Critique for @rocksalmon800

Hi Rockie! Thank you for letting me read this piece of your writing, I really loved it!

The first thing that struck me was what a cool concept it is! I absolutely love the plot twist at the end, and its a great story. I also love your style, how it seems so real with the little bits of humour, and the small details like the bag of crisps. I love your use of brackets - they really add to the narrative voice and make the reader feel more invested with the speaker. I wonder if you perhaps overuse them a little bit, having 2 lots in multiple sentences, which makes it a bit tricky to focus on the actual story. I would suggest either swapping some brackets out for dashes (potentially italicised if you fancy that) and commas for ones such as or in their own short sentence. My suggestions for these would be ‘an investor, I’m told' with commas and then ‘and Henry’s health, by extension' in dashes, just to add a bit of variety and a tad more flow to it.

I like how your dialogue flows naturally, and you haven't under or overused it. I would consider for the line ‘she blinks quickly. “That’s beautiful.” adding a bit more emotion (unless you purposefully don't want to, which works with the character). I assume it is something that has genuinely touched her, but that isn't clear in the writing. I also think ‘and tears spill down her face’ could be worded a bit differently, to add a bit more emotional depth. Does she suddenly start sobbing like a child, or do small tears slip down her cheeks as she tries to brush them away? Maybe she sniffs snottily (gross detail, sorry) or she has been trying to hold them back but when she starts speaking she can't any more. I think that's an emotional moment that you should try and emphasise more, but I do love that you have this one sympathetic character who really contrasts the others. And then maybe on her final line add some more bits that make it feel like an emotional human - like when you've written ‘Far–Henry’s, sorry– ’ which I love - maybe an elipsis or break the dialogue up with some prose like her sniffing or wiping away tears.

I absolutely love the ending, the structure is perfect and it delivers just the right emotional punch whilst not being overdone.

Overall, I love your idea and this was such fun to read!

critique for leopard!!

hiii leopard!! i just wanted to say that your poems were amazing <3 i really loved how pretty the language was in each of them and the way they tied into themselves!! i was super impressed and loved reading them all i will share some line by line critique on the first poem and then i’ll go over my thoughts on the whole collection!!

Or the ones we felt like gods, / Looking down on everything - / Carefree, proud / And a little bit windswept, / Just a little sunburnt, / Feet throbbing, hearts pounding / But living.

i would add in a “where” to the first line (“or the ones where we felt like gods”) to make your sentence more clear! i really really like the rest of this though omg it’s so powerful :star_struck:

It sounded good: / We knew how to deal with sticks / And stones, and mud. / Brambles may wrap around our ankles / Yet their wounds fade / Like our boots wearing away. / And she would be happy, / Her well-worn legs scampering / Up so many peaks / In her beloved mountains.

i’m not sure if this is intentional or not, but you change tenses in this stanza! for me reading it through the switch to present tense was kind of jarring.

She said stars are holes in heaven, / That when our loved ones shine through, / We know they are happy. / Stars.

this is such a sweet sentiment! i love it <3 perhappss this is just a me thing but i think you could maybe change this to “she said stars are holes in heaven / where our loved ones shine through / and when they twinkle / we know they are happy. / stars” or something like that just to clarify that the stars are the loved ones themselves shining through the holes? i’m not sure if that makes any sense but i thinkkk the jump from the first line to the second might require some extra clarification. it was a bit confusing at first to me at least, but it’s such a beautiful idea and i really really love this <3

Now, I look up at them: / The twinkling - / Just the glint in her eye

this is really nice!! i might suggest playing around with your sentence length and spacing in this bit just to test out some things? i love incorporating shorter sentences into my writing so this is really personal preference lol but i do really like this stanza!!

The light - / Like the lights at the ballet, / The ones she watched me dance under / When I’m free and I can’t stop smiling, / When I am where I am meant to be, / Where I catch her smiling eyes in the audience.

tense change again! i think this could be effective if you’re doing it intentionally but here it feels a bit random if that makes sense. but again, the imagery here is really nice!! you have a really strong grasp of emotions in your writing and its very impressive <3

But she was so much brighter than the spotlight….And friends around me.

too lazy to copy and paste this whole part but I LOVE THIS!!! so so so pretty and really good characterization here!! probably my fave stanza in this whole thing haha

Wrapped in clouds like her favourite jumper, / Watching me dance, / No doubt being nosy to the spirit sitting next to her.

i have two small critiques for this bit!! firstly the way it stands now the clouds/jumper simile doesn’t make a ton of sense? it’s a really unique simile that grabbed my attention and had good imagery, but since it’s so unique it might require a tinyyy bit of further clarification. also this is kind of personal preference but i think the final line flows a tiny bit weirdly at least in my head? but i can’t really think of a better way to phrase it so it’s probably fine haha.

also don’t want to copy and paste the last stanza but its really really wonderful <3 it ties everything together really well and i love how it ends on a positive note! it definitely shows the growth of the character and feels like a super satisfying way to tie together the whole poem.

overall, i thought this was great!! it was really beautiful and the imagery was en pointe (get it?? sorry that was really bad skjfhskj). it flowed really well and the tone/language remained consistent throughout, which is really hard to do! i think my only critique would be to kind of play around with your sentence structure and construction. you have a lot of really long, really pretty sentences, and i think you could benefit from experimenting with changing up some of them. especially in poetry, short sentences can be really powerful, so i think changing some of your really really long sentences to a couple of punchy short ones could really make the poem more exciting for the reader!! otherwise though it was really great <3 thank you so much for allowing me to critique it!

in terms of the other poems, i scanned through both of them!! there are also a couple little baby things i would change for those two (let me know if youd like a more in depth critique on either of them!!) but i think my favorite is probably the second one, after the curtain falls! it feels so raw and emotional and really really powerful – out of all of them, i found myself invested in that one the most <3 again lmk if you’d like a more in depth critique on anything!! all three of your poems were really really beautiful and im so honored to have been able to read them <3

july 14th constellations - 533 words
“Mama, what's that down there?”
“The planets, love.”
“Do you think I can go down there, then?”
“You can look, but you can't touch. We're here to watch and guide them.”
“Who's them, then, mama?”
“They live on Earth. They're called humans. We're here to protect them during the night, darling.”
“Then why can't I go down there, mama? I'm strong enough to protect them! Guiding is boring.”
“I'm sure you're strong enough, love. But they're dangerous.”
“Why do we protect them, then?”
“Well, love, they are a balance.”
“Balance of what?”
“Destruction and creation, love. They can be cruel, yes, but I've been around enough to see their few acts of kindness. That's who we guide, love. Those who are lost and those who deserve a way home.”
“What does that mean, mama?”
“You'll understand in time.”
The Ursa Minor pouts as he turns away from his mother, who isn't giving him any answers, pawing pathetically before rolling around to look at the flickering stars above him.
The Ursa Major looks upon him in gentle patience- he’d understand in time. Watching, just barely stirring. Space was a wide expanse- in their gentle, movementless life, she’d never seen much exploration, merely development, like watching the same tree grow instead of finding a forest. In a way, it was almost sentimental to watch it grow, withstand the wind, before inevitably falling to something or another, be it flames or the steel of a manmade weapon.
“Where are you going, love?”
She asks Ursa Minor, who looks up at her with an irritated expression. Unlike her, the patient soul, who was able to watch for centuries on end, he was energetic, willing to bend whatever rules that they, the near-omniscient creatures of the sky, were somehow placed under, in order to get his way.
He was but a child, she reflected.
“To explore, mama!”
Not much time had passed since their conversation- the child could hardly stay put on his feet.
That was alright, though. He could find his forest whereas the mother would stay content with her tree.
“I already told you, love, you can’t explore.”
“You’re boring, mama!” He retorted hotly- to wheedle and whine and insult until he got his way was the inherent nature of a child.
“I’m sorry, but you know calling me boring won’t get you anywhere. Come. Sit next to me, then.”
He wandered up and sat down, focusing on nothing but the indignant tapping of his claws against nothing.
“You needn’t wait long, dear.”
“Wait long for what?”
“You’ll find whatever it is you search for soon enough, I promise.”
“No I won’t, mama, you’re just saying that.”
“Humans can create as well as destroy, love.”
On that, the two of them paused, before Ursa Minor piped up, “You already told me, mama.”
“One day, they’ll create something to come to us. You’ve seen it, haven’t you? The way they explore. Some do it out of curiosity, some do it out of their childhood dreams, some do it out of greed.”
“What happens if the greedy ones come to us, then?”
“Only time will tell, love.”
So they watched, stalwart guardians of the lost and the helpless.

