SWC November '25 Weekly Three
Total word count: 956 words

Part One:

There are a variety of reasons that I tend to procrastinate.Typically, I’m the kind of person who actually hates doing it (procrastination, that is), so I’ll constantly be rushing to get things done as soon as I possibly can. While this can be helpful at times, it also has some not so great effects as well. For example, because I’m so prone to starting as soon as I can and trying to finish everything all at once, I often end up really overwhelmed, and this can cause me to just not know where to start. Basically, I won’t really procrastinate when I don’t think I have that much work. But when I do, I get really overwhelmed and don’t know where to start, so I start getting distracted as I do my work, continually rambling about how stressed I am and how much stuff I have to do without like. Actually doing any of it.

Another reason I tend to procrastinate is because I think something is boring. Oftentimes, it’s not actually as bad as I build it up to be, but I’ll still fall into that trap. I may have other things I’d rather do, so I’ll be checking off items on my to do list that are more fun to do or easier to do, not knowing where to start or just straight up not wanting to start on something else. Sometimes I also think things are really boring just because I’m not sure how to approach them or am feeling uninspired.

As a perfectionist, another thing that can stop me from just doing the thing is my need for it to be really good if not perfect pretty much the first time around. This makes it a bit of an issue when I’m trying, say, to just do a rough draft, because even though I consciously know that I don’t have to make it perfect, I have this really annoying inability to leave things as “just okay” so I can go back to them later.
(339 words)

Part Two:

Brainstorming: One method I decided to try was brainstorming, which was really helpful to me! Honestly, I’ve been meaning to just jot down a bunch of ideas for what I’m planning on doing for my main entry for the writing comp for…ages. Or what feels like that, anyway. Anyway, during this period of time, I managed to plan out a bit of my concept and the themes of my piece, along with beginning to think about character. It’s definitely far from a finished piece—far from a started piece, at that, but at least I’ve started thinking about how I’m going to make this work. I do have a starting point now!

Listening to music: Listening to music has always been something that helps to motivate me, and it’s why doing things like math homework is one of my favorites because I can just listen to music the whole way through. While I was really dreading doing literally any work on my main entry, I think listening to music (some from Clair Obscur and a Cœur de Pirate song, I believe, if I’m not wrong) by my favorite artists really helps me to just distract myself from the fact that it feels like a chore to allow me to just get the thing done.

Making deadlines: This is also something I’m commonly doing, but seeing as I’ve just generally been all-around trying to avoid my main entry, I haven’t actually gotten around to setting myself mini deadlines for what I want to get done by each day. Today, however, I managed to lay out a rough schedule for when I want my drafting done, my self-editing finished, when I’m getting peer review for it, and finally the formatting and submitting it!
(290 words)

Part Three:

For this activity, I chose time blocking. I used thirty minute increments, and this is what it looks like for me!

(Scratch hates me, find the schedule here instead)

Overall, I think this will help me to accomplish the main things I have to do today while also working in some time for other things that are really important to me—like the writing comp and also playing piano. While I do have a tendency to overestimate my ability to stay focused, I’m really hoping that I will be able to motivate myself to use this method to really keep myself accountable for the time that I’m spending on each activity and such, because I want to ensure that I leave sufficient time to actually work on and write my entry and all of that fun stuff.

I’ve chosen this strategy because it’s one that aligns with how I like to work. Typically speaking, I’ll time block at least a bit on my own, just because I kind of obsessively make schedules for things. I think my putting a solid, much clearer one together here (at least, much clearer than all the ones I do when I’m just rambling on and on about all the things I feel like I have to do) will hopefully help me to stay a bit more on track. Obviously there will certainly be things that won’t go exactly according to plan, but I’d like to make sure that I’m spending, at the very least, half an hour today working on my writing comp main entry. So far, I’ve checked off the step for Chinese homework, and I’ve been right on schedule! We’ll see how much the rest of it holds…
327 words

Critique for Toko!

Hi, Toko! As I'm sure you can guess…I'm here to give you some critique!

I already skimmed through your collection once before reading this, and let me just say that ohhhh my goodness, it is absolutely gorgeous, and I truly love it! Your poetry is always so stunning, and you truly have such an incredible handle on verse and flow and just…I don't know, writing in general?

Anyway, now I'm doing this as I'm reading it more in-depth, line by line, so!

to consume oneself

Okay, so the use of the subtitle for this is SO powerful, and I honestly think it makes this poem way more interesting, aaa

out of apologies you never sent,
and silence you confused with peace.

Super minor nitpicky thing (and I assume the rest of my suggestions are going to be like this as well, haha), but you don't need a comma here because you've only mentioned two things you're building it out of!

Called it healing.
Called it progress.
Painted the walls with mantras you didn’t believe
and stacked shame like bricks.

This might be a personal thing, but I feel like the order of these two couplets could be switched, so you end with “Calling it healing. / Calling it progress.” I think the shorter lines are a lot more striking (and the repetition), and given the longer sentences in the beginning, it could be interesting to end on that entirely different, nearly incomplete (but like. Stylistically so) way.

But hunger grows clever
when you lock it inside.

Ooh, super interesting personification! I do wonder if maybe the personification of hunger could come back in a later part in the poem, though, because it would really show that tension you're talking about in some of the later stanzas.

Whispered comfort while unspooling you,
thread by thread.

Okay, this could also be a me thing, but I think if you put an “it” at the start of this line to mimic that same structure of the line before could make this stronger! It brings in some subtle repetition in a slightly different way than in the above line (which uses the repetition of “learned”), and it makes it, to me, at least, flow a little better!

that this was what survival looked like—

I think the “that” here makes it a little bit overly lengthy and could be cut for the same literal effect yet make you hurry into the next part, making it thus more powerful and impactful!

smiling with a mouth full of splinters, swallowing the hurt
before anyone could see it bloom.
You became a feast you didn’t know you were serving.

Love all of this! Your metaphors are truly gorgeous.

And you folded yourself smaller each day,

The rhythm of this, combined with the period at the end of the last line, feels ever so slightly off to me. I think you could probably solve this by either deleting the “and” or just switching the punctuation at the end of the last line to a comma instead?

until you mistook invisibility for peace.

It's possible that what you're trying to go with for this poem is this theme of thinking things that are not peace are, in fact, that, because it seems like this is a callback to your earlier line “and silence you confused with peace,” but either way, I thought I'd just tell you about that in case that wasn't what you were going for and want to change it for more variety! Honestly, it's really up to your intention with this piece and what you really want to underscore. Also, I do notice you use “mistook” three times in the next stanza for repetition purposes, so if this isn't intended to be a foreshadowing-type thing to that, I'd probably recommend changing the verb to a synonym for slightly more variety!

Until you forgot what you looked like
when you weren’t flinching.

I've got no words, Toko. Oh my goodness.

No one ever had to destroy you.
You were always
doing it gently. Efficiently.
Doing it first. With clean hands.
So no one else would.

THIS WHOLE STANZA I'D BE SCREAMING IF I WASN'T IN THE LIBRARY RIGHT NOW-
But anyway. It's incredible. My one very, very minor piece of feedback here is to switch “efficiently” and “doing it first” because it seems to flow a little better in my head and emphasizes that repetition nicely, too! Then again, this could also be an attempt to deviate from that typical kind of repetition in doing it later, in which case, you should 100% keep it that way, if that's what you feel is best for your collection! Oh, and you've also got a double space after “gently,” I think.

Okay, so thoughts on this poem? ALKDSJLDSKJF. That's all I've got. In the best way possible. Your poem really made me Feel Things, which I think is truly a mark of the best poetry.

Grammar of the Powerful

LOVE this title, oh my goodness-

They don’t take land first.
They take words.

Rename the river.
Mispronounce the dead.
Write laws in a borrowed tongue
and call it order.

THIS IS TOO WELL-DONE. AAAA. I do not have anything more to say here. Just like. Oh my goodness. You leave in just the right amount of ambiguity but provide a perfect amount of context.

Say freedom
and leave out
who it’s for.

I feel like freedom is still regarded as a positive thing, regardless as to for whom it is? If that makes sense. I'm assuming this poem is about forced assimilation (or at least, that's my interpretation, but it's also possible that history has just gotten to me), and I think this poem feels like more of a reclamation of culture and history and holding them (colonizers?) accountable, but saying that it's only someone else that has freedom isn't necessarily a bad thing—or at least not as bad of a thing that you're looking for. Maybe you could use irony like you did earlier but in terms a metaphor here? Like “Say freedom / as they build this cage.” Or something like that. I don't know, that's probably a bad example, but I'm sure you could think of something wonderful, given what an amazing writer you are!

