Hello and welcome to my writing thread for SWC November 2025! You're welcome to read my writing, but please don't reply directly to this post. If you have something to say, I'd love to chat with you on my profile!

Dailies:
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3
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5 (Done, no link)
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8
9 (done, no link)
10
11 (done, no link)
12 (done, no link)
13
14
15 (done, no link)
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17
18
19
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25
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Weeklies:
1
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4

Writing Contest Entry:
Here!

Daily Nov. 1st
1004 words


Hello and welcome to my (hopefully) one thousand word introduction! Last year I didn’t quite hit the mark so I hope this year I make it to one thousand. My name is Isa and my pronouns are she/her. I live in the EST timezone and I (obviously) love writing! I want to be an author in the future. Some other things I love are God (I’m Catholic), reading, competitive cheerleading, hanging out with friends, school, watching/playing sports, K-pop, making jewelry and more.
I’m so excited for game seven of the world series this evening as a devoted blue jays fan! (All time favourite player: Jose Bautista, current favourite players of which I have way too many: Yesavage, Barger, Guerro and Bichette) I know my favourite players sound like I just like whoever’s doing the best, but I have my reasons. Anyways, we’re the home team tonight and I know we can do it!
I’ve long been a flyer at cheer, but this year I’m doing a mix of basing and backspotting. It’s more fun than I originally thought it would be! Whenever I hit a stunt or catch my flyer I feel so strong. I also got my aerial and punch front back at practice the other day. I lost those skills over the past year(s) so it feels good to finally have them back. I find it so fun to perform at competitions and I love stunting and tumbling, cheer is overall my favourite sport for sure. I love wearing my bow and uniform and being with my team, and I’ve met lots of my best friends through cheer.
In my writing and reading, I usually go through stages where I either like writing and reading poetry, short stories or novels. Currently, I’m in between and have been reading novels while writing poetry. I love words a lot, and I love every kind of art. I find it so inspiring and beautiful, an expression of humanity that I find underappreciated. I can’t wait to get published, though at the moment I don’t have anything I’m ready to publish. I purposely don’t say that I want to be an author when I grow up because I know that I can do it before I “grow up.”
I know this might be a bit of a hot take, but I love school. Not only do you get a structure and something to keep you productive each day as well as seeing all your friends, we’re also just really blessed to even have the opportunity to go to school. I feel like many people take it for granted and don’t recognize the gift that education is. I love learning new things and anti-intellectualism makes me very sad. I think it’s very important to learn things like math, science and languages, even if it’s not always the most fun thing ever and sometimes I complain about my school’s (relatively) early start time.
I love K-pop and I’m a multistan. I only stan girl groups, but I do like a few boy group songs! I’m a once, neverland, glitt, fearnot, midzy and willing. If you don’t know what any of those words meant, it means a Twice fan, I-dle fan, Illit fan, Le Sserafim fan, Itzy fan and Ichillin’ fan. I’m also considering becoming a bunny or NewJeans fan. I’m a big fan of music videos that tell a deep story like Young Posse’s Cold, and I didn’t know that Ditto by NewJeans had a creative story like that until recently, even though I had heard the song before. I already liked NewJeans’ other music, though Ditto really sealed the deal for me. I try to stay neutral or removed from their controversy, my stanning would only mean listening to their music or buying some merch. My favourite group at the moment is Illit, I’m a self-proclaimed girly girl and I love how Illit is bringing back cuter types of concepts. (I know, I know, their actual concept is dreamcore. I’m a big fan of this too!)
I speak both French and English, with French as my second language. I love learning new languages but there are too many to learn so I can never stick with one or decide which one to learn! Si vous parlez français, comment ça va? J’ai toujours hâte de trouver des autres qui parlent français.
I’m running out of things to say, so now I’m going to talk about how I like making jewelry and fashion even though I haven’t made much jewelry recently. Like I mentioned above, I am a girly girl and a big fan of coquette fashion. I know that many people are mad about the watered down coquette aesthetic circulating now, but I like both the authentic, princess-like coquette aesthetic and the more basic, bow-filled modern coquette. I make beaded jewelry like necklaces and bracelets, metal or chain jewelry like necklaces and rings and I also like sewing. Most recently, I tackled one of my largest and most impressive projects yet by making a bright pink Glinda bubble dress for Halloween. It required quite a lot of tulle and sequins, but I’m proud that I finished it. It was definitely ambitious, that’s for sure!
Just as I feared, I’m nearing the end just short of one thousand words. I could go through and expand all of my contractions, but I think that would be cheating. I’m short by about one hundred words, so I think some fun facts should cover it! I don’t really like Oxford commas, though I see the appeal. My English teacher last year forced me to choose if I was an Oxford comma person or not. My mom just made some banana bread for me so I’m going to eat some soon, and I’ve been eating a lot of candy since I went trick or treating yesterday. My favourite candy is skittles and my favourite chocolates are twix and mars bars. That should do it for me, bye for now! -Isa

Daily November 2nd
563 words
Marigold: grief
Dandelion: faithfulness
Tulip: fame
Rose: love