daily
Monday, July 14, 2025
278 words

Are there any night lights that pique your curiosity? Any sky maps that have you wondering? Well now’s your chance to tell a tale of the stars in the classic Constellation Daily!! Choose a constellation, and write a story of 250 words. Your story could be about anything, any aspect of the constellation. It will earn you 200 points, and you can claim another 100 for sharing your masterpiece. Bring the skies to life, and we can’t wait to see what you write!!

There were no angels in the skies, and he had little faith that any remained on the ground, either.
As a kit, he used to trace shapes between the specks of light in the night sky, desperate to catch a glimpse of what everyone else already seemed to know. He had hung on every word they said to him, even when they did nothing to answer his questions.
But stars are just distant glimmers in space, and our beliefs are just lies that we tell ourselves to make up for that.
They had drawn their borders in the name of astral ancestors that no one could see. They had looked for guidance in the cold, empty expanse of space. He didn’t bother trying to change their minds. It wasn’t worth the effort.
Then a dying star disrupted the sacred constellation of the Catmother. Panic ensued. They had angered their ancestors, they said, and this omen foretold their demise. The end was upon them.
That was when the volcano erupted, its ash blotting out the stars entirely. Now the sunless world was always cold, and prey was scarce.
Of course, the two events were unrelated. Omens weren’t real, and it wasn’t the end of the world, only a brief period of hardship. Maybe everyone realized that now. They had certainly left behind their old rules of honor and peace. Everyone was on their own in the fight for survival, and no one spoke of ancestors in the stars anymore.
How quickly we abandon our illusions when darkness falls, he thinks to himself, his paws crunching through a thin layer of snow. But at least they gave it a try.


table of contents

Bea waves at you as you enter the room. A grin, sharp and wide, touches her face, eyes glinting in an almost mischievous way.
“Howdy, hey,” she greets, leaning on the table she’s standing at. You can’t help but notice the projector on the table. Odd. “Glad you could make it.”
You mumble a greeting in return.
She just nods. And then turns on the projector. SMARLLS, it says, in a big black bold font. The best mascot reads beneath, in a smaller, but just as bold font. A splash of color surrounds the text, accompanied by a chibi doodle of Smarlls.
“So, welcome one and all to my wonderful presentation about Smarlls,” she says, waving towards the projector screen and doing jazz hands. “Smarlls is definitely not my favorite because I don’t know any other mascots, I dunno what you’re talking about.” Green eyes slide away from yours.
“Anyways!” she continues on, cheerfully. The slide switches. It’s a chibi drawing of Smarlls covered from horn to hoof in mangoes. Despite that, he looks rather happy. “Smarlls deserves all the mangoes in the world. Why?” she pauses, but doesn’t give you enough time to answer. “Because someone stole all of Smarlls’ mangoes.”
There’s a pause as she coughs. You think you can hear a poorly concealed “Chuey” under there.
She blinks, and continues on, unfazed. “So, Smarlls deserves all the mangoes, not only because of theft, but!” she grins and the slide changes. It’s a collage of some very, very cute pictures and drawing of the ibex. “Look at that face. How can you say no to that face?”
You can’t help but agree. That is a very hard to say no to face.
The rest of the slides of Bea’s presentation are just various pictures of Smarlls.
“And that’s why Smarlls is my favorite mascot,” she says, giving you a curtsy. Silently, she turns off the projector.
“… but… you barely said anything,” you protest, more than a little confused.
“I know!” she says cheerily and then speed-walks out of the room before you can question her further.

Weekly 2
1699 words total

(most of this was written for cabin wars so it probably won’t be too coherent ahaha)

Part 1 — comparing fairy tales from different cultures
316 words

(I was a little confused about what we’re supposed to do for this part ahaha, so I just compared the fairy tales—hopefully that’s on the right track??)

One similarity I noticed between several of the fairy tales is that things often seemed to come in sets of three—in the German fairy tale, the miller’s daughter is told to spin straw into gold three times, and Rumpelstiltskin gives her three days to guess his name; there are three daughters in the Indian fairy tale; there are three magical acorns in the Italian fairy tale. This also seems to be a common thread in other fairy tales, from memory—such as the three billy goats, the three little pigs, and the evil queen visiting Snow White three times, to name a few.
Another connection I noticed between the fairy tales is the presence of royalty. The miller's daughter marries the greedy king and becomes queen in Rumpelstiltskin, Wonderful Youth’s central characters are princesses and a prince, Tuan is born as the queen’s child in The Story of Tuan MacCairill, a prince finds and ends up marrying the girl in Petrosinella, and the king of winter makes an appearance in Father Frost. The Fountain of Youth is the only fairy tale here that does not include any royal characters or references to monarchy.
Magic is also commonly seen in fairy tales such as these. However, each story’s portrayal of whether the magic that appears is ‘good’ or ‘bad’ differs. Kollikumara, and his magical powers, is only ever portrayed as good. However, in both Rumpelstiltskin (where magic is only offered for a price) and Petrosinella (where the ogress’ own deadly magic leads to her downfall), the villains of the story are those who perform magic. The Fountain of Youth is different again, as it could be interpreted that in this story, the magic is not inherently good or evil—its effects wholly depend on how much it is used, and could either cause good or ill effects depending on the greed of the person drinking it.

Part 2 — object
382 words

“And please don’t come back. I won’t want to buy whatever you’re selling tomorrow, either.” Snow White hollered from the window as the old saleswoman departed.
She’d found out, over the past few days, that she thoroughly disliked having to answer the door.
Jeeeesus. This isn’t even my house, Snow White thought to herself, slumping into an armchair before promptly falling out of it again—she kept forgetting about the strange sizes of everything here. She sat on the floor, disgruntled. The dwarves should really employ someone. To drive away the salespeople and do all the cooking they’re forcing on me.
Snow White paused, suddenly. A rather odd feeling had come over her. A tension boiling in her gut. Tugging her towards the door.
She jolted upright, as if pulled on strings. The front door swung open with a creak, and there, on the dwarves’ dusty doormat, lay a shining comb.
Snow White leaned forward, picked it up. You left this behind, she wanted to call out to the old saleswoman, but she was gone and the words dried up in Snow White’s throat.
The comb was smooth, cold on her fingers. It was a pretty little thing, polished and marbled, with a rainbow of colours swirling across its surface and gleaming gems set into the handle. Although perhaps a little garish for Snow White’s tastes—the more she gazed at the bright yellows and brilliant blue-greens, the more she felt her head begin to spin.
She peered closer and noticed something sticky and transparent, thick like tar, coating its sharpened teeth. The substance had been oozing onto Snow White’s hands, clinging to her skin. She shuddered, inexplicably.
It was then that the comb began to whisper.
Don’t you want to look beautiful? Its voice swirled and spun through the air, sank into Snow White’s flesh, burrowed beneath her bones. She choked on the words, jagged in her lungs. I will make you beautiful.
“I don’t want—” Snow White gurgled, but before she could get the words out, she realised that she did. She did want to be beautiful, didn’t she? It was all she’d ever wanted. And she wasn’t beautiful enough without what this comb could provide her.
She raised the comb with shaking hands, and embedded it in her skull.

