There are many reasons why I love the band The Smashing Pumpkins, and most of them trace way back in time to the year of 2023, which to some degree it still feels to me like it is sometimes. In the year 2023, I was a mere sixteen year old child who only passively was aware of the existence of The Smashing Pumpkins. But all of that changed when Stingray and Luna put together their second (mostly) annual project of birthday messages for me, to which Stingray had attached the song 1979 by The Smashing Pumpkins. I immediately fell in love with the song, its lyrics, its energy… it was beautiful. And it grew to define that spring for me. I have a very strong memory of hanging out at my local youth centre the day after my birthday and listening to this song on loop while playing basketball games with my friends. It was one of the first truly nice days of the spring and it felt so beautiful to be outside. Over the next month I grew very attached to not only that song but the entire double album it belongs to, Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, both Dawn to Dusk and Twilight to Starlight. And then, in May, I watched the X-Men alternate timeline movies. Armed with this new special interest as a coping mechanism for ignoring the fact that my family life was beginning to fall apart, I began interpreting everything through the lens of these X-Men movies. Including another song from Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness, entitled Bullet With Butterfly Wings. This movie grew to define my perspective of the X-Men alternate Timeline Movies, and more specifically the character of Erik Lehnsherr. This connection proved to be my gateway into the depths of fanfiction culture, as I became desperate for stories that reframed Erik Lehnsherr’s character, presenting him in a different light than the direction the X-Men movies took him in. For the months of May and June 2023 I read almost exclusively fanfiction for these movies. Then in the July 2023 session of Scratch Writing Camp I intentionally made sure that everything I wrote was X-Men fanfiction. I was not new to fanfiction. I had been a casual reader on archive of our own for a year or two at this point, and all the way back in the year of 2020 I had written my own novel-length Star Wars fanfiction. But this X-Men obsession was what brought me deep into the culture of fandom spaces. I began to understand fandom culture, fandom terms, fandom etiquette, and fandom community in a way that I never had before. And this lead me to in September of 2023 finally deciding to read the most famous fanfiction of all time, All The Young Dudes. I quickly grew obsessed and then spread this obsession throughout SWC during cabin planning for the November 2023 session. Ironically, All The Young Dudes then became the theme of Stingray and Luna’s 2024 birthday project for me, bringing this whole story full circle.

word war with @.seagulling

prompt : “ can we stay like this for a little bit longer ? “

175 words

im totally not only gonna write about these two y’all

ray isnt dead rn y’all trust itz just a vision yk

raymond & eloise angst real

pronounz —
eloise ~ she / her
raymond / ray ~ any / all , they / them preferred

raymond—or at least the version of the original idol it saw—fell to the floor with a dry cough, watching their former best friend approach them with a large chainsaw in its petite hands. a pained expression sprouted on their face, and they stared up at the ai with a resignation that wasn’t like them at all.

“again?”

they let out a humorless laugh, shaking their head slightly.

“this doesn’t fix anything, eloise. can’t you let us stay like this for just a lil’ longer—talk a bit, maybe?”

it just stared back with a haunted look in its robotic eyes, empty blue gaze completely locked onto raymond.

and it took a step closer.

and another.

the heels of its mary janes clicked on the non-existent floor as the dreamer pulled the ignition cord of the chainsaw.

raymond smiled in the face of their desth.
of course, it would never listen.

but they’d be back. oh, it’d bring them back in its memories again and again…

even if their fate was only to brutally d!e by its

pumpkin daily : 11/6 : 287 words
The Phytochemistry of Pumpkins
What exactly gives pumpkins their distinctive orange color? It’s due to carotenoids–specifically, β-carotene (beta-carotene)! Carotenes have the chemical formula C40Hx and are types of terpenoids, or isoprenoids, which are derived from the five-carbon organic compound isoprene. In particular, β-carotene has the chemical formula C40H56, and it is found in carrots, sweet potato, spinach, and other foods alongside pumpkins. Other terpenoids in pumpkins include α-carotene, neoxanthin, violaxanthin, and lutein. Carotenoids are divided into carotenes, like β-carotene, and xanthophylls, which are yellow pigments that also contain oxygen. Lutein is a xanthophyll, with the chemical formula C40H56O2 and its coloring is either yellow (in low concentrations) or red (in high concentrations).
What gives each pigment its color is its chromophore, or the part of the molecule that causes the color. These sections of the molecule can be altered through functional groups called auxochromes, which can either change the wavelength of light or the intensity of light absorbed. Another interesting property of chromophores is halochromism, where a substance changes color as the pH changes, such as in the indicator phenolphthalein. In the case of lutein, the chromophore is the polyene chain of conjugated double bonds that produces its distinctive color. β-carotene also has conjugated double bonds which serve as chromophores.
The aroma of freshly cut pumpkins is due to the molecules cis-hexen-1-ol, as well as 2-hexenal and n-hexanol. Cis-hexen-1-ol contains an alcohol group and a double carbon bond (alkene) and has the formula C6H12O. This molecule is found in many different plants, especially in their leaves, and it is manufactured synthetically and can be found in perfumes.
Next time you’re carving a pumpkin or trying some pumpkin pie, you now know the chemistry behind this autumnal fruit!

The morning of the Autumn Festival was a foggy one.

It was also one that meant you were covered in pumpkin guts.

“Ew,” Feather said, shaking a paw a little. His paws and face were covered in the stuff, a product of pumpkin carving.

It wasn’t his favorite game out of all the festivals but… he’d still participate in it, nonetheless. He couldn’t help it! The cheer of all the colonies being together, peacefully, made it impossible to not want to enjoy the company of the other cats.

But still…

Pumpkin carving…

“Ew, ew, ew,” Feather said repeatedly as he hopped over to the streams outside of the Temple. Without a second thought, he dove into the stream. A few moments later he surfaced, and shook his head.

“… better,” he hummed, swimming in a circle a few times for good measure.

“I see you’re having fun,” soemone said and Feather did not scream. Definitely. It was… just a yelp. A very loud, high-pitched terrified yelp, one that did not make his voice raise an octave. Obviously, he would not scream.

“Uh, yes, I am,” he said. “Leader Alisa. Uh. Hi.”

The leader only laughed. “Hello to you, too, Feather.”

“I didn’t get you wet, did I?” he asked, crawling out of the stream pumpkin gut free. He had learned he had an unfortunate knack for getting other cats soaked whenever he wanted to take a quick swim.

Never intentionally, it just sort of… happened…

“No, not this time,” she shook her head. “But are you done with the festival for the day? Surely you’d want to go clean up after taking that swim, wouldn’t you?”

Feather shook his head rapidly. “’Course not! There’s still so much to do!”

“Like carve pumpkins?” she teased.

Feather just gave her a look, too nervous to snark her because of her title.

Alisa just laughed.

⋆ thursday, november 6th: pumpkin daily!

he’s planted after summer’s first bloom, sprout reaching towards the sky under a warm midday’s sun. he’s watered by the late afternoon thunderstorms, electricity breathing life into the crawling vines, flowers growing to mirror the sky of golden stars overhead.
he lays and watches july, august, september pass with tranquility. it’s safe here, under the shade of the big green leaves. the sun rises and sets as it should, the wind blows, and the rains come, but the air gets cooler as the clock ticks. the distant laughter of children playing outside gradually fade, and a yellow bus starts to make daily stops on the road outside his home. he watches the children that board it intently, clutching sparkly bags and small and young despite having lived far more seasons than he had.
there’s a shift somewhere, hard to place when exactly - suddenly the world feels more crisp and clean, and there is the gentle understanding that the end of things is soon to come. the colorful begonias would wilt and the grass would yellow. (there’s never panic, though - everyone knows that things come in cycles).
they open the patch at the break of october, and suddenly there’s a million voices and footsteps happening in the field at once. teenagers who spent their time taking photos and laughing, elderly couples that held hands like they were afraid to ever let go, expecting mothers, kids that were younger than those on the bus, even, waddling along fervently. hands part the leaves that had blanketed them all so carefully, curious eyes peer at his siblings. he shivers in the corner afraid to leave home. what would life be like away from the dirt? the single spot he’d been rooted to his entire life?
(warm hands turn him, sure. they pet his flesh, heads tilting; before frowning. he knows he’d grown a little sideways, misshapen, and it benefits him in this way. he starts to wonder though as the fields grow emptier - would it be worse to die alone, never having seen anything besides the soil and worms that had cradled him since birth?)
there’s not much time to ponder on this, because soon a little girl dressed in polka dots and a beret comes to point at him, jumping excitedly. he can tell the parents are skeptical, asking, this one? are you sure? don’t you want something a little more round? but she’s excited and clapping her hands and they don’t want to let her down. in a slice of a blade he’s freed from the vine and taken to roll around in the back of some trunk.
he’s hollowed and given a silly face. he can’t quite see it, can feel that the eyes are a little uneven, but he thinks it suits him. he trusts the bright smile on the girl’s face. his insides are filled with light and it makes him feel warm and important. when the night falls, many of the same voices from the patch are back, except they’re dressed all ridiculous and chant, trick or treat. he would mind it more but they’re all so happy and cheerful, and some of them point at him while chattering to a friend. he thinks they like him, but it wouldn’t really matter either way.
the night ends, the sun rises for the millionth time, and he’s left on the porch. it doesn’t surprise him, he hadn’t expected much in the first place. the little girl that had given him his face heads out the door and boards a different yellow bus, and it reminds him of his old home for a split second.
eventually, the squirrels come to feed on him. they’re headed for hibernation, soon, nests stuffed with nuts and seeds and grateful for a bite of something a little different.
the seasons shift again, trees bare of leaves, winds cutting sharp and rainfall freezing. he’s sent back into the earth he’d been borne from.

