daylight - Taylor Swift
mirrorball - Taylor Swift
Invisible string - Taylor Swift
Where do we go now? - Gracie Abrams
What Was I Made For? - Billie Eilish
Young and Beautiful - Lana Del Ray
Burn - Hamilton (Phillipa Soo)
0X1=LOVESONG (I Know I Love You) - TXT
Clean - Taylor Swift
evermore - Taylor Swift
Don’t Wanna Cry - Seventeen
Tired - beabadoobee

emililies

critique for elly
7/10 critique ꕥ 560 words

Hi Elly, thank you for letting me critique this! I really enjoyed reading this, it was so amusing! I’ll start with the critiques now.

In general, you did a really good job on the voice of Grace! It’s really consistent well defined which really helps with establishing personality. She also feels like a really authentic character and relatable in many instances.

I noticed many actions like “I smiled” and “I looked up” in the piece. They don’t come out as to repetitive when you read the piece as a whole, but it would help to vary the gesture or intent depending on the situation. For example:

Oh. I nod and say ‘Sure’ and so while my mind spins my feet take me where I need to go. I try to pat down my hair a bit.

You can add a little bit to “I nod” like “my head shakes vigorously” to show how she is feeling at that time.

In terms of vocabulary, I think it’s great! The tone and word choice fits Grace’s character well and shows her social personality. It also makes it more authentic since our personal thoughts don’t use too complex of vocabulary. However, that is just my opinion.

September 1st. Yet another day back to school. I lean against my locker whilst waiting for Sara, trying to look busy- and not lonely. All the yelling and shoving and reuniting is making it hard to concentrate on the piece of paper in my hand. It’s sort of a tradition each year for me to write some resolutions for the following school year and previously, I’ve been focusing on academics, but lately I’ve been trying to make more friends. Extra-curricular activities, practically living in the library and only sticking to Sara hadn’t done lots for social recognition.. I skim over the list in front of me again. It’s about time for a change.

Grace’s Guide to Surviving School:

1. Make lots of new friends
2. Don’t do anything stupid
3. Don’t be left behind
4. Be true to yourself
5. Weekly meet-ups with Sara

I really like the second sentence, since it adds relatability to the story. I personally can relate to that, haha!

Extra-curricular activities, practically living in the library and only sticking to Sara hadn’t done lots for social recognition.

I felt that this sentence was a little awkward in the way it flows. It might help if you broke it into two sentences, the first one being how Grace joined the extra curriculars, etc. and the second being how it didn’t help with her socially?

I also love the bit of foreshadowing from the resolutions that Grace created!

A pair of familiar boots tiptoe into my peripheral vision and I look up, smiling as I greet my friend. Since we've seen each other nearly every day of summer break, there isn't that much to say, so as soon as I see someone I'm at least I little familiar with, I go up to them and chat with them about their holiday instead. It’s Jiya, and I try my best to keep cool. We were friends when we were younger, and while Jiya became popular and pretty, I sort of … went down a different road. When I get back from some small talk with Jiya, Sara offers an awkward smile at Jiya, who shoots a cold eyebrow raise back, and we head off.

The writing here is good! I just noticed that in the second sentence, there’s an “I” after least

. However, I felt that the transition from Grace talking to Sara then moving on to Jiya felt a little abrupt. The make the transition smoother, you could add how Grace was feeling or what she was thinking when searching the hallways and/or approaching Jiya to connect it a bit better. Other than that, everything looks great!

“So…” I drag out the word as I look down at the list again. “I know we see each other enough already, but there’s this new coffee place across town, and I REALLY want to try it out. Do you think we could meet there every week or so?” I ask, avoiding her gaze slightly. Just because I know that Jiya and her friends will most likely be there too, doesn’t mean I’m doing anything wrong- right? Sara nods and I grin.

I like how the dialogue is very natural and how her thoughts flow with it. It would be cool to see more on her intention on going to the coffee shop, like how she wants to be seen with the “cool kids”.

Later that day is lunch, which is great if you have people to sit with, but terrible if your best friend is off doing some club, and there’s no one else you’re close enough to sit with. My hands shake a little as I take my sandwich out of my bag and head towards the corner of the cafeteria. ‘Grace!’ someone calls my name, and I look up.

Jiya’s standing in front of me, all smiles. ‘Why don’t you sit with us?’

The world stops. Did. I. Really. Just. Get an invitation to sit with JIYA AND HER FRIENDS? a.k.a. the coolest people known to mankind? Or our grade, at least. Jiya fingers her hair, bored, pulling at a curl. ‘..Grace?’ Huh? Oh. I nod and say ‘Sure’ and so while my mind spins my feet take me where I need to go. I try to pat down my hair a bit. I stand half behind Jiya as she introduces me to the five other people at her table. There’s Jake, her boyfriend. Becky, her best friend, Oliver and Livia, the twins and finally, Rowan. I smile. ‘I’m Grace.'

Again, this part is also really relatable! It definitely helps with engagement.

The world stops. Did. I. Really. Just. Get an invitation to sit with JIYA AND HER FRIENDS?

These inner thoughts/inner feelings of Grace really help with shaping her character! You should add more of it into this piece! Things like “my heart dropped”, the feeling of her heartbeat, or “butterflies in her stomach” (I can’t think of anything good right now, but definitely make it more descriptive and sound less cliche then “butterflies in my stomach”) would really add to what you have right now.

The next day starts the same. Walking through the corridors with Sara, then rushing to lunch where I'm greeted again by Jiya. I'm not that interested in their conversation, so usually just zone out, but today Becky nudges me with a wicked smile. ‘So what do you think?’