Once upon a time there was a punching bag… wait is that a punching bag or a girl? Either way, she was heartbroken to say the least. The reason I thought she was a punching bag at the beginning was because she has been pummeled by the world since 2024? That can’t be right. How is she still alive? Here is her story…
She had long picked dandelions from the fields of a certain few farmers. Sir Oilerington’s farm in Edmonton, Notre Dame’s farm in Indiana and Lady Cerulean Jays in Toronto. She had long helped them clean their gardens by picking the beautiful flowers, even though they hardly gave her anything in return.
One year, Sir Oilerington’s farm and Notre Dame’s farms both grew beautiful golden corn and gorgeous tulips, the best of all the farms for a thousand kilometres. The girl was overjoyed that her farms were giving back to her as they gifted her a few ears of delicious corn, and she hoped that the harvest season would be the most successful they had seen in a while, that the corn and tulips would impress all at the grand fall harvest fairs of their respective towns, winning prizes for the best produce and flowers.
The fairs were looked forward to with great anticipation, and the girl arrived with roses for her farms when they won.
The corn cobs and flowers were gleaming on the tables, practically glowing. The judges filed in, and at the last second the corns grew shriveled and black. The tulips wilted dramatically, causing the judges’ and girl’s faces to fall. The rivaling farms won the fairs, their tulips only growing stronger under the fierce sunlight as roses were thrown at them left and right.
The following year, the girl kept her hope intact as Sir Oilerington’s farm and Lady Cerulean Jays’s farm were even more prosperous and beautiful than the year before. Their corn was even bigger and had an even more shiny, golden exterior. The ears she tried were splendidly sweet and buttery, so she arrived at the fairs with even more roses in her hands and hope in her heart.
The corn and tulips seemed fine, with even more people surrounding the stalls than the year before, having arrived on the bandwagon from all around the world. She pushed through all the recent contributors to the farm, wearing her loyalty through all their years like a badge of honour. This year, they kept the corn and tulips in their original dirt and only removed them now, to keep them extra fresh. Her mouth watered looking at the corn and her heart fluttered looking at the tulips.
This was it. This was her farms’ year. Taking a deep breath, she settled in to watch the judging. It lasted into the night, the silver light of the moon and stars glinting off the scenery as the judges examined the corn and compared it at all angles. Finally, as they were about to announce their decision, the girls’ farms corn and tulips wilted and rotted all at once. For the second year in a row! She could hardly contain herself, disappointment overwhelming her as she pledged herself to the farms for yet another year, convinced that every coming year would be their year even as she felt her hope slipping and saw the marigolds sprouting around her.

Daily November 3rd
417 words

“These are really them?” Ella said, awe coating her every word.
“Yup. Really them,” Calvin answered, staring out at the beach dotted with hundreds of gently glowing creatures that looked like plastic bags against the silvery moonlit sand.
“I can’t believe it. The scholarships will be pouring in,” Ella said, pulling out her cherished digital camera to take a photo of the new species of jellyfish they had discovered.
“Wait!” Calvin shouted, jumping in front of her and putting his hand on the camera.
“What? Calvin, move! We need these photos for the applications!”
“It’s just…” he looked away, hand still covering the camera.
“What? Haven’t we been working towards this for years?”
“I just feel bad exposing them. They’re only doing so well because they’ve been alone like this for millennia.”
“Come on, we’ll still be able to protect them once we’re in university doing research like we always have.”
“But what are the chances we go to the same university? We’ll be split up, and I just don’t want our search to end,” his voice lowered as he spoke, breaking on the last word.
Recognition dawned on Ella's features as she too realized how the project they’d been collaborating on for all of high school was about to come to a close.
“It’s okay,” she said, taking his hands. “No matter where we go, we’ll always be friends.”
He looked out at the jellyfish littering the beach, the tide lapping against the deepest ones now with every passing second. A sad smile touched his face.
“They could never keep you around here, huh?”
“What do you mean?”
He laughed softly. “You’re made for bigger things. You’re going to get that scholarship.”
“What do you mean? We’ll both get scholarships!”
“I’ve always just been tagging along, going through the motions just to hang out with you, but you’re made for this kind of stuff. You’re made to change the world with your discoveries, to find new animals we never could’ve dreamed of. I’m sorry Ella, but I just can’t follow you this time. Have fun at your new school, and know that I’m always waiting for you if you ever come home.”
Calvin smiled one last time, tears in his eyes, before releasing her camera.
“Go get’em Elle.”
She smiled back, unsure how to handle the revelation until she felt the moonlit tears rolling down her cheeks.
“I will, but only ‘cuz you said to,” she said. “Goodbye Cal, and thanks for always believing in us.”

Daily November 4th
312 words
Inspired by Illit's Midnight Fiction

Her eyes glowed as she woke up, the moonlight glinting off of her pale skin. Now that the moon was asleep, her story would begin.
She gazed out of the window into the stars waiting to be filled. Grinning, she opened the pane of glass and climbed onto the roof, setting the window back in place behind her and tucking a key into the pocket of her night gown.
A calm night breeze blew through her dark hair and she felt the little hairs on her arms rise with the anticipation buzzing through her veins. She stood on the roof overlooking the deserted street and leapt, feeling the familiar magic pulse to the top of her skin as she flew through the air. The magic wrapped her in a warm embrace, allowing her to travel farther into the sky without a jacket.
Lost amongst the clouds, she flew with flocks of birds and lightning bugs, dipping and diving over the sleeping town.
Her eyes glimmered in the silvery starlight as she twirled again and again, she had never felt more alive.
She closed her eyes and looked up, opening her face to the stars. She opened her eyes once more as she looked out across the town and began her mission.
Within hours, she had successfully delivered gifts to the orphanages of the town and books and toys to the kids who had never seen one before. Satisfied with her work, she flew back to her window.
She retrieved the silver key from the folds of her night gown and slipped back through her window and into her cozy bed. Tired from the night of dreams and fantasies, the girl closed her book and tucked it in the second drawer of her bedside table. She pulled the warm blanket tighter around her shoulders and drifted off into the clouds in her mind.

Word war proof
171 words (why did I write so slow TT)

“How long have you been watching me?” she asked, a smile on her lips and her tone light despite her piercing gaze.
I grinned, stepping out from around my corner. I had been spying on my best friend ever since she told me I couldn’t possibly scare her, that she was the greatest at finding spies, and it was so tempting when she walked down the corridor holding a piece of parchment in her hands. I wanted to know where she was going.
“Just for the past few minutes,” I replied, matching her smile as I fell into step beside her. “So where are we off to?”
She laughed, “I was just going to deliver this parchment to Mr. Duval. It’s my chemistry assignment, nothing of interest.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, eyes glittering. I always envied her classes in the castle, chemistry and poetry and the likes. “It looks enthralling! I would love to learn about… what is that? Moles? Letters and numbers all over the page?”
She laughed.

Weekly 1
1275 words total

Part 1 (poetry)
106 words

Two tests
One presentation
One lab writeup due next Tuesday
And they wonder why there’s purple under my eyes

Notes scattered across my desk
As my headache pounds over the music
And the sun slips behind the clouds
My heart fades with it

The day is gone
And what do I have to show for it?
A couple of hours of school
Practice questions forgotten in five minutes

And still I’m not happy when the marks come in
Still I push myself harder and harder
Still I work into the night
Still my eyes get blurred with tears and formulas

And still the school day comes

Part 2 (songwriting)
326 words

I am falling to the ground
Like the flowers in my hair in the summer
Cascading down the waves of blonde
My cheeks are burning red
Like the blood from when I scraped my knees
Falling off the barbie bike

And all I can think of
Is how that little girl
Wouldn’t let it get to her head
Wouldn’t let the snickers surrounding her touch her heart

And all I want now
Is a piece of that girl in me
She would wonder why I’m crying
And wrap me in her gentle embrace
Where did the time go?