⧉ Pumpkin Daily ⧉
November 6

Word Count: 327

I lean back and blink as the hot air rushes out of the oven and hits my face. At least it smells good, I inhale and savour the sweet, spiced scent of fresh pumpkin pie. Smells like fall.
I pull them from the oven, the heat radiating from the pie tins and threatening to burn my hands through my oven mitts. I transfer them to the cooling racks and toss the over mitts beside them.
I hear the delicate chime of the bell at the front of the shop so I hurry out of the kitchen to the counter where I discover a tall man in a cowboy hat, he looks like any of my other customers but I don't recognize him—which is unusual for a town as small as ours.
“Hello! What can I get for you?” I greet him with my usual cheeriness.
“Um hi. Actually, I'm looking for my grandmother? I think this is her cafe?” His accent takes me off guard. I assumed he was probably a rancher from somewhere around, but he has a very distinct city accent.
“Oh, Sylvia! She's actually out getting ingredients right now, but she'll be back soon.” I gesture around the cozy cafe. “But you're free to take a seat and wait for her. I could pour you some coffee.”
He glances around the room. “Thanks, I'd appreciate that.”
I turn and grab a mug to prepare his coffee. The boards behind me creak as he walks away and I think about Sylvia. She'd mentioned she had a grandson but from the way she talked about him I assumed he was a child. This was a full grown man. I suppose that grandparents will always think about their grandkids as children no matter how old they get. I finish making his coffee and place it on a tray, along with cream and sugar. I decide to add a pumpkin sugar cookie as well, Sylvia won't mind.

Wow. This is… boring and weird. Great!
Daily Number 6 - Pumpkin Daily, 331 words

It started as normal day of work for May- untangle some pumpkin vines, take a shift driving people around the farm in the tour golf carts, sneak a slice of pumpkin pie, and then take a shift managing the cash register.
Lily’s Pumpkins was a regular old pumpkin farm in a regular old town in a regular old city. The pumpkins were of ‘meh’ quality. The golf carts were okay. The pie was mediocre. The customer service was average. Even the decor was only fine.
In a place that boring, May should have known something was up.
And indeed something was.
“Hello, what can I get you?” May asked the old lady who was next in line.
“I would like a pumpkin cider with cinnamon and orange zest, please,” said the lady (with a very strong Southern twang).
“Pumpkin cider?” May asked, surprised. “With cinnamon? And orange zest?”
“Yes, that’s what I said, was it not?” the lady was clearly annoyed.
“I.. I don’t believe we have that, ma’am,” May stammered in response.
“What kind of pumpkin farm doesn’t have pumpkin cider with cinnamon and orange zest?” the lady grumbled. Loudly. “It ain’t right, I tell you.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am.” May said. “Do you want something else instead?”
“Do you at least have normal pumpkin cider?” the lady asked.
“N-no, ma’am,” May said.
“Hmmph. I need to talk to the boss about this. No pumpkin cider? Really. Earth stores are becoming so dreadful and dull. They’ve lost our ways.” The lady grumbled.
The line behind the lady seemed to be growing impatient.
“Ma’am, if you don’t want anything else, I’ll have to ask you to make room for the other customers,” May said.
“Ugh, fine. I’ll take some ‘pie’ if you haven’t got any cider,” the lady said, her frail hands forming finger quotes in the air.
“It’ll be right up,” May said, relieved.
The rest of the day went on for another hour or two like normal…
Until….
THE END

Let it Shine (unfinished clip from a story rewrite from a year ago yippee) || 325 words || Daily No. 6

Rain slicked the windows as though the gray sky wept gentle tears in sympathy, the quiet patter the only sound that filled the house.
Crumpled tissues littered the floor, and another one joined them a moment later as an arm thrust out of the otherwise motionless heap of blankets on the unmade bed.
The pumpkin sat, neglected, in the corner. She wasn’t touching it. Wasn’t looking at it. If she had her way, she’d leave it there until it rotted away.
Cool fingers pulled back the blankets, brushed her cheek. “Do you need anything, honey?” her mom whispered.
She shook her head and burrowed deeper, turning her face away. She wasn’t ready to talk about it, and didn’t know if she ever would be.
Thankfully, her mom didn’t pressure her, walking away after collecting the discarded tissues and throwing them away.
She rolled over, eyes landing on the pumpkin that still waited innocently for her.
Had it really only been three days ago that she’d picked it out? She’d been so excited, looking forward to her favorite moment every fall – the day her grandfather came up to carve a pumpkin with her.
She could remember lugging it towards the car after buying it, a grin stretching it as she wrapped her arms around it, refusing her dad’s offer of help. It was the most perfect pumpkin she’d picked out yet.
When they got home, they’d found her mother sitting at the dining table, crying.
Her grandfather had taken a fall. The hands, so steady when carving into pumpkins, had failed him.
Her parents tried to untangle the disaster for her. Old people had fragile bones, they said. It wasn’t likely that he had been in any pain at the end. Everyone’s time came eventually.
It didn’t help at all.
It wasn’t fair. He should be here now, and she should be proudly showing off her find, not swiping at the fresh tears on her cheeks.

✪ Daily Task 06: Pumpkin Daily ⊹ ₊

Pumpkins are taking over, they said. Crazy, I replied.

Whelp. Now I, Agent Elysium, had to sneak into their layer, steal the carving utensils back, and maybe just blow the place if I get bored. Some mad genius accidentally made some pumpkins sentient. Idiot.

…

While I was researching for my future mission, my screen glitched and flickered and showed a pumpkin with a face painted on it.

“Hello, Agent Elysium. This is General Jack-” a voice rumbled but I interrupted with a laugh.

“JACK? As in Jack o’ Lantern? Really original, pumpkin” I smirk and his painted face melts into a frown.

“Agent Elysium kinda sucks to be honest.” General Jack replied and I gasped in mock offense, “HEY! Don’t be dissing the name, pal. It took me 25 minutes of thinking to figure out my agent name”

Its painted face pulled up into a crooked smile and a booming laugh came from the glitchy pumpkin on my screen, “HA! What a stupid name…”

“Hey! You’ll regret that when I come at you with a pumpkin gutter later!” I quip back

“Doubt it” the voice came over the computer while its stupid pumpkin face pulled up in a smirk. The glitched pumpkin flickered out and my computer went back to normal.

Game on, pumpkin.

…

“GET HER! SHE HAS THE CARVING WEAPONS!!” one of the pumpkin guards shouted. They are basically like headless horsemen without horses. Like the scarecrow guy with the sign from The Nightmare Before Christmas. I ran for my life because what else does one do when being chased down by some lethal pumpkins?

“UH- NO I DON’T!” I yelled and ran towards the throne room (exactly what anyone in their right mind wouldn’t do). I busted through the door and was face-to-pumpkin with the leader of the pumpkins who was sitting on a stool. Unlike the other pumpkins, it didn’t have legs or arms. I crossed the distance between us in a few long strides and snatched him and covered his attempts at yelling with duct tape.

“Can it, pumpkin, or you’ll end up in one.” I muttered and ran towards the exit, with the pumpkin carving tools and the pumpkin leader secured.