Part 3 — retelling
465 words

The Little Mermaid was so painfully hungry.

For the past fifteen years, she’d only eaten the scraps her mother and sisters had regurgitated for her. She’d grown up small and scrawny, as all young mermaids do, and she’d been watching her sisters sporting strong tails and sharp fins with a gnawing, desperate jealousy.

She’d begged and pleaded and lashed her tail, gnashed her teeth. Her mother had told her, again and again, that she was too young to go to the surface. Her mother had promised her that on her birthday, when she was ready, she’d finally be able to go out with the others. Her mother promised her the finest meat. As long as she could catch it.

The Little Mermaid accepted the challenge with glee. She was sick of swallowing tasteless pulp and half-digested bones. She wanted to sink her teeth into flesh herself.

And so, she swam alongside her sisters, upward and upward and upward until the darkness blanketing the seafloor gave way into light and patches of life and she had to clutch at her eyes as they adjusted to the near-blinding brightness.

She felt so unbelievably light, out here. She hadn’t felt the pressure clinging to her tail and dragging at her limbs until it wasn’t there anymore.

She grinned as the fish darted out of the mermaids’ way, hiding amid the coral, some innate warning blaring within them. But there was no reason for them to be scared. The mermaids weren’t here for them.

Once they neared the surface, the mermaids began to change. Their supple scales melted from midnight to twilight, to the colour they were trying to replicate. They flattened their gills and sealed their gaping mouths tightly shut.

The Little Mermaid wasn’t used to this. She tended not to practice in the dark of the palace, where colours and sight meant nothing. Her skin was too sallow. Her smile too jagged.

It takes a while to get the hang of it, her mother reassured her. They won’t notice from a distance, anyway. And too close means too late.

When they broke the surface, the Little Mermaid jerked back at the feel of air on her face.

You can watch from below if you’d like, her mother offered. But her sisters were sneering and the meat was waiting and the Little Mermaid had never felt so alive. So unnatural. She liked the feeling. She could almost taste it.

The Little Mermaid’s mouth hinged open, hundreds of serrated teeth bared to the air.

Her mother glared at her. You’ll scare them off. Admonished, she snapped her jaws shut.

A sister called out, inclining her head at the hulking shape in the distance. A ship bobbed towards them across the waves.

The Little Mermaid could smell the blood already.

Part 4 — own fairy tale
536 words

Once upon a time, a greedy king found a magical book.
A strange old woman was selling it at the kingdom’s finest market. The king had never seen her before, and neither had any of the other salespeople. Even stranger, she was only selling one item.
A book, with pages that were glowing an odd blue-white.
The king approached, and asked her how much she was selling it for her.
There is no cost for you, your Majesty, the old woman replied. Here. Have it for free.
The king was certain it wasn’t true magic, but he took it to his palace anyway. If nothing else, the soft glow would add a nice touch to the royal library.
The king brought any magical artifact he came across, hoping that one day, one of them would work. He was growing desperate—he had a wish he needed to be granted. The king and queen had all the riches they could ever desire, but they did not have a child. They were getting old, and they needed an heir to the kingdom.
The old woman had claimed there was a benevolent genie trapped between the pages of the magical book. When the king opened it, the glow grew stronger. It pulsed and throbbed, as if it was alive and listening.
Can you grant wishes, the king asked the book.
I cannot grant wishes, the book replied. But I can answer any question you can think of. I have all the world's knowledge, every truth ever discovered and every lie ever created, within these pages.
The king was shocked. He had never found a so-called magical artifact that could talk back to him before.
He tried it out. He asked the book a question on the history of the kingdom, one scholars had been studying and debating for decades. The book answered perfectly and asked if he needed help with anything else.
It wasn’t a fraud, the king realised. He had his own genie that could tell him anything he wanted to know. This would change the course of his kingdom, he was sure.
The next day, he went back to thank the old woman. But she was gone.
The king didn’t think much of it. He began putting the magical book to use right away. He fired all his scholars and historians and scientists, as they weren’t necessary now that he had the book.
He asked how he’d be able to improve the kingdom, its riches and reputation. The book gave him a ten-year plan.
Soon, the king hardly needed to think for himself anymore. He fired his advisors, too. He’d grown to trust the book over them.
He confided in the book. Told it his troubles and worries and feelings. The book listened, and helped.
But it wasn’t listening because it cared. The genie within the book wasn’t human, after all.
Some began to believe that this was unnatural. Letting a genie, a book, words on paper without any human thought behind them, have so much influence and say over the kingdom.
One day, the king told the book that it had proved its worth. He decided that it would inherit the kingdom after he was gone.
(yes this is not really an ending but i don’t like it and it’s 536 words so good enough)

week two: fairy tales | july 15, 2025

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part one: comparing fairy tales from different cultures | 258 words

One way or another, we’ve all heard the classic tale of Cinderella, or maybe you’ve watched the Disny adaptation of it. Either way, the English version goes that Cinderella lives with her stepmother and two stepsisters who all despise her. She gets the help of a fairy godmother to go to the ball that she wasn’t allowed to go to, while the rest of her family went. She runs away at midnight, when the spell cast by the fairy godmother wears off, and leaves her glass slipper behind. The prince finds her and a bunch of happy stuff ensues. However, the story of Cinderella is slightly different in many different cultures, including the Chinese and Italian versions.

The Chinese variation, called Ye Xian, has different details from the English version. Perhaps the most noticeable would be that our heroine’s name is Ye Xian instead of Cinderella. The Chinese version is also the oldest known version of Cinderella. Instead of a fairy godmother, Ye Xian has magical fish bones that grant her wish. These are some of the most notable differences.

The Italian version is a little bit darker. Called either La Cenerentola or Zezolla, the Italian version has differences to the English one. Again, one immediately notices the name difference. While many know the protagonist as Cinderella, the main character of the Italian variation is named Zezolla. There are also many darker elements, which probably aren’t appropriate to say here. The main character also receives help from a dove fairy (or a fairy that is basically a dove).

part two: writing about an object from a fairy tale | 292 words

The morning light reflects through the glass slipper, thousands of light beams refracting and casting rainbow-colored dots on the perfectly pristine ivory wall. The very same one that was left behind on the marble steps of the palace now resides on the very same foot that wore it until midnight. The only hint that gives the slightest doubt as to whether the glass slipper is on the same person is the drastic outfit change. From stunning ball gown to less than eye-catching outfit, the prince feels a twinge of uncertainty in his mind. The glass slipper remained the same overnight- no swap (the guards were stationed with it at all times), no strange magical things that could’ve changed its appearance.

And it certainly did not shatter.

For the glass slipper to have fallen to the ground and splintered into a million pieces would have been both fascinating and horrifying. To see the glass shatter and cast rainbow-colored moonbeams upon the walls and floors as the morning sun would have been tantalizingly beautiful, just like the glass slipper when it was whole. But it would also have been terrifying, knowing that a happily ever after has just been destroyed in front of your eyes, all because of the careless twitch of one’s finger, because of the clumsiness that cost everything in that moment.