I gave the wrong answer in class
Like when I thought I knew everything
till someone proved me wrong
My breath’s coming faster
Like how it did when I used to run
Breathless and fastest

And all I can think of
Is how that little girl
Wouldn’t let it get to her head
Wouldn’t let the snickers surrounding her touch her heart

And all I want now
Is a piece of that girl in me
She would wonder why I’m crying
And wrap me in her gentle embrace

Where did the time go?

I wish
She could teach me how to be strong
Her and her little toddler mind
And I could watch her grow up
And remind her she’s beautiful and everything and just the way she’s supposed to be

I wish
She could teach me that others don’t
Dictate my life with her childish smile
And I could give her a hug
And remind her it’s okay to cry and we are all are weak sometimes

And all I can think of
Is how that little girl
Wouldn’t let it get to her head
Wouldn’t let the snickers surrounding her touch her heart

And all I want now
Is a piece of that girl in me
She would wonder why I’m crying
And pick the pieces of me up from the floor

Where did the time go?

Part 3 (Scriptwriting)
310 words

Int. ballet dance studio
Kayla stands warming up at the barre while Bella finishes her snack and Abigail stretches on the floor.
KAYLA
Did you hear Mrs. Smith is going to make us learn another combination today for our recital?
BELLA
I thought the last one was the last one! How does she expect us to remember all of this?
ABIGAIL
It’ll be fun guys! We’ll get to wear new costumes hopefully!
Kayla and Bella laugh.
KAYLA
If by new you mean unwashed and one hundred years old, I think you’re right.
Bella laughs as Abigail pouts.
BELLA
Whatever. We should probably finish warming up soon so we can at least get it over with.
Mrs. Smith enters.
MRS. SMITH
Come here girls! We have a lot to do today since we are learning the new combination for this weekend’s recital. I trust you’ve all warmed up?
Kayla shook her legs out and quickly rolled out her wrists.
MRS. SMITH (cont.)
Please find spaces on the floor.
She walks to the front of the stage, in front of the dancers, and begins to lead them in the new combination.
KAYLA (talking over Mrs. Smith)
Why is this combination so hard?
MRS. SMITH
Thank you for the extra commentary Kayla. Please focus on yourself.
After the girls learn the combination, they get some water.
ABIGAIL
I like the pas de chat at the beginning! It goes so well with the music!
BELLA
It’s just the arabesque that kills me at the end. It feels like I’m holding it for a million years!
KAYLA
At least it’s not like the combination the girls in the level ahead of us are learning. They need to do so many turns.
BELLA
My spotting is terrible, I could never.
ABIGAIL
Let’s focus on learning our combination before we think of others’.
All three friends laugh.

Part 4 (speech writing)
533 words

A group of five girls laughing and singing, living their best life surrounded by pink and bows and all things cute. Many people only have this simple image of ILLIT in their heads, or no image at all. ILLIT, the k-pop girl group consisting of Wonhee, Minju, Yunah, Moka and Iroha has a refreshing concept that is often confused with other similar styles. ILLIT’s concept is heavily rooted in the dreamcore aesthetic with uncanny, nostalgic, happy and unsettling elements weaving through the cute and seemingly surface level songs. Though it may seem similar to NewJeans’ Y2K concept or a simple cute concept, their core identity runs deeper and will be explored through this speech.
Firstly, how does ILLIT show their dreamcore aesthetics in their music videos? In ILLIT’s debut song, Magnetic, we see the common nostalgic and cute elements like hearts and pink, but also the uniquely ILLIT moments like Iroha’s levitation magic or Moka’s ability to stop time in the music video that could only occur in a dream. Sleeping motifs are also repeated through the video with members in pyjamas, pillows in the background or ILLIT jumping on beds. Towards the end of the music video, the visuals are more unsettling and nightmareish as they are in somewhere abandoned that appears to be a hotel and eventually reach a dead end in the basement. In the Jellyous music video, Iroha floats in the air and the girls seem to be in a video game setting below the ground, a fantasy that could not come true in real life.
Not only do the music videos point to dreams and nightmares, but their music does as well. Whether explicitly discussing dreams like in the song Midnight Fiction or just based off of the ethereal qualities of their voices and the instrumental like in Almond Chocolate or Do the Dance. In Midnight Fiction, they discuss the start of their “teenage dream” and Midnight Fiction is a direct metaphor for dreams unfolding like a story through the night. In their song Bamsopoong, they sing about making dreams come true. These lyrical moments are no coincidence and point to their dreamcore concept. But what separates them from groups with Y2K or cute concepts?
Take NewJeans as an example. Their fashion, visual elements and songs clearly point to a nostalgic Y2K aesthetic by using bunnies and retro technology as well as low waisted jeans, relaxed styles and bringing back Y2K trends. ILLIT’s visual elements do not evoke the same era’s style, and while similar in the colour palette and cute appearance, ILLIT’s marketing uses more magical or fantastical elements to evoke a dreamy emotion in the audience. Using TWICE’s original concept as a base for the cute concept, we can see that they used brighter colour palettes and simpler, more child-like messages to appeal for audiences looking for a cute concept whereas ILLIT utilizes a pastel colour palette and songs about dreams and love to appeal to teenagers.
Overall, while ILLIT’s concept surely springboards from elements of the Y2K and cute aesthetics, their dreamcore marketing is a new addition to the k-pop scene which will help them stand out and grow a loyal dedicated fanbase of GLITTS.