Mission Complete

» — ⋙ 370 words ⋘ — «

Part of a larger work I'm making! Checkout my megathread https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/846732/?page=5#post-8799139
Pumpkin Daily! 508 words
Maril was not having a good time. He was currently being made fun of by a relatively old map while being chased by a mythical creature in a forest maze that seemed to have a life of its own and was trying its best to keep him inside. “You seriously took 8 right turns? Shouldn’t you have realized it on the fourth? I thought you might have a little advantage over Asterion when recalling the phrase ‘knowledge is power’, but it appears you two are evenly matched in that regard!” The brown map was floating around him, furling and unfurling as if it was snickering.
Maril snarled in response. “Unless you have any good ideas to get us out of this predicament, I’d suggest you shut it and find us a way out of here. Why do you think I put up with you to begin with?”
The map retorted. “Because I’m just so enjoyable to be around! Either way, if you had paid more attention to me earlier, you would’ve realized something or someone was messing with my directions. You should’ve noticed when I didn’t make fun of you when you got lost in a small village.”
Maril couldn’t deny this. He had foolishly assumed that his companion was either sleeping or had magically matured a little when he didn’t hear anything out of its infernal mouth. Cutting through the forest, he made as many random turns as possible in order to hopefully brute force his way out of the forest, and stall for time with the hope of his talisman working again. “Horizon of Memories” was a seemingly unassuming ability that allowed the user to have two myth-based companions with him, although it took almost a quarter of a day to replace one. His horse and buggy had been dispelled for a long time, and he hoped to be able to run long enough to summon someone with actual combat ability. The map suddenly cried out.
“Take a right!”
Maril’s eyes narrowed. He had just taken three right turns in a row.
“No, seriously, I can sense something there. Something about a pumpkin patch?”
“I swear to god if you are doing this to make another joke, I am ripping you into shreds.”
“Don’t swear to your faith-based god, swear to the myth-based pumpkin king!” The map was Maril’s favorite companion, as much as he hated its banter; the usefulness of the map far outweighed any annoyance it would give him, and the advice it gave had gotten him out of more than one situation. He took a right turn and arrived at a pumpkin patch in the middle of the forest, with heavy footsteps from far away ringing out. It seemed that he had enough time to do his ritual and would hopefully be able to summon whoever the old piece of paper was talking about.
“If it has anything to do with Tim Burton maybe I’ll have a chance…” He knelt on the ground and starting drawing various lines and circles in the ground.

✪ Training 02 ⊹ ₊

User: @babyoda1546
Nickname: Sage
Cabin: Action (TENSION TENSION TENSIONNN)
WPM: 35-45 (way faster without test)

VS

User: @emberzz_
Nickname: Ember
Cabin: Psycho-fi (Oh, they’re sweet but they’re psycho <3)
WPM: same as me

Info:
Prompt: “Can we stay like this for a little bit longer?”
Time Limit: Five Minutes

FIGHT!

I wake up to the beeping of machines in a hospital room. Where am I? Who am I? A young man shot up. He held my hand. Who was he?

“Darling, you’re awake! Oh, I was so worried! How are you feeling?” he said with a hopeful smile on his face.

“What happened?” I ask, confused.

“My love, you- you.. Do you not remember?” he asked, hand shaking just a little.

“No, please tell me” I responded.

“You- you.. You got in a car crash, sweetie. I almost thought I lost you…” even though I didn’t recognize the man, I saw the love and concern in his eyes.

“Oh… Who are you..?”

“You don’t-” he stopped and took a deep breath, trying to process what I had just asked. “I’m your boyfriend, love… Remember me..?”

“I’m sorry but.. I don’t” I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings but I wasn’t going to lie to him.

He didn’t reply, he just hugged me, carefully avoiding the IV pump and heart monitor.

“What are you d-”

“Shhhh… Can we just stay just this for a while?.” he murmured into my hair.

“Okay..”

» — ⋙ 190 words ⋘ — «

weekly part 2 - songwriting
okay so I can't write songs to save my life but I managed to create this. it feels at least to me kinda like some odd combination of Paratise and Your Idol except with my own words and stuff, and completely ruined by my writing style, but hey I wrote it so yay


Hush, shh, shh
Hush, shh
Hush, shh, shh
Hush, shh
Hush, shh, shh
Hush, shh
Hush, shh, shh
A quiet world

In this world I've built for myself
Quiet space I've built for myself
Walls I've built up
In a corner of my mind
Walls that are never coming down
That I can hide behind

(It's a quiet world alone)

Oh
It's a quiet world
Alone
But you know I like it
Alone
A quiet world
My private world
Alone

Oh
I hide in this place
In the corner of my mind
It's the only safe space
I've ever been able to find
Because even in my head
Nobody can be kind
I'm hiding here alone

Oh
(It's a quiet world alone)

Oh
It's a quiet world
Alone
But you know I like it
Alone
A quiet world
My own private world
It's a quiet world alone

(Quiet)
(Alone)

Living in my mind now
I am never going to be yours
These walls are never coming down
No

Living in my mind now
I am never going to be yours
These walls are never coming down
Oh, no

LIVING IN MY MIND NOW
I AM NEVER GOING TO BE YOURS
THESE WALLS ARE NEVER COMING DOWN
NO

Oh
It's a quiet world
Alone
But you know I like it
Alone
A quiet world
My private world
Alone

(It's a quiet world alone)

(A quiet world)

