Howdy hey! I don’t think we’ve talked before but woah, your writing is excellent! I really don’t have much to critique. It was really intriguing to read. The exposition was awesome, and the title makes a lot of sense, especially by the final sentence.
A couple grammar things I feel the need to point out is that you didn’t close off some bits and pieces of dialogue, which made it a little confusing.

(…) Say your vow as one mind.”

“On the contrary. You’re being deployed to Chicago.”

But, since you asked if there was anything that you might be able to condense, the only things that I could see you condensing, without losing most of the juicy lore is either the “no, if we kill them(…)” segment and/or the stranger/non-Johan’s little spiel. While I do understand that it’s probably poetic for a reason, it could be slimmed down. Though, I think that might make you lose some of the mystique in the piece, it seems to be the only thing you could cut without losing most of the lore.
But overall, this was an amazing piece, and like I said, the exposition was awesome. You layered it very well, letting it trickle through slowly and allowing the reader to progressively connect the dots instead of just dumping it all on them at once. Good job!

Part of a collab cabin war

A long moment of silence hung in the air, as quiet and cold as their swirl of frosty breath sparkling in the cold night. They pulled out their dagger slowly, feeling the layers of cracked and hardened leather. The balanced wait in their palm. The blade might have been old and battered, but it was still sharp. Every nick and bump told a story of a battle fought and won, and hopefully tonight would be no different. There was no more movement from the dark skeletons of the trees, but that didn’t mean that the threat was gone. Only a fool would assume that. No, it meant that the threat was clever. They debated in their mind— keep moving and make them self vulnerable, but also stand a chance of getting to safety sooner, or wait for whoever…whatever…else was out here to come to them. That would allow them to be on guard and force the threat to show itself in the open, but then it could throw away any chance to get to safety now. Suddenly twigs snapped. Multiple at a time, loudly, not just snapping but cracking. They backed into a tree, the knotted, sturdy, trunk a reminder that survival was possible. This forest didn’t have to mean death, and it wouldn’t if they did this right. Those snapping twigs weren’t just a simple accident— they were deliberate and clear. Whatever was stalking them had no problem with announcing itself, especially if that scared them. This heart was pounding and their knees were shaking, yes, but it was good fear. The kind that kept you alive on a night like tonight. They were going to survive, whatever it took.

281 words

Shocked?
Here’s how she shocked me: She wrote like it was all true, like she actually believed herself with every single word she wrote. She wrote with purpose, with dignity, and I’m still here, shocked at her declaration. The one I was never supposed to hear - Not that she would have cared.

Resentful?
I’ll tell you exactly what made me resent her so much. She writes like I don’t exist, she writes as if nothing but her matters - as if I don’t matter. (Maybe you don’t. Ever think of that?). Her sentences flow in a way that lets you know, whatever she says; she's always right. Every line paints her as the savior, who's saving you from the villain. (Me. Who could have guessed?). Her tiny words, innocent as they looked, pulled me under. Made me want to trust her, let her drag me out of the dark. Made me want to worship her — tell her I’d stay forever. (Forever’s gone now. She took it with her.)

Jealous?
Ah, this is the one I hate most, and you know exactly why. Because after all that, she still had me eating out of the palm of her hand, just waiting for my first command. Anything to please her. After all that time, after all the trying and failing and getting back up again, I’m still not enough for her - I never was. She treated me like an item. To be used, cast away, then called back when needed again. (That’s who you were.) And then she talks about Jace. Jace who left her, I don’t know how many times… Jace who lives his carefree life. Ugh… carefree. I’m the opposite of him. (Maybe that’s why she liked him so much - anything other than you.) She never liked me. But she made sure I loved her.

Total: 302 words
Critique is welcome <3

Critiquitaire - for Sandy

Hey Sandy! I just want to say that this piece is amazing, I loved it from start to finish <3. It's really amazing, and I actually don't have much critique so I'll try my best to find something!

I especially love the strong link to historical context your story shows, with the invasions and how many people it affected - and you showed this in your main character - and how he lost his sister. Some of my late family members were affected by the Japanese and German invasions, and you've perfectly captured the emotion of it all. If you want to add any historical context, maybe a little more background info of why they are there - or imply it in his flashbacks? As some people may not know what is happening - but this isn't really needed <3

The symbolism and imagery you've used is also so good - like the swallows. It really adds more depth to the story. Like how the swallows start and end the story, shows closure, peace and acceptance.

If you wanted to you could maybe make the transitions a little clearer - or you could possibly add time/dates to make it easier for the reader - but again, it's not needed, and it may not be what you are looking for. They are really great but can sometimes be abrupt - and kind of hard to tell the time/date of each (you could just make it a little clearer to help the reader follow).

Also, I wasn't too sure who Haixia was. Like is she the daughter or sister, if this is an excerpt from a story you've probably already included it somewhere, but if not, you might just want to make this a little clearer.

Just one grammar thing I found - not sure if this was intentional but early on in the story it is all in present text except for this: He turned. There was his sister… Just wanted to point this out in case it was unintentional.
And here: And he doesn’t know it then, but it the last he would see in his lifetime… I think it is missing an is? So corrected it would be: And he doesn’t know it then, but it is the last he would see in his lifetime.

This is such a lyrical, emotionally powerful piece that beautifully explores memory and grief. It is so amazing, and your writing is absolutely phenomenal. I was very moved when I read this. The things I've suggested are really small things, because there is hardly anything to critique. The story links well to the historical context, and it conveys emotions extremely well. Again, it's up to you if you want to change anything and even if you don't the story is still so amazing! I hoped this helped in some way - and if you have any questions just ask <3

main post

1200 - (100 x 11) = 100 words only woohoo
slept from 10 pm to 9 am!

Have you ever wondered where ducks go to migrate?
Well according to some of my sources, they go to Lala Land, the very same place YOU go when you daydream. These little duckies are busy in Lala Land, making sure they are strong for their next trip. They work hard every day, exercising, eating well, and sometimes they get a little fun. One duckie remarks “I get to sip pina coladas if I do a hard day of exercise! Lala Land is funner than you would know!” They work hard and chill as well. Both in one! It's the perfect balance of play and work! So, next time you are dreaming make sure to wave to that one duckie doing pushups, they are getting ready to soar! Or, if you become a duck in your next life, be prepared!

139 words

Daily - The day aften Cabin Wars

slowly.
i sank.
sinking,
deeper and

deeper

the water curled though my fingers, it was cold, colder as i slowly submerged into its dark blue void.
it got darker. darker and darker. i didn't know how to swim, how to breathe. i was suffocating. each last breath of air escaping my lips by small round spheres.

the surface was nothing but a
b l u r.

i could vaguely see the moon. my its light fractured into beams of brightness illuminated the darkness, but slowly became less effective with them. the moon itself was no longer a circle- but was distorted, so much that it wasn't the moon.

with one last effort, my arm reaches towards the surface. the current still sucking me


down.


and at last,

finally,

a hand brushes against my fingers then grips my hand.
oxygen fills my lungs.

daily
pic -a girl sitting on the beach
308 words

Sitting down, I stare out into the waves, listening to the sound of water on sand
Water on sand. Water on sand. Over and over
My bottom shorts are covered in sand but I stay sitting, watching the sun, dangling in the sky like a perfectly ripe orange.
The sun sinks closer to the ocean, momentarily disappearing into the lush clouds

I see a couple passing me by, their ringed fingers entwined
I see a group of little kids, building a sandcastle,
Their faces as bright as the day.
The day that with each second is slowly slipping away
Slipping away as the sun sinks towards the ocean.

Maybe today was too much for me to handle.
Maybe that’s why I ran towards the open sea.
Listening to the waves calms me
I haven’t been to the ocean in so many years
I don't know why I haven’t made the journey before now
Since it makes me feel so calm

I breathe in the salty, oceany scent that only beaches have
A million candles and perfumes brands may try to recreate it
But they will never get it quite right.
Sitting right here, right now.
This feels just right.

I wish I could stay here forever,
Sitting on the shore,
Watching the aquamarine waves,
Hearing them crash against the shore,
And breathing in the perfect ocean air.
I want to stay here on this beach
Where i can run away from the real world
And never face my problems.
But I can’t
As much as I want it to be,
As much as it pains me to say this,
The seaside is not my home.

As I see the sun drop down,
The fiery ball consumed by the waves,
I finally get up off the sand
I dust off my shorts and leave behind the sea of tranquility.

27.07.25 ⟢ 518/500 words - The Picnic that went Wrong: Picture Formula Daily
Find the photo here

───── ⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆ ─────

The waves ripple in the breeze as I lay down the picnic blanket, Grace unboxing the excessive lunch we brought as we settle on the boardwalk. She takes out boxes of crackers, blocks of cheese, baskets of grapes and package with some bread, as well as outs of other fruit. Reaching into my tote bag, I take out a bottle of lemonade and some plastic cups pretending to be coloured glass. We carefully lay everything down on the different shades of blue on the picnic mat, eyes savouring the feast. Grace picks up the rose coloured glass and pours some lemonade in, settling on the pier. ‘Cheers!’ we say, dangling legs in the water. But then, just before we get to tuck in and taste the juicy looking strawberries and salty sprinkled crackers, a bird waddles up to us. Looking at us.

“Er…” I say, looking back at the seagull. “Hi.”
The seagull doesn’t reply (I would be terrified if it did) but instead stays there. Grace, without thinking, gives the seagull pieces of the baguette. Soon enough, she realises that what she is doing is a terrible idea and takes the bread back, but it’s too late. The seagull,shrieks and flies off with the bread, soaring into the air as other seagulls quite literally sow an out of nowhere and make for the bead carrying seagull. “Oh, okay?” Grace giggles, and I smile too, seeing the funny side of what just happened.