Daily November 6th
288 words

“Let’s go to the pumpkin patch!” Callie squealed.
“Please mom?” Jacob added.
“Fine,” their mom said with a smile, pulling on a jacket. “Let’s get in the car guys!”
Callie and Jacob trailed after their mom like ducklings, ecstatic to be going to the pumpkin patch after days of begging. They giggled together the whole ride there and clambered out of the car impatiently when they arrived, their eyes scanning the field of pumpkins like it was filled with gold.
“Yayy!” Callie exclaimed.
“Thank you so much mom!” Jacob said, followed by Callie’s muttered echo.
“Let’s get a pumpkin,” their mom said as she took their hands and strolled into the patch.
“We should get a white one!” Callie said.
“No, a green one!” Jacob rebuttaled.
“Do they have pink ones?”
“How about we look for an orange pumpkin?” their mom cut in, pointing to the variety of options scattered through the patch.
“Okay!” Jacob said.
“How about that one?” Callie asked, pointing to a squat, orange pumpkin.
“It has a bump on the back,” Jacob explained, flipping the pumpkin over to reveal a rotting gash with pumpkin seeds spilling out. “We should get this one instead, we can paint on the smooth part there!”
He was pointing to a taller pumpkin with a long stem.
“But there are bumps on the side, and we can’t paint on that part.” Callie pointed out.
“This one looks good, eh guys?” their mom asked, kneeling beside a perfectly round orange pumpkin.
“Yeah! There’s no hole!” Callie said.
“And no bumps!” added Jacob.
“Perfect! We’ll get this one. Let’s head home,” their mom said, leading them back to the car.
Pumpkin in hand, the kids’ smiles lit up the way home.

5 minute word wars proof
343 words (YAY! I IMPROVED SO MUCH FROM LAST SESSION!)
(Please don't mention the unfinished sentence at the end T.T)

“Can we stay like this a little bit longer?” I asked, looking up from my bowl of cheerios.
“No, you have to get to school,” my mom reminded me.
I sighed, standing from the table and gathering my back pack and books. I threw my lunch and water inside, mad that I had to go to school for another day even though it was nothing new. Today I had a really hard math test, and I just knew I was going to fail. Again. Another thing that wasn’t new, another reason my mom had to push me out of the door and drive me all fifteen minutes to my school. I entered the dreaded grey hallways and stopped at my locker, idly spinning the combination into the lock. Once it opened, I put my stuff inside and retrieved my school notebook. The only place of solace school offered me, a place where I could pour my heart out onto the page. Though numbers spun around in my head like water in a toilet, muddling into something I could never understand, words made sense to me. They always came to me like second nature, like air in a field wide open to the sky.
I grabbed my other stuff and headed off to Mrs. Smith’s math class. Room 207, all white board filled walls and misery. I placed my stuff on the floor to face the impossible problems staring up at me from the test sheet on my desk. I didn’t even remember learning any of it, let alone practicing it in the countless hours of homework I was assigned each night and did my best to complete. Well, if doing your best is scrolling on your phone for an hour then writing a short story, leaving the impossible math untouched on the desk.
Anyways, I picked up my pencil and began to wade through the ocean in front of me, no hope for how I would avoid drowning. I wrote stuff, then erased it. I wrote stuff again. Nothing seemed right. I couldnt’.

Daily November 7th
530 words
Genres: Real-fi, fantasy, comedy

Mira rolled out of bed, turning her alarm off as she began her day. She changed into her school uniform, a pleated blue skirt and collared white shirt. The kind of outfit she complained about with her friends but secretly thought was pretty cute.
She stumbled down the carpeted stairs and had a piece of toast for breakfast while she packed mac and cheese for lunch. She had a big project in first period today. A speech on different types of trees. She had tried her best to make it interesting, but something so dull to her was difficult to turn into something fun.
She boarded the yellow school bus at the corner of her street and soon arrived at her high school. Heading to her ecology class, she rehearsed her speech in her mind. She imagined the class clapping for her after, though she knew it wouldn’t be the case. Everyone in the honors class was unbearably serious and argumentative. At least she would likely face some interesting questions after the speech.
As soon as she opened the door to the class, she knew something was off. Her head began to pound as she walked towards her desk and the teacher’s words swirled around through the air.
“Mira? Are you okay?” she managed to make out from her teacher as she collapsed into her desk.
She couldn’t afford to miss any school, she would fall impossibly behind. Mira simply nodded, trying to put a smile on her face. She just had to get through this speech.
“May I go first for the speeches please?” she asked her teacher, hoping her voice wouldn’t break or sound squeaky.
Her teacher’s expression went blank, eyes glassy, “of course, Mira. Go ahead now.”
Her features snapped back to their usual look, and she smiled at Mira while motioning for her to step to the front of the class.
Mira shook her head. She was hallucinating now, even though her headache had dulled and she honestly felt fine, the atmosphere of the room was still bizarre. Was she controlling others with her voice? No, she couldn’t be.
She launched into her speech and her classmates took on the same glazed eye look. She trailed off in the middle of a sentence, unsure if she should continue.
To test out her new… power, she said, “stand up.”
The whole class rose from their seats.
“Sit down.”
They all obeyed.
“Wow, they sure would lose at Simon says,” Mira said. She turned to her teacher. “I’d like to try my speech again next week, I don’t feel ready.”
Her teacher smiled a goofy smile, “Of course!
Mira smiled and returned to her seat. She sat through the other presentations, laughing at their jokes which prompted her usually stoic classmates to laugh along.
She went home after ecology class because she knew she could just tell her mom she wasn’t feeling well and tell her friends to send her notes. She spent the rest of the day roaming the neighborhood with a big smile on her face making friends with anyone who crossed her path and headed off to school the next day feeling ready to learn.

Cabin wars collaborative story
Word count: 257 (total for all three of us: 770)

Asha: Cabin wars !
The first sound Mara heard was the wind—low, hollow, almost human. It slipped through the splintered ribs of the buildings, humming against glassless windows, carrying the smell of rain and something faintly metallic. She stood at the edge of what used to be her street, her boots sinking into the grit, and listened as if the wind might answer back.
It had been thirty-seven days since the last voice went silent on the radio. Thirty-seven days since she’d stopped pretending anyone was coming. Yet every morning she still climbed to the rooftop and scanned the horizon. Habit, maybe. Hope, if she were being generous with herself.
Her hands were raw from rebuilding the barricade, though she no longer remembered what she was keeping out. The city had grown quiet enough that she could hear her own pulse, stubborn and steady. Some nights, when the sky was clear enough to show the stars again, she caught herself wondering why her heart hadn’t learned to stop.
Inside the hollow shell of the apartment, the air still smelled faintly of warmth—coffee, dust, a trace of him. She never said his name aloud anymore. The silence felt sacred, like a fragile truce between the past and whatever waited beyond the morning.
She touched the cracked photo on the wall—two figures laughing, blurred by time—and felt that small, traitorous spark again. It wasn’t hope, not exactly. It was the echo of something that refused to die.
Somewhere beyond the city, a light flickered once. Then again.
Mara lifted her head.
“And yet,” she whispered.