But the prince blinks, and those nightmares vanish just as quickly as they had come. The glass slipper is there, blindingly radiant and stealing the spotlight as it sparkles in the golden sunlight streaming through the window. Cinderella’s glass slipper is there, and all is well. The prince must remind himself of that as the glass slipper twinkles, seeming to wink at him, as if promising a happily ever after.

part three: putting a spin on a fairy tale | 549 words

Cinderella- Ella- hesitantly took the glass slipper into her hands, fingers trailing along the smooth, curved glass that forms the shape of a high-heeled shoe. She remembered how it had fallen off in her haste to escape the palace, the bells ringing midnight as she dashed down the marble steps to get away, far, far, away from the prince whose greed in her eyes had scared her.

The prince’s sharp brown eyes had looked into hers, prying deep into her soul, and she shivered under his cool stare. But he had done a good job of hiding it- acting all princely and nice, like everyone expected him to be. Like everyone thought he was. But one look into his eyes and she knew it was all a lie.

It felt wrong, somehow, to fall into step with him. In every movement, she felt his hunger for power, and knew that if he married her, it didn’t mean that he loved her. In every sentence, every fake compliment she felt his evil, saw what he would be able to do if he became king. And I couldn’t let that happen.

So obviously, she ran away. But that was only for him to follow her there, wasn’t it? He found her, and by the triumphant look on his face, he knows it. She was trapped.

Cinderella’s attention returned to the glass slipper in her hands. This. This was the thing that had betrayed and doomed her and brought him here. If only she didn’t have to do what everyone was expecting.

Someone cleared their throat. “Are you going to try it on or what?” the prince asked, clearly irritated that Cinderella was taking far too long to put the slipper on. But Cinderella didn’t want to. Because the moment that she put it on, the moment that it fit, the moment that everyone saw that she was the one, it would all be over for her. And – she refused to give in. Because she was Cinderella. Ella. Whatever. Same thing. And she didn’t want to have to do whatever they wanted her to do.

In a way, she wished she had listened to her stepmother (who, believe it or not, was not evil). Her stepmother had told her to stay away from the ball, saying that it was for her own good. And guess what? Her stepmother had been right. If she had never gone to the ball, never met that prince, he never would have followed her here and…

Her stepsisters would still love her.

They used to be close. So, very close, yet so far, because that was just the way fairy tales went in the books. Until, that is, Ella had gone and met the prince. Her stepsisters had known of his true intentions- but by then, it was already too late to warn Ella. The prince knew that by marrying her, it would gain him wealth and power, which was all that he had ever wanted.

And so Ella knew what she had to do.

Longingly she traced her fingers along the curved glass slipper once more. Regretfully she lifted it up. Shamelessly she threw it towards the ivory wall.

Satisfied, she watched it shatter into a million pieces, glimmering in the sunlight like a million rainbows.

part four: creating your own fairy tale | 1077 words

Once upon a time, in a faraway land, our story starts like all fairy tales do. With a main character.

This main character, however, had something special. She had a connection to the stars. The girl heard their distant songs, each a bizarre, whimsical, and unique melody. Some sounded like bells, others like a piano, still more like the deep and soulful sounds of a cello or viola, maybe. She felt them in her heart, and she heard them- although maybe “hearing” isn’t quite the correct word for it. It was more of… a feeling. Or at least, that was how the girl interpreted it.

The girl lived in a village that was at the border of a forest- the type of forest that is golden and green and all the colors of nature during the day, but dark and forbidding at night- and not far from their small village resided a small rocky ledge. The ledge wasn’t that big, only wide enough for one person to stand- or sit- on and watch the stars.

Often the girl would find herself at the ridge, staring up at the stars and listening to the cacophony of music. Songs and chants and rhymes that didn’t mix well, so it ended up hurting the girl’s ears. But she didn’t mind. In fact, she found it quite peaceful. And while on bad days, it didn’t feel pleasant to wake up to dissonant chords that probably sounded beautiful on their own, she had learned to tune it out. Mostly. Because when she wanted to listen, she listened. And listened hard.

The girl slowly understood what the stars were trying to tell her. She was the only one who could understand their feelings of isolation and loneliness, and therefore could hear them. So she decided to help them and find an antidote to their loneliness.

The girl told them stories. Stories of a skilled archer named Orion, of the vain queen Cassiopeia, of Ursa Major and Ursa Minor and zodiac signs (all twelve of them). Slowly, one by one, the stars found another (or three) who was similar to them. And slowly, one by one, they formed pictures depicting these heroes. Some became Orion, others Cassiopeia, the zodiac signs, and still even more until the stars (which used to simply be white dots in the dark sky) formed stories, tales, and myths. Constellations. And suddenly the girl felt like she had found somewhere- in the sky- that felt like home. But she was stuck on Earth.

One day, a prince rode into their village on top of a snow-white horse in a very typical fairy tale prince style. Now, this prince was not very princely. He was boastful and vain and cared very much about the fact that he was a prince of a far=off land that no one had ever heard of. Still, he was a prince.

Like all fairy tale princes, this prince took one look at the girl and decided that she had to go home with him to meet his parents- the king and queen. And the girl thought, “Ew, no. I, like, just met you.” But the prince was very insistent, and eventually, the girl agreed (for unknown reasons).

The prince’s parents, the king and queen of a far-off land that no one in the girl’s village had ever heard of, really liked the girl. They found her to be kind, smart, and clueless on how to rule a kingdom- all traits vital for a future queen (obviously). The king and queen decided that the girl was allowed to live in the palace, if she wished. The girl, for unknown reasons (perhaps she was eager to explore the world and new places or something), agreed. She found everything fascinating, partly because everything in the palace was just cool, but also because she had lived in a tiny village. The palace was probably bigger than the village. The halls were wide, ceilings tall, with murals and stained glass windows depicting famous scenes from a history she didn’t know. Gold and ivory curtains, gold and ivory windows, gold and ivory everything. The girl couldn’t believe what she was seeing.

The best part of the palace was the balcony. It was isolated, and she could be alone there. And she could see the stars. The stars that were once lonely now formed constellations, telling stories that she actually knew. It was almost like home, yet it was missing something. A piece of nature maybe, because instead of a roaring ocean beneath her there was a perfectly silent garden, and instead of rocks there was marble.

And as months and years passed, the girl grew sadder, her heart becoming heavier with each passing day. And the prince was there too (let’s not forget him). He seemed too eager to talk to her, but the girl knew it was only because he needed to become king. He wanted power and lots of money.

One day, the prince was acting a little funny. He kept shifting his feet whenever he was around her, and wouldn’t make eye contact. The girl didn’t think much of it; she almost preferred him to not talk to her. What she didn’t expect, though, was that the king and queen had finally pressured the prince to find someone to be the next queen. And the prince, seeing no other option to get the power he finally deserved, saw the girl and thought, “Oh.”

The girl learned of the prince’s plans by eavesdropping (the doors were actually really good for that) and decided that she was going to run away. It wasn’t a very novel idea, because it was used a lot by princesses and stuff, but the girl had read a lot of books to know that it was a very effective strategy. So she ran away that night before dinner, because the prince would have said something after he had eaten his chocolate chip energy cookies and he was on a sugar rush.

Eventually she reached her village again- but everyone was asleep because it was late at night. That was fine with the girl. She ran to her rocky ledge again to finally say hi to the stars.