But that wasn’t the end of it. Just after I had a few grapes with cheese and Grace popped a strawbeeet into her mouth, a wasp flew towards us. I’m not scared of insects, but Grace is terrified, and before I know it, she’s tumbling into the water. I watch, stunned, then eat another slice of cheese. Grace treads water frantically, and I hop up to help her out. “Are you okay??” I ask, genuinely concerned, but also because I want her to face me instead of the food jer hair is dripping from water on.

“I’m- I’m fine,” she replies. “I just need a towel.” I nod, grabbing the nearest one I could find. Well, remember how we were having a picnic? With a picnic blanket. Um. So. Grace wraps the blanket around her shoulders as the fruit all tumble off, bouncing around, some plio-plopping into the pier. The crackers were in a snack box, and the lemonade bottle survived without a crack, but there goes all of our fruit and some cutlery. I sigh as Grace sits down, picking up some cheese. All we have left at this point is cheese, crackers and lemonade. Soon enough, all we have left is lemonade. I pick up a cup, pouring more of the fizzy drink in— it really is delicious. Grace follows my suit and we cheers, but maybe a bit too hard, because the plastic bends backwards and snap. So suddenly, we have no cups either.

There’s still a lot of lemonade left in the bottle so we take turns chugging it, then hobble back home with considerably lighter bags than we had before.

Authors note:
This is based on a random pfp image I found on Google and also is written on mobile so as u can see it's an absolute disaster- don't waste ur time reading it's so baddd

Stood in the end of a dead alley feeling proud of myself. My masks glowing x's for eyes and crooked drawn on stitched smile illuminating the alley in florescent purple and blue neon light. My head is tilted in a cocky way beneath my hood, defiance radiating my very stance. I'm even squatting down on the floor, hands sprawled against my thighs in a taunting way. I'm sure you, reader, are very intrigued and confused but I tell you, the reason for my inflating ego was the stunning piece of artwork I had spent so long creating was flashing behind me. All those nights creeping out the house in the dead of the night to complete my piece and now the masterpiece was completed. It was large yellow lines painted to look like gemstones, which might not seem like much to you, dear innocent reader, but as a member of resistance it was everything. Let them scream once again in terror, trying to find ways to tame me again.
Let them know, symlex is back.
Let the rebellion begin.

216words

SWC July 2025 thank you notes

First off, I just wanted to say a massive thank you to every single person - whether you're a host, leader or camper - for making this such an amazing community. This was my first session for years, and I really missed the friendly, supportive and endlessly funny group of people. I also have really rekindled my passion for writing, which had dwindled since my last session of SWC. I'm doing my thank you notes early as I'm going on holiday, and obviously there's not time to write a thank you note for everyone, but just know that I'm endlessly grateful to everyone, so thank you.

My first thank you is to the hosts, daily and weekly team and all the leaders, co's and everyone else who makes SWC possible. I owe a lot to all of you, and you're kindness, creativity and dediction is incredible.

Now, onto Apocalyptic!
This is honestly one of my favourite cabins I've ever been in: such a fun idea and storyline, amazing leaders, super fun campers… and obviously, I can't not mention our leaderboard domination (doesn't matter whether we win or not in the end, but everyone has been so amazing!).

First, to Skylar. This cabin idea was one of the coolest things, and I can tell you've put a lot of work into it. It's really paid off as the storyline and debating was so much fun and has even inspired me to join MUN next year, which hopefully I will love - will keep you updated! Also the profile pictures are incredible (always love a matching pfp but these were so personal and amazing). And then outside of the cabin, you're such a lovely person that I've loved chatting to, and hope to continue in the future. You can always talk to me about train cancellations haha! Jokes aside, you're such a great person and I wish you the best of luck with A levels and everything else, but I'm sure you'll do amazing!!

Next, Fini. I've known you for a long time, and am so grateful to you for literally everything. Obviously, I wasn't on scratch for ages, but I came back and our friendship felt the same, and I can't tell you how happy I was when I logged back into Scratch and saw you were still active, even when all my other old friends had moved on. Anyways, within this session of SWC you've been amazing. I was so pumped to be in your cabin, and it was so worth it! Love you always and thanks for being an incredible leader.

Now, Jiyeon. I've only talked to you a bit, but it was enough to know you're such a lovely person, oh and super talented! Your music is incredible, and I love talking to a fellow dancer (feel free to chat to me about it whenever you want, I've always got things to say lol) and you're an amazing leader and person. Hope to cross paths again!

Ris, I know we didn't talk much this session but you seem super cool and I admire all the work you put into SWC!

For apocalyptic campers, I generally wanted to say thank you to everyone for being super lovely, enthusiastic and really fun to chat to, debate with etc. You'll all super cool and it's amazing how much effort you've all put into dailies, weeklies, cabin wars and just being lovely humans!! A few specific thank you's, but everyone is amazing.

Celeste, first off you are an absolute weapon in terms of writing - how you write that much, especially on your (amazing) critiques is beyond me. Also, I've loved chatting to you so much, I love your enthusiasm and I always love chatting to a fellow dancer. This might sound a bit weird, but it's only your first session and you're such a big part of the SWC community already - I can see you being an amazing leader in the not too distant future.

Ok now to Oly, Lora and Rose - I've loved chatting to you all so much, and I've loved our debates and chats. Hope to get to know you all better in the future. Also, Rose, you in cabin wars is iconic.

Right, a few more things to say.

Thank you to everyone I had a chat to this session, meeting new people was so great and everyone is so lovely. I can't think of everyone, but a few people I can remember. Clev, you're such a fun person - loved chatting to you, and thank you so much for your critiques on my writing comp entry. Pepper, you're super cool and fun! Emily, why are we literally twins lol!
Same appreciation goes to everyone else who critiqued my writing - it was so so helpful, and I loved reading all your pieces, everyone is so talented.

I've probably forgotten people, but huge gratitiude, admiration and love to everyone in SWC! <33

Hello and welcome back from Cabin Wars! I hope you had an amazing time, and more than that, I hope you slept… Why? Because of today’s daily! Today, you need to choose a random picture, and write a piece about it. But wait, there's a twist! Follow this formula to find out how much you need to write; 1200 - (hours slept x 100) words, the least amount of words you can write being 100. You can get 300 points for this daily, with an additional 50 points for proof. Happy writing gremlins!

“…Bucky?”
“…Who the hell is Bucky?”

_____? _____, _’_ _____… _’_ _____ _’_ _____ _’_ _____ _’_ _____—

Focus.
The soldier had to finish his mission.
His mission.
God, his mission seemed familiar.
There was an aching feeling, a deep pain he didn’t understand.
A pain he shouldn’t understand.

__ ___ _’_ _____ _____ _______ __… _ ___’_ ____ __ _ ___’_ _ ___’_

Five seconds felt like forever.
Five seconds where he thought something.
He hadn’t thought something in so long…
He wasn’t allowed to think.
Thinking hurt.
Sometimes physically. No one likes when he thinks.
Always emotionally.
‘Cause when he thinks, he notices.
He notices that he can’t think.
That he killed them.
That he’s gonna just keep killing.
That he’s gone.
There’s nothing left.
Nothing but the ache.
And they can get rid of it.
…not can.
They always get rid of it.

_’_ _____.
I’m sorry.



they got rid of the ache again.
you never notice the ache until it’s back.
you never fully remember you’re a person.
And then suddenly he’s staring at you, trying to make you remember that you’re alive, and you almost wish he wouldn’t, because if you admit you’re alive you admit everything.
You can’t keep running from it.
And then you hate that you let yourself try to.

Steve? Steve, I’m sorry… I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry—

And he’s telling you about who you were, and it hurts, because that person’s gone, and there’s nothing left, nothing left but the pain, and they get rid of it every time so why even bother anymore it’s meaningless and remembering hurts so just FINISH THE MISSION, BUCKY
…
Soldier. Finish the mission, you useless soldier.
God, you’re a mess.

I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I didn’t mean to I’m sorry

You’re not even gonna remember. After all this, he’s gonna die.
And you’ll die with him.
Because you’re already dead, but he’s hiding the last bit of life in his memory.
They’re all dead and he’s the only one who still remembers.
The only one who wants to.

Sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry



I caught him.
Kinda.
Metaphorically.
He kinda fell into the water and drowned a little before I could get to him.
What do I do with him?
He’s right there, and he’s not dead.
He’s breathing.
Not enough, I don’t think, but still.
I don’t know CPR.
I don’t have anywhere to take him.
I can’t save him anymore.
Should I call an ambulance?
Then again, they’d arrest me. No, wait, that’s not enough.
Kill me. Well, no, I think I’m already dead.
Take me back.
God, they’re gonna take me back, aren’t they?
I gotta run.
But I can’t leave him.
But I can’t save him.
And if I stay he’ll try to save me.
And no one can save me.



James Buchanan “Bucky” Barnes was born in 1917. Barnes had a younger sister named Rebecca. He was drafted to fight in the 107th infantry. Captured by HYDRA during the wars, Barnes was isolated, tortured, and experimented on. Eventually, his best friend, Steve Rogers, AKA Captain America, found him and the rest of the captured 107th, and saved them.
…blah blah blah there’s a bunch more and stuff…
It’s hard to tell what’s true, and what I’m just making up based on blurry memories and a museum exhibit.
A really poorly done museum exhibit.
Almost none of the info is accurate.
…I think.
I guess I wouldn’t know.
They really wanted to make sure I didn’t know.


NOTES
Yay confusing writing where we repeatedly change perspective!!
This was inspired by an image of the winter soldier looking down and to the right in winter soldier and an explanation of why that’s tragic.
Not the easiest to write 600 words about but by spiraling and getting confused, I managed to somehow pull it off.
Anyway, enjoy!!