Accent is gate.

This part is a *little* confusing to me. Is it a gate between them to differentiate? Or…? I think some playing around with this wording could probably clarify it!

The dictionary,
a weapon pressed
into open mouths.

Maybe instead of a comma, you could use a colon or just no punctuation at the end of the line instead? I think either one of those would probably make a little more grammatical sense, though this is also super nitpicky.

We are taught to translate
ourselves
to survive,
to soften the edges,
to speak in their grammar,
to forget the names
we knew first.

I LOVE THIS! I think the one suggestion I have is to take out the “to speak in their grammar” line because you've already emphasized that literal part earlier, and your other things in the list are a bit more metaphorical. Plus, it also allows you to have a list of three, which tends to be quite natural in literature and stuff.

But every translation
loses something.
And what is lost
does not return.

They call it progress.
We call it silence.

THIS ENDING?! Okay, wow. This poem is sooo well-done as well, and I love it

fingertips in margins

Probably won't do as much quoting here because like. Screenshot and style, and I hate to ruin style- Just assume anything I haven't commented on is perfect in every way imaginable, and the only things I actually bring up are because this is supposed to be a critique and not just me fangirling.

I might do a stanza break after the “your hands overflow” bit, because otherwise it makes my brain want to go on to the next sentence as part of it when in reality, it's not actually the case. Just for clarification. Very minor, though.

Actually, I do think using a bit of punctuation at the ends of certain lines (as I'm reading) could be helpful, because even though I know it's stylistic, it also makes me have to puzzle over the ending of each sentence and reread lines accordingly, which can kind of disrupt the flow, since I'm going back and forth. Or another extra line of space between them or something.

After “applause,” you've got a comma, which I'm not sure totally makes sense there? It could just be me misunderstanding the sentence a little, but it does make my brain do like. A little hiccup or whatever. And try and figure out what the comma does to the sentence.

In the “…intentions to arrive. still you glide over it too” bit, maybe you could do a comma after the “still”? I think it makes a bit more sense both rhythmically and grammatically like that…maybe?

OKAY THE ENDING OF THIS ONE TOO. OH MY GOODNESS.

I have to go for class now (perfect timing, I guess? The bell just rang right as I was finishing this), but anyway, you should just know that this is truly one of the best poetry collections I've ever read, and your poetry is 100% up there with that of my favorite authors. I first saw that last poem and thought, “This is like something Ocean Vuong would write.” I mean that in the best way possible, because he's like. My favorite poet. So just know that you're absolutely incredible and I loved this so much, and I wish you the best of luck! I doubt you'll need it, though. <333

Critique for Mildred!

Hey, Mildred! So sorry it's taken me ages to finally get to critiquing this— I'm going through this on my second time reading it, and may I just say that the first time I looked through it a couple of days ago, I was just totally blown away? It was so gorgeous, and I loved all of the plot and character!

Okay, now to get into the actual critique.

At the top of Thao’s inbox, there was an email. Nothing unusual about it. She was a teacher after all, and received emails constantly.

I feel a bit like the rhythm here is a little bit off and it doesn't quite fit the style of the rest of the piece, if you ask me. Maybe saying something more like, “At the top of Thao's inbox sat an unread email. This wasn't unusual—as a teacher, she received emails constantly.” I mean, that might be more my writing style than yours, I guess, but I think the idea gets to saying it more directly, precisely, and with a bit of sentence variety? I don't know if I'm making sense now

Putting away the first graders’ spelling tests, she clicked open the email.

Super minor thing, but Thao is most likely not doing both of these things at once, so I'd indicate an order with your phrasing! Oh, also you use the word “email” a lot in the first two paragraphs, so it would probably be nice if you could see if you could eliminate some of those usages!

Dear Ms. Nguyen,

LOVE the voice in the letter! Even though I don't actually know Nicole Ayala's character firsthand in this, I can clearly figure out what kind of person she is, and the whole email is so well put together. No critique here! This is excellent.

Her eyes wavered on the screen,

The word “wavered” (I think) makes sense here, but it also feels a little bit unnatural because it's not usually used in reference to the eyes themselves, you know? Maybe saying that her gaze wavered would make more sense…

Iris was a good kid, she shouldn’t have had to go through this at her age.

Very nitpicky, but you've got a comma splice here! Although these can also be used intentionally for style, and this could work for that, so it's really up to you whether or not you'd like to change it to a semicolon or something else or just keep it the same.

The following week was eerily quiet without the presence of the bubbly girl. The days ticked by slowly, the hands on the clock moving with no care for the girl’s absence.

I love this! The personification of the clock is really nice.

a cloud was overcast on Thao.

This part is in passive voice, and I think changing it to active voice could make it a bit stronger! This could just be as simple as saying, like, “a dark cloud hovered over Thao all day” or something probably better phrased than that.

The children asked why Iris was absent on her third day of absence

I feel like children this age wouldn't be asking why she's absent as much as where she is, so maybe you could emulate that in the phrasing? Also, it would eliminate one of the usages of the absent variants.

Thao couldn’t make herself face the gaze of the children before her. They only perceived the fact that Iris had been able to miss school, the full picture had not yet been painted for them yet.

Thao almost hoped it never would be, but fantasies like that never came true.

Mildred, this is amazing!

Iris came back to school a week after her absences started

I wonder if “absences started” makes it sound a little too cavalier—like she's skipping school, when obviously, she's not; she's missing it for a reason. Maybe you could just say “a week later” and continue with the next part of the sentence?

Nonetheless.

I think a comma after this would probably work slightly better!

Normally, Ms. Nguyen would ask her to put away her notebook and pay attention to the lesson, but Thao didn’t have it in her to do it. Not now.

Ooh, this does a great job of showing character!

and maybe they were partially right in that assumption

I think you could cut “in that assumption” to say the same thing! It's kind of implied, and the shorter clause would make it more powerful

Thao passed out a short written assignment to her students. It was a short prompt:

I'm so, so sorry I'm really annoying about these things- But you have two uses of “short” in two sentences, so maybe changing one would be good for more variety

“What’s up?” Thao—or rather, Ms. Nguyen at this moment—asked, “Having trouble with the assignment?”

I'm pretty sure it should be a period after the “asked” because it's a new sentence she's starting with the dialogue!

“…I guess I know what hope is. It’s when you want something.” Iris murmured, drawing circles on her pink rubber eraser. “Like, I hope I’ll have mac n’ cheese for dinner.”

This and the rest of the interaction between Mrs. Nguyen and Iris is sooo good, and it feels really realistic as well! You did a great job on this.

Understanding dawned on Iris’s eyes,

I don't think the “dawned on” can really refer to her eyes, but maybe you can tie that in, like, “Understanding seemed to dawn on Iris, and her eyes…”

because looking at the way Iris’s eyes were filled with a muddy watercolor blur of sadness, denial, and emptiness was too much of a toll on Thao’s mind. However, Iris called out for her, and the teacher in Thao knew never to ignore a student.

The writing here is superb <3 And after this as well, but I mean. I don't want to copy and paste a massive chunk of your writing here because I assume you already know it, but it's actually incredible, and the whole thing with applying hope to mac and cheese is perfect

When they neared the day’s end, the time where the students were clustered together around the door, chatter coursing through the room

I think you use a lot of appositives/describing phrases here, but it kind of takes away the focus of the sentence on the second part—which is the part that actually furthers the story. I'd recommend taking out one of these and rephrasing it to be a little shorter to put the emphasis on Iris going to see Mrs. Nguyen!

It was, at the end of the day, nothing but a fake smile.

This is such a cool way to carry through that theme of denying being a liar and actually being one, and it especially foreshadows that last line really wonderfully.

Iris asked—almost pleaded in a low voice.

To me, flow-wise, this works better if you have another em dash after pleaded!

She didn’t explain the way the heart stopped, the fact there was so much uncertainty around what happened after, she didn’t explain how the brain shut down. She only explained that he left and wasn’t coming back.

Oh my goodness. The emotion here. You captured it so well.

Iris breathed, breath trembling in the air.

Two uses of breath variations in the same sentence—maybe change the first one to “exhaled”?

It wasn’t a happy smile—or was it a sad one. It was just a smile.