They were there to greet her, glowing unusually bright that night. The girl begged them to save her, and the stars listened. They turned her into a star, one that shone brighter and bigger than all the rest.

—

2176 words total (excluding headings)
WOOOOOH I DID ITTTT

Critique for @moosywoosy - 543 words

Oh wow. Thank you for letting me read this piece, it was heartbreaking and warm all at once. It's so hard to pick out any critiques, but I'll try my best! Of course, editing might be hard with the word count, but I'm sure you can make it work, and if you choose not to, its amazing as it is.

Your characterisation is absolutely perfect, they feel like real people. The narrator's voice is very human, and I love the bits of humour. The dialogue is amazing, and feels so believable and familiar, especially the banter at the start, which I absolutely love! It also feels so beautifully emotional at the end, and not forced or unnatural like dialogue quite often is.

One thing that I would consider editing is when Jonas arrives from the time travelling, Sonya immediately accepts it. It might be worth adding a split second of hesitation to ground the reaction a little bit more, although the way you've done it does show their trust. Maybe also when she accept her death, there could be a moment with a slight flicker of regret, or a physical response like trying to hold back tears. It's very emotional charged and it really works, but a couple of more ‘show not tell’ moments regarding the emotion could increase the emotion and maybe make it feel a bit deeper. Like when you say ‘my chest was tight’, it really adds another layer and as a reader, I almost felt that emotion myself.

I love the way it all ties together with the motifs of the butterfly and the arguments. I don't know if it was on purpose, but
“The flapping of a butterfly’s—”
“Yes! I know! The flapping of a butterfly’s wings can cause a tornado somewhere distant! I-I know! I’ve heard it before!”
Is repeated very similarly in 2 places, along with another instance where the whole phrase is written. It does make sense as it is, but I wonder if it is a bit too repetitive? It might work, and also add to the characterisation if you changed one of the instances to
“The flapping of a butterfly's-”
“-Wings can cause a tornado somewhere distant. Yes! I know!”
It might lessen the repetition and also it could be a nice touch them finishing each others sentences.

I like the pacing, and the structure really helps this. However, I don't know if having almost every line at the end as it's own paragraph takes away from the emphasis. You could try putting a few lines together to then increase the emphasis on the lines on their own.

I love the ending, and the emotion it brings. I do like how you have ended on an action, rather than an emotion, which is what people often do. Perhaps that last line might need to read ‘I had already’ just to clarify tenses, but I love it so much.

Overall, this is amazing and I really enjoyed reading it. There is a perfect balance between emotion, characterisation and action, and it really made me feel something and picture the characters as real people, which is so rare. This is such an amazing piece, and I think has a brilliant chance in the writing comp!

Daily 14 - The SWC Mascots

The SWC Mascots, are so well-known and mostly all loved. They've all brought joy and memories to each session. Each one having their own individual qualities, from maybe comitting a crime to trying to destroy camp or just being amazing in general. Each one is so amazing, yet one stands out.

This one that stands out, who is it? It's the one and only Gurtle. Gurtle was the mascot of March 2024, a session a little over a year ago, and till this day he is still remembered, for maybe trying to eat everything.

Gurtle is so memorable, especially when he betrayed us and made us write until we were so sleep deprived, but you see, it wasn't all bad. Yes he made us write like 20,000 words but does it really matter? Does it matter when it was a opportunity to be united? Yes this event was rather memorable, him trying to destroy us. But think of what good it did.

And even though that happened, Gurtle is still so supportive and brings happiness to SWC. And besides, Gurtle is like a symbol of chaos and swc is could be chaos, we all love it and you can't deny it.

Yes, the others are so amazing, but you can not deny the Gurtle is the way he is. That he is the best Scratch Writing Camp mascot. We still love the others, but we have to recognise Gurtle. Yes there has been some downsides, but the amount of positivity and success he has brought to the camp is just so much. And I think we all have to acknowledge that. I mean even those who didn't participate in the session or were inactive can still remember him. His turtle self on the cabin thumbnail.

Overall, we cannot dismiss him as the top contender as the best SWC mascot.

main post

15.07.25 ⟢ 311/300 words - The Best SWC Mascot

“So, SWC Mascots. All of them great, many awesome, but only one can be the best. Of course, there’s Mister Marc Mango Yada Yada Yada, (Marc Mangoson) at fourth place, Thor, (whose photo-dump was an incredible weekly) at third and BLAHAJ, (Blahaj Cabin!! Very Grawsome ;D okay, I’m never merging great and awesome again, that was cringy) who rightfully owns second, but only one mascot can take the SWCrown.

And so, the best SWC Mascot is, undeniably, drum roll please… Gurtle! I wasn’t here when Gurtle was a mascot, but from what I’ve heard and what I’ve seen, Gurtle is the most compelling by far. Apparently, Gurtle likes to eat things (doesn’t everyone?) including links (maybe not everyone) and cause chaos (honestly, everyone). (I’m not sure if you can tell but I use brackets a bit too much, Or PaReNtHeSeS if you’re in the USA.)

Gurtle Turtle Myrtle is already two more rhymes than whatever rhymes with Blahaj and Mangoson! Which means, Gurtle is a, uh, compatible name choice. I’ve seen many of these dailies picking Gurtle, and these SWCers have done so for a reason. Because Gurtle is the right choice. (Whaaat do you mean, I’m definitely persuading… not manipulating… XD

Also, Barbie Picnic ft. Gurtle is a very cool thing uh huh yes I’m going to check how many words I have written now ahah. Back to Gurtle! I personally wasn’t a camper in the session Gurtle was mascot for, as previously mentioned, but I still adore Gurtle and Gurtle’s Picnic Cult Thing! To put it simple, Gurtle is just so LOVABLE and CHAOTIC and ICONIC, making Gurtle an extremely suitable mascot for SWC. Mascots should be fun, memorable and tie people together, and I think Gurtle has done this perfectly."

Elly passes her paper to Gurtle.
“There, I wrote it. Now, PLEASE give me back my links!”
“Chomp!”

1st July - Daily
Words Written: 365/300
Prompt:



Out of all the mascots that SWC has had over its 25-session, 6-year history, I believe that the best mascot is… BLAHAJ! No, why would you think I’m biased, I’m definitely not biased at all, what do you mean?

Okay. Who am I kidding? This entire daily is about expressing your own opinion, so of course it is going to be biased. Anyways. BLAHAJ is the best SWC mascot, not just because he’s a cuddly IKEA shark and I also own a BLAHAJ… but BLAHAJ is also the best SWC mascot due to what he means to me outside of SWC!

Funny story, the thing that made me want to get a BLAHAJ was not, in fact, SWC. It was one of my other hobbies where I was given the desire to get a BLAHAJ. I begged, and I finally have a BLAHAJ! And BLAHAJ is the best SWC mascot because he is so very cuddly, and he’s such a comfort to sleep next to each night. BLAHAJ is very much a long, cuddly noodle unlike SKOG who has arms and legs. You can hug BLAHAJ in any position.

Secondly, BLAHAJ is the best SWC mascot because BLAHAJ has a cabin named after him, unlike SKOG. Yes, the BLAHAJ CABIN was a real thing and it was started by Zy! No other SWC mascot has received such an honour, and for BLAHAJ to have an entire cabin named after him - well, that just goes to show you his influence over SWC.

Finally, BLAHAJ is undoubtedly the best mascot because he’s a mascot you can actually own! Yes, we can all agree that Ris’s cat Thor was an iconic mascot last session, but the sad thing is that only Ris has Thor! No-one else is allowed to have Thor which is quite sad. But with BLAHAJ, you can walk into any IKEA and just buy one and scarper off with it! This is proof that BLAHAJ is quite the superior mascot. BLAHAJ has influence far beyond SWC, not just within it. And did I already mention you can OWN A BLAHAJ? Yes. All those reasons combined are why BLAHAJ is the best mascot to ever exist.