July 27 Daily
113 words

Time asleep: 11 hours
11*100 = 1100
1200-1100 = 100 words

Picture: this random image of an apple with eyes ToT

The eyes. They stare into your soul. Its gaze is not malevolent, but not friendly either. Or maybe it's just constipated. Difficult to tell.

They say the eyes are the window to the soul. If that is the case, then I am not sure this apple has a soul. They are very soulless, these eyes. And yet, the presence of eyes themselves, something not native to apples, suggests that perhaps there is a soul after all. Perhaps, in staring into yours, they are trying to discover what it means to have a soul.

Souls are important things to have. Maybe this apple with these eyes doesn't know what to do with theirs yet.

Daily July 27th
I wanted to write more, but I needed to go so I barely have enough words.

Quinn stepped carefully over the frosty grass, doing their best not to disturb any twigs or dry grass. Tiny flecks of snow slowly drifted down to the ground, darting and dancing in the cold night air. Quinn climbed up the hill, shivering despite themself. This was the first snow of the winter, and even if it didn’t end up to be much, it was still chilly to be wandering around at two AM. But they didn’t have a choice. If they didn’t do this, no one else was going to. Someone needed to gather information on what was happening in the mansion, and talking to the statue was the best way to do it. Quinn reached the top of the hill and was greeted with a rumbling but soft voice. “Hello Quinn.” They turned to the statue and greeted it with a wave. The statue was made of weathered old stone, dirty and now covered with a thin layer of snow from being in the elements. “What do you have to report today?” Quinn asked, rubbing their hands together to warm them up and staring intently at the statue. “Nothing all that new…no unexpected activity. But what we’ve seen over the last week or two is continuing. Lights are on in the mansion through out the night, and they come and go frequently. Mostly they don’t come in the back garden here, but one did the other day and it was…bad. Their forms are changing.” “Changing how?” The statue seemed to hesitate, them murmured “Falling apart more. They’re aren’t even recognizably human anymore…they’re something else, something far more horrifying. They scuttle around, drip inky shadows, their limbs aren’t connected like limbs should be, and they’re made of twisted horrors. They’re changing.” Quinn sighed and said quietly “And that can’t mean anything good.” Their words hung in the cold night air, and each of them felt it. Something was wrong. Something was stirring. And they might be the only two who were aware of it. Could they do anything? Probably not. Did they need to try? Yes.

346 words for nine hours of sleep

i'm not formatting today rip

462 words

I slept for 7.5 hours last night which means I only need to write 450 words! Yay!

okay so I zoomed in on my photo diary and we are back in New Zealand! I love NZ hehe <3 ALSO I HAVE NOT DONE THE CLASSIC TRAUMATISE ALAINA YET? :0

Tranquility was something Alaina longed for in her rather hectic life, and so taking the flight down to Christchurch and then driving over to Tekapo wasn’t much of a question when she found herself with a few days off. Alfie’s schedule had also, thankfully, aligned with hers, and so did Adelaide’s.

Alaina sat on the stony shore, gazing out into the peaceful glacial lake and the stack of rocks someone had put together. It was truly something dreamlike and unreal - she’d known New Zealand was very pretty, and had been a few times, but this was the first time she actually sat down and truly appreciated the beauty. There was the peaceful sound of windblown waves lapping at the shore, and the crystal-clear glacial waters made it all the more relaxing.

Around her, Alfie and Adelaide sat not too far from her, enjoying the view just like she was. A bit off in the distance, and Alaina could see all sorts of tourists taking photos and otherwise just relaxing and having fun at the lake.

For Alaina though, the peace that sitting by the lake gave her was something she’d wished she’d had a while ago. Her work had her stressed, and so did Alfie and Adelaide’s - after all, they did work in healthcare, Alaina a paramedic while Alfie and Adelaide worked as nurses in the emergency department. Taking this break was a much needed thing for the three of them, and Alaina was glad to have taken it.

Breaking the silence, Alaina stood up. “I’m going to go down to the water,” she said.

“Just don’t fall in,” Alfie, her brother, warned.

“You don’t want to be our next patient, do you?” Adelaide, Alaina’s soon-to-be sister-in-law teased back.

“I will, don’t worry,” Alaina smiled.

She walked down to the water’s edge, before taking off her sandals and sitting on a large rock that was poking above the water’s surface, and rolled up her jeans. She dipped her legs in the cold, refreshing glacial water, feeling a shiver go up against her legs in the water. She got used to it soon enough. Alaina then looked to the mountains in the background, smiling as she felt like she was standing in a dream. Maybe she should holiday here more often?

The sound of splashing interrupted her thoughts as she turned to see Alfie and Adelaide wading into the water to meet her. “Okay, now please don’t push me into the water,” Alaina pleaded.

“Oh, we wouldn’t,” Adelaide smiled. “Wouldn’t want you drowning before our wedding.” she added, teasing.

“Adelaide Waters, are you implying… murder of my sister?” Alfie asked with mock offense.

“Uh… nope,” Adelaide replied, a smile on her face. Sometimes Alaina wished she could have a carefree life once again.

critique for chocolate!!!!!!
okay, going to start by saying that this is so cool, it's especially good for the writing comp
chocolate wrote:
I lean on my older sister, begging for a shoulder to cry on, watching the sun set over the hills. I stand with the rest of my family, trying to not make any noise — not even a breath.
|| hmm maybe say ‘silently begging for a shoulder to cry on’ ||
We all hug each other, knowing that we may never see one another again. Pow Pow Pow goes gunshots in the background, where the battlefield is.
|| hmmm maybe instead of ‘pow pow pow goes gunshots in the background’ say ‘the gunshots boom in the distant battlefield that awaits her’ ||
My heart beats faster as I take one last look at my sister, her brown hair flying in the wind. My mouth wants to apologize to her for all of the fights we had, but we’re running out of time and I know I can’t take that risk to speak. It’s going to put my family in a lot of danger if I do so. I would never forgive myself.
|| maybe just ‘I want’ instead of ‘my mouth wants’ and ‘it would put us all in danger, and I couldn’t forgive myself if I let something like that happen' ||
Tick. Tock. Tick. Tock. Hours. Minutes. Seconds. Questions race through my head. What happens when the timer goes off? Will I ever see my family again? Is this the end of the world?
|| perhaps add ‘I know it isn’t, but it feels like it' ||
I can’t resist not speaking to her. So I whisper to my big sister, “Big Sis, Will I ever see you again?”
She leans down into my ear and softly mutters, “I’m sorry, none of us know. But I love you, always.”
|| erase the ‘not’ maybe? like, ‘I can’t resist speaking to her' ? or it could be ‘I can’t stand not talking to her' also, maybe add in a name instead of ‘big sis’ and big sis could say ‘I don’t know' instead of ‘none of us know’ ||
A bundle of tears fill my eyes as I see her walk away. With a rifle in hand, she goes to the battlefield and waves one last time to us, as the rest of us hug each other in tears. We are aware that she may never see us again. If I were to be asked to tell my sister’s story, it can be described in three words.
|| ‘a bundle of tears fills my eyes’ instead of ‘a bundle of tears fill my eyes’ since it's one bundle, not more. also maybe add commas in front of and after the phrase ‘one last time’ or erase ‘to us’ . Lastly, instead of ‘if I were asked to tell my sister’s story' maybe it could be ‘if I were to describe my sister in three words, I would say ’a courageous hero' ‘ also erasing the paragraph between ’three words' and ‘courageous hero’ ||
‘One courageous hero.’ She has always been protective of our family, it’s just hard to give her up and I never will.
|| instead of a comma maybe a period? also instead of ‘it’s just' you could put ‘but it’s too' ||
Overall, I loved this story! It was so emotional and heartbreaking and beautiful.
~ Lune

image & sleeping daily | 07.27.2025
image was some wooden dice
guys don't read this i have no idea what i was doing okay