The “or was it a sad one” doesn't totally make sense to me here, so maybe you could say something like, “But it wasn't a sad one, either” instead?I also feel like the “just a smile” doesn't quite do what you're going for. Maybe you could say that it's hollow or empty or something that encapsulates its neutrality with a bit more description?

the silent sound piercing to the ears.

I assume this is juxtaposition, but it doesn't totally make sense to me. Typically, when you say that silence sounds like something, you're describing something very abstract and intangible to create that paradoxical juxtaposition, but you've used a tangible thing here, so maybe think about choosing one or the other? It's up to you, though.

Thao Nguyen became a liar that day.

I love this last line beyond all words, truly. It is so, so powerful, and the whole story kind of is tied together with this, and the semi-circular ending is so satisfying to me as a reader.

Okay, for general thoughts:
1. I loved your plot!! It was so engaging and realistic, and you took such a big concept and did a marvellous job of condensing it into something that's under 2,000 words—which is something really hard to do.
2. YOUR CHARACTERS. AND THEIR INTERACTIONS. They were really so well done, Mildred, and you should be proud!
3. I think my main suggestions for this would be to just think about words you might have overused in short periods of time and change a few of them for some more variety, and then a couple of minor grammar/flow things! I noticed a bunch of comma splices, so I'd go back and look for those if you get a chance. Other stuff wasn't too major, but my grammar-obsessed mind is just annoyingly nitpicky, so my critique tends to reflect that. Unfortunately. I'm sorry-

Congratulations on creating such a beautiful piece of writing, and I'm honored to have critiqued this <3

Snowy's SWC November '25 Writing Comp Entry
Word count: 1,936 words

She told me, after that first episode, to get a plant. They’re easier than pets, she said, and it’ll be nice to know you’re taking care of something. It’s good skills, ones you could probably apply to yourself.

I had laughed at that, saying, Oh, sure, I bet that I’ll just destroy that too, but it wasn’t even a week later that I found myself halfway to the garden store my friend Lauren had recommended to me with my hands on the wheel. How I had ended up there, I wasn’t fully sure, but clearly that advice hadn’t been the typical in one ear and out the other kind.

So there I was, with…what? Twenty dollars?—in my wallet, browsing through the aisles of plants. I have never been the kind of person with a green thumb, so seeing all the leaves was a little overwhelming. How was I supposed to know the difference between any of these hyperspecific breeds when I can barely discern raspberry leaf from poison ivy? And what was the difference between partial shade and partial sunlight? Clearly, going there was a mistake.

I knew immediately it wasn’t something I’d end up telling her, because if there’s anything worse than an admission of guilt, it’s hearing, Well, why do you think that? moments later. Maybe because I knew her overly philosophical ways might just be right, and I hated being wrong.

I was just thinking I might leave when a man in uniform with Plant Haven written on the pocket came up to me. Dumb store name, I remember thinking, about to scoff but catching myself at the last moment.

“Looking for anything in particular?” he asked.

“Uh,” I said, and I stared blankly ahead. Just say something. “Um. A plant?”

Well, obviously.

Either he was as oblivious as I was, or he got customers as clueless as me all the time, because he responded with unfit excitement. “Of course! Anything in particular in mind? Flowers, herbs, something else? Are you looking for perennial or annual?”

What on earth was I supposed to say for that? “An, uh, maybe a flower?” Could I really have sounded any more like an idiot? I could practically see my best friend shaking her head at me.

He showed me to the section with all the colorful flowers, saying, “You’re in luck, we just got a new shipment in!” and he was all the enthusiasm I was not, but at least I was in a better position than I was five minutes ago. That was something, wasn’t it?

I ended up walking out of the store with a sunflower whose petals tickled my face. Thank goodness, at least the work was already halfway done for me.

Putting it in the car was an endeavor I hope to never undertake again. Did you know that plants scream in pitches we can’t hear when they’re stressed? I hated to think I might be causing the pretty little bloom pain, whether or not it was noticeable to me. After a minute of figuring out how best to finagle it into the front seat and a subsequent few more of determining how best to keep the soil from spilling everywhere if I braked too hard (buckled in, I decided, even though it sounds stupid), I turned on my playlist to drown the world out and headed home.

A few days later, the sunflower was potted in my garden—an experience that must have been a hassle but I’ve blocked from my memory. Really, to call the place a garden was a bit generous. Mostly, it was that one flower, a bunch of dead grass, and a whole lot more weeds I kept promising myself I’d pull one day. But, hey, if nothing else, it brightened up the place a little.

For the first couple of weeks, I watered it whenever I remembered. But by the dry season in August, I had forgotten it entirely. I left it to shrivel up in the hot sun, its petals wilting, and eventually, it looked like everything else in my so-called garden: dead or dying.

I showed up to Lauren’s house unannounced in September, crying for no apparent reason. “I killed it,” I said between sobs and rapid breaths. “I forgot about it.”

“Shhh,” she said, reaching a hesitant arm over to pat me on the shoulder. “It’s okay. It’s not your fault."

Still, I was obsessed with the thrill of trying, because the next day, I wasted away instead of working, searching for “good plants for beginners,” and decided my next attempt would be basil.

I was already shivering by October, and part of me wanted nothing more than to stay in bed for the rest of the year with no obligations, but I needed the groceries and I wanted the plant just as much. Just to give it another try. Just to prove that I could.

I dropped off my groceries in the car before I walked to the store, planning the conversation on the way so I’d have my answers prepared before I even opened the door. They’d say, “Hi, how may I help you?” and I’d say, “I’m looking for the herbs. I’d like to buy a basil sprout.”

Turns out, I didn’t need to even use the conversation, because the basil was practically looking me in the eye as soon as I walked in. Perfect.

I picked up the closest one to me and headed for the counter to check out, pulling out a five dollar bill from my wallet and handing it to her.

“That’ll be $5.40, with tax,” she said coolly, reading the numbers off her screen.

“Oh, yeah.” Under my breath, I added, “Forgot about the tax.” I pulled a small stack of dimes from the pocket, and handed them to her. “Here, I think that’s right. Probably.”

“Would you like a physical or e-receipt?” the cashier asked me as she counted the coins before dumping them in the drawer.

“Huh?” I blinked, the words taking a second to register. “Don’tneedareceiptthanks,” I said, but it came out mumbled and smashed together.

“Sorry?”

“Oh, no, I’m sorry,” I responded out of habit, my words tripping over themselves. “I don’t need a receipt.”

You know this story already. After I got home, I set the little basil sprout above my sink, thinking at least if it was an indoor plant, I’d be more motivated to take care of it. Maybe I could force myself to remember it if I made it in my constant line of sight.

Turns out, though, I was wrong on all accounts. I did not watch the sprout grow into the beautiful, tall stalks I was promised it would; I saw it wither, dying just as soon as it lived.

This was your fault.

It came to me like a nightmare I couldn’t quite shake. For weeks, I woke up at two, three, four in the morning, hyperventilating and hysterical, because I killed it I killed it, and maybe it was just a plant, but I had always had a knack for overthinking things, and to have anything’s blood on my hands terrified me.

For weeks, I barely left the house. Barely left my room, even. I listened to songs on repeat until I could dissect every note and layer, and I woke up, it seemed, only to exist, never to live. I hovered in limbo, taking each breath unable to imagine the next.

It took me all those weeks to finally work up the courage to call Lauren—because while I knew I should talk to her, I didn’t want to be overanalyzed. I wanted a friend.

“Give me five minutes,” she promised. “I’ll be there, just hang on.”



A year later, I no longer woke up in the middle of the night quite so often, and I found myself thinking, Maybe it’s time to give it another chance. Try it again, and maybe it’ll work this time.

Refusing to take any chances, I spoke to Lauren instead, who just laughed when I told her my request. “This again? I thought you’d never ask.” But despite her humor, she drove me the way to the store and held my hand the whole way through, asking for a cactus on my behalf.

“Hey,” she said, looking me in the eye, “no more crying over plants, okay? It’s not worth it. I love you, but we can’t do this again if it sets you back.”

“I’m not gonna kill it this time,” I told her forcefully, bringing the spiky little succulent close to my stomach, almost cradling it. As if.

She rolled her eyes. “Not what I asked.” Still, she didn’t push the matter.

I told her I wanted a cactus because they’re easier, so I wouldn’t have to worry about it. That’s what I said, anyway, but that was only a fraction of the truth.

Is it strange to say you admire a plant? Cacti are resilient; they’ve had to adapt to their arid environments, and in spite of the harshness of the world, they thrive. They make do, even in the worst.