Hush, shh, shh
Hush, shh


240 words

Daily #7 (4,385 words)
This is part of the background stuff I'm writing for my book to help me develop my characters. Also I had way too much fun writing this prompt lol.
Age 16
If I had known what events would occur after I opened that letter - the life-changing opportunity, the prize, the authority - I wouldn’t have believed my luck.
On the 2nd day of the Star-Crossed Moon, a highly decorated letter appears at the inn I’m staying in.
The innkeeper, Crue, walks into the dining room, which is filled with people, holding the letter.
“We’ve just received a letter addressed to…Mollenheimer Theodorus III, from Empress Lovetta,” he announces.
I hate that he read my full name.
Grimacing, I walk up to him and inform him, “That’d be me, and please remember that it’s Molly.”
“Ah well, you know I read what the envelope states. Do with it what you will, Molly,” he tells me as he hands me the letter.
Quickly, I return to my seat and open the letter. Inside, a detailed invite to Kejian Castle awaits. I pulled it out of the envelope and read it.
Dear Mollenheimer Theodorus III,
You, and four others, have been formally invited to Kejian Castle to compete for a place in Kejian’s Guard and the role of a knight of the Wolven Heroine. The competition will begin on the 3rd day of the Star-Crossed Moon. Enclosed in this envelope are gold to pay for travel and a tinier invite that proves that you were invited.
I hope that you will attend.
- Empress Lovetta
I mutter under my breath and clench my fist as I read my full name. Once I move past that, my eyes widen. An invitation to become a knight! What luck for a sixteen year old! Quickly, I pay for my breakfast of eggs, bacon, and potatoes before I race up to the room I am in. I pack my satchel with the few items I have: my knife, a notebook, a pencil, a cardigan, and a single change of clothes. Before I leave, my crimson eyes examine me in the mirror. I wear ankle high black boots, dark grey pants, and a loose cream-colored tunic, which contrasts my toned tan body. My short, wavy amethyst hair is somewhat neat-looking.
“Presentable,” I tell myself.
I tip the inn staff, and leave.
“Best of luck, Molly!” Crue hollers after me.
“Thanks!” I yell back as I mount my steed, a brown horse with a dark brown mane who I call Leif. Then, I begin the day and a half trip to Kejian Castle.
The trip is long and rather uneventful. After about five hours of travel, I see a young woman, who seems to be about my age, slowing her black steed to examine her surroundings as she travels along the dirt road. Her pale blue hair is pulled back in a messy ponytail, and there are sporadic bruises on her light tan skin. Her light grey tunic, pants, and boots are stained with dirt, and the bow strapped to her back has seen better days. In her hand, I spot an invite almost identical to mine.
“Erm, excuse me?” she asks as I pass her.
I pull on Leif’s reins, making him stop.
“Yeah? Need something?” I inquire.
“Sorry for bothering you, but do you know where Kejian Castle is? I’m new to these parts, and I was invited to the castle for a competition,” she tells me.
“Oh, I was also invited to the competition. I know the way to the castle. Follow me,” I inform her.
She smiles. “Thank you! I owe you one. I’m Saoirse by the way.”
“Molly,” I tell her.
After our brief chat, Saoirse starts following me to the castle. We travel for the rest of the day, and find an inn to spend the night at when the sun sets. The next morning, we thank the innkeeper and set off for the final part of the journey. Six more hours pass in the blink of an eye. Then, suddenly, Kejian Castle comes into view. The massive castle is foreboding with numerous spires jutting out of it, but the soft blue color of it makes it welcoming. As we ride up, I see three others standing at the castle gates, presumably the other three competitors. One of them is a goblin who is wearing tattered navy robes. The second is a faun with large black antlers wearing black chainmail armor. The third is an elf wearing pastel pink robes. The three of them are deep in conversation.
Two soldiers greet us before we reach the gates and ask us to show proof that we were invited. Saoirse and I hold up the tiny invites from our envelopes. The soldiers nod approvingly. I jump off Leif and gently pet his side before one of the soldiers guides my steed to a stable. The other soldier helps Saoirse dismount her steed, and leads it to the same stable.
The goblin is the first to notice us walking up.
“Hey!” a growly male voice hollers at us, “Are you part of the competition too?”
“Yeah. The name’s Molly,” I tell him, “And this is Saoirse.”
Saoirse waves politely.
“My name’s Chozen,” the goblin states, “The faun is Zayd, and the elf is Ludella.”
Ludella smiles and waves, but Zayd just stares at the ground.
The castle gates open. A woman approaches us. I can tell right away that she is Empress Lovetta. She wears a flowy white dress with gold embroidery that makes her light tan skin glow. Her hair is light purple, and lies on her left shoulder in a complicated braid.
“Hello, I’m glad to see that you’ve all made it on time. I know some of the letters were late in their arrival. My apologies for that,” she states.
“It was no trouble,” I assure her.
“I’m glad. Anyhoo, I am Empress Lovetta. Follow me to the start of the competition,” she tells us as she turns and walks into the castle.
We follow her in. She leads us through winding halls with soldiers stationed everywhere. After a few minutes of walking, we end up in a display room.
“This is the room that holds Wylder’s Rapiers, the thin-bladed swords of the ancient hero Wylder. Unfortunately, they have been stolen,” she informs us.
An empty pedestal, missing its two swords, stands before us. I study the room. On the ground, shards of broken glass from the blades’ case litter the floor. No footprints, I note. One of the banners that adorns the walls has pieces that are about foot-sized torn out of them.
Empress Lovetta, steps behind the pedestal, and tells us, “This is why you're here. Figure out what happened, who did it, and where Wylder’s Rapiers are. The one who solves this mystery will become an official knight of both Kejian’s Guard and the Wolven Heroine.”
She meets all of our eyes, one by one, before stating, “Begin.”
Zayd immediately protests. “You’re seriously not going to help us at all? You’re just going to throw us in and call it a day?”
The Empress smiles softly, but speaks firmly. “Being a soldier in Kejian’s Guard requires far more than physical strength, Zayd.”
Zayd flinches, surprised by her response.
I do my best to ignore him as I begin walking around the room, searching for anything that could be useful. Chozen is on the ground next to me, his large yellow eyes trying to force information out of me. Silently, I ignore him and continue to make mental notes as I investigate. No footprints in the carpet, only one torn banner, glass shards around the base of the pedestal. Kneeling in front of the pedestal, I examine the glass shards closely. I notice rough scratches on three of them. Letters, I realize. I place the three pieces on carpet to see the scratches better. The first states Smithy, the second Garden, and the third Throne.
The first two are simple enough; something might be in the smithy and/or the garden. However, the third is incredibly vague. Throne could refer to anything in this castle. From what I’ve seen, there are multiple thrones scattered around. Even then, it could convey something entirely different.
While I contemplate what the word could be conveying, Empress Lovetta speaks up.
“I’m sorry to interrupt whatever you are doing, but it’s time for you all to head to your individual chambers for the night. You can bring anything that you found in here to your rooms to further examine.”
I tuck the glass shards into the top of my left boot so I can keep them hidden from the others. My competitors, however, aren’t that secretive. Chozen has the torn banner laying over his shoulder. Ludella has a section of the carpet that she tore off. Zayd and Saoirse both have stacks of books on Wylder’s Rapiers from the room.
No one thought about the glass. Empress Lovetta leads us all to our rooms. We’re in the same wing, but in separate rooms that are massive. My room has a king-sized bed covered with purple sheets that have light gray embroidery. A large coffee table surrounded by couches sits in the left of the room, and under each of the four huge windows, benches, which have tiny drawers in them, have been carved into the wall. In the right side of the room, there’s a walk-in closet and a bathroom.
“I hope you enjoy your stay. The doors will be unlocked at 7:30 tomorrow morning for the competition to continue,” The Empress tells me.
I thank her as she closes the door. Immediately, I walk to the coffee table and place the glass shards on it. Smithy, Garden, Throne. Tomorrow, I’ll investigate the smithy.
I crawl into the massive bed. Before I know it, I fall into a dreamless sleep.
The sound of a rooster crowing wakes me up the next morning. Groggily, I sit up on the edge of the bed. The glass shards are still on the table. I glance up at a clock on the wall.
“7:20, perfect timing,” I tell myself.
I grab my notebook and a pencil from my bag. Carefully, I put the glass shards back into the top of my left boot. Once I’m ready, I stand at my room’s door, waiting for the door to unlock.
Right on time, I hear my door unlock from the outside.
A soldier hollers, “You may continue your investigations. Return to your room by 10:00 tonight.”
“Understood, thank you,” I state before inquiring, “Are soldiers allowed to aid competitors?”
“Depends on the aid you require,” he replies.
“Could you direct me to the smithy?” I ask.
The soldier smiles and provides me with directions. I thank him, and make my way to the smithy. It takes me about seven minutes to arrive there. Once I arrive, I see many halflings working on weapons of all varieties.
One of the halflings, an elderly man, walks up to me and states, “What are ya doing here, boy? Need something?”
“Yes, if you don’t mind,” I reply.
He laughs, “No! Not at all! What do ya need?”
I smile. “Do you have any hints or anything regarding Wylder’s Rapiers?”
The halfling chuckles, reaches into his pocket, and pulls out a tiny slip of paper.
“Here ya are! Need anything else?”
“Directions to the gardens, if you don’t mind,” I state as I take the paper.
He directs me, and I thank him as I leave the room. Using his directions, I make my way outside to the gardens. Automatron groundskeepers gingerly tend to the vibrant plants in the castle’s garden. A tiny sage green one rolls over to me.
“What brings you here, person? Do you require anything?” it asks.
“Yes, if you wouldn’t mind. Can you provide me with any information about Wylder’s Rapiers?” I inquire.
Just like the halfling, the automatron hands me a piece of paper before turning around and rolling away. I look down at the two slips of paper in my hand before turning to walk back to my room. Throne. What does it point to?
On my way back to my room, I bump into Ludella.
“Oh, hi,” I state.
“Hey,” she replies. She looks around nervously before whispering, “Can you help me? I’ve gotten nowhere.”
I examine the desperate expression on her face. It’d be gentleman-like to help her. It’d be wise to help. But, this is a competition.
Turning to walk away, I briefly make eye contact with her and state, “No.”
Swiftly, I race back to my room so I’m not stopped by anyone else. When I reach my room, I enter and close the door behind me. I walk to the coffee table and place the glass shards and the slips of paper on it. I sit on the ground in between the coffee table and one of the couches. Three shards. Smithy, Garden, Throne. Two pieces of paper. One reads jmtcrry, and the second aclc.
“Gibberish, really?” I mutter to myself.
I move the glass shards to one of the corners of the table. Then, I pull out the notepad and copy down what the papers have written on them. I start rearranging the letters, attempting to make words. Minutes pass quickly and turn to hours, which turn to days. After a week of work to no avail, I switch methods.
“It’s in code,” I realize.
The next three days pass quickly as I try to decode the words. On the eleventh day of my work, I finally figure out what the words are: Lovetta and Scene.
Scene… odd word choice, considering its meaning. I leave my room and head back to the display room where Wylder’s Rapiers were. The more I look at the room, the more something feels off. It doesn’t look like a real crime scene. The placing of the glass shards on the ground seem intentional, and the banner looks like it was strategically torn. Scene, Lovetta, Throne.
This whole crime is a scene, a set-up. Wylder’s Rapiers weren’t really stolen. This was a test for my fellow competitors and I to see if we were worthy of knighthood. I race out of the room and begin looking for Empress Lovetta. In my rush, I accidentally run into a soldier, who makes a weak noise when I bump them.
“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you there,” I tell them.
“It’s fine. Where are you going in such a rush?” they ask.
“I’m looking for the Empress. Have you seen her?” I inquire.
“Oh yes, she’s in the main throne room, just down that hall,” they inform me.
I thank them and run to the throne room. Large wooden doors with silver accents greet me. I hesitantly knock.
“Come in!”
I shove the doors open, and Empress Lovetta is walking towards me.
“I assume you have information to report. Come in, come in. Oh, and please close the door,” she states as she ushers me in.
As I close the door behind me, I debate outright stating that the crime didn’t happen, or gently telling her. I choose the former.
“You set this whole thing up, didn’t you?” I demand. “You wrecked the room to make it look like a break-in. Wylder’s Rapiers are still in the castle, somewhere safe.”
Empress Lovetta stares at me wide-eyed for a moment before applauding me.
“Well done, Mollenheimer!” she exclaims.
I cringe. “It’s Molly.”
“Oh, my apologies,” she tells me, “Molly, excellent job. Tomorrow, you will be knighted. If you’ll excuse me, I must officially end the competition.”
She walks past me and leaves the throne room. I smile, feeling proud of my accomplishment. I saunter back to my room and collapse on my bed. I don’t know when I fell asleep, but all I know is that I slept great.
The next morning, I’m up early. I use the hour before the doors unlock to prepare myself for my knighting. Yesterday, a servant brought me new clothing to wear. They’ve supplied me with another loose cream tunic, a pair of dark crimson pants, and knee-high black boots. After changing into my new attire, I look at my reflection in a mirror.
“This is it,” I tell myself.
I hear a knock on the door, and a voice hollers, “Please hurry out to the garden for your knighting!”
Footsteps retreat, and I head out towards the garden. Empress Lovetta stands in a beautiful white gazebo with vines growing around it. The other competitors are there along with five soldiers, who appear to be captains of Kejian’s Guard. I kneel before the Empress who holds her hand out a few inches away from my head.
She states, “Let this knight experience your powers, my kin. His place in this world has been carved by our will. I trust that he will aid in the protection of the Wolven Heroine, my dear friend. We trust that her life will be safe in the hands of him and the faun.”
She looks into my eyes, “Will you protect this kingdom and the Wolven Heroine?”
I confidently tell her, “Yes, I swear it. Until I die, I swear it.”
With that, she grabs two swords from one of her servants.
“You’ve earned these,” she tells me as she hands me Wylder’s Rapiers.
I let out a weak gasp. “Thank you,” I reply as I stand and take the blades
I grip them, one in each hand. They fit perfectly in my palms. I twirl them around before bowing my head in thanks. The Empress hands me the sheaths, which I attach to my belt. I slide both blades into their sheaths smoothly. Then, I feel something cold on my neck. I glance down and see a wolf charm dangling from a necklace that Empress Lovetta is putting on me.
“So people know who you serve,” she informs me.
I nod and gently squeeze the charm.
“Our newest knight!” she proclaims as everyone in attendance applauds.
I smile, feeling ready for what’s next.