I'm fairly sure that they're talking about some girl they all find weird, so I nod along, eager to fit in. ‘I agree! I try to be nice to everyone, but really, she’s just annoying.' There's a mixture of reactions to that. Someone tries to give me a high five while another voice protests. ‘That’s not cool' and ‘That’s so cool' merge with each other and I shake my head to clear the confusion.

This interaction feels really organic and flows well! Not much to say here.

Obviously, shaking my head vigorously quietens the table and I take a deep breath. ‘Sorry. What?’

'It's just.. I always thought you genuinely liked Sara.' Rowan says reproachfully.
'Sara!? I-' I stutter, my insides turning cold. This day can't possibly get any worse.

'Hey.' says a familiar voice. To the side, I can see a pair of boots.

Oh right- it can.

I like the bit about them questioning Grace, the consequences are real for situations that may happen in real life. Again, it would be nice to see some “physical” reactions like I mentioned above when she realizes Sara is there! It would add a little more emotional weight to show how much Sara means to her.

Overall, this is a very strong piece!

Here are the points that I mentioned
- clarity in some actions
- connecting some areas together

You did a really good job with developing Grace’s voice and thoughts! I really enjoyed critiquing this <3

Last edited by emililies (July 13, 2025 10:13:29)

emililies

weekly 2: fairytales
7/10-7/16 ꕥ 1820/1300 words

part 1 (403/200 words)

The most famous recording of Rapunzel was by German authors known as the Brothers Grimm in 1812. In the story, a man and his wife have longed for a child. One day, the wife spots a leafy vegetable, known as rapunzel, inside the walled off garden. She develops a craving for it and begs the man to get some for her. He climbs over the wall and retrieves some of the rapunzel. What they didn’t know was that the garden belonged to an enchantress, Dame Gothel. She catches the man, but allows him to continue collecting rapunzel until the baby is born, as long as they promise to give her the child. The enchantress instantly takes off with the baby once she was born and names her Rapunzel. When Rapunzel turned 12, she was imprisoned by Dame Gothel in a stone tower where she couldn’t escape. One day, a prince hears Rapunzel in her tower. He watches as Dame Gothel calls out “Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let your hair down.” Once the dame left, he repeated the same words for Rapunzel to lower her hair. The prince and Rapunzel soon fall in love and plan for Rapunzel’s escape. Gothel finds out about their plan and chops Rapunzel’s hair, banishing her. She then tricks the prince by using the hair to lure him up the tower. He jumps from the tower into a pile of thorns, blinding him. He wanders the forest for years until he finds Rapunzel again with their twins and they return to his kingdom where they live together for many years.

The story of Rapunzel, while popularized by the Brothers Grimm, has roots in earlier European folklore and has been adapted in various ways. Giambattista Basile’s “Petrosinella” (Italy) and Charlotte-Rose de Caumon de La Force’s “Persinette” (France), but written during the 17th century have many elements that are also found in the German version. In the Italian version, which is considered the earliest known version of the Rapunzel story, a pregnant woman steals parsley instead of the man. Petrosinella (meaning parsley), uses gallnuts as a distraction, and the beans turn into animals, ultimately eating the enchantress. In the French version, it is not an enchantress but a fairy. She is actually very nice to Persinette (meaning little parsley). When she noticed that she was bearing children, the fairy cut Persinette’s hair and brought her to a hut where the food replenished itself.

part 2 (201/200 words)

Rapunzel’s frying pan from Flynn’s perspective <3

Let me tell you something I never thought I’d say with absolute certainty: I fear frying pans.

Not just any pan, mind you, Rapunzel’s pan. Cast iron, a little worn at the edges, fairly used. Just like any other cast iron pan, right. You. Are. Wrong. I’m not saying it has magical properties, but it definitely has a sixth sense for skulls, particularly my skull.

The first time I met it, it knocked me out cold. No warnings, no time to dodge. Just BANG, then darkness. I wasn’t sure if I was still alive or just being reincarnated into another being, WITH A POSSIBLE DENT IN MY HEAD.

Rapunzel wields that thing like a knight wields a sword. Honestly? Maybe even better. I’ve seen her deflect arrows with it. Take out many guys with one swing.

I’ve stolen potatoes, escaped palaces, and outrun royal guards, but nothing scares me more than when I hear the sound of the pan sliding off the hook.

And the scariest part?

She brings it everywhere she goes. So you know what? I’ll be here, cowering in the corner… respectfully
admiring the might of a girl and her cookware.

part 3 (716/400 words)

Aidan feels the first glitch in the mask at 11:00 p.m. It’s a flicker, barely visible, but it meant that the illusion was failing. There was an hour left. He adjusts the core piece and continues to move on into the ballroom without another thought. As he enters, he is engulfed in the carefully engineered melodies
created by the humanoids. Above him, chandelier drones hum like distant bees, casting soft life over the attendees adorned with glass-laced gowns and luminescent suits. Their faces wore programmed smiles and were covered by a hologram mask. He’s never stood in a room like this before. Never stood this tall, this still or this close to being caught.

He didn’t come from politics or glory. He just wanted to see it, life above. The CAELUM Ball had always been a fantasy to him, a myth passed through generations in the Undercity: the dresses that seemed to float and the light refracting on the chandeliers, glowing like stars. It was the most sacred dance of the year, and only those that were of status could attend. His friend Amicus had dared him.

“Just walk in,” he said. “No one will know if you’re under a mask.”

Aidan had just laughed it off, thinking he was insane. And somehow, he’d done it.

It’s 11:30 when she finds him near the edge of the ballroom, standing too still for someone trying to blend in. Princess Arabella, undoubtedly graceful, radiating a warm glow. Her hologram mask gleamed like starlight, decorated with the illusion of pearls and shimmer. Her dress looked like it was made of liquid glass and was adorned with many engineered pearls and shells. Every step she took, the gown rippled like water. She stops in front of him, tilting her head slightly. “You look like you’re trying not to jump,” she says, voice light but eyes sharp.