At home, I situated you on the windowsill so you could soak up all the light you’d need. I promised I would be better for you. Even after all my failures, I said to myself, I will not let you die, but it was inevitable that as the months passed, I would forget.

By the time spring returned again, my weekly waterings, as always, became monthly ones before I stopped altogether. I kept waiting, hypocritically, for you to wither like all the rest, but you never did. You survived, just the way you always do.

It took months before I was deemed “better” enough, but when I was, but when I did, you were still there, somehow. I remember, one morning I was pouring myself a cup of coffee and saw you there, still standing stronger than anything else I’d taken care of. I thought, Huh. You’re not one to give up, are you?, because despite my forgetfulness, you fought to survive.

In the end, it seems my very efforts to fix my flaws were the same ones that have brought you to this point. I write this from the table across from you, where your stem has turned yellow and soft, because I learned too late that the line between negligence and smothering is far too thin.

I forced myself to remember to water you daily, and I thought I was doing so well, but I didn’t realize the truth of what I was doing.

For once, I killed a plant not by forgetting but by remembering. I watered your roots daily until they began to rot because I didn’t see that too much could destroy you in the same way as not enough.

To the little cactus I’ve placed on the windowsill, I am asking you to survive the way you always have, for you have been my one constant in a world of my shortcomings. I am coming to you with a promise I’ve made so many times: I will do better. I will not fail you this time.

I know, I’ve been a liar this whole time, I’m sorry. You don’t have to believe me. You don’t have to forgive me—I wouldn’t. I’ve never been good to you, so I won’t blame you if you can’t trust me after I’ve broken it so many times. I can’t promise you I’ll be perfect, but I’ll be better.

And you? There is, though, one thing you must do: live. Not for me, the one who has never understood how to love you right, but for yourself and for the better days to come.

You have always deserved it.

Critique for @EvaEvergreen

Hey, Eva! I'm here to do your critique, as you can probably tell! I'm really quite pressed for time tonight, so unfortunately, this won't be quite as in-depth as I'd like to do, but I'll do my best to highlight the things I can, and hopefully it'll be helpful nonetheless. That being said, let's go to critique!

So the first thing I notice when I see it is a formatting thing: the way it's set up makes it look very much like a prose poem, but I'm not sure if that's what you're going for. It's got longer lines that aren't fully broken up, but it reads with much more plot and action than a typical prose poem—but then again, you could also be trying to break the mold here for all I know! If it's not a prose poem, I'd recommend splitting these up by leaving an extra line between them so it's a little bit more visually appealing.

About the flow of this: I think it flows fine, but one thing I'd work on a little more is your sentence type variety! You seem to be using a lot of simple or what feels like one-beat sentences to me, if that makes sense, particularly toward the beginning. For example:

I felt my foot thud into something hard, and suddenly I was flying. The wind whistled past my ears and the ground came rushing towards me all too soon.
The impact shook me to my bones. For a moment, I was too rattled to get up.
Then I remembered.
This was a race.
I needed to keep moving.

It's something I notice when pronouncing every word of this in my mind, because the sentences have a very similar rhythm. The “for a moment” is nice to break it up, but I think you need a little more of it! A lot of this could be solved by description here and there, because I've also noticed it's very action-focused—like the sentences are all statements of what happens, and they're less so about the lead-up to why you're there and where you even are, but more so about this happened and then that happened. It's great for getting you into the narrative quickly (which the first paragraph really does so well), but I think stylistically and flow-wise, you might want to include a little more variety! Some description of, say, the surroundings and context could solve this pretty easily. One thing I like to do for this is just to read it all out loud. The entire thing. It can be a pain sometimes, but it does SO much for helping you to understand where your rhythm is off, because it really forces you to focus on how it acts in practicality and slow down for it. I mean, you can have an entirely grammatically correct sentence or story, but sometimes saying it out loud just makes it feel like it's a little unnatural. Here, I don't think it's unnatural, but it would definitely draw attention to when you have similar cadences and rhythms and where you need to change them. I know this is somewhat action, so more shorter sentences definitely help to establish that, but I also think that keeping some variety is always a good thing!

Additionally, sort of similar to above, you've got a lot of sentences (especially at first) that start with “I”. This isn't bad on its own, but I think when you pair it with a lot of simple sentences in a row, it can feel a bit monotonous. Same thing as above here—a bit of description, reading it out loud to see where it feels like it—all of those could probably help you to deal with some of this. Also! See if you can rearrange some sentences slightly to start with a dependent clause or a present participial phrase or something like that. Let me know if you need an example, and I'm happy to help with that!

That being said, I do feel like your sentence variety and rhythm really does improve toward the end! So I'd mostly focus on the beginning for that stuff.

Okay, moving on to less structural/grammatical stuff, I think something you could probably do a little more is to provide some more context! We know this book is important, but we don't really understand why. It's magic, but what does it really do? I don't feel like I understand its importance, and honestly, I'm not sure the importance of this book is really introduced until the second half of the piece, though it seems like an important catalyst for the event that takes place here. I'd recommend developing that a little more by providing context, perhaps through a flashback to a conversation with Queen Viola or including some of Lydia's thoughts. If she doesn't know why it's important, say that! Or show it, anyway. If she does, use this to raise the stakes of her mission! Basically, you have to make us really care about why Lydia is on this mission, even though we know that she is doing this very important thing.

Another thing: It does feel a bit like the relationship between Hazel and Lydia could definitely use some more development! It feels like this whole time, Lydia is like. At this mysterious stranger's (who is later revealed to be Hazel) throat, but all of a sudden, she's kind of enthralled by her. Maybe you could develop that initial distrust a little bit more in their relationship before they get to the friendly stage? It makes a little more sense for the plot, and it also allows you to more feasibly jump to the ending, because someone on a mission for their queen (hopefully) wouldn't abandon their queen and values for someone they were enemies with just a couple of hours before, you know? But having a little bit more time to show that that mistrust isn't actually valid as they begin to warm up to each other a little more would be good! Another thing that could help is if you described the importance of the book to Hazel a little more so you root for them together!

Overall, though, I think you did a great job on keeping the characters very clear and in line with what you've established, particularly in Hazel. She automatically makes herself a friendly character and her dialogue feels pretty consistent, so I think the one thing that you could do for this is to lengthen Lydia's distrust—maybe she sees that overly friendliness as a threat, thinking that maybe Hazel is actually doing this only as a ruse or something.

For titles: I don't think I fully have a real title idea, but I do always like to think about either metaphors or things that are in line with the meaning and vibe of the piece. One thing my mind keeps circling back to for this is “encounter,” but I'm also sort of thinking of “shades of gray,” and “the other side of the story.” These aren't really titles, but they're concepts that you could perhaps think about! But you are the author of this piece and definitely know it far better than I do, so if none of those ideas feel right to you, you shouldn't feel like you need to use them <3

Oh, maybe a bit of humor or something in the title? The piece definitely ends quite lightheartedly, and I think a title that echoes that would be really nice.

In short…

You did a great job on consistent voice and showing character (particularly Hazel) in a short span of time!

Some things to improve on are variety of sentence structure, context, and development in the Hazel-Lydia relationship!

I hope this doesn't sound too sharp or mean or anything, because I do have a tendency to focus on things to improve when I'm critiquing quite heavily, which I hope you know isn't a reflection on my actual opinion of the piece, aslkdfjslf- It's just kind of my style, and it probably comes out even more because this is a bit more rushed. Anyway, thanks so much for giving me the opportunity to critique this piece, and good luck with this!! <3

Critique for Kiara

Hi, Kiara! I'll preface this by saying that I turned out to be a bit busier than expected tonight, so I'm kind of speedrunning some critiques right now- I do have a tendency to pick out mostly the things to improve, particularly when I'm trying to do this quickly, so I really hope that none of this comes across as mean or anything like that, because I really promise that it's not at all a reflection on the piece. Also, I probably will not make entire sense here, so if you need me to explain anything further, then just let me know!

Okay, without further ado, let's get to the critique!

Since the beginning of time, I have had one job: to take memories.

Splendid start, and also, I love this concept, aaaa

There they stay, gathering dust as the world forgets them– the memories lost, to all except for me.

Very nitpicky, but you don't need a space after this dash! I also think you need an em dash here—it seems like you have an en dash as it is, sldjlakdsf- Same thing in some other places, but this is the only time I'll mention it so I don't get overly bothersome

I'm very annoying about these things; I'm so sorry

What is the use of remembrance if it is by the one being who can never truly feel? Their grief echoes through me, but I cannot call it mine. It will never be.