—

The wooden dice rolled onto the table with a clunk, bouncing until they finally settled on a side.
“Two sixes, one three, one five,” Bradley announced with a smug grin to no one in particular, just the people surrounding the table. “That’s twenty. I win.”
“Not so fast,” one guy said, holding up his hand. The guy had a fancy top hat on and Bradley didn't even know why he was wearing it. It made him look really silly. “There’s still some of us left.”
“Yeah,” a younger girl with catlike features piped up. “Maybe you’re the pro around here, but us newbies are good too.” She met Bradley’s eyes with a challenging glare.
Bradley shrugged and leaned back, tipping the chair backwards.. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.”
Top Hat Guy gathered the dice into his hand. Yes, this was just a simple board game, but when people were competitive, people were very competitive. And dramatic. Maybe that was why Top Hat Guy was wearing a top hat, but Bradley would never know.
Top Hat Guy always made a really funny face whenever he rolled the dice. It was somewhere between a sneeze and a laugh, and his face turned tomato red, which made him look like he was going to explode. Not literally. Bradley thought this was kind of funny, but he didn’t say anything out loud.
The low rumble of thunder filled the room as Top Hat Guy’s dice hit the table, louder than he had anticipated. It was raining outside- it was the biggest storm of the season, reporters said, and people should stay inside at all times. (Bradley was soaking wet, but that’s besides the point.)
Another man spoke up at one point. “What brought us all here?”
Silence filled the room, the absence of sound louder than a crowd could scream.
“Well,” Bradley said cautiously. “There was a sign.”
“It was a flyer,” the catlike girl argued.
“Whatever,” Bradley snapped back. “There was a sign- a flyer- that advertised this.”
“And?” a woman asked. “Why did we want to come here?”
“‘Anonymous People’s Board Game Club,’” the catlike girl recalled, as if reciting lines by memory. “‘A place to be yourself without anyone knowing who you actually are. A place to have fun, even if it means not knowing the people around you.’”
“That sounds pretty ominous, now that I think about it,” Bradley admitted reluctantly. “But it sounded cool at the time.”
Top Hat Guy stayed unusually silent, watching the exchange with sharp eyes.
“Look, does it matter?” the catlike girl asked. “It doesn’t. Not really. So let’s just get on with the game, alright?”
Bradley zoned out for the rest of the game, only paying attention whenever someone beat him in something. Then, at the end, Top Hat Guy tapped the table with his top hat (he took it off) because he didn’t have a gavel or something.
“So,” Top Hat Guy said solemnly. “The board meeting today has decided that the Anonymous People’s Board Game Club should no longer be anonymous.” The people seated around the big, round table immediately began murmuring to those next to them, a low buzz that filled the room. Top Hat Guy cleared his throat again.
“We’re friends, but not really. We don’t know each other. We don’t know anything about each other. Only that we like to play board games. And that we’re competitive.” Top Hat Guy met everyone’s eyes, one at a time. “For all we know, one of you could be an arsonist. Or maybe even an SWC-er.” People glanced at each other, suddenly curious. Bradley didn’t really care.
Top Hat Guy paused for dramatic effect. “So, today will be the first big step for removing ‘Anonymous’ from the 'Anonymous People’s Board Game Club.’ Partly because we want to, and partly because it’s a mouthful to say ‘Anonymous People’s Board Game Club.’” A few people mumbled their agreement.
“So, who wants to go first? State your name. Or something.” Top Hat Guy put his top hat back on. “I’m AJ. Don’t ask for my full name, because that is also a mouthful and we don’t have time to say Andrew Jameson.”
“But you- you just said it,” the girl from earlier pointed out.
Top Hat Guy- AJ- waved his hand dismissively. “It’s fine.”
The girl shrugged. “I’m Zaya.” She smiled a bright grin. “And before you ask, yes, I’m the arsonist AJ was talking about.” People turned to her in surprise. She was pretty short and looked too young to do anything that big, but hey, people could be full of surprises.
Bradley introduced himself. “You don’t need to know anything about me. I’m just what you all have seen before: a competitive guy who loves board games.” He wasn’t really, but it was probably better for them to think that.
People began going around the circular table, saying their names. Anya. Kaz. Zoom (that wasn’t his actual name, but everyone called him that, and he preferred it over his real name). Tiana.
After everyone spoke- at least once- Top Hat Guy- sorry, AJ- banged his top hat on the table again, leaving a dent. “And with that, this concludes the fiftieth meeting of the Board Game Club.”
“What happened to the anonymous part?” Bradley whispered to Zaya.
“We got rid of it, remember?” Zaya hissed back, her blue eyes trained on the dice as AJ threw them into his top hat. “And honestly, I’m glad we did.”
“Yeah, but what if we got ourselves into even more trouble than it’s worth?” Bradley argued. “You’re an arsonist. How do I know that you won’t go around setting things on fire?”
“How do I know you’re not the same as me?” Zaya snapped quietly. “I don’t believe you for a second when you say that you just play board games. No one is that uninteresting. And also, you’re really bad at lying. You have a tell.”
“What? No I don’t-”
“Yes, you do. Your right shoulder tenses up whenever you tell a lie.”
Bradley blinked. “What? You-”
“So yes,” Zaya continued. “There’s more to you. There’s more to all of us.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“That means,” Zaya said, her catlike blue eyes turning to him, and Bradley felt a shiver run down his spine, “that none of us are who we say we are.”

—
1060 words, i only had to write 500 words

Unofficial Critique for Vicky and Eabha ⟢ 525 words

───── ⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆ ─────

Hi, here’s your unofficial critique for your writing comp entry!! It’s a bit of a long one to critique lol (3822 words, right?) so there might be some repeated things and I may get s little more direct than other critiques so I can get to the point easier ^^ please don’t take it personally <33 Oh, and, I’m going to be focusing mainly on cutting down with words, so at the end I’ll have another copy of your entry but with strikes through what I don’t think is necessary (not included in the word count). Nowww, time to begin! <33

Chapter 1 (Jace)

We wrote a book about her. Not together. God, no. But side by side. Pages in parallel.
My story started with the beach. theirs with the fire escape.
But in the end, after all the trying, and the failing, and the getting back up to see if she still cared,
We both got it wrong.
We were both clinging onto a lost cause. Trying to wring light from a faded cloth.
Look at what that did to us. Look at what we've become

I love this introduction! It’s really interesting and builds suspense, it makes me want to read on so bad. Don’t forget to proofread your work ! Sorry to be the Grammar Police but you’re missing a capital T and a full stop— tidying up the little things really helps bring up the quality of your entry.

Flashback 1 (Jace) Morning after her death

She's dead.
I have to say it out loud as I put down the phone, otherwise there is no way I'll believe it. How could I? I just saw her last week, and she was more alive than ever. Isn't that what they always say in movies? The thing is, many things are “just in movies” until you receive a phone call announcing that the only person who got you. Ever. Is gone, and will never come back. Never. It's hard to think that minutes before, I wouldn't have believed you if you told me I was going to hear the phone ring. I wouldn't have believed you if you told me I was going to walk over sleep-deprived and lazy-minded, and pick up the phone. Not yet knowing what was going to happen next. And most of all, I wouldn't believe it if you told me what the person working in social services on the other end of the line was going to say. I might even have laughed. That thought gives me a sickening feeling that runs down my spine and makes me shiver. How could I? I know it's stupid, I know I didn't do it… But the fact that I could have makes my bones ache. The thing that hurts most is that there was a time when I didn't know. Where I just went about my day as usual, and I feel oh-so-guilty about that. And here I am, standing in my hallway, phone dangling from the wall (Maybe I dropped it, but I'm too shocked to realize.), and still not believing she's gone. I mean, how could she be?
That's when I realized what the operator had said next.


Grace Thompson was killed.

OOH OMG the drama!! I can sense some parts where you could cut down on words in this paragraph here, for example, you could get rid of the movies part and make it go “…she was more alive than ever. It’s hard to think that minutes…” and maybe cut down in the overthinking about hypothetically laughing, too.

Chapter 2 (Vale)

For a split-second there is stillness. All sounds drained into background noise and i feel light.
That’s all it is though. A rare second of sanity immediately snatched away from me.
Then it all goes to hell.
She comes seeping through the gabs between the wall and door in heavy black clouds of smoke, thickening the atmosphere and making my eyes water.
She’s clogging my nose and I’m almost chocking:
I can’t cough the terror out.
I can’t let out all of her that I’ve taken in. I can only let her burn me, decompose me.
I can’t cry externally.
My tears drop inside my throat, sizzling my oesophagus like acid.
It’s the sort of slow torture she’s always subjected me to.
The type where i can’t scream, only slowly burn away. Carried by the wind like a pile of ash.
Then all of a sudden, the rush of the world is true against my ears, rushing into my ears in too loud clusters.
The buzz from downstairs only brings memories from the other night. My parents and relatives arguing in the living room, when it felt their voices were so loud the walls would collapse in on me.
‘you’re not going to bail him out? he’s your son!’
‘good hard years in prison will teach him murder is not okay.’ It wasn’t about the money. It was never about the money with Dad, only hard-learnt lessons and harsh punishments.
(how is it harsh when he took a life?)
I don’t know.
‘you have two children for God’s sake! you’re just gonna let one of them waste away his life in jail?’
Waste. Waste. Waste. Waste away. My life is wasting away. She was is laying waste to it.
‘he was the one who brought this on himself! that girl was Vale’s friend.’
Friend. Friend. Friend. My friend. No, not my friend. She was no friend of mine.
‘I’m sure Vale wants their brother back too.’
Everyone turns their heads to me. The attention I used to thrive in is making my skin crawl.
Expectancy.
They want me to choose.
I don’t know.
They want me to choose between the obsession “love” I felt for Grace and the blood ties i have for my brother.
It should be obvious. Afterall, he rid me of someone I could’ve never had the guts to face myself.
(How can you say that?)
(Had him do your dirty work?)
(Pathetic little Vale)
Look at me.
Look at what’s left without her.
This hollow obsession —
every thought orbiting her name,
every craving for a smile that’s gone.
She built
me to need her,
tied me so tight I couldn’t
breathe without her. And now she’s gone,
and the ruin she left behind is
l o u d e r t h a n e v e r .
My mouth is dry and their eyes are boring through me,
Burning holes through my heart.
I’m buckling under the pressure, beads of sweat creeping down my face.
I can’t take it.
I Can’t take it.
I’m creeping back into the shadows and just like that I’ve disappeared.
The world jerks back into focus.
Jace’s breathing — steady, unbothered — drowns out the static in my head. I cling to anything about him to stay grounded: the fall of his hair, the flicker of his lashes, the curve of his nose. Anything but the restless creak of his chair, the uneven tap of his fingers against the wood.
It drives me insane.
He sits there — perfectly fine. Perfectly neutral. And I hate it. (I hate that I can’t be the same)
I hate that he doesn’t worship Grace. (Like a saint)
I hate that he doesn’t * her either. (Like a curse)
To him, she’s just… a person.
(A saint and a devil all in one.)
And somehow, he moves on with life like that’s possible.
‘why are you looking at me like i slapped someone?’ humour evident in his voice, (how can he joke like that.)
I don’t have words for him.
I stay silent.
He does too.
Not out of respect. Out of curiosity.
The silence stretches, thick enough to choke on.
I wonder if he can hear the screaming in my head — if he even cares to.
Maybe that’s why Grace loved him. Maybe that’s why I can’t.
“Vale?” he says softly.
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Because if I do, everything will spill out.

All of this is pure perfection my word I couldn’t even stop reading it was so good <33 It’s a bit lengthy and while it is quite essential to the plot that all of this is here if you have to you should probably cut down the reaction to the news that Grace has died. Also, this is random but one of my main OCs is called Grace lol. Make sure to have proper punctuation here too!