Aidan shrugs, letting out a laugh. “Just… a little surreal.”
He meant the music, the conversation, and her.

She smiles, a real one, small and crooked. “Then dance with me, that might help.”

She doesn’t wait for a reply and reaches for his hand, guiding him to the floor. Aidan’s pulse stutters. He didn’t know any of the steps, but she led without making him feel lost. The ground turned slowly beneath them, a gentle spin engineered through the platform. For a moment, he doesn’t count the minutes. He forgets where he is. He just moves and breathes, and lets himself belong.

But time doesn’t forget. His mask glitches again at 11:45, just once. A pulse of static, then the flicker of bare skin beneath the illusion. A warm tan, and a scar across his cheekbone. She catches it immediately. Her fingers don’t pull away, but her expression shifts. It’s something like recognition, or understanding. “You built this yourself?” she murmurs, like it’s a compliment, not an accusation.

Her tone stays soft, curious. Her face is still wearing a small, crooked smile. Aidan blinks. “Mostly scavenged” he responds.

“Clever,” she says, “It fooled me for a while.”

She doesn’t let go of his hand. There’s no alarms or sudden retreats. Just her, looking at him like someone that’s out of place. They continue dancing, letting the silence engulf them into a bubble.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he whispers.

Not as a warning, just a truth. She looks at him then, really looks, and he realizes that she’s not afraid. Just tired, and curious. “Neither should I,” she says.

It’s 11:55. The palace lights dim, signaling the final waltz. Aidan pulls away gently,“I should go.”

She hesitates.

“Will you come back next year?”

“Would they even let me?” Aidan asks.
“I don’t know.”

Aidan begins making his way through the crowd towards the exit and outside.

“Maybe they wouldn’t know,” Arabella starts, catching Aidan’s attention. “But I would.”

He smiles, the mask flickering out entirely now.

“Then I guess I’ll have to build something better.”

He turns and continues to run towards the Undercity. Arabella watches as his outline fades, one hand still outstretched like she might catch a ghost. On the ground, she finds a bio chip. She recognized the blue from Aidan’s suit.

“Hey!” she yelled, “You dropped your bio chip!”

Aidan didn’t come back to retrieve it.

part 4 (500/500 words)

She fell just after dawn.

No one saw her land, but the farmer’s dog barked for an hour straight, and the wheat bent in a perfect spiral that wouldn’t grow right for weeks. A villager found her sitting in the grass, wrapped in something soft and silver, like woven starlight.

She didn’t speak.

Her eyes were the color of storm-washed skies. Her feet didn’t seem to know how to touch the ground. The townsfolk asked where she’d come from, but she only blinked slowly and reached for the clouds.

They gave her the name, Aurelia, because she was so radiant and bright. She wandered the village with bare feet and wide eyes, trailing petals and feathers wherever she walked. She slept in the bell tower, laid in a field of flowers, and danced in the puddles after storms. When she smiled, things bloomed.

Children followed her. They followed her through fields and up hills, mimicking her gestures, hoping to make her laugh. Elders shook their heads and muttered about omens and winged things that vanished. But no one told her to leave. Not really.

Still, she never spoke.

Until one night.

It was spring. The orchard trees had begun to bloom, and the wind carried the scent of blossoms. A boy named Eli found her sitting in a flower field, watching the stars. He offered her a cookie.

“You don’t have to say anything,” he whispered, “but if you ever want to… I’ll listen.’

She looked at him for a long time. Her eyes shimmered like mist. Then, softly, like something borrowed from the wind, she said, “Thank you.”

From that day on, she spoke, rarely, carefully, like each word might drift away if she wasn’t gentle with it. She told the children the names of flowers they’d never heard. When she sang, the sun beamed. She whispered to bees. She called Eli by his name.

But some questions she never answered. Not even for him.

“Where did you come from?” he asked once, as they lay on the roof watching the moon.

She only touched his hand and said, “Not here.”

“Will you stay here?”

Her gaze lingered on the stars. She didn't answer.

Then came the west wind.

It blew in, hard and strange. People gathered around the center of the village. Aurelia stood in the middle that morning, her golden hair flowing. The sky flickered silver.

“Is it time?” Eli asked, his voice tight.

Aurelia stepped close, her fingers brushing his cheek.

“I remember now,” she said, soft as a promise. “The sky is calling.”
He reached for her, but the wind surged.

And then, she was gone. (imagine the lorax lol)

No doors opened. No trail. Just silence and startled air.

Years passed. The children who followed her grew older. Some forgot her name. But every spring, when the clouds moved a certain way and the wind hummed through the trees, people paused. They said they could hear her laugh again, soft and distant, like something slipping through the raindrops.

Last edited by emililies (July 19, 2025 16:52:53)

emililies

writing based off a title
7/19 daily ꕥ 247/200 words

thank you @savebats for the title!

“Hot Summers Are Fun Except For The Hot Part”

There’s something magical about summer. The way the world seems to stretch out in endless golden hours, buzzing with life and possibilities. School’s out, and every day is time for something spontaneous, a vacation, or an excuse to do nothing. Spending days at the pool playing mermaids or at the beach building sand castles. Eating ice cream at a little shop, trying to finish before it melts. Summer is freedom, laughter, and long car rides with music turned all the way up.

But then there’s the heat.

The kind of heat that sticks to your skin like plastic wrap. The kind that can cook eggs and melt chocolate. The kind that makes the sidewalk feel like it’s personally offended by your flip-flops. You step outside, and the air wraps around you like a smothering blanking. Sweat rains down from places you didn’t even know could sweat. Skin cancer is now your biggest enemy. Sunscreen becomes your second skin, and you still burn in weird shapes. Suddenly, the magic of summer feels more like a slow roast, or maybe a deep fry.