Ooh, wow, I felt this. I do wonder, though, do you need that last “It will never be”? because you end it on a really strong note earlier, and I wonder if it would be fine on its own. If you do keep it, I think switching “will” and “never” sounds better (paralleling the negative + verb from the sentence before), but that also could be personal preference.

And now I sit upon the worn rug in my small room, lights flickering around me like stars, shining and then burning out. The next one is coming soon, I can feel. His anguish is what reaches me first, a whisper of thought on the chilling wind:

There's definitely ways you could take out some words from this to make it more impactful. Firstly, you could probably cut the “and” that starts this, and also “around me” and “is what” later in the third sentence (which would also eliminate some passive voice, and, to me, emphasize the point of the sentence a little better). Also, I'd add an “it” after the “feel” in the second sentence! Otherwise it seems a little unfinished. Unless that's what you're going for, in which case, ignore me!

I don’t know how long I’ve been walking– all I know is that there is an ache in my chest and I need it gone.

Love this!

The fall leaves shimmer in shades of gold and maroon, fireflies emerging from the underbrush, flickering around me.

Okay, this probably barely matters, but this is the second time you've used “flickering” in this story! Really, really minor, and honestly, I think 99% of people will not notice or care, but it just like. Itches my brain or whatever. So I figured I'd tell you, because it's not the most common word and it also hasn't been very long.

But all I can focus on now is my grief.

Can you show this instead, maybe? Or honestly, I think you kind of establish this with your next paragraphs, so you could probably just cut it entirely as well, if you wanted.

Unloved. Unwanted, even by my own family.

And that was one of the greatest sins in our world. Being alone– being disowned.

You could probably combine these two to make the shorter paragraph that comes after it a bit more impactful!

It was small, made of interwoven branches, flowers and leaves growing from the sides. It looked equal parts beautiful and dangerous.

I don't quite have an exact fix or whatever to this, and this could also be a personal thing, but I think the observations with “it was” and “it looked” kind of pull me out of the narration and remind me that I'm not actually in their head. It's not a critical priority or anything, but if you have time, it might be interesting to explore how you can use these observations to immerse the reader further into the narrator's head.

Something about it called to my hurt– to the memory of his betrayal.

I'm sure you're probably pressed for words, but if you can, maybe describing the call rather than saying that it did call to the hurt would make this more impactful? Maybe you can identify a very specific yet minor thing, like a scent. Or…I don't know.

And I felt the feeling leaking from my thoughts, my memories. Eventually, I couldn’t remember what I had been supposed to think about at all. It was then that I opened my eyes, an unfamiliar woman sitting in front of me. She had a brass lantern on the floor between us, a lantern that now pulsed with golden light. The woman in front of me hesitated for a brief moment, meeting my eyes before clicking the lantern shut.

This is really cool! I like this a lot.

My hand lifted, like a marionette on strings, to knock on the door. It swung open before my knuckles could meet wood.

Ooh, the comparison here is awesome!

“Do you want it back?” She asked,

Very nitpicky, but I'm pretty sure that you don't need to capitalize “she” here because it's a question within the dialogue and therefore doesn't act as a complete sentence when you take into account the presence of a dialogue tag.

I did as she asked, and suddenly, the light in the lantern came alive. Color bloomed in the lantern’s glow– shapes shifting, moving… creating a story.

I think I've said sort of similar things before, but maybe describing the aliveness of the lantern would be better than saying it! I really like this second sentence, as an example.

I felt warmth grow in my chest.

This could become “warmth grew in my chest” instead

so brilliant and beautiful

I think you've used beauty and its variations a lot as descriptors in these last few paragraphs/scenes, so I'd probably change some of those for a bit more variety

stabbing in my chest

I think you've used this phrase before! Then again, it was when the narrator lost their memories as well, so if this is an echo, that's REALLY cool.

Unwanted. The word had followed me like a specter.

Aaa, Kiara, this is so powerful!

“You can take that back,” she said quietly, “all that color.”

“And the pain?” I asked her, a chill sweeping over me.

“That’s the trade. Take back what you lost, and with it the pain, or leave it here… and let the quiet remain. It is your choice.”

THIS. THIS WHOLE BIT. OH MY GOODNESS. I love it.

I left her cottage,

Just leaving feels a little bit…I don't know, it doesn't really encompass the magnitude of what happened? It seems like you're going for a mundane observation in the midst of something so large, but I think that this could be better accentuated by describing one small aspect of leaving the house—like stepping over a threshold or something.

Comfort over color. Forgetting over freedom.

This is so cool, and you 100% made the right choice in putting it on its own paragraph!

More general thoughts:

LOVE your imagery and your language—it's all so powerful, and it's absolutely gorgeous to read!!

I had zero issues with your flow, personally, but if it's something you're worried about, I always recommend reading it out loud! See if it feels like you're kind of saying the same thing or similar beats/rhythm or something again and again or if it doesn't feel natural to say—those are generally places you want to take a closer look at! But that's really if you feel it's necessary, because I thought the sentence variety and rhythm and flow was very nice.

I'm super obsessed with your concept here! It's so cool.

Some things to work on in general:
• More immersive observations! Instead of saying that something looked like a certain thing, maybe just describe it from the character's perspective by giving the description along with the importance of the thing, because generally, people don't actually think, “That looks (insert adjective)” as much as they just observe it and move on. Same with words like “seem” and whatever—is it something that's kind of tugging on the character? If so, describe that!
• Similar to above, a lot of the descriptions of how it feels the morning after giving up the memory, it kind of seems like you're describing the things that aren't there more than what is. Instead of saying it isn't colorful, describe how muted it is, how toned-down the world feels, as if you're experiencing it through a dirty lens and not as someone who's actually there. Show the emptiness that is left, not the absence of something else! Particularly if your character doesn't really understand the absence, like the one here.
• Switch the en dashes to em dashes and remove the spaces after them
• Honestly, for a while, I was quite confused about who it was that was narrating. I assume it's basically a narration of 1, 2, 1, but I wasn't sure for the longest time whether the middle part was being told by the initial narrator or someone else, so I'd definitely want to clarify that, whether by indicating it in words that it's a perspective change or anything else! Because part of me was also wondering if it was an origin story of the first narrator until I got to the very end.
• Maybe a little more dialogue sprinkled in the middle of the story could help with characterization to establish who the narrator is a bit better?

Anyway, I absolutely loved this piece, and I had such a great time reading and critiquing it! Thank you so much for giving me the opportunity to this, and I wish you the best of luck with it—though I highly doubt you'll need it! <3

Critique for Luna!

Hi, Luna! I'm here with your critique! Firstly, I am very much so on a time crunch right now because I must go to bed shortly and also still have chemistry to do, alskdfjasd- BUT! I will do my best to make at least an okay critique for you, and please let me know if you need me to elaborate on anything. I'm so sorry if I sound really blunt; it's just the tiredness coming out, ahaha

Okay, so I'm going to assume that based on the way this is written, it's almost prose poetry, right? But if not, I think it might be good to split up the paragraphs just to keep it clear, though it could work this way stylistically even if not, I suppose!

As I'm reading this, I've got to say, I'm so in love with the way you build urgency and tension between the loop of the story and the inevitability of the end with the narrator's desire to do anything she can to change the ending. It's so, so cool, and you executed it so incredibly masterfully. I love it, and I can really feel for the character, despite the context not being super in-depth! The repetition really builds that tension so nicely and creates the illusion of that fight in our (the readers') minds even though we're only experiencing it vicariously. It's so good, oh my goodness-

Okay, so one thing I realized as I read it is that it does get a little bit repetitive in the middle, when you've used the “say no—NO, SAY YES” kind of idea a lot but you're still sort of introducing it (around the point of “Can this loop get any more broken?”), and I think the repetition does work for you, but it does feel like the plot of it is introduced a bit later. Obviously it's a cycle that she's desperately yet fruitlessly attempting to break, but I don't think this is showing anything more than you've already established, so I'd recommend paring it down from the beginning or the middle, or maybe adding a little bit more plot or backstory there. This is like. Not a fully formed suggestion whatsoever, but I don't know, maybe a comparison to a hero's life directly, like maybe she's seeing it happen or something, but then again, it's also possible that this kind of comes through in your later parts. I don't know, basically just making it different. What value does it add over the other part? How does it progress the story? I'd recommend asking yourself that first and then you can figure out what your goals are for that area!