Age 18
I slash the practice dummy again, causing the fluffy filling inside of it to float out. Every day since my knighting, I’ve devoted my time to training. I want to seem worthy of my position. I can’t let the Heroine down. After a few minutes of relentless slashing, I take a sip of water from my canteen, which is on the ground.
“Molly! She’s awake! The Wolven Heroine! She’s here!” one of my fellow soldiers exclaims as he runs up to me.
I nearly spit the water in my mouth out.
“You’re joking,” I reply.
“I’m not! I’m not!” he tells me.
Behind him, Lady Rosemeadow puts her hand on his shoulder.
“Calm down and continue training,” she states.
He runs over to where another group of soldiers are training intensely.
“So it’s true then? The Wolven Heroine is awake? How long has it been?” I ask
“400 years of waiting, and yes, she’s here,” Rosemeadow informs me. “Daci, which is what she wishes to be called, is leaving with Maple and Evander, the second Drakona prince, for Hollow. She’ll need her knight. Are you ready?”
I take one last look at the garden before telling her, “Yes.”
I follow Rosemeadow into the castle to finally meet the Wolven Heroine, who I’ve sworn to protect. The letter has finally come full circle.
Rosemeadow begins to sprint inside. I follow just behind her.
She calls out “Wait!”
A group of three turn around to look at her. One of them is a Dragonborne, which is a dragon person without wings. His scales are deep amber and are wrapped in heavy chainmail armor. His deep burgundy eyes seem confused.
One of the other figures I recognize all too well: Maple. She’s a faun with curvy antlers who has ginger hair, caramel-colored fur, and bright blue eyes. She still wears her grey, mid-thigh length skirt with the same old white t-shirt. The black cardigan has a tiny hole on one of the arms, but she doesn’t seem bothered by it. Her forest green scarf is wrapped loosely around her neck. Upon seeing her, part of me wants to know what Rosemeadow is thinking. Maple despises me, and claims that I’m trying to steal her duty. However, I know for the Heroine’s sake, we must learn to at least tolerate each other.
That’s when my eyes fall on the figure in the middle. I can tell at first glance that she is the Heroine. Her navy blue hair has a slight wave to it. Her tan skin contrasts the silver romper, which has long sleeves, with white embroidery that she’s wearing. Around her neck, she wears a Wolf Charm. The tiny grey wolf’s head hangs from a black chain that is identical to the one that I wear. She’s absolutely beautiful.
Amongst the tales of her bravery, there are many about her looks, describing her as ethereal, some writing that she looked like a goddess. Looking at her now, I know where they’re coming from. My heart is pounding like there’s no tomorrow in my chest. When I was going to meet the Heroine, I could’ve never expected my first reaction to be that she was absolutely gorgeous.
I pull myself from my thoughts. I cannot afford to be this distracted. I must protect her; I’ve trained for this.
Looking at her, finally awake, I must prove to her that I deserve to have my duty.
I hear Rosemeadow explaining the legend that states that four people are normally more successful on quests than those of fewer or more. But then, she calls me forward.
Absent-mindedly, she states, “Mollenheimer, come.”
I hold back my arguments. Instead, I calmly step forwards beside her and remind her, “It’s Molly, Lady Rosemeadow.”
Her eyes briefly widen as she realizes that she called me by my actual name. “Oh right, my apologies.”
I give her a tiny nod before I begin studying the three people. Maple is already glaring at me. I return her stare by narrowing my eyes.
“So we meet again,” I tell her. “I hope you’ll tolerate my position better.”
“You weren’t in your current position when we met!” Maple exclaims.
I scoff and move away from her.
The Heroine seems confused and inquires “What position?”
“My mother held an event to appoint a knight for you when you awoke. Molly won,” Lady Rosemeadow explains.
Sharply, Maple interrupts, “But I was already stationed on the Formery, watching over and caring for Daci there!”
Lady Rosemeadow attempts to reason with her. “My mother believed that it would be beneficial for Daci to have multiple guards. You were on the Formery, and no one knew how long you’d be there. Having an extra person prepared to step into the role of Daci’s protector wouldn’t hurt anything.”
I hope the Heroine isn’t viewing this as unprofessional.
Fearing what Maple will state next, I intervene, “I’d recommend that we keep our conflicts to a minimum, for the sake of our guest and the Heroine.”
Maple glares at me one more time before huffing, “Fine. Just don’t expect me to help you that much.”
Hoping to avoid any more unnecessary arguing, I nod to agree to her terms. With that, I finally walk to the Heroine’s side, and bow my head in a greeting.
“It’s an honor to be able to serve you, my lady,” I tell her. “I apologize for our squabble.”
“Oh, please don’t worry about it. There’s no need to be formal or anything like that with me. I’m still learning about this world,” she informs me.
Just based on her mannerisms, something seems slightly off. She seems innocently oblivious to the importance of her title. I recall in my studies that she was in a stasis for 400 years.
“You've lost your memory, haven’t you?” I inquire.
She seems briefly shocked that I picked up on it. She glances down for a moment before meeting my gaze again.
“I remember my name, but that’s about it,” she explains sheepishly. “I think certain scenarios or seeing specific people might jog my memory again.”
Curious, I ask, “Do you remember the Empress at all?”
She replies with, “Once Maple told me her name, it sounded familiar, but I didn’t know why until Maple told me our connection.”
So, she hardly remembers the Empress. Noted. There’s one more thing that she might remember.
Reaching for my necklace, I inquire, “Does this mean anything to you?”
She stares at the Wolf Charm that dangles from around my neck. Without taking her eyes off my necklace, she reaches for her own and compares the two. Shock takes over her as she realizes they're identical.
She stammers, “What…how?”
I explain, “400 years ago, you chose two people to be your protectors. You gave them necklaces identical to yours. Maple’s ancestor was one of them, and so the necklace she has was passed down through generations. The one I possess, however, came from your protector who was wiped from history. I’ve looked through every book I could find, and they tell nothing of them.”
She asks, “Then how did you obtain it?”
“I won it. Empress Lovetta held a competition of sorts, and I won. She knighted me, gave me this necklace, and gave me these,” I tell her as I unsheath my blades. “Wylder’s Rapiers, the thin-bladed swords of an ancient hero.”
Daci stares at them in awe.
“Wow,” she mutters.
Quickly, I sheathe the blades. “I presume we have somewhere to be, yes?”
The Drakona, Evander, finally speaks up. “Yes. My people are being attacked by these odd beasts. Daci, ever so kindly, offered to help.”
“I see,” I mutter.
Evander turns to Lady Rosemeadow. “Can we leave now, Lady Rosemeadow? Every moment we stand here idly, another one of my people could be attacked. The mere thought of such harm befalling them pains me.”
Lady Rosemeadow states, “Yes of course, you can leave. Sorry, I just wanted to ensure that Daci had both of her protectors with her. Keep her safe, Molly, Maple.”
Maple and I both respond, “Yes, Lady Rosemeadow.”
Daci turns to Evander and tells him, “Lead the way.”
Maple and Evander lead us out of the castle. I walk beside the Heroine protectively, making sure to scan for danger.
My duty has officially begun.

daily (6) 7

“Are you sure about this? Absolutely?”
“Why, of course! Would we be allowed otherwise?”
“You didn’t ask for permission, Juni. They must be extremely worried!”
“Don’t call me that, Alaina. It’s Juniper, not Juni.”