It's a funny little contradiction, loving summer but loathing the heat that defines it. But since we can’t give up day trips to the beach, we try to make peace with it. We chase shade, consume too many iced drinks, and live for fans and air conditioners. Because even though the hot part is awful, the memories we make in between are more than worth it.

Last edited by emililies (July 19, 2025 16:52:24)

emililies

writing using the elements of literature spinner
7/20 daily ꕥ 363/350 words

what I got from the spinner: lover, poem, stress-inducing situation, epiphany

We met in the hush between sirens,
the sky is dull with no grace.
Everything beneath it burned.
The world had split at the seams,
but somehow, we found each other,
in the shadow of smoke and wilted flowers.

We didn’t talk about the war.
Not directly.
We talked about songs we half-remembered,
friends that were just memories,
and a dog he’d left behind
who was probably long gone.
It was an effort to distract ourselves from the
crumbling walls, and loud sounds.
We were seventeen at the time. We were fools.
Everyday, pretending that it was how
the world was meant to be.

We’d sometimes go to the roof
to watch the stars, but instead we saw
drones blinked overhead like
cruel constellations.
Other nights, we didn’t speak at all.
Just passed a shared mug of tea
and let the silence settle
like something sacred.
Sometimes, I’d whisper silly dreams that
seemed unreachable.
“Maybe some day,
everything will be okay.”

We weren’t immune to fear,
but we made something out of it.
Every stolen moment was its own small rebellion.
Every glance, an act of resistance.

They told us love wouldn’t last here.
That we were foolish,
and didn’t know any better.
That the world consumed warmth.
That destruction always won.

One day,
he turned to me with dirt on his cheeks
and ash in his hair,
“I used to think love was safety,
But maybe it’s what keeps you brave
When nothing’s safe.”

I think that stuck with me.
The idea that something small and unsure
could still be safe
because it was invisible to the outside.

Then came the long week,
they took him away to fight,
no word, no sign.
I told myself I didn’t care.
But when he came back,
mud on his face and carrying fewer words,
I just nodded.
And he nodded back.
And that was enough.

Later, when the ceasefire came,
we planted marigolds in the craters,
and danced when it rained.
We laughed and cried at the center of the city,
splashing in the puddles.
We were still young. Still foolish.

But sometimes,
The world can’t kill
What it never learned how to touch.

Last edited by emililies (July 24, 2025 01:57:37)

emililies

critique for starrii
7/22 critique ꕥ 537 words

Hi Starrii! Before I get started I just wanted to say thank you for letting me critique this! I really enjoyed reading this, and I love dystopian pieces. I'll statt with som general critiques and then move on the the specific sentence-by-sentence critiques.

You did a really good job on the emotional weight! I felt that the piece captured a raw, personal tone.

Overall, your word choice is very strong. However, there are instances where it feels a little stiff and it doesn't really fit the tone. I've pointed a few out in the sentence-by-sentence critique.

The way you transition from describing the situation to the narrator's personal reflection is really smooth! And I also thought the world building in thr beginning was really strong.

It all began with a man. At least, someone who was once a man. We never knew his name.
A person, or a creature, who wanted absolute control over society. Over people. Over everyone- whether it was those who had loved him, cherished his company, innocent ones, young children or his enemies.
He governed by fear, like the controlling member of the human race he was. He wasn’t subtle about it. Overt all the way. He was the One in charge.

This is a really good line, describing human tyranny in a universal way.

Anyone who dared defy his regime was removed from his path. They were plucked off their journey of life. Painfully.
Anyone who dared defy his regime was removed from his path. This sentence is most likely sending shivers down your spine. I don’t love it either, but it’s true.

I like how you are trying to emphasize on his cruelty, but the line is being repeated twice in such a short amount of time. You could possibly vary the second sentences or combine sentences to make it stronger.

Envisage the individuals who suffer this punishment- parents requesting rations, sweet old people wanting to care for kittens, students begging for textbooks, curious young children asking why he tramped into their lives. They are in no fit state to tell you what exactly happened, but every dawn, the screams of the ‘rebels’ resonate through the towns.

I really like how this sentence really pushes on how brutal he is without directly saying what happened to them.

But slowly, he matured in age. His iron- grey hair, stooped back, gnarly fingers and breaking voice proved testament to the fact. He realized his time was coming.

I feel like this could be implied while the reader is reading this piece but maybe adding a but of layering on what his realization is? Or what the people think his realization was.

But like they say, - in passing, I wonder who ‘they’ are? – it is much easier to start things than to finish them. He, of course, chose the easiest thing.
Hidden throughout the villages, he commissioned the creation of seven lion hairpins, forged from bronze and embedded with tiny rubies no larger than a fingernail. Each was entrusted to a peasant known for ferocity, cunning, and independence—traits he himself respected, though he would never admit it aloud. These peasants, unaware of the greater game, were told only that the hairpin was a token of honor, a gift from a man who once ruled them. A trick, perhaps, but one he considered just.
To the ‘aspirants’, the message was clear: obtain the lion hairpins, and prove your worth. But it would not be a simple matter of theft. Each peasant was chosen because they were impossible to simply overpower.

I really like the while concept of the lion pins and how they are trying to obtain one to survive and gain that status, but I'm a little confused on how it's supposed to work. Are other peasants supposed to obtain pins from on of e seven that were entrusted with one in e beginning? It might just be me lol but would be nice to clarify who you're referring to in each sentence here.

Some would challenge the would-be successors to games of wits, others to combat, and some demanded feats of empathy, cunning, or even patience. Each hairpin represented a different facet of control—force, diplomacy, strategy, endurance.