I've also noticed that you use a lot of really short sentences, and while this is really good for building the urgency, I also think that a little more sentence variety could also help to break it up and make the shorter lines more powerful! A long, flowing sentence with maybe a bit more description, perhaps, could demonstrate this better. Maybe you could also bring in more elements of the typical Snow White narrative (or other ones where there's the villain) to really hammer home your point and also to help you break up this and the thing about repetition I just mentioned in the last paragraph?

This thing is more nitpicky, but you capitalize as The Wicked, but I think you probably could leave “the” uncapitalized to emphasize “wicked” and also because it's atypical for articles to be capitalized.

You mentioned translating it and whatever, but honestly, I think it makes sense as it is! I think the only way to really make it a little less “all over the place” is to probably add some more grounding aspects, like maybe bits and pieces of the reality for the narrator and not just the fantasies and nightmares.

Oh, also, for the bolded lines, sometimes you use things like “and then” or transitions that have a similar effect as those, and I'd recommend changing those slightly because I do feel like they don't quite bring about the impact you want them to. It makes it feel a little bit more like a “yes, and”/“no, but” kind of game than the cyclical nature of our narratives that we get trapped in, if that makes sense.

I'm so sorry I'm so tired as I'm reading this, because honestly, if I had more energy, I really would be squealing over this, lskfjadf- I hope my love for this comes across in this, because you truly did SUCH an incredible job on this, Luna, and you should be so proud of yourself. I absolutely loved the message of it and the tension you created between fate and the desire to choose our own path, and all of it…it's just so perfect. I wish you the best of luck with your entry, though I'm sure you won't need it anyway <333

Lang Essay (most of it)
While in recent years, we have deviated from the more traditional mindset of placing importance on only necessities and quality of life as the necessities in developed countries such as the United States become more widely available, a majority of people still value life experiences, because material things can rarely satisfy the intrinsic need for fulfilment and happiness.
Material things can be nice to have, but oftentimes, they fail to meet the emotional need for story-worthy experiences in our lives.

In recent years, many studies have shown that happiness does not correlate with the amount of money one has. Developing countries like Haiti often have a much higher happiness score than rich countries like Switzerland and the United States. If we’re conducting studies on happiness rather than solely on the amount of things people have, we clearly value the intangible and the emotional connection to both things and people alike. While we may have everything we could ever need, we’re bogged down by the seemingly eternal need for more, which ultimately decreases our overall happiness.

Experiences in connecting with others allow us to tell stories about our pasts and to look back on our lives fondly, saying that we’ve been here, that we’ve lived well. Experiences fulfill us because they outlive us; I still think about the way my great-grandfather’s one weakness was donuts when he was otherwise so healthy. I’ve never met him, but the emotional value of the memories my grandmother and mom recount holds more worth than any donut would. A donut you enjoy once. A story lives on forever.

True, as countries develop more and more, they become more focused on personal economic gain rather than engagement with the community. Professor and writer Yuval Noah Harari argues in his book Homo Deus that we’re seeing a decline in religion and a deviation from tradition—two of the things that keep us so close to the value of experiences. Religious texts like the Bible describe the necessity of laying treasures in heaven, not on Earth, for we cannot take the things we buy on this world with us when we pass on. Oftentimes in history, where the church was entertainment because people were so focused on necessity that they had little time to focus on what they wanted, people’s lives became closely related to the experience of salvation. Apostles gave up their homes and possessions to live with Jesus and follow Him on his path of preaching—is this not the finest example of valuing experiences over possessions?

This may have been thousands of years ago, and we may no longer be quite so willing to uproot ourselves at a whim. Today, we’re seeing more atheists than nearly ever before. However, despite the deviation from religion, our lives still remain intertwined with the necessity for emotion regardless of what we believe in, because no matter our beliefs about heaven, we remember an experience with a smile far more often than an item.
Commonly, our desires for these material things are precisely because we believe they serve some emotional purpose—the experience of getting and having them is the thing we value over the item itself.

Every year at Christmas, I see the holiday commercialized. On Orchard in Singapore, shops start playing Christmas music on November 1st, and they open up their Christmas collections only shortly afterward. Christmas earrings, deals, and more become available the closer we get to the holiday seasons—and, commonly included in this, is Black Friday. From this, it seems as though we know nothing but to run for the deals. Living in a place where a “good deal” and saving money is part of the culture, I see this firsthand. For example, my great aunt will buy six of the same hat from Lululemon because it’s on sale and there aren’t many left on the shelf. And yet, there’s a certain kind of generosity that comes with this, because, like so many I see, there’s the same inability to ignore a sale, but she is always thinking of giving gifts. This obsession with possessions may be present, but it serves a grander purpose: the experience. We spend so much time searching for possessions because they carry some emotional importance to us. We buy gifts each year because they may make us happy, or rather, the experience of giving them makes us happy. We see the gratefulness in others and believe in its merit to our own lives.

Each year, my family sends out a Christmas card which we can almost be certain will be thrown out at the end of the month, and yet, it’s an investment that’s valuable to us not for monetary purposes but rather because it’s a way to reconnect with the people we love. We send it to say, Hey, even from halfway across the world, we still miss you. Merry Christmas, and we hope you’re doing well. Possessions aren’t a method of bragging to most, but rather a way to love this world and its people.

We see companies that love to upsell us, to play on our emotions and insecurities in their ads. But are these not the companies rather than the people? The company desires to fulfil economic needs, but as a non-human entity, it has no ability to desire with it the emotional value of experience. Even in the world of shopping malls, I still see staff that smiles at me or tells me that my sister and I look like twins, the way people brighten a little when I tell them, “Merry Christmas” even when it’s two weeks early, and I’m reminded that behind all these schemes for economic gain, there are humans just like me, people who believe that an experience is priceless. People who want experiences to fill them up, because the extra money they get in their pocket from completing monotonous jobs doesn’t make them smile the way people do.

I don’t believe people are just trying to sell me things. I don’t believe everyone only wants to have an overwhelming amount of stuff. I want to believe in that human goodness. I want to believe that people truly love others, and when a stranger reaches out and asks me to take a photo of them getting a book signed by their favorite author, it’s not the material that matters, but the experience. At its heart, when we extend a possession to We value shared experiences. We value human connection.

The desire for emotional fulfilment through tangible items reminds us of the necessity for the only things that can truly fulfil us: those timeless experiences. We look for things we can share because deep down, we’re all searching for happiness that can only be reached by intangible things. When we say, “How was your Christmas?” we mustn’t be answering with what we got. We must answer with the experience.

SWC November '25 Weekly Four
Word count: 5,912 words

A is for Autumn…

I have never lived in a place with a real autumn. That September to November period that’s romanticized in all the books looks wildly different for me than for others. I don’t see the leaves turn color—in fact, it feels like there are hardly any leaves here at all.

Instead, that typically autumn period consists of birthday parties and a new school year more than anything. The autumn is a time to get outdoors and play soccer, in spite of the fact that it’s still ninety or more degrees outside. I don’t wear sweaters to celebrate the autumn; I wear shorts and a T-shirt to keep cool. I stay inside not because it’s cozy but because it’s slightly less hot than the regular outdoors.

Still, we find ways to mimic the autumn and winter at my house, where we all know we’ll never get those seasons. We wait for those rainy days and drink hot chocolate in the artificial cold. We play board games around the glass tables as the seasons pass and do homework. We bake cakes and cookies to celebrate all the occasions, inevitably using up all the flour in our kitchen. And maybe it’s not the same as what you might call airing, but it’s the only thing I know. And I have to learn to live it anyway.

222 words

B is for beauty…

I open up to the next page in the hardcover copy of my favorite book. I’ve only just bought this one, after I’ve spent his searching for it at every bookstore I knew even remotely close to home. I spent the days trying to find it, and now? I took a deep breath, smiling. It was mine.

I devoured the words eagerly, never mind that it must have been, what? My tenth? More than that, I’m sure. Anyway, it must have been more than ten times that I’ve read it, but it still gets better every time.

People have a tendency to forget about language amid their busy lives. “I don’t have the time to read,” they’ll say, or worse still, “I don’t like to read.”

I have never understood this. I am obsessed with the nuances of language, the way you can reread something and find a new thing every time I come up to it. I love the way we can interpret a line a hundred different ways, and there aren’t right answers. I find the shades of gray gorgeous, because they prove that nothing is absolute, that in betweens are more than just possible—they are what’s important.

Language is beautiful. We forget that sometimes.

207 words

C is for curse…

Since the day she was born, Edgar has lived with a horrible curse.