Flashback 2 (Vale) Months before her death

‘I… I feel like you’re not here for me enough Grace. Like you’re leaving me behind.’ Vale’s eyes were fixed onto the floor, arms around their body as though trying to clutch the pieces together. They slowly lifted their eyes to meet Grace’s, only to immediately look away, tears threatening to fall when they see the dark look that shifts in her gaze.
‘How can you say that?’ Her voice sharp and harsh, ‘when one moment you’re here and the next you’re not.’ Her voice had a tone of heaviness, as though she felt slightly guilty.
‘Because you’re too much!’ they scream, voice raw and emotional, sobs choking her words halfway through.
‘Maybe you’re just not enough.’ She barely whispers, but Vale catches in through the wind, the words echoing in their head. They clamp their hands on their ears as if to block the words out, her eyes wide and pupils shaky.
And then they’re gone.

Your writing style is so good; I’m obsessed! This was a great place to put a flashback and a great flashback too! Yay!

Chapter 3 (Vale) Week after her death

I look through her dark window.
Her house used to glow, full of her. Now it’s empty — like her life got ripped straight out of her hands and took everything with it.
I don’t exactly know what brought me here, but I find myself turning the doorknob ever-so-slowly and pushing the door in ever-so-slowly. As if too much pressure might break it. Break her.
Break me.
I wish I could say I don’t want it. But I do. I crave it. And the craving makes me sick.
I walk up the stairs, trying not to make the floorboards creak, my presence shuddering the walls as though they remember what it was like to hold life.
I stop in front of an open door peeking into a room that looked as if it was holding it’s breath, waiting for me to notice something.
Then I see it. Scattered innocently across her bead, beckoning me towards it.
Her diary.
I’m trying to stop myself – I swear I am – but that voice. Her voice. Venomous and intrusive. It’s whispering its prophecies in my ear.

This is beautiful! There are some parts of repetition that you could scrap too, but maybe try to make the diary finding a little tricker, so it’s not like steeoryoical diary entries answer all!

(Open it.)

(She deserves it.)

(You want to see who she really was.)

(I know you can’t resist.)

Before I can stop it, my fingers are already flicking through to an entry.

(*insert diary entry*) (Hi, vicky <3) HEYY should i add the diary entries?
12:08 pm - 17th August
Dear person who’s obvi not listening,
Why can’t she be better?
She’s never here.
All she does is DRAG ME DOWN.
Why is she never here?
I want her here.
Sometimes it’s ok. I smile and hug her and she stays. Right till the end.
Those days a I love her.
Sometimes it’s not. She sees through me. She sees through my lies.
Vales sees everything. Maybe she sees too much.
When I spill my tears she just stares. When i start to rant she squeezes her eyes and clutches her head with her hands like she’s trying to block something out. I don’t know what to do only that my usual tricks wont work. I blink and just like that she’s gone
She leaves me thinking about all the tricks i could’ve pulled to make her stay.
Too good to be good.
Maybe that’s my punishment.
She’s like a star i can never seem 2 grab hold of. Wrigly like an eel.

Okay, you’re going to have to delete the conversation between the two authors at the start ^^’ but tone wise, I love the way you wrote this character, her voice is really fitting and unique!

00:09am - 19th August
Dear Diary,
(idk why i still say that it’s so STUPID)
I met up with Jace today. It was like an escape…
Like freedom.
He’s so carefree, so worriless, he just drops everything and just… Just lives.
More importantly, we spent the whole day together and he was THERE. Everysingle bit of him gave me all the attention i need. He didnt disappear and was always there for me. Always.
You can hear the unspoken end of the sentence.
Unlike HER. Them. Whatever

This is also really really good!

—-

I’m…

I don’t know what I am.

Shocked?
Here’s how she shocked me: She wrote like it was all true, like she actually believed herself with every single word she wrote. She wrote with purpose, with dignity, and I’m still here, shocked at her declaration. The one I was never supposed to hear - Not that she would have cared.

Resentful?
I’ll tell you exactly what made me resent her so much. She writes like I don’t exist, she writes as if nothing but her matters - as if I don’t matter. (Maybe you don’t. Ever think of that?). Her sentences flow in a way that lets you know, whatever she says; she's always right. Every line paints her as the savior, and me the villain. (Me. Who could have guessed?). Her tiny words, innocent as they looked, pulled me under. Made me want to trust her, let her drag me out of the dark. Made me want to worship her — tell her I’d stay forever. (Forever’s gone now. She took it with her.)

Jealous?
Ah, this is the one I hate most, and you know exactly why. Because after all that, she still had me eating out of the palm of her hand, just waiting for my first command. Anything to please her. After all that time, after all the trying and failing and getting back up again, I’m still not enough for her - I never was. She treated me like an item. To be used, cast away, then called back when needed again. (That’s who you were.) And then she talks about Jace. Jace who left her, I don’t know how many times… Jace who lives his carefree life. Ugh… carefree. I’m the opposite of him. (Maybe that’s why she liked him so much - anything other than you.) She never liked me. But she made sure I loved her.