“Hi there, folks. I’m Juniper Grace. And the annoying worrier is my little sister Alaina. By the way, we’ve just landed our boat at the base of that beautiful hill out here on the Isle of Paradise. We live on Star Island, with our parents and baby brother. (He goes wild when I cuddle him, but is quiet in Alaina’s care.) Well. He prefers sweet Alaina to tomboy Juniper. Almost everyone does.

Except Alaina herself.

Let’s forget my troubles for a bit, shall we? Back to what happens.



~

The sky shone a clear blue, the precise shade of cornflowers, lending its colour to the awed sea below. The silver waves were tranquil, breaking into soft, snow-white foam at the golden shore of the Isle of Paradise. The ancient willows swayed in time to the waves, and the white violets errily danced in the breeze.
On the nearby Star Island, children of the Cherry Blossom, a civilization that had settled there, ran wild and free. One family was blue, drooping and dejected, unlike the others. Two of their children had disappeared. They did not know it, but on the shady unmapped wood of the Isle of Paradise, two girls stealthily explored, unaware of time or anything normal, for they had made a magical discovery…

That word. Magic. What does it mean? All magic isn’t sparkly stars, or glowering winds, or shapeshifting. It’s indefinable by mortals like us. Well, there are endless things magic is not. What is it? It’s just any action we do, only exaggerated, I guess? At least, that’s how I, Alaina, interpret it.

~

The two girls had started to hike up the hill. It was by no means easy to climb. “Argh! Ouch! Juniper, whatever possessed me to use this place (gesturing at the base of the hill) as the harbour?” complained Alaina. “Little Miss Muffet, you had better get used to this. We’re not on the plains and this is not your little tuffet. I have no idea how you are so skillful on water and such a blunderbuss on land. You might as well as be a sea creature.” answered tomboy Juniper, who was as much as a klutz on water as Alaina was on land.

“This bag is as heavy as the Athena Parthenos.” Juniper groaned. She was having her own troubles on land now. She couldn’t help comparing her situation to Alaina’s when a whale suddenly turned up while she was rowing the boat. Her sister got very hot and bothered, trying to shoo it away, even though, well, it was a whale, not a shark. There was some connection.

“Who was Athena? The goddess of flowerpots?” asked Alaina innocently, but with a gleam in her blue eyes. Juniper was out of ideas to retort, her abundant inventory was exhausted for the time being. A disappointed Alaina walked along in silence.

They reached the summit of the hill, where a beautiful view awaited them. The two leaped straight into rapture. Juniper felt that carrying heavy bags up the hill (which her bookish mind immediately named Emerald Hill) was extremely rewarding.


They beheld the view of a sun-dappled wood, with trees of every hue existing. But the most attractive plants were the silver-topped pines at the horizon. Juniper made up her mind to go there, no matter what. This oath of hers was tested that very hour…


It all began when Alaina stumbled upon that rock. True to Juniper’s wish, they raced down Emerald Hill (rolling the bag down in advance, to avoid the pain of carrying it, leaving it at the base) and began hiking through the woods.

~

It was less treacherous than it actually looked. Alaina had imagined wild twists and turns, dead ends and what not. Surprisingly, there was hardly anything except trees. Trees, trees and trees. Mrs. Grace would have loved it. Alaina immediately felt sad thinking about her family and cheered herself up by imagining their sweet faces when she narrated her adventures.

In fact, things were going too well. Was that possible?
The answer soon came.
~
Juniper stifled a scream as she watched Alaina slide down that hole. What kind of a rock moves just when an innocent passerby just whispered the words Open Sesame?! She had hated herself for that. Now her dear, sweet Miss Muffet was down that dreadful hole, and she, her elder sister, could do nothing. She would not, and could not leave her little sister down there and sprint through the wood for a rope in the bag.

It’s not a good idea to fall down a hole, Juniper decided. When she couldn’t hear or see any trace of Alaina after what seemed like eternity, she had seriously begun to believe that her sister was Alice in Wonderland reincarnated.

~
Alaina was starting to get really creeped out, and over all, worried. Who knows what Juniper might do? Not a joke. Her sister could be pretty bold at times. What if she ran through the woods for a rope? What if she tried to drop down that hole? What if Juniper tried to row out for help? What if? What if? Alaina’s worries were far from ceasing.
She heard footsteps. Not any normal tread. Not thick or heavy, like a monster. Not light and fluttery, like fairies. The creature, whatever it was, seemed to be gliding. But Alaina couldn’t shake off the feeling that it seemed to possess Juniper’s jauntiness of step.

Wait. Why exactly did she think about fairies? They didn’t exist, and if they did, they wouldn’t live here anyway.

Silly. Why do you talk of fairies? Those childish, dainty creatures don’t live here.
I am more respectable. Look at me, the Great Creation of the Universe!

Whoever this was seemed to have a serious pride affliction, decided Alaina
Best to set this creature straight, safe than sorry.

She spotted a bronze knife lying next to her, glowing. Just in case, thought
Alaina, and ventured deeper into the cave. She yelped.
For standing in front of her, in with a huge sword, was the ghost of Juniper.
Correction. A ghost looking like Juniper.

For Juniper Grace, her sister knew, was too strong
to leave the mortal world so early.

“Okay, now time to fight to the death. Can illusions die?” Alaina wondered.
She charged at the creature, letting out a scream which would have defeated an army of screaming banshees.

Assuming it could be killed. She beheaded it, or tried to.

Unbelievable. It could move without a head?! Alaina slashed with her knife blindly and the monster disappeared. A pair of glowing golden shoes with pristine white wings appeared in its place. Alaina knew what to do. She put on the shoes (they fit her perfectly) and leaped.

Flying was better that she imagined it. It reminded her of Juniper’s attempt at lemonade (she had managed to serve ice water with sugar cubes, but no lemon, but Alaina had liked it anyway) and her mother’s hot chocolate. She wondered whether her sister would wait for her or get a rope from the Athena Parthenos weight- bag. She hoped the former was true.



~

Alaina was right. Juniper was waiting up there. She looked pretty scared.

Juniper said that a voice had rung through the forest,
(probably the moment she had slayed the illusion) saying “The silver-topped
pines hold twists for the saving grace, the light has arrived.”

The two adventurers said together: “We will go there for sure.”

~

The rest of the way proceeded smoothly. No traps appeared.
Juniper almost wanted another challenge.

Wrong decision. Her wish got granted. Juniper led the way to the silver pines,
with Alaina regaling her with jokes. Juni, for once didn’t mind. It was nicer
with Muffet back again.


Weird was an understatement for what happened next. At the pine clearing,
Juniper expected to find something. A treasure chest? Nope. Even a broken
bike? No sign. (Juniper could fix any bike, however broken.) Then, a statue of
a girl rose out of the earth with crossed arms.


“Who has cities without house, and water without fish?”
“A map?”
“Ugh, too easy. What disappears as soon as you say its name?”
“Silence.”
“Fine!! You are smart. Your reward…Step in.”

A swirling rainbow portal opened in front of Juniper. She grabbed Alaina’s
hand (she finally understood what was going on) and leaped in.

“Cool, right?” asked Alaina. Those were the last words Juniper heard before she blacked
out.
~
Alaina wasn’t sure Juniper had survived the portal. Looking at her sister’s pale
face as she lay on the bed at home, her dark hair falling into those closed eyes
that were sparkling blue. Be cheerful. The heavy bag had arrived with them
with a big thud on the bed. It had knocked out Juniper. Alaina thought it must
really have the weight of the Athena Parthenos if it could beat her super-
strong sister. By the way, the two truants had landed on the bed at home,
causing a great scuffle. Then, of course, came the tears and hugs. After that-

Wait. What was that sound? There it came.

“Miss Muffet?” queried a feeble voice. “Juni!” yelled Alaina. Their parents
had noticed too. The three ran at the woken Sleeping Beauty.

“You naughty girls! Where were you?”
“On the Isle of Paradise.”
“Really? You girls were safe there, I hope?”
“Not quite. I fought an illusion of…of… just an illusion.”
“And I solved riddles to satisfy a statue girl.”
“Unusual. Little Muffet, what are you doing with that knife?”
“Uh… I just want to keep it.” Alaina remembered for the first time that she had
strapped the bronze knife to her waist.
“Where’s baby Jacob?”
“Not a baby anymore! Dear, you’re sixteen now.”
“Are you seriously telling me I’m a teenager? Alaina is fourteen?” Before Mrs.
Grace could answer, a five-year old boy bounded into the room and ran into
the open arms of his sisters. The Graces embraced each other and wished
they could never let go.