This sentence becomes a little cluttered. It might just be personal preference but if you break it up into two or more sentences it csn streamline it a bit and make it more dramatic!

He watched from afar as candidates ventured into the villages. Some failed. Some never returned. But a few—just a few—began to return, one by one, bearing the pins and stories that echoed his philosophy: control is not given, and never begged for. It is earned, through dominance of self, others, and the unseen battles in between.
But only one thing remained invisible to him.
It wasn’t what the candidates- us- wanted, though. They simply played along to earn enough status to survive.
Soon, we began to fight each other for the pins.

I really like this bit and it adds a lot to the dystopia. To heighten the stakes even more, maybe you can add how thr pin affects people physically, politically, or socially?

It’s not our fault, though. Most of our parents lie unconscious of us in the morgue, never to rise again.
Those ornate lions we reverently clip in our hair, not unwise to the struggle leading up to obtaining? They provide us with power. Wealth. Favour and approval from him.
That’s survival in this freaking hell of a place. And there’s no escape. We’re trapped in this turn of events. We didn’t even do anything. It’s not fair. But that’s what life is. Justice is for the select few favoured by Fate.

I really liked how you worded the lines here! They really stood out to me.

But I feel that society, people, everyone and everything is falling apart. We won’t make it. We all know that. Every bug, squirrel, cat, lion and person does.

Do actual lions exist in this world? If you are referring to the lion pins, it might be night to clarify it, maybe something like “… lion etched in the pins…”

We’re not delusional.
~
You know, this was my letter to the present world.
But there’s much more hope for the future, isn’t there?
Hope that the world can be rebuilt from the ruin it is now. Hope that children will be able to wonder out loud without being silenced. Hope that everyone is safe. Hope that gender inequality will be a thing of the past. Hope that explosive sirens will never echo through cities again. Hope that death shall be peaceful.

The tonal shift is a little abrupt, it could help by adding a transitional line that explains where this while is coming from, like is she trying to rebel.

Change this dystopia into utopia.
A place for everyone. A haven of peace. A producer of love. A world for you.

I feel like producer feels mechanical compared to the more poetic flow you have in the end. Some suggestions for possible replacements: nurturer, birthplace

I wish you the best. Make this change for yourself, for your civilization. And hopefully you’ll think one day about us.
The people who perished. For no fault of ours, if I may repeat.
Just because of one man, and his conquest for control, for power.

This phrase is a little awkward and kind of breaks the flow of the ending. Consider changing it to smooth the flow.

Here's a summary of all the things I talked about:
- Adding clarification in some areas
- Changing word choice to fit the flow

The ending was beautiful! Once again, thank you for letting me critique this <3. Good luck on the writing comp!

Last edited by emililies (Aug. 1, 2025 18:51:40)

emililies

weekly 3: weekly weekly
7/17-7/23 ꕥ 1693/1500 words

part 1 (213/200 words)

For this weekly, I want to explore the use of symbolism in writing, specifically how writers can create symbols with intention and use them to add depth to their stories or poems. I really like adding symbols into my writing and exploring different symbols in the novels I read.

Symbolism is when something in your piece, a recurring object, a specific image, even a small action, represents something more. It’s like a quiet second layer underneath the words, one that readers might not realize at first but adds depth. Symbols aren’t just “here have some roses because I love you”, there are more aspects of writing symbols into a piece. Hopefully, the weekly will help!

In this weekly, we’ll go through the full process: first, identifying a theme or emotion we want to explore, then building a symbol that reflects it. From here, we’ll plan how that symbol can show up in a piece, and then write it in. Along the way, how to avoid making it feel forced, and how to trust readers to make those connections.

Whether you’ve used symbolism before or are trying it for the first time, this weekly is all about writing with more intention and finding beauty in the details that say more than they seem to.

part 2 (257/150 words)

Part 1: Choosing a Theme
Before a symbol can take shape, it must be grounded in meaning. To begin this symbolism journey, start by choosing a theme or emotion that you want to explore in writing. This could be grief, guilt, friendship, longing, etc. Your symbol is going to be built around this idea, so take some time to think about what your piece will really convey underneath the surface.

Part 2: Creating a Symbol
With a theme chosen, now it’s time to brainstorm potential symbols! There is a huge world of objects, colors, settings, gestures, or recurring images that might represent the theme from Part 1. The symbols can be both conventional and unexpected. Feel free to be creative and explore different ideas.

Part 3: Planning the Symbol’s Use in a Story or Poem
To understand how your symbol will play out in your piece, we need to outline its role. Will it appear once, or multiple times? Does it change its meaning at the end? Is it something your character interacts with directly or something more subtle? Think about how your symbol connects to the plot, character(s), and tone of the piece.

Part 4: Writing a Piece with Symbolic Intention
Now that you’ve chosen and mapped out your symbol, it’s time to put it into action by writing a scene, poem, or dialogue where your chosen symbol plays an active role. The goal is to use it in a way that feels intentional, layered, and emotionally tied to the theme brainstormed in part 1.

part 3 (368/350 words)

More Than What It Seems: A Workshop on Symbolism in Writing

Symbolism shows up in all kinds of writing, from classical literature to short poems to modern fiction. It’s when something in your story stands in for something deeper. Maybe it’s an object, a place, or an image that repeats quietly in the background. Maybe it’s a moment or gesture. But in all cases, good symbolism adds layers to your work without needing to be spelled out in words.

But, you might ask, how do you create and weave in a symbol on purpose, without making it feel too obvious or too random? It’s actually trickier than it might seem. Too subtle, and the reader might miss it. Too obvious, and it might feel heavy-handed. So how do we strike the balance?