Middle and end by Ivy and Isa to complete the war <3
259 words

Ivy: And yet, there was nothing left for her. The walls around her felt like an empty shell, and rather than its inhabitant, she felt like its ghost. A living being haunting a dead building. It had been far too long since two lilting voices had echoed through the tight space. Though it had always felt a bit too small, they had always made it work. Now, it felt far too large for one person.
Every day she reflected on the night she’d spent as a mindless servant, building something without any reason or rhyme to it. There was something she was keeping out, but she didn’t know what she was protecting anymore.
The sun filtered through the boarded windows and shards of broken glass, the same sun that made the daylight too dangerous for life. Not that there was any left. Just her, and her endless duty to this protection.
Her hands went to her boots as she prepared to sleep through as much of the daylight as she could. Their soles had worn down quite a bit, unchangeably caked in dirt and mud and whatever gunk she picked up off the streets every night. Again, she turned on the radio, hoping for new news, but as always, the only sound she heard was static. With a sigh, she leaned back against the bed that hadn’t felt comfortable for far too long. She’d given up on cleaning around here, and almost everything she owned went untouched. There wasn’t any reason to draw anything anymore.

254 words !

Isa's turn !!!

Still, she felt something odd pulling her up from the scratchy old bed. Something pulling her back to the boarded up windows of her apartment to peer through the planks of wood and out into the sun. She saw the same flickering light, and she heard her heart pounding in her head with excitement. It was like a star, all alone. Didn't they know how dangerous the day was?
She needed to see who was out there. Pulling her hood over her head, she crept towards the door. Thirty-seven days since she had left her street, and the light was decidedly at least three blocks away.
She moved slowly through the streets. Cautiously. Checking around every corner before slipping down the road. She slinked through abandoned buildings and heard no other human along her path. There were no signs of life left.
Finally, she reached the light. She crept into the house, soundlessly stepping over signs of someone’s rushed departure. In another life, her apartment would’ve looked like this. She climbed the stairs, wincing at every creak beneath her, convinced the building would collapse around her. When she reached the top floor, she saw the light flickering beneath someone’s door. She couldn’t afford to make a noise, but as she approached she felt more and more hopeful. Curse her traitorious heart for always hoping. She raised her fist to knock, hand shaking as it was suspended in the air. Before she could talk herself out of it, she knocked on the door and her life changed forever.

257 words, war complete!!!

Daily November 10th
260 words

Today I worked out in my fitness class for a whole hour and a half. I learned a few new workouts today including one arm pulls with the tricep pull down machine, ball tosses against a wall and lat pull downs. I even got to try the ropes today, the kind you wiggle like worms.
I also got a nice break from the usual pace of school and got to get up and move for the period. I always look forward to this part of fitness class because it guarantees me at least some physical activity in a day, even when I don’t have cheer practice or plans to work out on my own.
I felt and will surely feel sore tomorrow, but my upper body will be that much stronger, my mental health will be that much brighter, and I will be that much less antsy come English class.
Fitness always pushes me to do my best and strive for better, and it was no different today. I went a little heavier with some of the weights and pushed myself to improve across all the workouts we tried. I even wanted to keep going at the end, but we didn’t have time and the others were looking at me like I was weird.
Overall, fitness consistently makes me stronger, healthier, happier and gives me a break from screens and sitting, allowing me to be my best self for the entire school day. Even though some days it is hard, I know it will pay off in the long run.

Daily November 13
Total Words: 314

When the clouds are sad, they’re not afraid to cry. Tears steaming down into puddles as they sob for hours. Cracks of lightning in their fits of rage. I wish I could express myself like a cloud. When they are happy, they glow. Brilliant white, soaring high like a song ringing clear through the air. They twinge yellow with nostalgia, remembering as the sun begins to set. Bleeding colours as they think of what was. They turn red when they’re in pain. The sun disappears and they are left to fend for themselves, cold and alone. Mad, even, at their abandonment. They even sleep all night in the darkness of the sky. The moon keeps them company as they drift as though in an ocean. Like a baby rocking gently in a cradle.
They grow wise with their age and break down into new clouds. They are a beautiful painting spewed across the sky for us to see, dancing like performers across a wide blue stage. Glittering like they were born to show the world their beauty. Strutting along like models, pageant queens, perfect and whole.
They must hate it when we can’t watch their show. When we’re inside for the whole day. They must hate it when we hate the rain. When we don’t want them to express their emotions. They must hate it when we wish they moved out of the way from the sun. When we can’t appreciate the solace they give us from the relentless heat.
But they must love it when we lie on our backs in the grass, summer dew wet on our eyelashes as we find shapes among their dance. They must love when we take beautiful pictures of them, and paint them into our artwork. They must love to look down at us and know that we love them just as much as they love us.

Daily November 14
Total words: 536
Title: Untitled Adventures (from @-NotWillow- )

I really couldn’t think of what to call this disaster of a trip, so this will have to do for now. It all started a little over a week ago when we left for our trip throughout Europe. First stopping in France, then through Switzerland to Liechtenstein, Austria and Germany, followed by a few days down in Italy… it was supposed to be great. I was never supposed to trip on the plane and break my ankle. We were never supposed to have to make an emergency landing in England because we ran out of fuel. We were never supposed to land in France over two days late. The Eiffel tower was not supposed to be closed for renovations for the first time in history, but here we are. All that and more has happened to us on this trip, and I’m here to tell the story. (Or at least part one.)
First of all, I was getting up to brush my teeth in the airplane washroom before trying my best to sleep during our journey over the Atlantic when I tripped over a stranger’s foot that was resting in the aisle. I sprawled dramatically on the floor and I swear the plane bounced in the air, essentially giving me a heart attack as my ankle exploded with pain. Flight attendants rushed around and my cheeks got red hot. All in all, they managed (with the help of a doctor who happened to be on the plane) to wrap my leg with a bandage and give me a pair of teeny tiny crutches, much too small for me to actually use.
Next, our captain’s voice came over the intercom.
“Due to unforeseen circumstances, we will have to make an emergency landing in London, England to refuel. Do not worry, this is just a precaution and will likely not result in delays over one hour.”
I rolled my eyes as everyone started talking all at once about how they would be late to their sister in law’s cousin’s dad’s weddings and yada yada yada.
All in all, they found about a thousand more problems with our plane, delaying us for over a day. We slept spread across airport chairs in zone 2, surrounded by snores and blinking bright lights.
When we finally got to France after a joke of a flight where no one smiled once, we pasted on our best smiles and sightseeing outfits and grabbed our giant cameras.
“Alright guys,” my dad said with a false cheery voice. “Let’s go see the Eiffel tower!”
We set off in our rental car through the streets of Paris, but the Eiffel tower was covered by a giant, hideous blue tarp.
“What the heck is going on?” my dad demanded to the poor lady working at the front desk of the common attraction.
“We apologize for the inconvenience, sir, but the Eiffel tower has been unexpectedly closed today for renovations for the first time in history,” she said back, sounding bored.
I would have sighed, but I was already expecting it. It looks like I’m out of time, so I’ll have to come back to tell you the rest of our… adventures in part two. See you there!