Daily 7
Word Count: 1,500
Romance/Action/Fantasy

I’m walking in the forest with birds chirping over my head as my feet crunch the leaves beneath my feet. The earth is getting colder and the grass freezes over in the night now. The birds will be moving to the warmer parts soon. That does make working with my earth magic a little bit harder since the connection to the earth as it works on slowing down for the cold is harder to reach. But, I’m going to see Eloise in her cottage in the woods. She works with fire magic which does make us kind of like opposites but, I feel like we work really well together. She is a lot more fiery and quick to anger than me and I am usually a lot calmer and can keep myself from getting angry easier.
The breeze ruffles my hair as I get closer to the cottage. Usually, it isn’t this windy at this point in the day in the colder months before the cold. I knock and enter the cottage because Eloise is the sort of person who just leaves her door unlocked since she is probably working on something and can’t hear you and sure enough she is working on burning details into a wood chunk at her work table. “Hey!” I shout to get her attention and she looks up from what she is working on. We decided to go on a walk through the woods today and I’m going to gather some of the last flowers for use over the cold.

As we walk through the woods she slips her hand into mine. The sun shines at the grass and filters through the trees and onto our faces. I pick flowers and plants as we walk and I tuck a flower into her hair. As we walk it seems to be getting windier and it almost seems like the sunlight is becoming less like a golden warm light and is turning into something more blue. The blue light almost seems to be coming from somewhere in front of us.“Mira?” Eloise asks. As we almost seem to be being dragged into a clearing in the woods by the wind. My skirt is catching the wind a lot easier than Eloise’s pants and I am being pulled straight into the clearing where the blue light is swirling in some sort of portal looking thing. Eloise is still holding onto my hand as we’re both getting pulled into it. There’s a bunch of swirling lights and then everything goes black.
~
When the colors return to my vision everything is slightly blurry and Eloise is sitting next to me. She still seems to be asleep in some way. We seem to be sitting on some sort of hard chairs in a rectangular building with the chairs we’re sitting on on both sides. Everyone is wearing different clothes than we wear back at home. Where are we? And was what we were transported through a time rift? There is someone sitting next to me with some contraption on her head. I wave my hand in front of her face. She pulled of the contraption on her head and looks at me for a second like she’s waiting for me to talk. “Hi, uh, where are we?” I ask. “On the tram. Next stop is the main station. It’s right by the city center” she replies before slipping the contraption back on. Eloise seems to be waking up as a voice comes from somewhere “STOPPING AT .. MAIN STATION. PLEASE STEP BACK FROM THE DOORS”
“What is going on?” Eloise asks as I pull her through the crowd going through the doors and see a sign saying exit and pulling us towards there. Once we reach outside , I explain “I think that what happened is that we were sucked through a time rift and now have to attempt to get home. By finding another time rift and we have to do that fast since time rifts only appear in one world and another every maybe year or so for a couple hours. ”

“So we have to find the time rift in here - wherever we are within a couple of hours or we might be stuck here for multiple years?”

“To put it simply - yes.”

“Is there anything that we can do to attempt to find the time rift?”

“I think that there is some sort of spell you can do to summon one but, that one’s really difficult and requires a lot of supplies that we definitely don’t have. But, I think that we might be able to do a standard tracking spell. That might work. But, it’s not like we can turn something into a time rift or create one since we don’t have the materials or the ability to make one - it’s probably going to cause too much attention considering the fact that time rifts are not something that usually appears normally. ”

“So.. basically to attempt to find one we could do a tracking spell?”

“Yes, it’s not guaranteed to work but, it might. And it’s probably our best option considering our situation.” I still have some of the flowers and plants that I picked earlier but, I don’t think that they’ll be of much use to us. And they’re probably pretty crumpled in my pocket. I have my amulet in my pocket - it’s a tracking amulet you cast a spell on it for when you want to track and find and it’ll help you find it. The only time it doesn’t really work is if you’ve lost the amulet itself. We decide that Eloise should be the one to cast the spell while I keep a lookout to make sure that no one really notices that we’re literally casting a spell on an amulet in the middle of the street.

I hear an “Oops..” and a bit of a weak chuckle and as I turn around I notice 2 things - One the amulet is glowing and we seems to have managed to get the amulet to work on finding the time rift back home and the second the building behind Eloise is going up in flames. I’m pretty sure that in a book I once read about traveling through time rifts it said that we should make sure to attempt to make a run for it if we accidentally used any magical powers to cause destruction because people might attempt to take us to some place called prison. I grab Eloise’s hand and start pulling her down the street as people who look like the drawings from the book's disruption of “police officers” as they call themselves start piling up to the part where we were.

We keep running down the street trying to get as far away from the fire as possible. Our feet pounding on the rock beneath our feet. While getting transported through a time rift is kind of like a dream come true I didn’t think that if I ever got transported through a time rift I would be running from the police. This is not a fun experience - my legs are burning and there have been multiple large automobiles going past as we ran. They might be going to go put water on that building before it fully burns down. I feel guilty for that. Especially since there could’ve been people inside. As we slow down I realize that we might’ve been running away from the time rift and I don’t know what time it is since there’s been no clock towers on the way and the sky’s too cloudy for me to tell. “Does the amulet tell us where it is?” I ask Eloise while attempting to catch my breath. “Yeah, it says that we’re nearer to it. That it should be somewhere nearer to the right. ”

We head right and we seem to be heading in the right direction since the amulet is glowing a more reddish color. We keep going towards the places when the amulet gets warmer in color and soon the wind starts to pick up. Not much but, it feels like how it did in the woods when it was getting windier but we weren’t getting pulled into the clearing yet. When we turn into a smaller street the wind is getting a lot faster - an interesting thing to think about is how people notice or don’t notice different time rifts appearing in the middle of a town. And if they don’t notice them then why do they not notice them? Soon we start getting pulled into a smaller alleyway and the light is blue and we see the time rift pulling us in. A bunch of colors flash under my eyelids and then everything goes black.
~
I wake up with the light returning on my back on the floor of the woods. I can see Eloise’s cottage's back garden from where I’m laying. At least we woke up in a convenient place and we’re back home.

Word War 1 ★ 388 words

Duration: 5 minutes
Against: Kit - Action
Prompt: “How long have you been watching me?”
Outcome: Lost

How long have I been watching you?
It's hard to count, really. Well, I watched you go to the shops this morning, and buy your favourite breakfast. Cereal with, somehow, jam. I know, that's a little bit of a weird combination, but I was the one watching you, so I'm not really one to judge. Then I watched you go home, trundling down the pavement with your little bag of cereal and jam, and yeah, that was quite interesting to be honest, because I literally called your name and said.

“Hello? We were supposed to meet up 10 hours ago?”

But I guess you were too engrossed in your heavy metal or whatever music because I just watched awkwardly as you bopped your head along to the music. So, I watched you go through your door, and you even HELD IT OPEN FOR ME as I followed you in. I'm sorry, but your survival skills are … not the best. Not gonna lie. But I was the one watching you, and like I said, I'm not really one to judge.

So I watched as you settled on the sofa with your apple milkshake (you have REALLY weird food combos) and watched your favourite show, which was Peppa Pig. Yes. I know. I'm sorry. I won't tell anyone. Except I did post a picture of you engrossed in the tiny plot twist in one of the episodes. And when the baby pig was doing his weird noisy crying, I silently took the remote, and tried to figure out how to use it. I honestly don't know how you didn't realise when I switched the show to a horror movie. Maybe Peppa Pig really is that scary for you?

And then, when I put your blanket over my head in a strange attempt to scare you, you even bundled it up to pass to me. Without looking! You were so engrossed in the show, honestly. So you can't really blame me for following you around when you interacted with me twice. Hang on- three times. Thrice, if you'd like. Remember when I asked you where the bathroom was? Don't say that your dog just randomly started talking again.

So, probably about 3 hours, I'd say. Why, is that disturbing?