Often, we stub our toes, but we move on with our days, because it’s a fairly uncommon and momentary pain. However, for Edgar, stubbed toes were different. For Edgar, stubbed toes were a much more common experience. He was cursed to stub his toe whenever he entered or exited a room.

This, of course, was a really quite irritating experience. For one thing, every time he tried to go for a meeting, he couldn’t come in without hissing in the pain of his newly stubbed toes (or rather, newly re-stubbed toes). He would quickly adapt on his toes to stop the pain, which inevitably did little to nothing, because his other foot would also be hurting from his stubbed toes there as well. It was quite awful, if Edgar were to say it out loud, though he preferred not to broadcast his annoying but dumb sounding curse.

Edgar took a deep breath as he was about to enter his bedroom. Here, he would be getting double stubbed toes. He braced himself as he took a step toward the door. By now, he was getting pretty used to the typical pain. But still, as he stubbed his toe hard, he screamed, “OW!” and the second one was an aftershock to it.

Edgar sighed. He was not looking forward to his first day of school.

236 words

D is for double…

She was sure she was looking in the mirror. “But, wait, how? You’re me?”

Elise’s clone, or reflection? She didn’t know. Anyway, the other version looked her straight in the eye and said, “Well, I think that you’re actually me, but that’s semantics, I suppose.”

Elise One’s jaw dropped. That was EXACTLY what she would have said. Semantics was HER word. “You really are me!” she exclaimed.

Elise Two shrugged. “If you say so.”

Elise’s mother called her down for dinner. The problem was, both Elises responded in unison.

“Coming,” they both singsonged, and then they froze and met each other’s eyes once again. This was going to be an issue.

“We can’t both go down,” Elise One said, but evidently, something had to be done. And quickly—Elise’s mother would only get more and more concerned, and Elise wouldn’t have her mother seeing this chaos if she could help it. Regardless of which Elise it was.

“Here, you hide in the closet,” Elise Two responded, quickly opening the door.

“I’m not hiding in the closet. I’m the real Elise. YOU can hide in the closet—how about that?”

But neither Elise wanted to stay in the closet. So they kept bickering until finally the mother came up—only there wasn’t just one mother. There were two.

“Well,” the Elises said in unison, “this is odd.”

227 words

E is for epiphany…

“I’ve had it!” Simon declared. “I have had the idea of a lifetime!”

Frank rolled his eyes. “Well?”

Simon kept rambling on and on about some nonsense that Frank really couldn’t care less about. “I mean, it’s just going to be perfect, and it’s going to make us a million dollars. I’m sure of it. Frank, I’m a genius. I’m a genius, aren’t I?”

“Sorry, what was that?” Frank asked. “I couldn’t hear you over your massive ego.”

“Oh, shut up,” Simon said.

“Would you just spit it out already so we can know what this supposed genius is?”

“Fineeee,” Simon told him, dragging out the word. “You’re really no fun. Anyway, I’ve just had the realization that if we build a time machine, we could go back in time and invent everything that’s already been invented! Just think of it. We’d be millionaires. No, not millionaires. We’d actually be billionaires. I bet we’d be the richest people in the world.”

However, Frank, too, was used to looking for loopholes in Simon’s reasoning, and this particular train of thought had far too many. Frank came to the realization on his own that his friend was really quite stupid. “You do realize that someone would have already done that if time travel was possible, right?”

“Oh.”

215 words

F is for fight…

We defy the silence in favor of our voices.

For years, they have forced our lips shut, told us that we cannot speak. Language has limited us, because they have made it so there is none that we can use. We cannot begin a revolution without a means of communication.

We defy the silence because we have grown tired of the simple acceptance so common throughout the world, the kind of silence that is deafening. It stays, and it never leaves.

We come with practiced sounds learned from ancient books—dictionaries and thesauruses. We come with our own learnings and manners of communication, because while they have forced our voices silent, they cannot negate our existence. Instead, we speak in any way possible.

They think the right thing to do is to stop us. That they can prevent a reform peacefully, only by taking away our voices, shutting us up. They think that it is going to be easy, that we will all comply because we don’t know any better.

Our ancestors may have accepted this, but we will not. We will not be silent.

They forget; taking away our voices is anything but peace. To us, this is an act of war.

202 words

G is for grass…

In the garden, the grass only covers a small portion of the area, but at least where it is is kind of pretty. There’s a cypress tree in the center, which has very recently been decorated with a bunch of fairy lights. This, of course, is not at all very different from the rest of the outside, where fairy lights (or Christmas lights? It’s awfully hard to tell the difference between the two of them sometimes, so I guess that I’ll just be using these interchangeably for the time being) also decorate the walls and the bougainvillea and literally everything else there. Well, not quite literally, but it might as well be.

The grass has just been weeded, and now it looks like it’s just been freshly mowed and cleaned—even though I’ve never once seen it get mowed. Lanterns decorate the outside, all of them solar powered. It’s still daylight, though, so none of them are glowing yet, but in a few hours, they’ll begin to light up, right along with everything else in there.

Yellow and orange flowers also decorate the edges of the lawn, and though I don’t know what kind of flower they are, they must be pretty hardy here, because I don’t think I can remember a time where they didn’t exist here. Somehow, they survive the rain.

222 words

H is for hope…

Hope is a funny word. Poets have characterized it as a thing with feathers, as something beautiful and, well…poetic.

I think they’re wrong. Hope is not poetic, but it’s an active decision we make.

I have grown used to staring at the stars all night long and hoping that one day, we will make it out from this. I have grown accustomed to the simplicity of never fighting, but I have forgotten, in my cynicism, that there are things worth being here for.

I used to believe that human nature was inherently bad. I read the news, day after day, and I saw the reported murders. The war crimes. The wars, period. I saw the danger and the fear, and I thought that this was not a place I would like to be a part of.

But this morning, I saw a stranger hold the door for someone else. I saw a customer compliment the cashier’s outfit. I watched from outside the windows families laughing and sharing gifts, and I saw them looking just so…so happy together. Like they all belonged. I saw people from different backgrounds sitting together at the table, like maybe those differences weren’t enough to separate them.

Maybe we’re not so bad after all. Maybe, when we choose to, we can be good.

217 words

I is for imagery…

Dead grass lines the ground of the so-called garden, and it crunches under my feet as I walk toward the trees. This is a place that has been laid to waste, utterly and entirely forgotten, forsaken. It is a place that has been taken for granted.

The flowers only show this, too. Their buds hang, dried and wilted, toward the ground, as if they are all so tired of existing. They are gone before they’ve ever had the chance to live, and they remain not beauties like they were meant to be, but rather decorations for a world in trouble.

Raindrops begin to graze my skin, spreading cold and shivers. I hug my arms around my chest as I watch the once-beautiful garden succumb to the harsh nature of the world, horrified. This is a world where they should grow to be tall, green stalks that bring hope to everyone. But this is anything but.

The scent of death pervades the air. The wind howls as it whips my hair around; it seems to scream as it blows through the area. Soon, the trees will be uprooted and taken with the wind, and the flowers that have tried and failed to hold on will be gone, too. They will all be thrown into a discard pile, for what is ugly is not kept.

Nothing here lives; it only destroys.

229 words

J is for joy…

I wake up with a smile on my face, because it’s been months since I’ve last seen her, but finally, finally she is coming back.

I have been counting down the days for weeks by now, ever since she has scheduled her flight. Running downstairs to work on the gift I left until the last minute, I call out to my sister, “Nina is coming back today!”

Nina is a mutual friend of the both of ours, but I’ve always called her my best friend. She moved away two and a half years ago, at the end of seventh grade, and since then, I’ve only seen her twice. But at least today we get a third chance to see her. I get to see her again I get to see her again

I can hardly believe it! I fold the edges of the wrapping paper over the book I’ve bought her—I hope she doesn’t already have it, but I’m pretty sure she doesn’t—and never mind the fact that it must look like a two year old wrapped this, because I will be seeing her in just a few more hours.

She’ll be coming back from the airport, and I’ll be waiting for her outside her home. A surprise, because she doesn’t think we’ll be seeing each other until tomorrow.

I can picture her laughing then, the two of us hugging like nothing at all has changed. It will be perfect.

240 words

K is for kindness…

My best friend’s birthday is tomorrow, and I’ve figured out everything for her birthday party today. She’ll think we’ve forgotten about it, but in reality, we’ll just be waiting to give her the best and biggest birthday party ever.