Agh that last line— the plot, the whole vibe, it’s just so amazing aasdfghjklk. To make it shorter, you could lose the parts in brackets.

~~~
Vale: Four days before her death

I wake up.

The clock on the wall makes its usual ticking sound, as if to threaten me.
I know it’s not, I know it couldn’t.
But who knows where my mind is at 3:41 AM.

tick. tick. tick.

I feel dizzy, my head is hot, I just can’t stop thinking about her.
She did this to me.

tick. tick. tick.

I look outside the window, at the dreary dark scene.
The rain splatters and taps the glass.

tap. tap. tap.
tick. tick. tick.

Where is she right now? With him?

I held the pieces together when he left her.

Right?

splish. splish.
tap. tap. tap.
tick. tick. tick.

I can never be enough for her.
She refuses to see me as enough.

And just like that the bell shatters the stillness.

tick…

tick…

I force myself to get up, dragging myself out of the bed.

I walk lazily down the staircase, wondering who’s ringing my bell at 4 AM.

(Who could it be, Vale?)

As I approach the door, I hear my name.

“Vale”

Panic freezes me.


“Vale?”


“Vale, let me in please.”

Her voice is wrapping around my throat.

“I know you’re there.”

No.

No no no no.
No No No
NO.

It can’t be.

It just can't.

That voice echoes in my head, paralysing me to the spot.

I want to move.

I just can’t.

A part of me still craves the sweetness of her words.

“I’ll always be there for you Vale” (She wasn’t.)

“You can count on me Vale” (I couldn’t.)

“I love you” (…)

But another part of me

(The part that’s tired of bleeding for her)

Knows I can’t let her in.
It knows I can’t take this anymore.

But the part of me that’s still clinging onto those precious (ugh) memories, is inching its way to the door, and turning the doorknob (ever-so-slowly).

And then I see her.

And I just want to fling myself into her arms.

So badly.

Well… I guess “whatever’s left of reason” is doing its job…

Because I’m standing here, staring at her.

Not knowing how to act.

(When have you ever gotten that right?)

Not knowing what to say.

(You never have.)

(Sweet, naive little Vale.)

(Never known anything.)
(You thought you understood her.)
(You didn’t.)
(But she’ll make sure you do now.)

I snap back to reality, a quick relief…

And then I see her face.

And it is ever-so-tempting.

Her curly red hair is like a splash of colour in a black and white world.
Her green eyes just compliment it.
Her smile looks like she just descended from heaven.

And she is just
Beautiful.
No, that’s an extreme understatement.

“Vale? Hello?”

“Hi”

“Um… can I come in?”

My heart pounds.

“Sure.”

She steps into the hallway and looks around.

“Your house…
It’s… changed.”

My stomach clenches.
She doesn’t get to say that.
She doesn’t get to notice, when she was the one gone for so long.

(But she always does. Always gets to. She’s already taken over; you just haven’t realised.)

“What do you want?”

It comes off sharper than i intended (She deserves it)
Part of me hates myself for saying it.
The other part craves the sweetness of bitter revenge.

Her eyes glisten and regret floods me before I can stop it.

She looks at me like a hungry puppy, eyes shining and face begging.

Nice try, that doesn’t work anymore. (I wish)

“I came here to…”

Don’t say it.

“Apologize.”
.

She said it.
I want to rip my hair out.
It’s happening all over again.
I’ve watched this movie play over and over again.
(you make sure nothing ever changes)

She goes quiet for a second…

“Vale, I know what I did was wrong, I know it”

“Yeah, well knowing doesn’t do anything, does it?”

An ever-stretching pause.

“Vale…

Jace… dumped me.”



(That’s why she’s here. She doesn’t want you, she just wants a replacement.)

No.

I can’t believe I expected more from her, I can’t believe I hoped she would mean it this time.

(She never means it, yet you still fall for it every single time.)

I’m tearing up, my nose is burning. I wish I wouldn’t cry like this in front of her.

(You call it hate, but look at you — still caring.)

“Vale…”

“No…”

“Vale, please”

“NO. GET OUT.”

“Please, just listen” (she never does? Why should I?)
“Please…”

“Jace broke up with me… because of you.”

I freeze.

“He was asking me to pick, Vale. Him or you.”

“And I told him…”

Now she’s sobbing her eyes out.
Is this what being a villain is like? Watching someone helpless cry, and just looking at them, with an icy face wiped of all feelings? Just knowing that all the love that used to shine so brightly in her eyes is just…gone? And each time you do, that’s another wave of sorrow, washing the same love out of yours.
But do villains bulk under the weight of guilt, knowing they were the reason for the crying? That they’re the ones behind this?
It’s crushing me, weighing down my shoulders, chest, buckling my feet.
I know I should embrace her, should tell her I'm sorry,
But I'm left trying to see through the tears that cloud my eyes.

(pathetic. pathetic little vale, trying to keep up. You’ll never get there. No matter how hard you try.)

“I told him…
That no matter what he did…
I choose you.

Every

single

time.”

Her voice is replaying in my head, taunting, haunting.


And that’s what broke me.
She shattered my tiny little heart into a thousand pieces.

(How dare she?)

And restraint ceases to exist as I pull her into my arms.

The way her hair brushes my cheek.

The way her warm tears touch my shirt.

And everything is exactly as it was before.

And it makes that tiny voice in my head just…disappear, for a moment (even though it seems like forever).

It just fades away.


And as I cradle her head in my shoulder… I don’t realize.

And as I tell her she’ll always have me… I don’t realize.

And as I promise this isn’t the last time (naive little me… didn’t think twice about that promise)…I don’t realize.

Even after she’s gone… I don’t realize.

I simply walk around the corner of the hall, and…

I see him.

Even after she’s gone… I don’t realize.

I stay standing there, hands still trembling, breath still uneven.
And that’s when it hits me.

I shouldn’t have been the one holding her.
I shouldn’t have been the one comforting her.

And most of all… I realize that I did, without thinking twice.

She did that to me.

And I never saw it coming.

She tortured me.

And I’ll never forget it.

The way she knew exactly what to say to make me hate myself.

She.
Made.
Me.
Hate.
Myself.

Right?

That was her, right?

She did it slowly in the most horrifying way.

She.
Made.
Me.
Love.
Her.

So much.

So much, so that there wasn’t a single drop of love left for myself.

So instead of filling my heart with the love that it lacked.

She took over.

And she filled it with hate.

She used every last drop.

Right up to the brim,

Overflowing off the sides.

And all that hate was stacked against me.

Cause you could never hate someone like her.

Could you?


Could I?

Wow! I love this narrative so much! I wonder what Grace did that made her so hateful :,)

Chapter 4 (Vale) Weeks after her death

In memory of Grace Thompson.
Her voice used to shine in rays like light.
It could make a room still, make the world pause to listen to what she had to say.
She was always demanding attention. And attention she was given.
Even the flowers used to perk their petals for her.
Her voice used to trail out in messy tumbles, because she always had too much to say.
Yet everyone would cling to her every word trying to grab a piece of her: she never used to divide equally. And so we clung onto the words we could grab.
If only they could leave me now.
If only I could let go now.
To the torture they bring me.
I don't know why people use the phrase ‘having a lump in your throat’.
I used to know what that meant, I guess.
‘The uncomfortable feeling of being on the verge of crying, while trying to hold it back’.
I’ve upgraded.
Right now it feels less like a lump; more like a trainwreck.
It hurts.
So much.
Too much.
Always too much with her.
It's as though some fierce beast is clawing at my windpipes, forcing itself to get out.
Or maybe it’s the water pressure of the vast sea of tears I've cried up, that I’m now drowning, no, suffocating in.
(You were not enough.)
The voices whisper, bringing new sobs to my throat.
(Never enough.)
enough
enough
enough
Always the weight of expectations I can't meet. The things I desperately tried to grab for but couldn’t reach.
I tried to be enough for her, but it was too much.
(Too much. Not enough.)
(You were always dragging her down.)
I hope her soul is free from the burden of me.
I’ve cried all my tears and my body is hollow.
Hollow yet still bursting with her.
I thought she was the problem.
(How could you say that?)
Yet I looked at her for a solution.
(—silence—)
When she was talking I wanted her to stop.
When she was silent it ate me whole.
I said she was too much but when she was nothing at all-
…It kills me.
Her silence isn’t empty. It’s heavy.
It presses on my chest, on my throat, until I can’t breathe. It screams louder than her words ever did, like a monster with a roar so loud it’s deafening.
I try to forget everything bad that happened and focus on the good times, but something convinces me those aren’t real.
How can I forget her?
when my brother is in prison,
when her diary is gaping at me,
when Jace looks at me expectantly
every single time.
We’re supposed to write a book about her.
But who was she?

I loved this section, but there were some parts that I skipped through, so only try to keep the necessary parts! I didn’t exactly follow the writing s book part of the plot at the beginning but this was so good though aah <33 ANYWAY, time for the word cutting down to begin!

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Here’s part two; the edited version! Aka bye bye word count. I did like the first half of it

—

Chapter 1 (Jace)

We wrote a book about her. Not together. God, no. But side by side. Pages in parallel.
My story started with the beach. Theirs with the fire escape.
But in the end, after all the trying, and the failing, and the getting back up to see if she still cared,
We both got it wrong.
We were both clinging onto a lost cause. Trying to wring light from a faded cloth.
Look at what that did to us. Look at what we've become.

Flashback 1 (Jace) Morning after her death

She's dead.
I have to say it out loud as I put down the phone, otherwise there is no way I'll believe it. How could I? I just saw her last week, and she was more alive than ever. Isn't that what they always say in movies? The thing is, many things are “just in movies” until you receive a phone call announcing that the only person who got you. Ever. Is gone, and will never come back. Never. It's hard to think that minutes before, I wouldn't have believed you if you told me I was going to hear the phone ring. I wouldn't have believed you if you told me I was going to walk over sleep-deprived and lazy-minded, and pick up the phone. Not yet knowing what was going to happen next. And most of all, I wouldn't believe it if you told me what the person working in social services on the other end of the line was going to say. I might even have laughed. That thought gives me a sickening feeling that runs down my spine and makes me shiver. How could I? I know it's stupid, I know I didn't do it… But the fact that I could have makes my bones ache.

The thing that hurts most is that there was a time when I didn't know. Where I just went about my day as usual, and I feel oh-so-guilty about that. And here I am, standing in my hallway, phone dangling from the wall (Maybe I dropped it, but I'm too shocked to realize.), and still not believing she's gone. I mean, how could she be?

That's when I realized what the operator had said next.


Grace Thompson was killed.

Chapter 2 (Vale)

For a split-second there is stillness. All sounds drained into background noise and i feel light.
That’s all it is though. A rare second of sanity immediately snatched away from me.
Then it all goes to hell.
She comes seeping through the gabs between the wall and door in heavy black clouds of smoke, thickening the atmosphere and making my eyes water.
She’s clogging my nose and I’m almost choking:
I can’t cough the terror out.
I can’t let out all of her that I’ve taken in. I can only let her burn me, decompose me.
I can’t cry externally.
My tears drop inside my throat, sizzling my oesophagus like acid.
It’s the sort of slow torture she’s always subjected me to.
The type where i can’t scream, only slowly burn away. Carried by the wind like a pile of ash.
Then all of a sudden, the rush of the world is true against my ears, rushing into my ears in too loud clusters.

The buzz from downstairs only brings memories from the other night. My parents and relatives arguing in the living room, when it felt their voices were so loud the walls would collapse in on me.