Weekly 2
Total words: 1920

Part 1
Total words: 235

The year is 1830. Around the world, things are changing along with the decade ushering in change and development. The year was marked by religious changes such as the creation of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter Day Saints as well as by several countries winning their independence or fighting revolutionary wars. Greece gained independence in January, Ecuador followed, France overthrew its king and Belgium revolted against their king and gained their independence. Among the constant European and South American fighting, the United States passed the Indian Removal Act. During this trying time, patents were passed for the sewing machine and lawn mower. While the world was discovering the new inventions, many people destined to be authors, leaders, painters and everything in between were born. Among them, Emily Dickinson was born on December 10th. Other important people included (but were definitely not limited to) Queen Isabella II of Spain, Christina Rossetti, Albert Bierstadt, Paul Heyse and more! These influential people and the ones who came before them all worked together to shape life in 1830. In what is now Canada, immigration from the United Kingdom increased to fill the land filled with mostly French and Indigenous people at the time. There was a lot of tension between Catholics and Protestants in the area, and most of the land was purely rural. Many people were self-sufficient and relied on local produce and were often farmers.

Part 2
Total words: 410

From afar, the simple farmhouse looked like any of the other farms scattered sparsely through the Canadas in 1830. Upon closer inspection, it still seemed standard. Made a generation ago with local spruce trees and painted a natural tone by the wind and love from within, the farmhouse stood small but proud between a modest farm and kilometres and kilometres of fields extending on each side. Corn to the east, wheat to the west, canola to the north and peas in the south. The fields seemed to be well taken care of by the farming family. You could tell when someone poured all their passion into their career, and it was hard not to when you needed to sustain yourself off of the farm. All in all, it caused the crops to glow in the warm afternoon sun as a pair of cows grazed quietly in a fenced off grass area. The wooded fences seemed fragile, like the cows could easily poke them over with one hoof, but they remained inside munching on grass peacefully. Wooden farm equipment rested across the side of the double storey house, creaky from the use. When standing at the door of the house, there were no other farms visible, secluding the area with little more than a worn dirt road.
On the porch of the house, a gentle breeze blew through the handmade windchimes and the rocking chair subtly rocked back and forth. Inside, well-loved furniture rested along with the kind of mess that builds up when people don’t have the time to care. Cobwebs dusted the corners and dust bunnies had built a colony under anything they could. Books lay on the table, the close-set font displayed proudly. Half-finished embroidery projects framed each surface, the edges fraying as forgotten stitches unraveled. All the way up the creaky wooden stairs, the bedroom was covered in quilts for each member of the family and an heirloom desk, the only part of the house that was constantly used and not collecting dust. The shared bedroom was kept clean for a while, but with a farm to take care of the house must come second. The kitchen downstairs was filled with milk from the cows and the rejects from the produce grown on the farm. A table with one leg missing was the centerpiece surrounded by a mismatch of chairs collected over the years, all with different levels of wear and different chips in the multicoloured paint.

Part 3
Total words: 433

Ida is fifteen years old and lives on a farm in the Canadas in 1830. She is expected by her parents to work on the farm, keeping food on the table in any way the self-sufficient family can, but all she wants to do is stay inside and write.
She often sneaks away from her work in the fields to the beautiful desk left behind by her grandfather so she can scrawl on the blank parts of old newspapers or into the leatherbound notebook she received for her birthday a year ago.
She was fortunate enough for her parents to educate her when she was younger, believing that even though she was destined to be a farmer she should still know how to read and write. Now, they almost regret it.
Ida is polite and well-mannered, but opinionated, stubborn and willing to stand up for her beliefs, much to her parents’ dismay. She still wants the best for her family and helps out around the farm, but her heart longs day in and day out to write. She often feels unfulfilled and hollow while working, and needs to write to keep her heart happy. She is adventurous at heart but knows that because of the sexism of her time period that she will almost never be allowed to go on adventures, so instead she channels her desires into her heroines and uses settings gained from her extensive reading to base her stories and throw her heroines into increasingly creative fantasies. Her parents have almost given up on dragging her back inside every time she is caught at her grandfather’s desk since they know that as soon as she leaves the house she will somehow end up back inside again. In this way, she is quite sneaky and sly, able to sink into the shadows even in the brilliant sunlight of the field and find her way back to her beloved words. Her stubbornness and determination to continue writing also helped her parents back off. Though their arguments continued, they had almost realized how much she needed to write.
She has quite a big heart and often doesn’t know what to do with herself, consumed and tormented by philosophical thoughts even when she is trying to gain her precious few moments of sleep among her busy farm life. She is quite intelligent but wishes she had the chance to learn more things and become smart as well, wishing she had access to all the books in the world and could spend her time as a scholar and author. She is, above all, a dreamer.