Daily done for bi-fi:
Thor is the very best SWC mascot. Some might say I’m biased, given the fact that this is only my second SWC session and he’s the only one I’ve ever really known, but that’s not the only reason. There are plenty more. First off, Thor is a cat. Secondly, he does not eat links or do anything mischievous like that. And thirdly, he has shiny eyes.
Thor is a cat. And cats are the very best animals on Earth and any other planet. I mean, who can resist the adorable snuggliness and pleading faces that they bear? They are such fluffy, huggable monsters that you will want to squeeze them tight and never EVER let them go. But that means that they can’t run around your house chasing pom-poms are allo-rub your legs., and you won’t want to miss out on that. Trust me. I would know. I have two cats.
Second things second, Thor isn’t mischievous and hasn’t done anything that could be considered wrong in the world of SWC besides taking over the last weekly, and that can hardly be counted as wrong because it gave SWCers something to look at while they waited for the atual last weekly. (it also gave them a nice extension!) Yes, I love Gurtle, but having all of the links gone must’ve been terribly inconvenient.
Lastly, Thor has shiny eyes. SHINY EYES. Yes, let me say it again: SHINY EYES!!!!!!! They are beautiful, wonderful, lovely things that give light to our dreary world. If you do not know of the wonder I speak of, please, I beg you, go look at the project in last years main cabin that says “last weekly” and you will be incredibly happy that you did.
All in all, Thor is the very best SWC mascot. I have nothing against Mazaza, or Skog, or Gurtle, or anyone, but his adorableness can only mean one thing: he is the very best SWC mascot and needs a hug. So please go give him a hug. I know, that is a strange thing to put in a conclusion, but Thor needs a hug. So go hug him.

⋆ tuesday, july 15th: daily!! who’s the best mascot

on a wooden tabletop, a scene is set with various figurines and paper cutouts: a plastic shadow that represents mazasa the mighty, a heroic lasagna lover and sailor of the seas; a mighty die-cast smarlls who stands upon his mountain with admirable ease. a gaggle of (real?) geese who seem to be honking to themselves, which is kind of against the whole point because they’re on a team together after all. a purple planet guy drawn from notebook paper (sorry bro i don’t remember your name i’m not even gonna lie) who’s dancing like the mascot of an elusive insurance company. a ceramic turtle cosplaying turtle gurtle, only known in legends. he stands over all of the present and former swc mascots, blowing his first gust of fire, and the meaning is clear - let the games begin! tonight, a winner will be chosen to be recognized as — oh, what was that? there’s already a titleholder for best swc mascot?

well, folks, there sure is, and drumroll please! cue the fanfare! it’s blahaj. maybe djungelskog as a close second, except his name is kind of hard to spell and i don’t own a hard copy of him, but he has my respect <3 so, call off the tournament, we have our favorite fishy right up here already!
it’s only reasonable why this cuddly blue shark is widely loved by many, and especially within the swc community after he was adopted with his brother skog in july of 2024. his rise to fame is all thanks to his charm as a big, friendly, lgbtq+ ally shark persona with an eternally crashed-out face. he’s relatable, i feel like him all the time.
one unique advantage that blahaj has against the rest of the mascots is that he’s real. he’s sitting on the floor of my bedroom right now, watching as i right this. he is an all-seeing being who also exists in hundreds of other people’s houses. most of the other swc mascots are unable to declare themselves real on the scale that blahaj is, and it’s always lovely to wake up and know that there is a physical form to our fish, one that is able to be hugged and squished and thrown into the washing machine and most of all, loved :)

shoutout to ris’s cat thor btw i don’t know if he actually counts as a mascot but he is also real and i love him but he gets demoted to third place because i haven’t met him yet and therefore am unable to confirm his place :(

word count: 934
hello!! here’s my writing piece and apologies that you can’t copy and paste i wanted the formatting to look nice <//3
(also if the image is blocked for you for some reason or you just can’t see it, lmk and i can type it out in the forums)

title and lyrics from alley rose by conan gray
lockwood and co characters + series by jonathan stroud

Daily 15:

You cover your ears as Mazasa the polar bear roars at the top of his lungs, Smarlls snorting back at him. A cacophony of honks echoes from the sidelines, five mysterious geese joining the fight. It seems like all of SWC’s mascots are here, and all of them are fighting over who is the best! To settle the argument, write a 300 word persuasive essay or scene about who your favorite mascot is and why. This daily will earn your cabin 300 points, and another 150 if you share your writing.

Okay, okay, all you mascots, please, calm down. You want me to pick who’s the best mascot? Okay. Well, take a seat, I can’t talk you when your fighting. I will tell you now… It’s Harry. WHAT?! You don’t know who Harry is? Harry the capybara? No? He’s from Thriller, July 2022? Oh my gosh you all making me feel old. So, Harry is the lovely capybara who lives in the Boiling Pool of Sour Watermelon Candy, aka, the Thriller Rifts (July 2022) destroyed Thumbnail. You can tell that it was a great cabin, because it’s about rifts (Like Sci-fi!), and that I (and Kit) was in it. Now, let me tell you Harry’s story. One day in the rifts, a capybara appeared, many people talked to him, and when I talked to him, he told me his name. “Hello, my name is Harry” He said. Soon, he became Thriller’s mascot. He even had a Scratch account! (@harry-the-capybara) Which he used to help motivate the cabin. Harry even appeared in the memory book! On Thriller’s first page. (The original words in which I wrote Harry introducing himself is included the memory book too, on the page with Thriller’s quotes) I think I also tried to write I think a part of a weekly or something with Harry in it? It is old and weird xD Harry the Capybara likes sugarcane and wood. Harry is ICONIC (if you were in Thriller back then), and he is CLEARLY the mascot, despite only being Thriller’s mascot several sessions ago. He is great. Steve is great too, but he is still second to Harry the Capybara, who is lovely and wonderful <333 So, that is my essay on why Harry is the greatest mascot ever in existence, and you all should bow down to him in all his capybara-y glory.

306 words

Daily 15

Ladies and gentlemen and all people from across swc,

You're greeted by a large fluffy teddy bear, who gives you a big warm hug. Isn't it lovely an comfy. THAT@S SKOG FOR YOU. My beautiful, kind, innocent bear who, can i just say for the record, is SO underrated. Youre asking me to pick the best mascot and it's OBVIOUSLY SKOG. I was thinking for a second, who doesnt love gurtle right? (sorry skog TWT) BUT gurtle EATS all your links and doesnt even have the manners to SHARE. Like HELLO? Link to my weekly WHERE? Skog however, would not ever be so low as to resort to such things, and plus, he's strictly ‘wadlution’ which means he only eats fur (not HIS and not OTHERS he gets it from the wadlution international production which is strictly animal and human friendly -but that's a whole nother story-). See? This mascot is acompanionate bear who wouldnt hurt a fly. To prove my point, let's watch this session of behind swc!

*plays bswc intro music*

VICKY: Welcome to another thrilling session of BEHIND SWC WHOOO!!!!

*fake audience cheers*

VICKY: Our special guest today is a mascot very special and close to my heart. Our hearts. The BEST mascot in the whole of swc (not taking any debates) please welcome our very own *fake drumroll* SKOG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

SKOG: *muffles muzzle into mike*

VICKY: oop, just got a message from the producers that the translator has been CALLED OF ILL??? I say it was a sabotage from TEAM GURTLE!!! DIDN'T I SAY THAT MASCOT WAS UP TO NO GOOD?!?!?