‘you’re not going to bail him out? he’s your son!’
‘good hard years in prison will teach him murder is not okay.’ It wasn’t about the money. It was never about the money with Dad, only hard-learnt lessons and harsh punishments.
(how is it harsh when he took a life?)
I don’t know.
‘you have two children for God’s sake! you’re just gonna let one of them waste away his life in jail?’
Waste. Waste. Waste. Waste away. My life is wasting away. She was is laying waste to it.
‘he was the one who brought this on himself! that girl was Vale’s friend.’
Friend. Friend. Friend. My friend. No, not my friend. She was no friend of mine.
‘I’m sure Vale wants their brother back too.’
Everyone turns their heads to me. The attention I used to thrive in is making my skin crawl.
Expectancy.
They want me to choose.
I don’t know.
They want me to choose between the obsession “love” I felt for Grace and the blood ties i have for my brother.
It should be obvious. Afterall, he rid me of someone I could’ve never had the guts to face myself.
(How can you say that?)
(Had him do your dirty work?)
(Pathetic little Vale)
Look at me.
Look at what’s left without her.
This hollow obsession —
every thought orbiting her name,
every craving for a smile that’s gone.
She built
me to need her,
tied me so tight I couldn’t
breathe without her. And now she’s gone,
and the ruin she left behind is
l o u d e r t h a n e v e r .
My mouth is dry and their eyes are boring through me,
Burning holes through my heart.
I’m buckling under the pressure, beads of sweat creeping down my face.
I can’t take it.
I Can’t take it.
I’m creeping back into the shadows and just like that I’ve disappeared.
The world jerks back into focus.
Jace’s breathing — steady, unbothered — drowns out the static in my head. I cling to anything about him to stay grounded: the fall of his hair, the flicker of his lashes, the curve of his nose. Anything but the restless creak of his chair, the uneven tap of his fingers against the wood.
It drives me insane.
He sits there — perfectly fine. Perfectly neutral. And I hate it. (I hate that I can’t be the same)
I hate that he doesn’t worship Grace. (Like a saint)
I hate that he doesn’t * her either. (Like a curse)
To him, she’s just… a person.
(A saint and a devil all in one.)
And somehow, he moves on with life like that’s possible.
‘why are you looking at me like i slapped someone?’ humour evident in his voice, (how can he joke like that.)
I don’t have words for him.
I stay silent.
He does too.
Not out of respect. Out of curiosity.
The silence stretches, thick enough to choke on.
I wonder if he can hear the screaming in my head — if he even cares to.
Maybe that’s why Grace loved him. Maybe that’s why I can’t.
“Vale?” he says softly.
I don’t answer. I can’t.
Because if I do, everything will spill out.


Flashback 2 (Vale) Months before her death

‘I… I feel like you’re not here for me enough Grace. Like you’re leaving me behind.’ Vale’s eyes were fixed onto the floor, arms around their body as though trying to clutch the pieces together. They slowly lifted their eyes to meet Grace’s, only to immediately look away, tears threatening to fall when they see the dark look that shifts in her gaze.
‘How can you say that?’ Her voice sharp and harsh, ‘when one moment you’re here and the next you’re not.’ Her voice had a tone of heaviness, as though she felt slightly guilty.
‘Because you’re too much!’ they scream, voice raw and emotional, sobs choking her words halfway through.
‘Maybe you’re just not enough.’ She barely whispers, but Vale catches in through the wind, the words echoing in their head. They clamp their hands on their ears as if to block the words out, her eyes wide and pupils shaky.
And then they’re gone.


Chapter 3 (Vale) Week after her death

I look through her dark window.
Her house used to glow, full of her. Now it’s empty — like her life got ripped straight out of her hands and took everything with it.
I don’t exactly know what brought me here, but I find myself turning the doorknob ever-so-slowly and pushing the door in ever-so-slowly. As if too much pressure might break it. Break her.
Break me.
I wish I could say I don’t want it. But I do. I crave it. And the craving makes me sick.
I walk up the stairs, trying not to make the floorboards creak, my presence shuddering the walls as though they remember what it was like to hold life.
I stop in front of an open door peeking into a room that looked as if it was holding it’s breath, waiting for me to notice something.
Then I see it. Scattered innocently across her bead, beckoning me towards it.
Her diary.
I’m trying to stop myself – I swear I am – but that voice. Her voice. Venomous and intrusive. It’s whispering its prophecies in my ear.

(Open it.)

(She deserves it.)

(You want to see who she really was.)

(I know you can’t resist.)

Before I can stop it, my fingers are already flicking through to an entry.

(*insert diary entry*) (Hi, vicky <3) HEYY should i add the diary entries?
12:08 pm - 17th August
Dear person who’s obvi not listening,
Why can’t she be better?
She’s never here.
All she does is DRAG ME DOWN.
Why is she never here?
I want her here.
Sometimes it’s ok. I smile and hug her and she stays. Right till the end.
Those days a I love her.
Sometimes it’s not. She sees through me. She sees through my lies.
Vales sees everything. Maybe she sees too much.
When I spill my tears she just stares. When i start to rant she squeezes her eyes and clutches her head with her hands like she’s trying to block something out. I don’t know what to do only that my usual tricks wont work. I blink and just like that she’s gone
She leaves me thinking about all the tricks i could’ve pulled to make her stay.
Too good to be good.
Maybe that’s my punishment.
She’s like a star i can never seem 2 grab hold of. Wrigly like an eel.
00:09am - 19th August
Dear Diary,
(idk why i still say that it’s so STUPID)
I met up with Jace today. It was like an escape…
Like freedom.
He’s so carefree, so worriless, he just drops everything and just… Just lives.
More importantly, we spent the whole day together and he was THERE. Everysingle bit of him gave me all the attention i need. He didnt disappear and was always there for me. Always.
You can hear the unspoken end of the sentence.
Unlike HER. Them. Whatever
—-

I’m…

I don’t know what I am.

Shocked?
Here’s how she shocked me: She wrote like it was all true, like she actually believed herself with every single word she wrote. She wrote with purpose, with dignity, and I’m still here, shocked at her declaration. The one I was never supposed to hear - Not that she would have cared.

Resentful?
I’ll tell you exactly what made me resent her so much. She writes like I don’t exist, she writes as if nothing but her matters - as if I don’t matter. (Maybe you don’t. Ever think of that?). Her sentences flow in a way that lets you know, whatever she says; she's always right. Every line paints her as the savior, and me the villain. (Me. Who could have guessed?). Her tiny words, innocent as they looked, pulled me under. Made me want to trust her, let her drag me out of the dark. Made me want to worship her — tell her I’d stay forever. (Forever’s gone now. She took it with her.)

Jealous?
Ah, this is the one I hate most, and you know exactly why. Because after all that, she still had me eating out of the palm of her hand, just waiting for my first command. Anything to please her. After all that time, after all the trying and failing and getting back up again, I’m still not enough for her - I never was. She treated me like an item. To be used, cast away, then called back when needed again. (That’s who you were.) And then she talks about Jace. Jace who left her, I don’t know how many times… Jace who lives his carefree life. Ugh… carefree. I’m the opposite of him. (Maybe that’s why she liked him so much - anything other than you.) She never liked me. But she made sure I loved her.
—
I hope you get the gist of it! Feel free to keep the brackets if you want to, removing most of them is just personal preference ^^

SWC July 2025 - Daily #27
Astrid discovers ice cubes. || 313/300 words

“Ah, what a square and beautiful- Hey, you aren't perfectly square, no? Ah, squarish. Yes, that's the word, I believe. But I thought for a second you were just-? Oh, nevermind. You seem less round than when I had first taken you out…”

“Astrid… That's an ice cube. It melts.”

“…Ice can melt???” The girl looked across the room where Zeta was seated, leafing through an old magazine. Her eyes shifted between the singular transparent cube sitting on a plate before her and the one other person in the room (who seemed much more knowledgeable at this… Substance, perhaps).

“Do you not have ice in wherever you came from? Galactic ice, maybe? Yes? No?” Annoyed, Zeta walks over to the refrigerator herself, grabbing a glass along the way, and dispensed herself two ice cubes before proceeding to fill the rest of the glass with tap water. “You use them to cool your drinks.”

Astrid practically bounced at such an amazing discovery. She had never seen ice in this form before, nor known that it could melt back into- Well, water. “Can you put them in anything? Anything at all?”

The red-haired girl sighed. “Yes, any drink. And keeping whatever else you'd like cold as well, people usually use them in supermarkets to preserve the freshness of fresh fis- Do they not have supermarkets where you live either?!”

“Us back in my home planet… Aren't exactly that far ahead in technology…” Astrid forces a slightly sheepish smile, proceeding to put a finger over the tiny cube. “All the ice I've seen doesn't do anything when you touch it except freeze your fingers.”

Pathetic, Zeta thought, I guess I'm stuck with her all day… Her and all of these things that are new to her, apparently.

I suppose one can say that on the bright side, she hasn't gotten a single signal from the girl.

(I chose “The Thing in the Sewer,” at https://www.onceuponapicture.co.uk/portfolio_page/the-thing-in-the-sewer/)

There’s a world above, or so I’d presume. The pipes all seem to come from somewhere, anyway: they’re too perfectly spaced to have been created by mere accident. And everything flows downward. That’s the one universal truth.
That’s how I know there’s a world below, too.
But for me, for now, my only reality is this in-between place. It is mostly wires and pipes and stones and water. Some of the tunnels are large, nearly twice my height, and some are smaller, too small for me to fit through. I can’t remember how I got here, but I know I must have flowed down as well. Everything does.
All sorts of interesting things end up here. Lots of pieces of plastic, in a variety of different shapes. Fragments of metal. Wads of paper. In the water, there are pieces of organic material, some of it edible. There are also other creatures: rodents and insects and lizards. They’re edible, too. None of them are quite like me, though.
As best as I can tell, I’m made up of cast-off parts all stuck together. Hair mostly, like the kind on the rats that live down here, but longer. Then there’s the muck that holds the hair together. It flows through me like the water flows along the floor, like blood flows through the other creatures. I also have eyes, though they’re not very helpful. I can only use them in the sparse patches of light created by the round bulbs which hang infrequently from the ceiling in some of the larger tunnels.
The scrawlings on the walls of the tunnels are not mine. Or maybe they were, in another life? Sometimes, when I pass through the light patches and my eyes catch on their dizzying patterns, I almost think I remember something. But it never lasts.
I am forced to confront the fact: I don’t have any idea who I am. The roaches know they are roaches, and the water knows to be water. I know I want to be somebody, but what does that even mean? Why am I aware of myself, if I don’t know what I’m for?

Weekly 4 ⟢ 2386/2017 words - MemorieSWC

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1┆Making an Outline ⟢ 389/300 words
Hi! Here’s my story outline. I've been having this lingering idea for a webcomic for a while and so I was like okay time to actually write this story!

1) A girl goes to a car boot sale and finds this old second-hand camera for free.
2) The girl looks at the pictures in the camera and sees herself on a Wanted poster, a crowd swarming the wall it is stuck to. She is stunned and frightened but she can't find the owner of the car that had the camera anywhere.
3) She is walking home from the sale when she sees a person, an enby, following her.
4) She recognises the enby, but doesn't know how. She turns around to confront them.
5) The enby explains how the girl is on the run, and how the enby transported them to this universe to keep her safe. Her memory was wiped for safety.