Start with your story’s emotional center. What is your character going through? What theme or feeling sits beneath the plot? Once you know what you want to explore, brainstorm some details that correlate with it. A broken watch might represent lost time. A bracelet given to the character by a friend can symbolize a connection or friendship. A bird trying to fly might reflect a character’s struggles. The best symbols often emerge from a story’s world, rather than being dropped in from the outside.

The key to a strong symbol is consistency and evolution. If your symbol only appears once, it might just feel like a detail. But if it shows up more than once, changing subtly or gaining more meaning each time, it encourages readers to notice and interpret. Think of the green light in “The Great Gatsby”, or how colors and seasons can reflect the mood in many stories. The symbol becomes part of the piece’s emotional language.

Symbolism should also be used with intention. It can highlight themes, deepen a moment, or give insight into a character’s emotional state. A well used symbol can carry weight without words. It can show change, emotion, and meaning in a way that dialogue or narration can’t.

Most importantly: trust your reader. You don’t need to explain what the symbol means. Let the repetition, placement, and context do the work. Sometimes, the best symbols are the ones readers notice without quite realizing it. Good luck on your journey!

part 4 (855/800 words)

part 1 (222/200 words)
Eloise Turner was born into a family of theoretical physicists, raised in a world of logic and quantitative data. Her childhood was marked by a quiet kind of detachment. Her parents weren’t unloving, but their love came in the form of facts, charts, and theorems. While they were away at their conferences, she found companionship in machines and code, in puzzles she could solve and distract herself from the fact that she was alone. As a child prodigy in cognitive science, she was recruited early by a private institute and later joined the ANIMUS project, which is an experimental memory and emotional network.

Her personality is pragmatic, independent, and curious. She’s a very logical person and only focuses on the facts. Often, she stays calm during stressful situations, opting to analyze the situation. She is a very reserved person and doesn’t trust easily, often masking vulnerability with dry wit or indifference. Eloise has a difficult time articulating her emotions or understanding the emotional need of others so she views it as something to study, not felt deeply. When Alec Snyder, the creator of ANIMUS, passes away suddenly under suspicious circumstances, she is tasked, along with her partner Lucas Walker, to archive his memories. She is driven less by grief and more by curiosity of the mystery that his death has left behind.

part 2 (208/200 words)

Eloise’s development is gradual, emerging not from a single explosive event, but from the interactions she has with working with Lucas. Unlike Eloise, Lucas is intuitive, emotionally transparent, and unafraid of contradiction. Where she seeks truth in data, he seeks in people. As they search through Alec’s fragmented memory network and decipher the mind letters he left behind, she’s forced to confront uncomfortable truths. One of them, being the emotional weight of the confessions addressed to Lucas’s late mother.
At first, Eloise analyzes the letters from a logical standpoint. But as she spends more time working with Alec’s memories, she starts feeling the emotional residues embedded in the neural data, experiencing sorrow, longing, and guilt. She begins to open up about her personal life as she continues to work with Lucas, learning that it’s okay to be vulnerable. She allows herself to get closer and have deeper conversations with Lucas and allows through the slow erosion of her defenses.
She’s more empathetic after her experiences working on Alec’s memories. She still is a very pragmatic person, but she’s learning to accept that some questions can’t be answered with data. She’s more willing to be vulnerable and to see emotions not as distractions but as powerful forms of knowledge.

part 3 (206/200 words)

Eloise’s growth opens new doors, not just emotionally, but scientifically. It reshapes her entire approach to science, relationships, and identity. Her expanded empathy makes her a more ethical researcher. Where she once viewed the ANIMUS memory network as a tool, she now sees it as a living archive of human complexity. This shift improves her work surrounding the memory network, she begins building frameworks that account for the nuances of memory, not just its mechanics.
She also begins valuing connection over control. Her bond with Lucas becomes one of mutual growth: he teaches her how to sit in discomfort, how to let silence speak, how to offer parts of herself without knowing the outcome. She, in turn, grounds him when his emotions cloud his logic. They are able to balance each other, her precision and his intuition. She’s still herself, but softened. She apologizes when she gets things wrong, asks questions about people’s feelings instead of just their work, and listens more carefully. Her self-perception has also evolved. She no longer sees vulnerability as a flaw but as a necessary part of connection. She’s kind of like the bridge between logic and emotion, someone who can interpret the emotional architecture of memory in a meaningful way.

part 4 (219/200 words)

With her new emotional openness comes new fear: fear of losing control, fear of getting hurt. Eloise sometimes overcorrects, becoming emotionally impulsive in moments where she’d once have been cool-headed. Now, she struggles with being between her head and heart. She worries about how much of herself she’s revealing, and whether vulnerability makes her weaker.
The constant exposure to raw emotion, both hers and others, drains her more than she expects. She still has to learn how to rely on others sometimes and to not keep it all to herself.
She also struggles with guilt, especially as both she and Lucas learn more about Alec Snyder’s past and how much pain was buried in the neural letters. She wonders if her detachment in the early stages of the project caused her to overlook something crucial. That guilt seeps into her personal life, making her second-guess decisions and hold herself to unrealistic expectations.
There’s also the burden of intimacy. She fears becoming too emotionally dependent on Lucas, afraid that her growing feelings for him might compromise her objectivity. This fear manifests in occasional withdrawal, where she’ll suddenly shut down, push him away, or bury herself in work when she feels emotionally overwhelmed.

These flaws don’t undo her progress, but they complicate her journey, and make her all the more human.

Last edited by emililies (July 23, 2025 17:30:55)

emililies

critique for chocolate

I lean on my older sister, begging for a shoulder to cry on, watching the sun set over the hills.

I really like this starting line!

Standing with the rest of our family, trying to not make any noise — not even a breath, we all hug each other, knowing that we may never see one another again.

This sentence is a little long. I would suggest to separate it into two sentences, after “not even a breath” because it’ll also increase the clarity!