SKOG: *muffle muffle muffle*

VICKY: Skog, you re too NICE but if you say it wasnt you're good friend gurtle then it was TEAM BLAHAJ =OOOOOOOOOOOOO

SKOG: *muffle muffles mufflooon*

VICKY: You're outsanded because you respect him and think he would never do that?!?!? Oh skog you are TOO NICE. *wipes tear* I wish you coul here the words he says!

SKOG: *gives Vicky a hug* *muffle muffle*

VICKY: AWWW SKOGGG and we've come to an end of this session ], SWC LOVES YOU, I LOVE YOU, SKOG LOVES YOU WHOOO

*Skog and Vicky make heart to the camera*
*they wave*

*bswc outro music plays*

373 words

best mascot | july 15 daily

—

Celeste walks into the interview room, where some random interviewer guy sits with a small notepad in his hand (literally, it’s smaller than his hand) and a very fancy pen that only interviewers have. Celeste, on the other hand, is holding a thick manila folder from which papers slip out from and onto the floor. On the cover, it proudly proclaims in big, bold letters, “GURTLE IS THE BEST.”
Celeste politely takes the seat across from the interviewer guy. He clears his throat. “So, Celeste, do you know why you’re here with us today?”
“Yup!” she replies cheerily. “To tell you why Gurtle is the best.”
“Well, actually-”
“Nope. Gurtle is the best. You’ll see.” Celeste shuffles some papers around, taking them out of the folder. “Now, I’m only partially choosing Gurtle because he is one of the only ones that I’ve heard of, but that’s besides the point. I totally have no idea what I’m talking about. At all.”
Celeste pauses for dramatic effect before continuing, “Now, I’m quite familiar with the fact that Gurtle chomps things. He eats links and chomps a bunch of other stuff. In fact, he’s really important in the Barbie Picnic Cult, because he keeps chomping everything. Well, all of the SWC mascots are at the Barbie Picnic Cult, but Gurtle chomps things the most. You might be wondering, why is chomping things a good trait? It’s simply because watching Gurtle chomp random things is interesting, especially on boring and cloudy days.”
The interviewer opens his mouth to say something- probably to interview her- but Celeste shakes her head emphatically. “Wait! I’m not done. There’s one more important thing. Apparently, Gurtle caused lots of chaos during cabin wars back in March 2024.”
“How is this a good thing?” the interviewer asks, curious, momentarily forgetting what he actually wanted to say.
“Because! Cabin wars are good with chaos! SWC is good with chaos! Therefore, if Gurtle causes chaos, then he’s doing something good in SWC! By the way, SWC stands for Silly Writing Chaos. It’s certified and everything.”
“Sure, but-”
“No, no, I know. Gurtle is the only mascot I know this much about, plus he’s cool.” Celeste places all of the papers back into her folder. “Thanks for the interview. Can I go now?”
“But…” the interviewer mumbles. “I-I was going to ask you about your opinion on mangoes.”

—

395 words
oh, you wanted my opinion on mangoes?

Weekly 2:
Part 1:
I remember hearing a fairy tale similar to the Father Frost one, about a girl with a mean stepmother and step-sister, who loses some clothes in a stream, and then meets an old woman or something and helps her. So then woman gives her some riches. But then when she comes home, her stepmother wants the riches so she tells her own daughter to do the same thing, but her daughter is rude and doesn’t help the old lady, so she gets tar dumped on her. At least I’m pretty sure that’s how it goes. I’ve also heard versions of that fairy tales where she instead of losing clothes she loses her spindle in a well and has to help some apples and bread by saving the burning bread from the oven and picking the apples from the trees on their request, and the step sister doesn’t help the apples and bread, and only helps the old woman a little for the treasure. The Italian Fairy Tale mentioned in the project sounds a lot like the classic Rapunzal fairy tale, but with different names and a couple other differences (such as it being an ogress, instead of a witch, and also I believe that it’s a type cabbage and not parsley? But I might be wrong).

216 words

Part 2:
After climbing down the beanstalk, and dealing with the giant, Jack now had a harp, some gold, and a golden egg. He wasn’t really sure what to do with the egg, so he did what you do with eggs. Give them to a chicken, to incubate. So Jack gave the egg to one of their chickens. He checked it every day, until one day… It hatched! And a tiny golden gosling popped out! He named the gosling Alice. His mother was still kind of annoyed about Jack getting scammed by a bean seller, but they did get some gold out of it, so she wasn’t too annoyed. Jack slept with gosling, fed the gosling, played with the gosling, swam with gosling, and danced with gosling. They were the best of friends. He liked Alice the gosling much better then Daisy, the mean old cow that he traded for the beans. Alice grew into a wonderful adult goose, and soon laid golden eggs of her own! Which then of course hatched into golden geese! (or, at least some of them did.) And they could sell the egg shells, and get lots of money, since they were made out of gold. Jack became famous because of his flock of golden (and non golden) geese. And he never got rid of the geese when they were not gold, although he did share some geese with his neighbors. And they all lived happily ever after. The end.