6) The enby gives her a letter that she wrote to herself and the girl gets her memories back, bit by bit.
7) The enby reveals how the camera showing the photos means that the spell has worn off and it isn't safe to stay in this universe anymore.
7.5) The girl starts unthreading and it takes up a lot of her energy to stay together.
8) Unwillingly, the girl leaves her family and goes with the enby's back to her universe.
9) At the portal, they meet the enby's ally on the inside. He opens up the portal back for them and they arrive in the alternate universe. The portal doesn't close properly.
10) They arrive in the alternate universe, the girl disguised. She remembers now that she was Wanted for attacking the King.
11) The enby turns out to be undercover for the King. The girl and the boy are locked up in different cells. Now, they need to get out.
12) The girl misses her home in this universe. She hadn't had a home for a long time. Neither had the boy, betrayed by the only person he trusted.
13) They find out the portal has been leaking into U1.
13) Joined by Rowan, the enby, later on, Leo and Kaye (the boy and the girl) need to fix this mess.
14) The universes are separated again, and Kaye goes back to U2.

2┆Exposition ⟢ 435/300 words
Meet the three main characters for this first part! (Help the formatting of this entire weekly-)

Kaye/Kayla, She/Her, Straight Ally
Kaye is a 13 year old girl who has an interest for old things and cats. She doesn't think things through very well, but is quite smart. She's passionate about what she believes in, such as taking the King and his council down for enslaving her family. (This is in Universe 2, by the way. Universe 1 is the world we live in.)

Rowan, They/Them, (Sapphic?) Non-Binary
Rowan is 17 years old and is seen as Kaye's “mentor” towards the start of the plot, guiding her back to her world so she doesn't fall apart. Rowan betrays them in the end, but secretly stays on their side after a little bit of thinking and helps bust them out of jail. Rowan is funny but quiet and extremely sad.

Leo, He/Him, Bisexual
Leo is a 13 year old boy who was best friends with Kaye in Universe 2. They went to school together and witnessed the Kingdom fall apart. He strongly agrees with their actions and becomes a necessary part of their crew, helping Kaye return. He is locked up for helping Kaye at the end of the first part. He is caring, shy and forgetful.

Central Universe (I decided to stick with these names)
Based on this world. This is where Kaye was hidden to escape the King. However, she's outlasted her stay, and this is where Rowan and Kaye are trying to escape. Instead of going to Universe 3 like they wanted, they arrive in Universe 2. (The larger the Universe number, the more different it is to the Central Universe. So they don't want to go to an inhabitable parallel universe for them.) Kaye doesn't want to leave but she has to. She tries to find a way to walk through universes without fading. The title is going to be based on this subject, I think.

Universe 2
This is where Kaye, Rowan and Leo are originally from. Kaye left U2 a year ago so she could move to U1, but obviously she's forgotten that. Her family was taken to work for the King and the Council and so was Rowan, but Kaye and Leo don't know that. They need to rebel. Kaye loves U2 more, of course, but U2 is leaking into U1 and she needs to figure out a way to connect the universes so she can fix this. (The illegal portal Leo was manning didn't close properly. Chaos time! I am making lots of this up on the spot :>

3┆Story ⟢ 1443/1300 words
- Gurtle: Foreshadowing (Of Rowan's Betrayal)
- Forums Being Down: New Conflict (Leo appearing out of a-nowhere)
- Soul Stealing: Diary/Letter Selection (Goodbye Letter)
- Cabin Wars: Symbolism (The Sky being Gone)
- Frying Pans: New POV (Rowan's POV at the end)
(I really tried to summarise this into 1.3k words because I don't have enough energy to write more, and this was originally for a comic anyway. So this is not my best work.)

—
It was the day of the car boot sale and Kaye ran up to the entrance eagerly, looking around. She hummed lightly, examining this teddy, and those pencils, and that book. Rummaging through a cardboard box labelled ‘Free to Take’, Kaye closed her fingers around a cool metal object. Taking out a silver camera, Kaye turned it over in her hands, studying the make. It seemed like it hasn't been used in a while, but when Kaye pressed the power button, a light flashed, so she decided it might be worth taking home. With one last lingering glance at the abandoned car (the owner most likely off looking at other boxes), Kaye took it with her as she browsed and bought, walking home with a bag full of second-hand trinkets.

Flip-flops slapping on the sidewalk, Kaye swung her bag around and took the camera out, trying to figure out how to use it. She pressed a button, or two, and finds a catalogue of the photos already taken on the camera. Curious, Kaye looks around. No-one else is there, except for a figure behind her somewhere in the distance. Kaye clicks on <View All> and comes to a sudden stop, breath hitching. Right, there, in front of her, was a photo of…

Herself? Kaye stared at herself on a Wanted poster, a crowd of people surrounding the wall it was stuck to. It looked like something from hundreds of years ago, yet it was the same Kaye that was holding a camera right now, the same Kaye who was trembling with fear that very moment. Who- What- How- Was someone stalking her? Was this all a ludicrous prank? If so, then why did Kaye remember this photo. The snap of a camera, the comfort of the shadows, the roar of the people. Furrowing her brows and squeezing her eyes shut, Kaye tried to see if she could remember anything else about what happened. She couldn't.

That's when she saw the figure approaching her in the camera screen reflection. The all-too-familiar swish of hair, bushy eyebrows and purposeful walk.
“Kayla.” The voice felt like coming home.
“It's me.” Kaye gasped, shuddering at the memories that the voice brought back.

A hand, helping her get up. A smile, comforting her in the silence. A shield, covering her from harm.

She didn't know who this person was, but she knew that, somewhere, sometime, in a place long forgotten, she had loved this person. Looked up to them. Trusted them. But something in her gut said she didn't, not anymore. But the string connecting them was still there. Finally, Kaye turned around eyes watering. Drinking in the sight of someone who had been gone for too long, but at the same time felt like they were never gone at all.
“Rowan.” she whispered, and ran in for a hug.

⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆

“You're going to have to trust me on this,” Rowan said, as they sat down on a bench, facing each other. “But those photos that you just saw? They're real. They're a sign. A warning.”
Kaye nodded, rolling her eyes. “I know. It's creepy enough already.” She added, feeling a little timid. There was a silence as Rowan fiddled with their coat sleeve.
“Rowan…” Kaye ventured. “How do I know you?”
Their eyes widened at the question, but they didn't seem to disturbed. Rowan shrugged but reluctantly answered.
"I know this sounds crazy, but you really are on the run. I'm not crazy, I swear, but parallel universes exist. You're not from here. Neither am I. This is the Central Universe. The basis of, well, everything.” Rowan spread out their hands to show this. “And we… we are from Universe 2. The Second variant of the Central Universe. The second-most similar parallel to the Central Universe, and when you were in the run, I decided it was safer to hide out here for as long as it was safe, so we could think of a plan. Your family, your friends, what you fight for, it’s all there. They’ve been waiting for a year.”

Kaye paused, stunned. Then cracked up laughing. “What the heck,” she giggled at a confused Rowan, “if you want to create a story at least make it believable.” Rowan’s silent, condescending stare sobered Kaye as she quietened down, realising they were being serious.

“If this isn’t real, Kayla,” said Rowan, “Then how do you know who I am? Why can’t you remember anything from more than a year ago? Aren’t you exhausted, exhausted from trying to pull yourself together everyday when you’re very clearly falling apart? You’re not built for this universe. If you don’t leave now, and come back to help your people, then you’ll be quietly killed by anyway.”

“Okay, fine. I remember this now. But if you’re telling the truth, then why wipe my memory in the first place? You have yours and you’ve been living here completely fine. Better, even.”
Rowan hesitated. “I, just, wanted you to live without burden for a while.”
Kaye narrowed her eyes. Liar. Something was up with them, and there was only one way to find out.

⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆

Dear Mom and Dad,
I'm sorry this is so out of the blue. But I have to go. I don't know much about what's happening, except that it has to. Please be assured that I am fine. We will meet again, and you may not know it, but we will, I promise, and when we do, you'll feel it. I'll try to stay safe and happy for you guys. You have been the beset fosters I could wish for, and I’m so glad we got to spend this year together. I’ll treasure it forever. Thank you for everything!
Love always, Kaye

⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆

“So, are you ready to go?” asked Rowan an hour later, as Kaye ran up to them carrying a backpack. Kaye shrugged.
“I remember you. I’m beginning to remember this. Well, the important parts, anyway. But… I don't know. I, um. I guess we'll just go for it.” Rowan nodded awkwardly, and led the way to the temporary portal, Kaye blindly following. She had always felt out of place, but she didn’t know that was quite literally because she wasn’t made to live in this universe. The pair quietly trekked through the woods when a shape came flying towards them, rustling through the leaves.

“AARGH!” Kaye screamed, as Rowan flew to attack the person. “No! Stop! It’s me!” laughed a pained boy. Kaye smiled. This was Leo, her best friend. “You needed me to open the portal. Y’all were late, so I thought I should try and explore wherever Kaye’s been staying for the past year.” Upon saying her name, Leo caught sight of Kaye and grinned.
“KAYE!!”
“LEO!!”

Their reunion was cut short, however, because the portal had started fizzing, and drops from the Second Universe was splashing into the Central One. Kaye had a feeling this wasn’t how it was supposed to happen, but Rowan had already fallen through the spurting hole and Leo was jumping in. Pulling up her hood- so she wouldn’t be noticed- Kaye too one last look at somewhere she used to call home and followed suit, colours merging and growing as she span for what felt like forever.

She landed with a stumble, the hole in the sky still apparent and gooey. “Why isn’t it closing?” she wondered aloud. “And why is the sky… gone?”
Leo scrambled up to join her, staring at the seemingly enormous room they were in, pristine white walls closing in from above. “Because we’re trapped in this universe. Mostly, anyway. In the end, we’re stuck here no matter what, and now, they don’t care whether we know so or not.”

“It doesn’t matter, anyway, because you won’t see the light of day again.” someone said, from behind them. Kaye and Leo whirled around, shocked, and in one fluid movement, their arms were twisted behind their backs as a click of some handcuffs cut into their wrists.

“You’re under arrest,” said Rowan.

⋆⋅ ⟡ ⋅⋆

Did I feel bad seeing their wide, betrayed eyes looking up at mine? Ones that used to be filled with admiration now field by disgust. Well, maybe. Kayla had treated me like she was my younger sister, and Leo was a lot more than that. But I had to do it, for my real family, the parents I left behind and the sister I let them take instead. If I have any chance of seeing them again, this is it. What I’m doing is right. Hurt them, save them. Lose them, love them.

3┆Conclusion ⟢ 119/117 words

So it is with a heavy heart that I shove them into a cart and drive off towards the King’s prison. I watch the trust break as they’re thrown into cells, kicked on stone floors. I could have told them, but I had to do this, because then there would be no crazy plot twist that I think is required for this weekly. I know I didn’t get this element, but breaking the fourth wall is fun, and I know I’m just a chaotically conflicted character anyway.

But, my family wouldn’t want this, would they? Oh dear. I need to get Kaye and Leo out of there, before it’s too late, AKA when it turns midnight in my timezone.

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Critique