Part 4
Total words: 842

For the second time this week Ida woke up before the sun. She stepped over her siblings and parents sprawled across the single bedroom to sit at the beautiful dark wooden desk given to her family by her grandfather. The window pointing east in front of the desk revealed the sky staining pink and she knew her family would awaken soon. She had to work quickly. She gently reached below the desk to retrieve her prized possession from the drawer below the desk: a leatherbound notebook she had received for her birthday. She also took out the quill her family shared and dipped it in the ink. A poem had been tormenting her all night, tucked into her spine like an itch she couldn’t scratch until she had a quill in her hand. With only the starlight and early sunrise glow, she wrote the words that had been shadowing her mind since she closed her eyes and could finally take a deep breath. Outside, the rooster crowed and her family woke up. She tucked her notebook away beneath the desk before they opened their eyes and scurried back to her bed on the floor.
Her family got ready for another day working on the farm, changing into their simple, muddy clothes they’d been wearing and mending for years.
“Let us go out to work. The harvest begins today,” her father said, fastening his belt as he addressed Ida and her five siblings.
Ida rolled her eyes but followed them down the stairs, raising her floral dress. Her mom floated by, shooting Ida a look she was well acquainted with. A look that said she had better not sneak back inside to write today because she was really needed in the fields. Ida offered her a tight smile and grabbed her piece of stale bread on her way out the door.
“Ida and John, may you please start by feeding the cows?” her father told her.
Ida sighed, taking John by the hand. He was only seven, the youngest kid, and needed help with everything. He needed to learn, yes, but he slowed her down more than anything. She was hoping to finish everything quickly so she could write later. Still, she smiled down at John. Helping him with the easiest job wouldn’t be so bad.
“Let us go, John” she said, leading him towards the pen holding two cows and the pen beside with a bull.
“Hi Cherry, Minnie and Jack!” John exclaimed to the animals, waving with his free hand.
Ida guided John to fill their troughs with the hay from the fields and lifted him up to feel their velvety heads.
“Thank you for your help, John. You may go see mother and father now,” Ida told him with a smile, setting him back on the muddy ground.
She trailed after his excited run, thinking back to when she wished she could help out in the fields. When she didn’t wish with every fibre of her being to be sitting at her grandfather's desk, paper in hand.
After a few more hours spent picking through corn to find the rotting or misshapen ears, Ida’s father and mother called her inside. With instructions to her eldest brother to keep things moving outside, Ida gratefully followed her parents to the house.
They sat around the table while Ida remained standing. She couldn’t read their expressions despite her best efforts, but suspected it couldn’t be anything good. Were they angry at her constant secret missions to enter the house and write? Nervously, her gaze flickered between the two of them. They still hadn’t said anything.
Finally, her father cleared his throat.
“Ida,” he began. “Your mother and I have been pondering. We are aware of how much these writing aspirations appeal to you, so we have been saving up our money.”
Her mother picked up where he left off, “ we are going to send you off to study and become a writer in Montreal at a college created just for girls like you. We do hope you will enjoy it there and write to us often.”
Ida could hardly contain her excitement! This whole time she had been anticipating angry cries at her love for literature, but here was her golden opportunity. The tuition must have cost a fortune. Tears sprang into her eyes as she thanked her parents over and over again.
“All that we ask is that you help us until the end of the harvest season without sneaking away, then you will leave for college come winter,” her mother explained.
“Oh parents, I cannot thank you enough! Thank you for this splendid opportunity, and for always supporting me!”
“It was the least we could do, my dear,” her father said.
“We will miss you dearly though,” her mother admitted, tears of her own lining her blue eyes.
Ida embraced them both, already daydreaming of the start of her new life. Of books with her name written on the spine, embossed beautifully into the cover. She would not waste this opportunity.

Daily November 16
Total words: 278

You may have thought that Kraft dinner was boring, but all that is about to change. Now, Kraft dinner is partnered with the world famous Dogseye and Fast Taylor. Here’s what they have to say about the iconic brand that powers them through all of their concerts, late night talk show appearances and music video shoots:
Totally actually really Fast Taylor: I love Kraft dinner! It is very noodly and very cheesy and I eat it all the time. Actually, I probably eat more Kraft dinner than I drink water.
Really totally actually Dogseye: I love Kraft dinner! It is very noodly… hey! Carl! I told you to make the quotes different from each other! What is this—
We’ll hear from Fast Taylor and Dogseye again later. Now for a closer look at the product.
Kraft dinner aims to be easy for all people to make which is why we are releasing pre-made Kraft dinner! For people without microwaves or stoves, the premade Kraft dinner is just like crackers and cheese, but a whole twelve times more processed! That’s quite a lot, making it the best option. Let’s hear one last time from Fast Taylor and Dogseye.
Truly literally genuinely Fast Taylor: premade Kraft dinner is convenient for when I am on the go, as I so often am. You must simply peel back the lid of the container, grab the built in fork and— EW! This is so—
Now, onto Dogseye. (CARL!!!)
Genuinely truly literally Dogseye: Whether you choose to enjoy regular or premade Kraft dinner, all of it is delicious and brings us so much joy. We hope to see you eating some at our concerts!

Daily November 17
Total words: 180

How to make scary Halloween stew!
Ingredients:
One pumpkin, mashed and washed
One cup Peeled grapes (eyeballs)
A dash of cardamom
A pinch of cumin
Half a teaspoon scary salt
A few shakes of pepper
Three cloves of garlic (to keep the vampires away)
Fresh made chicken stock
Two bay leaves (remove before serving)
One and a half teaspoons of chopped, dried basil
One pot full of chopped celery, carrots and potatoes
Two cups of cream

Instructions:
Bring the chicken stock to a boil in the pot with celery, carrots and pumpkins. Stir in the pumpkin, grapes, garlic and spices and let simmer for fifteen minutes. Carefully remove the bay leaves. Transfer to a blender to puree or use an immersion blender to break up the soup, leaving some chunks. Return to the pot and stir in two cups of cream. Let stand uncovered for ten minutes to cool, stirring occasionally.
Serve warm with your favourite crackers!
My favourite way to enjoy it is to give it to someone you think is a vampire and watch for results. Have fun!