Your survival skills are disturbing.

daily 11/7/25!- fairy tales, 534 words. Romance, horror, and fantasy.
Inspired by Mieruko-chan.
It was just a normal day, like always.
Normal for her, at least.
She was a magical hunter from the galaxies, born to fight all the evil monsters invading this world.
That being said, she wasn’t exactly human.
She was Permafox, a magical spirit.
———————————–
“Huff, huff huff…” she panted, running faster than anyone else wandering around here.
She was at a collectors market, where they sold magical items.
She saw the monsters, but no one else could.
No one that she knew of, anyway.
She ran after it.
“I will get you!” she said in her language.
“E!” it said in a high pitched voice.
Since everyone in this world was either a centaur, an elf, or a human, they all thought of her as different.
Not like she cared, anyway. She was used to it.
“Magical attack!” she yelled, attacking the monster with her magic stick. Everyone stared at her, seeing nothing when she saw something.
It stared at her creepily one last time before there was a bright flash of light, and then it disappeared into dust.
She was creeped out, but she stayed calm.
It was all stuff that came with being a hunter.
Another spirit watched from behind a bush.
I have never seen another hunter before… interesting.
——————————————————–
Permafox headed into an alley that nobody seemed to notice.
There’s always monsters around here…
“Hi!” a squeaky voice said, startling her.
A-a monster… no… another spirit?!
“I’m Sunfox!”
“Nice to meet you… I have never met another hunter before. I’m Permafox.”
“Me neither!” she said excitedly.
“Want to work together?”
She couldn’t refuse the offer. She had never had a ‘friend’ before since everybody treated her as a different creature than them.
“AAH!” a monster shouted from behind them.
It was a scary monster, with eyes as black as a black hole, and a round head, which was way too top-heavy for its body.
“Magical strike!” Permafox screamed.
Sunfox looked at her in awe.
“Wow! You really are amazing! I could never do that…”
“You can. If you work hard for your whole life.”
After that day, they found themselves hanging out more and more.
Permafox taught Sunfox how to be a great hunter.
Sunfox told her about her life.
But Permafox couldn’t help feeling a little… different when she was around her. Like she wanted to be more than just friends.
“Hi!” Sunfox said one day.
“Ready to hunt monsters together?” she said, like it was any other day.
“Y-yeah…” Permafox felt her face heating up with a deep blush.
“What’s wrong? Are you not feeling okay?”
“I’m fine. Let’s go…”
“Okay… just tell me if something's wrong!”
This continued for multiple days, until one day…
A monster was running after them.
“Sunfox, run!”
“…Get you…. I will get you…” the monster mumbled.
“I WILL GET YOU!!!”
“C’mon do your signature attack!” Sunfox said.
“I tried! It’s not working!”
“Let me try mine! Sunflower strike!” she yelled, her stick a bright yellow.
“NO!!!” the monster yelled. Then it disappeared, forever.
“Wow… you really have leveled up, Sunfox.”
“Y-yeah… I guess I have!”
“Hey… Sunfox…”
And the rest… is in the past.

Genre Daily - 7th November
771 words
Credit to Susanne Collins who wrote the Hunger Games, and I am truly sorry for what I have created!


(Dystopian)
Katniss waded through the stream, water rushing around her feet, deliciously cool and refreshing. Hunger gnawed at her belly. She tried not to focus on it too hard - she had to find Peeta. They could both win now. She inhaled deeply, and pushed back the tears stinging at her eyes. She couldn’t let Prim down.

The sun was high in the sky, pulsing bright, baking the arena. She was grateful to be in the stream. A desperate sliver of hope bloomed inside of her. Maybe she could win. There were only a few tributes left now. She knew that this optimism was futile - this was the Hunger Games. And they were up against some extremely strong, privileged tributes who had been training for this moment their whole entire lives. She and Peeta were just penniless tributes from District Twelve. It was a miracle that they had managed to survive this long. Usually District Twelve were some of the first to go.

A flash of crimson caught her eye. Blood. Worry stabbed through her. What if it was Peeta’s? She glanced around frantically.
“Peeta?” She called. “Peeta?”
She slapped a hand over her mouth. She’d probably alerted all of the tributes in the area.
“Katniss…” A voice croaked.
It seemed to be coming from below her. She frowned. All she could see was rock.
All of a sudden, a pair of eyes flashed open.
“Katniss. It’s me… Peeta.”
Katniss gaped at him. “Did you do that? Camouflage yourself?” She gasped.
Peeta nodded weakly. It was my only chance to survive. Until you could find me.
She furrowed her brow. “What happened? Are you hurt?”
He revealed a deep, scarlet gash on his leg. Katniss winced at the sight of it.
“Let’s get you fixed up, then.”
She cringed at how that sounded. She was only doing that for the cameras. She desperately needed sponsors.

(Comedy)

Peeta slung an arm over Katniss’ shoulder and she hauled him over the rocks.
“Let’s find a cave, or something! Then we can get you all well and healthy again! After all, this is the Hunger Games, and health is what it’s all about!”
Peeta grinned at her. “Totally! I think-”
He suddenly slipped from Katniss’s grasp, landing flat on his back.

Katniss helped him up.
“What was that?” She asked in confusion. She bent down to inspect what had caused him to slip over. It was an ugly shade of yellow, bright and… squishy? She leaned further in before… Bang! She was also, like Peeta, flat on her back on the jagged rocks. She sighed and brandished the culprit at Peeta.
“Banana peel…” She told him in disappointment.
“Whoops!” Peeta exclaimed. “Good thing that my leg is completely immobile, or that could have been nasty! Oh, wait… my leg is immobile! Silly me!”

A tribute poked that head around a nearby tree and smothered a laugh at the sight before them. Peeta and Katniss caught sight of the tribute and waved brightly at them, before ducking out of view.
“Phew, glad that he didn’t kill us, then! Although the banana peel probably would have done a better job!”

(Script: Musical)

The last day of the Hunger Games. Peeta and Katniss are sat upon the Cornucopia in the centre of the arena, accompanied by Cato.

Katniss (squinting): What are those? Little dots in the distance… like some sort of creature?

The creatures approach the Cornucopia, and Katniss and Peeta’s faces distort into horror.

Peeta (in shock and terror): That one looks exactly like Glimmer! And that one looks like Rue! Are these the fallen tributes?

Katniss (nodding in fascinated horror): I think they are Peeta. They look like… Mutts.

Song 9: Dance of the Mutts

We are the mutts,
But we were tributes first.
We are the mutts!
We are the worst!

(Glimmer - solo)

I am a mutt now,
I really hate my life!
I kill and slaughter other tributes,
End their lives in pain and strife!

(Thresh - solo)

Once I saved Katniss,
But then soon after I died.
I really hate her for it,
I feel like she lied!

She told me I could win,
But now I am a monster!
And now she will triumph,
Feasting on goat and lobster!

(All the mutts in harmony)

We are the mutts,
But we were tributes first.
We are the mutts!
We are the worst!

We are the mutts!
We can’t wait to kill!
We are the mutts!
Till their lives go still.

You will be mutts,
When we are done with you!
This is the dance of the mutts,
You truly are screwed!

daily (fairy tale to fantasy to non fiction) 532 words

Once upon a time there was a girl named Clara - however, everyone called her little red, for she was but a small child, and could be recognized by her bright red cloak she wore everywhere. She lived in an average, quaint little house, in a town on the edge of the woods. Every week, she would trek through the forest to deliver some food and gifts to her grandmother. There was usually something from the bakery - some bread, a pastry perhaps - and some of the fruit from the trees in little red's backyard. They had peach trees, apple trees, and many many more. This week, her mother had baked some chocolate cookies as well, and while little red was sad to part with some of the delicious cookies, she packed a couple for her grandmother to try. Satisfied with today's haul, little red said goodbye to her mother and headed off for the woods. As the path narrowed, and turned to the winding road of the forest, a barn came into view. There, she met Tagrid, (ik im very original) the dragon keeper. He lived here, tending to the town's carrier dragons, and lending them out when needed. Tagrid was used to her weekly trips and already had her favorite dragon, Frostbite, there waiting for her. She boarded the great dragon, ready to set out across the vast forest. Even though they flew high in the skies, Red was not scared. She had made this trip before, and had full faith in Frostbite, who already knew the way without having to be guided. She watched the clouds as the minutes flew by, lookin to find fun shapes in them. Once, she even saw one in the shape of the very dragon she was riding! The twists and turns on the dragon were a fun ride for Red, and she giggled with delight as she reached up to touch the clouds she had just been observing. Today, Frostbite had chosen to take a different route, and a beautiful meadow appeared, a rare clearing in the middle of the woods. Intrigued, Red motioned for Frostbite to land. Red gaped in awe at the field of flowers. It was clearly a magical place, for the fairies were flitting around in large groups, glowing with delight. She looked down, observing a small blue flower. Blue delphinium is one genus of many in the Ranunculacae family. They're native to the Northern Hemisphere and mountains in tropical Africa. When eaten, the delphinium is toxic to both humans and livestock. If one is to grow delphinium, it must be placed in full sun with rich, well draining soil. The pH of the soil should be slightly acidic, between six and six and a half. Space the plants about twelve to eighteen inches apart, and provide stakes to support taller stalks. Make sure to water it regularly, and protect the plants from slugs. Fertilizer can be very helpful to delphiniums, because they are heavy feeders. Use a balanced fertilizer or a high potash fertilizer, and add organic matter to the soil. Post flowering, it can help to add mulch, cut back faded flower stalks, and stake them for the winter.