I hear gunshots going off in the background, behind the buses.

I like how you’re adding tension! To make it even better, you could possibly change “I hear gunshots” to something more sensory?

My heart beats faster as I take one last look at her, her brown hair flying in the wind.

This is a really good detail!

I want to apologize to her for all of the fights and arguments, but I know I just can’t or I would be putting my family in danger.

This sentence is kind of long and has too many ideas at once. Consider separating the emotion and the reason/justification.

That’s the last thing I would ever want to happen.

This line is a bit redundant after the last line you have. You could cut it or rephrase it to something more poetic like “I’d never forgive myself” to add to the emotional impact.

Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. The timer in my head slowly counts down the hours, minutes and seconds.

I like how this sentence adds tension! It would be cool to add emphasis to “the hours, minutes and seconds” to make that part stick out and feel like the reader is counting down as they read :O

Questions fill my head. What happens when the timer goes off? Will I ever see my family again? Is it the end of the world?

I whisper to my sister, making sure not to make a sound. “Will I ever see you again?”

This part is contradictory, since if she’s whispering then she is making a sound. I would consider re-wording it, maybe saying that her sister probably didn’t hear her?

She leans down into my ear and whispers, “Little Sis, none of us know.”

This sentence is so touching, ahhh!

A teardrop starts to roll down my face as I see her walk away.

“A teardrop starts to roll down my face” sounds a little cliche. I would consider changing it a little, and maybe tying and action to it too would make that part really strong!

With a rifle in hand, she goes behind the bush and waves one last time to us, knowing she may never see us again.

Going behind the bush feels oddly specific, consider changing it to something just a little bit more general?

The story I describe of my sister can be described in three words. One brave hero. She has always been brave and protective of our family, it’s just hard to let go of her.

I like this ending bit!

Overall, this piece is really strong! Here are my final thoughts:
- If you are leaving the piece at this, I would consider giving a little background on what their situation is to give readers more context
- I also was wondering where was the sister going? Is she fighting in a war?

There’s so much potential on where this piece can go! Thank you for letting me critique this and I’m excited to see where you decide to go with it!

Last edited by emililies (Aug. 1, 2025 18:52:24)

emililies

writing comp entry
july 2025 ꕥ 567 words

Where The Silence Stayed

We met in the lull between sirens,
The sky was dull, drained with grace.

I came looking for silence,
for something that hadn’t forgotten
how to be kind.
So did he.
We didn’t speak at first,
just sat in the ruins of the old school,
boots shifting through dust and broken tile.

I was the quiet one,
counted cracks in the ceiling,
listened for meanings in the spaces between
our sentences.

He always kept his hands busy–
mending the ration truck salvaged metal,
fixing water pipes from scavenged parts,
tinkering with a radio that never worked.
He fixed what he could,
because so much else was beyond repair.

We didn’t live close,
but after the first meeting,
we kept returning,
once a week,
to the same place.

We never talked about the war.
Not really.
We spoke about songs we half-remembered,
friends we lost track of,
a brown dog he’d left behind during the
evacuation.
He never said it,
but we both knew the dog was gone.

It was easier that way,
easier to focus on crumbling walls
and the steady drip from broken pipes
than on the tightness in our chests

We were seventeen.
We told ourselves this was normal.
We wanted to believe that normal still existed.

Sometimes we climbed to the roof,
hoping for stars.
But instead,
we saw drones blinking overhead,
like cruel constellations.

Other nights, we sat in silence,
passing a dented mug of bitter tea
between our hands in the old teachers lounge,
letting the quiet fill the space between us,
not sacred or fragile,
just something we didn’t want to lose.

Sometimes, I whispered silly things,
half in hope, half in pretense.
“Maybe someday, everything will be okay.”
“Maybe the world will be kind again.”
Meaningless hope.

We weren’t immune to fear,
but we made something out of it.
Not a language,
but a way of being near each other
that didn’t require explanation.

The soldiers,
the ones who marched through the neighborhoods,
said this kind of thing never lasted.
That we were foolish,
writing hope where there was none.
They said that the world consumed warmth.
That destruction is always hungrier.

One day,
in an old classroom,
he turned to me with dirt smudged across his face,
and ash in his hair,
and said:
“I used to think safety meant not feeling
anything. Now I think it’s what you feel that keeps you
from going numb.”

I didn’t know how to answer,
So I kept the words like a stone in my pocket,
heavy and grounding.

I think that stuck with me.
The idea that something small and unsure
could still be safe
because it was invisible to the outside.

Then came the long week.
The militia came for him.
They didn’t say where he was going.
No warning. No answer.

I told myself not to care.
I had to.

But when he came back,
mud on his boots, quieter than before,
we didn’t speak.
We just nodded.
And that was enough.

Later, when the ceasefire came,
we planted marigolds in the bomb craters,
golden-orange bursts like little suns.
We danced in the rain
until our clothes clung to our skin,
and laughed as we splashed in the puddles.

We were still young.
Still reckless.
Still willing to build something in place
meant to be empty.

But sometimes,
The world can’t kill
what it never learned how to touch.

Last edited by emililies (Aug. 1, 2025 18:52:41)

emililies

I think my dream house would have the majority of the things I have in my current house but with a few additions. I would absolutely love to have a pool indoor or outdoor in the backyard. It would be even better if it was at least twenty-five yards long, since I live in America, haha! Then, I could just go to my backyard whenever I want to practice swimming or if I just need to relieve stress. I always have to drive somewhere if I want to swim so it would be super convenient. It would also be cool to have a whole wall full of yarn, so I can start a crochet project and I’ll have a wide variety of yarn to choose from. Then I wouldn’t have to go to the craft store every time. In terms of what the actual house looks like, I think it would be next to a beach or close to one because the waves are so calming

It was 6:43 a.m. when I padded downstairs in my fuzzy socks, half-asleep, and stared out the giant glass doors that led to my backyard. The pool shimmered like a giant diamond, reflecting of the morning sun’s rays. I did a little happy dance. No driving. No traffic. Just me and a twenty-five-yard stretch of peaceful, chlorinated bliss. I dove in like a dramatic Olympic hopeful, flailing slightly because I forgot I wasn’t actually warmed up.