Daily November 18
Total words: 474

“Who are you?” Sophie said, staring at the mysterious figure before her.
She rolled her eyes. “I just told you. I’m Elysian.”
“An elf?” Lady Gisela said, her typically cool facade slightly cracked.
“Obviously,” Elysian responded. “I actually have some friends I want you to meet.”
She motioned to the people behind her, telling them to come forward. Only then did Sophie see the boy with green eyes, black hair, glasses and a suspicious lightning scar. Beside him was a boy with red hair and a girl with brown. Their red school uniforms gave them away.
“I’m—” the boy started.
“Harry Potter?” Sophie finished.
“Yeah! How did you know?” Harry asked at the same time her friends yelled “who?”
“He’s a character from a popular book in the forbidden cities,” Sophie clarified.
“No way, they wrote a book about us?” said Harry’s friend, Ron, with a grin.
“I thought you guys were made up!”
Hermione gestured to the elves around them, “and didn’t you think the Lost Cities were made up too?”
“Yeah, but Fitz told me there is no magic in the Lost Cities.”
“What the heck is going on?” Keefe interrupted, voice booming as he fought to control his new abilities.
“We’re Hermione, Ron and Harry,” said Hermione, pointing around to her friends. “And we are witches and wizards.”
“No way! I learned about you in humanland!” Keefe struggled to keep the situation light.
“So, there is magic?” Fitz said, jaw slack.
“Yes, we wield magic,” Harry said.
“Prove it,” Fitz said, his typical stubbornness refusing to let him believe them.
Harry took out his wand and pointed it at Fitz, who ducked in fear. “Wingardium leviosa!”
Fitz floated off the ground with a shout.
“Do you believe us now?” Hermione said.
“Elves can do that too!” Fitz protested as Harry guided him back to the ground.
Hermione rolled her eyes. “Well, we can’t waste more time proving ourselves to you strangers. Who are you?”
“I’m Sophie, and this is Keefe, Fitz, Biana, Dex and Marella. And Lady Gisela”
“Almost all of those names went in one ear and out the other, sorry,” Ron said with a smirk.
Keefe glared at him.
“We have to get out of here,” Hermione said, once again annoyed as she reached for her pendant.
“Wait, you have leaping crystals?” Sophie asked, incredulous as Hermione raised her crystal towards the light.
“Elysian gave them to us,” she grinned. “We have a lot of explaining to do to the council. Or… the council has a lot of explaining to do to the public.”
Fitz, who had been silently observing after challenging Hermione, cut in, “Wait, you mean there are more intelligent species?”
“Witches, wizards and,” Hermione took a deep breath. “Humans.”
“Let’s go pay the council a visit,” Sophie agreed, taking her hand and stepping into the light.

Daily November 19
Total words: 433

Lint the fox scampered into the gymnastics gym, determined to get his backflip. He had signed up for the class one week ago and had been nervously swishing around his tail for days. He sat in a chair to wait.
“Lint?” a coach called from the gymnastics floor.
His face lit up as he entered. The gym looked small from the outside, but inside it was huge. A typical blue floor took up the bottom left quadrant of the floor, followed by beams and trampolines behind. On the other side, sets of bars and rings were set out as far as the eye could see followed by a vault and a tumbling strip. Vibrant colours and bright fluorescent lights illuminated the area.
“Let’s get started, Lint. I’ll be your coach, Nessa,” said the coach with a smile.
Lint nodded.
“It says here you want to get your back flip!”
Lint nodded even more enthusiastically.
“Well then, we should start on the trampoline. Follow me!”
Nessa led him to the giant white trampoline marked in the middle with a red cross.
“Jump as high as you can on the red cross so I can see how high you can jump,” Nessa instructed.
Lint got right to work, using all his strength to jump.
“Great job Lint! I think you’re ready to try the next step. Now, jump onto your back. I’ll catch you in the air and help you finish the flip.”
This part was scarier, but Lint trusted Nessa and did as she instructed. Soon, he was back on his feet. He grinned at his success already. After a few more repetitions, Nessa gave him the next step.
“Now, when you jump onto your back, we won’t pause there. I’ll help you flip right away!”
After a few backflips like that, Lint could almost do them on his own.
“I think you’re ready to try,” Nessa told him with a reassuring smile.
She flicked at a ring on her finger, twisting it around.
“Come on, you got this!” she got off the trampoline and watched Lint intently.
With a deep breath, Lint jumped as high as he could and pretended Nessa was there to help him finish the flip. With her smiling face in mind, he flipped over and landed on his feet!
“Hooray!” Nessa exclaimed, jumping. “You did it!”
Lint squealed in excitement, a smile painted across his face.
“You did great today, Lint,” Nessa said, leading him back to the lobby. “Will you come back next week to learn some more?”
Lint nodded and left the gym having completed his goal.

Daily November 20
Total words: 439

Nadia glanced around the crowded classroom and pushed her glasses further up her nose. She was sitting in the back corner, just how she liked it. Everyone else in the class was throwing her glances, snickering, texting someone or other and some of them were even blatantly staring. She focused on her work again, trying to silence the ever-growing voices in her head so she could get the words on her page. She struggled through a few deep breaths and pushed the tears sprouting from the corners of her eyes down into her stomach. She tried to convince herself that they weren’t really looking at her, but it was getting harder and harder to lie to herself.
This was always where she felt the most stressed. In a classroom surrounded by fluorescent lights, shuffling chairs, whispering kids and, worst of all, a teacher that didn’t get it. Didn’t get how the words swam beneath her vision and she couldn’t puzzle them out for minutes, Didn’t get how she sometimes couldn’t breathe, and the reason wasn’t physical. Just the thought made her breath catch in her throat.
“Nadia, are you finished with your test?” her teacher’s voice floated above her stress.
“Almost,” Nadia said, flipping the page even though she hadn’t finished all the questions and hating how small her voice sounded.
Her teachers’ judgemental eyes continued to peer at her for a few moments before they returned to her computer screen.
“Please hurry it up, Nadia. We don’t have all day.”
Her classmates imitated the way she had said almost, their voices cutting what little concentration she had in half. Finally, when she had milked all the time she could, she turned in her half-finished test and retreated defeatedly back to her desk. Before she could feel the weight of her classmates’ stares, the bell rang. Nadia almost sagged with relief. Finally, she got to go home where people understood her.
“Nadia, please speak to me after class,” her teacher said.
She struggled to keep her expression neutral as she made her way to her teacher’s neat desk.
“I’m worried about you, Nadia. You’re not applying yourself. You need to work harder and complete all the work I assign. I can tell which students do their homework, okay Nadia?”
Nadia bit back a reply about how she did do the homework. Or, that she tried to do it. She didn’t say how she went to sleep in the early hours of the morning or how tears stained her cheeks and the papers of her homework assignments. She did what she always did, swallowed, nodded and promised to work harder.