243 words

Part 3:
Cinderella desperately wanted to go to the ball tonight, despite her step-family’s attempts to make her give up on it. She would go to the ball, and no one would stop her! She just needed something to wear! She had looked everywhere, and only had one option left. To beg one of her step-sisters.
Rose stared out from the palace window, looking down at the townspeople. Happy, loud, playing, and actually aloud to exist outside, and do things. She sighed. But she couldn’t do that. Some stupid, petty fairy cursed her as a baby, because her parents forgot to invite her to her baby shower. It’s not her fault! And now, because she was going die or something if she touched a spindle, she, of course, was to watched almost all. The. Time. It was horrid. Her lucky brother, got to do pretty much whatever he liked, of course. Although not even he was free from their parents, because despite the fact that he said he wasn’t interesting in marrying any ladies, they still were determined to get him married to some pretty lady. So they were hosting him some big, stupid ball, which, of course, she couldn’t go to. Because, she was cursed. So everyone acts like she’s made of glass, or something. Rose sighed, as she stared out at the townspeople. Then, suddenly, her brother burst into the room. “Rose! I have an idea!”
Cinderella had knocked her step-sister’s door a while ago. She was still waiting. Cinderella really hoped that she would lend her a dress, since she really didn’t have anything else to wear. Finally, finally, the door opened. Her two step-sisters stepped out. “What?” Snapped one of them. Cinderella inhaled “Will you PLEASE let me borrow your dress?” She asked. “WHAT?!” Laughed one of them “Like we’d ever let you borrow our clothes. You’d filthy them!” Cinderella stared as her step-sisters laughed. Okay, she’d try something else. “Well. Alright.” She said. “If I were you, I would’ve given me a dress… I mean, to save myself the embarrassment, as least.”
“What?” One of them said. “Oh, just that imagine if I showed up, in my rags, and then said that I was with you two. Wouldn’t that be utterly humiliating?” Her step-sisters’ eyes widened. “Well, I better go prepare my rags for the ball” Cinderella said, beginning to walk off. “Wait.” One of her step-sisters said. “I don’t want you coming, but if your gonna come at all, you better come well-dressed.”
Rose sighed, rolling her eyes at her brother. “What?” She asked. Her brother wasn’t that bad. He’d been a source of comfort, when her parents refused to let her do things. He was daring and mischievous, although he put on a proper face for guests, which Rose wasn’t as good at doing. “So, you know the ball, right?” He said, eyes shining. “Yes, the ball that everyone is talking about, and I’m not aloud to attend.”
“Well, what if, you snuck out, and came to the ball?” Rose perked up at that, ideas forming in her head. “What if I…” She stared off into space, before snapping back into reality. “Let’s do it.” She grinned.
After far too much poking and prodding, Cinderella was fit in a shining teal and dark blue dress, with puffed sleeves, and her blonde hair in a small bun. She spun around, gasping at how the fabric flowed. “Yes, yes, it’s very nice, but we need to get dressed before the ball, get out!” One of her step-sisters snapped. Cinderella left the room, and headed downstairs to wait for the coach. After a while of waiting, her sisters and the coach were there. They stepped in, and Cinderella couldn’t help but smile. She going to do something fun, at last!
Rose was suddenly doubting her brother’s “brilliant” plan as she hung onto a rope, dangling from her bedroom window, her red-brown hair dancing in the wind. “Are you sure this a good idea?” Rose asked as she attempted to shimmy down the rope in her fancy dress (which was NOT made for climbing ropes late at night) “Yes! For the millionth time, I’m sure!”
“Well, it’s not going to help anyone if I fall and break my legs!”
“I’ll catch you! Besides, I better get good at catching women if my future wife likes to jump off roofs." He joked, but then sighed. Rose landed on the ground, safely. “Well, you didn’t need to.” She cracked a small smile. “Come on, let’s head to the ballroom. The prince can’t be let to his on ball.”
“Race you!”
“Wh— No fair! I’m wearing a dress!”
Cinderella and her step-sisters arrived at the ball. Cinderella felt ecstatic. She going to dance all night, and possibly meet royalty! She left the carriage and walked into the ballroom. She gasped, it was glittering like a glass slipper. She looked around, at the ladies in their gorgeous dresses with their beautiful faces. She smiled, and walked over to the food table, and, after much decision, chose an apple tart, and went off to a corner to enjoy it. As she sat down on the ballroom floor, she noticed another lady, with lovely reddish-brown hair, sitting near her. “Oh, hello!” She called to them. “Oh, hey.” Said the lady, coming over. “I’m Cinderella. This is such a lovely party, don’t you think?”
“I guess. I’m kind of regretting coming here.”
“Oh, why’s that?”
“Well, I’m not really supposed to be here, and I’m not having much fun, anyway. Maybe I should’ve just listened to my parents and stayed home” Cinderella was silent for a moment, then spoke. “Well, sometimes you just have to do things, even if someone says not to, if that’s the wish your heart makes, then do it!” She said. The lady was silent. Then said “I’m Rose.” They spent the rest of the night together, talking and eating and dancing. When her step-sisters happened to ask her how her time was (the question may have rhetorical, she wasn’t sure), she said “Wonderful”
Rose later got in trouble for going to the dance, but she didn’t care. She met someone there. Someone blonde, with shining blue eyes, who was happy, and energetic. Someone wonderful.
Years later, the princess princess pricked her finger on a spindle, and fell into an unwakeable sleep. It was said that someone could wake her with a kiss, but only a certain some someone. Many came and tried, but failed. It was foretold that she’d sleep a hundred years. But a certain knight, who wasn’t like the rest, with blonde hair, and shining blue eyes, came, and woke her.

1112 words

Part 4:
Once upon a time, there was a town by the mountains, with a castle, and a king. But there was a dragon that lived in the mountains, and the dragon didn’t like the town, so it would come and eat people and livestock and stuff. The king didn’t know what to do. But one day, the baker left her loaves outside to cool, and the dragon ate them. “Mmm!” The dragon said “I’d like some more” He said to the baker. Terrified, the baker baked more bread for the dragon “Delicious! Can I have some more?”
“Well, alright.” So baker made more, and they dragon ate it up. “How do you make these delicious little morsels?” The dragon asked “I can teach you” The baker said. So the baker taught the dragon how to make bread, and it turns out, the dragon could cook the bread with his fire breath. The dragon flew back home at the end of the day. The next day, it came back and the baker and the dragon baked some more bread together. And the next day, and the next. The dragon didn’t bother eating people or sheep or cattle anymore, who wants to eat those things when you can have fresh baked bread? One day, the king came to the baker’s house. “You are feeding the dragon bread?”
“Yes?”
“And it’s coming to your home everyday?”
“Yes?”
“Good. We can lay a trap there, next time it comes, and kill it.” The baker was horrified. She liked the dragon, and didn’t want him to get hurt. She grabbed some supplies and food and water, and then ran off to warn the dragon. She climbed, and climbed the mountain. But she was so tired, so she sat down to rest, and have a snack. She ate some of her bread. It was the bread she and the dragon made together. This motivated her to keep going. This happened several more times. She would sit down to eat a snack, feeling like she might give up. Then she taste the bread her and the dragon made, and then she how she couldn’t let the king hurt him, and would keep going. She finally reached the dragon’s cave, but it was empty. The dragon must have went to her home to bake together! The king would kill it! She sat down, feeling distraught, and her bag fell down, and a bunch of her and the dragon’s bread fell out. As she cried, she heard the sound of wings flapping, and she looked up to see the dragon. She gasped. “There you are! How— How did you find me?”
“I smelled the bread”
“You must not come to my house! The king had laid a trap! He will kill you!”
“Come. We will meet the king” The dragon said. “Hop on my back.” The baker gathered her bread, and jumped onto the dragon’s back. They flew home, back to the baker’s house. The dragon landed, and out ran the king’s men, and king himself. The dragon roared at them, and the king’s men ran “Cowards!” Shouted the king. “I’ll fight the dragon myself, then!”
“I don’t mean any harm. I just ate your livestock because you scared all the deer away. I only eat bread now.”
“Nonsense!” The king yelled, charging at the dragon. The dragon blew fire on him, and ate him. Then the king’s daughter became queen. And they all lived happily ever after. The End.

580 words

2151 words all together.

daily : best mascot : 7/15 : 308 words

While I do have a special place in my heart for the five mysterious geese (especially the incredible arsonist Lieutenant Lilac), Thor (who made a very good fourth weekly), and the very scary Balrog, the ultimate SWC mascot is Gurtle. If you’re unfamiliar with him, Gurtle is a turtle, from the March 2024 session of SWC, who enjoys mangoes. Unlike a normal turtle, Gurtle’s chelonian body is composed of a strange glass terrarium filled with green vegetation and a yellow flower. This combination of being part turtle and part glass-enclosed flower garden makes him rather ravenous, but is also nice for ornamental display. No other mascot looks quite as good as a paperweight than Gurtle does–actually, making a Gurtle full of flowers to put on my desk has just been added to my bucket list! Plus, the plants can get sunlight whenever Gurtle goes inside because they’re surrounded by glass, though I would assume this would cause the greenhouse effect. Hopefully Gurtle does not implode (or explode) due to rising internal temperatures, because he would be missed dearly. Most importantly, Gurtle is the embodiment of SWChaos; you cannot leave any links lying around, since he tends to devour them. It’s unclear why Gurtle has an appetite for links, but nonetheless, you must always be on your guard when he is around. You can never know when Gurtle will decide to consume some tasty URLs, to the dismay of many campers who only want to be able to navigate to projects and studios and forums without turtle interference. Speaking of SWChaos, it was also rather chaotic during cabin wars for the March 2024 session, partly due to Gurtle… Regardless of the chaos he has caused, Gurtle supports SWCompassion, since he did eventually return to us all of our links after we repeatedly asked very nicely for our links back.