After a good hour of swimming, I wrapped myself in a towel and wandered in to dry off. My feet take me to the yarn wall in the living room—a glorious rainbow of skeins arranged like an art piece. The hardest part wasn’t finding yarn—it was deciding which shade of blue I wanted today. I picked a soft lavender instead and started crocheting a sea turtle with extra wobbly legs.

Through the open windows, I could hear the waves rolling in from the beach just a few blocks away. The sea breeze fluttered my yarn labels like little paper sails.

Crocheting with a view, swimming without a commute, and the scent of the ocean in the air?

It wasn’t just a dream house anymore. It was my everyday magic.

emililies

critique for vicky

Hey Vicky! First off I just wanted to say that your piece is absolutely beautiful! It captures the emotions so well and I really liked your use of repetition, broken phrasing, and the internal chaos of the narrator. I’ll try my best in providing context on where I’m referring to when I critique, but let me know if anything is confusing or you need some clarification.

First off, I’ll start with some spelling and grammar.

I noticed that you use lowercase “i” a lot but it might just be a stylistic choice. However, in the section

I know.
Because i hurt him. I hurt him and now i’m infinitely paying the price.

Stuck in time cuz he froze me there. I can only be saved by one person; he’s not coming.

I know.

there are some variations of “I” and “i”. Make sure to keep it consistent!

In that same section, you also used the word “cuz” which doesn’t really fit the tone the rest of your piece is in.

The “where” in

Even if I where to scream who would it be to?

should be a “were”, and you could consider adding a pause after scream? When I read this sentence that’s where I found a pause.

I also noticed that a can’t in that stanza is also missing an apostrophe.

Moving on, I really liked how you structured the piece! When I read it I could feel the spiraling feel of the narrator. Nothing to say on this end!

I’ll go into section critiques now →

Starting from the beginning,

I really like these lines! I got straight to the point, and accusing, which is a nice hook.

“Eat me from the inside out…”

This visual formatting really works! I like how it kinda mimics a mental descent.

“Him all I can hear / feel / see…”

This part is my favorite and I think it’s one of the strongest! The rhythm builds up well here, and you did well with using repetition.

“He’s storm and flame..”

I love the metaphor usage here! Beautiful!

In terms of pacing, I would suggest separating the lines “my hopes,” and “thundering through…” into their own stanzas. This would help put an emphasis on “my hopes” and control the pacing a bit. It would also mirror the narrator’s vulnerability for the reader.

Here’s what I mean:

…my dreams,

my hopes.

Thundering through…

It slows this area down a bit after you have that climax with the “I know” part.

“The shards begin to rip my skin…”

You have a really great description here, but some of the lines are a little long and dense.

The ending is super strong!

Overall this piece is really strong! I didn’ t think that felt rushed, but I feel like that’s personal preference? I actually thought that the pacing fit the tone of the piece well.

Here’s what I mentioned:
Break up the heavier stanzas for better breath and tension
Fix some grammar errors

I know you asked for some harsh critiques but it was so hard! This piece is so good, keep it up!

Last edited by emililies (Aug. 1, 2025 18:53:06)

emililies

thank you notes
july 2025

I’ve been busy for the past few days because I’ve been organizing and attending a leadership conference and I’m really tired, ahhh. I can’t miss out on thank you notes though so I’ll try my best to get through as much as I can. I’m sorry if I didn’t mention you, I’m genuinely grateful for anyone involved in SWC. Whether it be a host, (co)leader, or camper, you guys have shaped my July to something unforgettable <3.

Willow: WILLOW. Thank you so much for being an amazing leader, and giving me a chance to become a co for the first time! You have so many amazing ideas, I really enjoyed working with you. Hopefully we’ll see each other around (and possibly work together again) <3.

Niko: Hey Niko! I really enjoyed co-leading with you this session! I’ve seen you around in the main cabin before but it’s nice to get to know you. I hope that we’ll end up on the leading team (or in the same cabin) in a future session <3.

Snowy: Snowy! I had a great time co-leading with you and getting to know you this session! I'm going to the book store soon, and I’ll definitely get The Naturals, haha! Also I know I’ve said this before but 100k+ words :O. I’d love to get to work with you again!

Gothic Cabin: Thank you so much everyone for an amazing session! No matter if we get top 5 or last, I had so much fun leading this cabin. Cabin wars was so much fun and so motivating with you all. Every single one of you is amazing, I hope we end up in the same cabins in the future. Gothic will forever be in my heart <3 (asdfghjkl and I think we’re forever stuck in this manor unless the culprit reveals themselves…).

(co)leaders: OMGGG this session has actually been amazing! Every single cabin looks so cool I would genuinely join any of them, I can’t imagine how hard it was for the campers to choose. I would love to talk to you guys more, all of you are such amazing people <3!

Hosties: This session was so good! I loved the Barbie theme, and I can’t imagine how much time you guys have put into making this all happen! The Barbie vs. Ken war was so fun I would love to do it again (team Ken ftw <3). Thank you four so much again, everyone in the SWC community loves you guys!

Last edited by emililies (Aug. 1, 2025 18:50:56)

emililies

⧉ psycho-fi
november 2025

word goal: /15,000
last updated:

dailies

weeklies

word wars

critiques

others

Last edited by emililies (Nov. 16, 2025 21:28:24)

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