I’ve already baked her a cake—s’mores, of course, since that’s her favorite. Of course, it’s her birthday, and even though it took a little bit of time out of my day, I have to say that it’s entirely worth it as long as I can see her smile after this.

She’s been having a rough time lately, I know, so I’ve been doing my best to make her happy in whatever way that I can, because she’s always done the same exact thing for me. I send her posts that remind me of her, give her a hug whenever she says things aren’t going so well. I pick up the phone for her, and she always has done the same for me.

She used to make my birthdays the best they could be, and now, it’s my turn to do the same for her.

“Got everything?” I say to another of our mutual friends, who nods in response.

“Okay, she’ll be here in just a few minutes!”

Sure enough, two minutes later, she rings the doorbell. “Door’s open! Come on in!” I call from my hiding place.

As soon as she takes off her shoes, I jump out. “Surprise! Happy birthday!”

“Oh my goodness, you didn’t have to,” she responds, laughing. It’s good to hear her laugh.

“Well, we did it anyway. You would have.”

264 words

L is for location…

I used to live in a place where the weather was cold every day. The fog was the kind of thing you get used to after living with it for a while, so I really didn’t mind it. I’d like to say I didn’t, anyway, even though there were certainly days where I’d go out shivering and in my warmest winter jacket—never mind that it was only the autumn.

Since moving, there have been a lot of things to get used to, and it’s not just the fact that the weather here is warm every day, and it never seems to change seasons unless you take a flight to another country. Oh, and that’s just another thing. The country is tiny. My mom says, “It’s so convenient! I can drive across the entire country in a day, unlike where we used to live.”

I rolled my eyes, because she seemed way too excited about something that did not deserve it. “Mom. You can drive across the island in an hour. That’s not convenient; it’s just small.”

The people here are much more reserved than at home. I want to talk to them, but I’m scared to be the first to approach them. Sure, they might be thinking the exact thing, but it’s not just the people at school. The people in the shops don’t talk to you. No one seems to smile.

Mom keeps saying our move was for the best, but I’m still not sure about that.

248 words

M is for MacGuffin…

“We have to move!” our commander, Alan, yells at us. “Come on, guys. They’re going to get there before us, and it’s a very important book to our queen. We need to save it before the enemies get it.”

“Yeah, and if we don’t, they win the war. We know, Alan. We’ve heard this speech before,” Caleb reminds him.

“Well, move then!”

Both Caleb and Alan sigh—though for very different reasons. Even so, Caleb and the rest of our crew hurry up, and I break into a run.

A few hours later, we’re at the place marked on the map.

“We’ll each take one area and dig up the ground. Yell if you find something.”

Thus, we spent the next couple of hours just digging around the ground to find it, though very unsuccessfully. Finally, my fingers reached a strange something, and I uncovered it and pulled it out.

“Uhhh, guys? This is the magical book we’re looking for, right?” I say, holding up the worn leather book I had just found.

“YOU FOUND IT?!” Alan exclaimed.

“Sure,” I respond casually. “There’s just one issue: this won’t help us anyway. It’s not that magical after all. It’s just a blank notebook.”

201 words

N is for note…

Dear Echo,

From the time I was younger to now, when I’ve begun to see the truth of the world, I’ve looked up to you. You’ve faced the evilest parts of humanity alone for much of your life, yet you’ve never faltered in your kindness. I admire your optimism even in the worst of times.

Remember how you asked me my name the first time we met? I didn’t realize then the meaning of what you said. I told you my name was Ivy, because that’s what they said it would be from now on, but I see now that you didn’t want to ask about the person that they created, the person they were trying to force me to become. You were trying to teach me that I still mattered, not as a part of their plan, but as a person.

Echo, I know that you’ll never see this. I know that where they’re taking you is not a place you’ll ever return from, but I’m trying my best to remember the kindness you’ve always taught me. To forgive and to fight for what’s right.

I’m going to do that, Echo. I’ll fight for you, and I’ll fight for justice, but I promise, it will never come at the cost of anyone else. I hope you’ll be proud of me.

221 words

O is for office job…

“This is incredibly dull,” I say with a sigh, clicking on yet another email. It’s one of those same promotional ones that you see on a typical basis. I click delete and then tap another email. Same thing. Ugh.

He chuckles. “You get used to it,” he promises me, but the whole time, he keeps his eyes trained on the screen.

Somehow, I doubted his words.

I sighed yet again, louder this time. I wasn’t allowed to verbally express my displeasure, but I could figure something else out. I could express it in my body language and gestures until they finally got the idea and promoted me to something other than assistant secretary. Or whatever I was supposed to be, because really, it just felt like I was the person for all the odd jobs that no one else wanted to do.

I really, really was hoping that this was just a necessary evil. Because all of this email reading was about to make me go crazy.

“Ah, just the person I was looking for!” I glanced up to see my boss, dressed in a fancy suit and wearing sunglasses that in my opinion made him look stupid but he thought made him look cool, staring me in the eye. “I have a job for you.”

“Oh?” I said, excited. Maybe this would finally be my big break.

“I need my shirt ironed.”

Oh. That.

235 words

P is for promise…

For the fifth time this school year (which really had only been three months so far), I had forgotten money to buy food. I had also, for the who knows how many times (time? Grammar was weird) this school year, forgotten to remember to bring money to pay Mia back for the other times I’d borrowed money.

I was really in quite the pickle.

“Soooo,” I began, dragging out the word. “It seems that I do not have money. To pay you back or to buy food.”

Mia scrunched up her nose, clearly irritated with me. But what can I say? I was busy, and I was equally forgetful. “Seriously?”

I nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Let me guess,” she told me, “I think you want to borrow money from me again.”

Once again, I nodded. “Yes! That would be so great! Mia, you’re the best friend ever.”

“Hang on, I never said I’d give it to you,” she clarified.

“Pleaseee,” I begged. “I’ll pay you back tomorrow! I promise, I really will this time! I mean it.”

“We both know I’m never getting that money back,” she responded, but still, she pulled a five dollar bill from her backpack.

“I promise I’ll pay you back tomorrow!” I said gleefully once again.

I did not pay her back the next day.

219 words

Q is for questioning…

I have always been told that it’s never okay to lie. This, of course, as a child made sense, even though I loved to lie and embellish the truth. Which was, obviously, just another form of lying. But still.

When I was younger, it was easy to believe in black and whites. Lying to the teacher to say you had done your homework was bad because your teacher would find out anyway, and besides, it wasn’t the homework that was the most important but that you knew the stuff. Lying to your parents was bad because they wanted the best for you, even if they didn’t understand you, and your lying would get in the way of that.

For years, I lived by a rule of honesty. It was simple. It was easy. It was black and white, truly.

But instead, I found myself wondering if it was really so bad to lie. This would be a lie to protect them. By lying, I would give them a chance to save themselves from the fear and chaos, and wasn’t that all that I really wanted? That was a shade of gray. That had to be.

And with that, I smoothly delivered a falsity. They wouldn’t have to know. And I could forget about it.

214 words

R is for rescue…

So I tried to pay the bill with Monopoly money. Big deal, huh? It was a joke, obviously.

Anyway, I’d always been the one in our friend group to be voted most likely to go to jail for something dumb, and clearly, all of that was coming to fruition right here. This was in fact just about the dumbest thing you could possibly go to jail for—at least, that’s what I thought.

Thankfully, my friends are also nice enough to prevent me from being stuck in jail for however long my sentence will be. Thank goodness, because the food here is absolutely awful, and I really could not imagine living on this for years. That would be a nightmare.

I wait until the clock chimes twelve times to mean midnight before I sit bolt upright, entirely and wholly awake. I hear, distantly, footsteps and hushed voices, and the guards go to investigate this. Good. Phase one of the plan is complete.

The next step is for Tanner to pick the lock. Tanner, a magician by day and a lockpick by night, has had numerous times to practice with this, but I still held my breath as he wiggled the bobby pin around in the keyhole.

“Quickly,” I hissed, watching the guards from my place behind the bars. “They’re coming back.”

“Anddd,” he said, “got it.” The door swung open, and Tanner, me, and our two other friends ran out as fast as we could.

Ha. Losers.

246 words

S is for stealing…

I looked over my shoulder to check that she’d actually gone.

“Alright,” I told Audrey and Megan, “let’s cause some chaos. But we have to do it in the most not-noticeable way possible.”

“You mean discreet?” Megan asked.

“Yeah, that, whatever,” I responded, already rooting through Alicia’s bag. “Why does she keep two pencil cases in here?” I said, pulling the both of them out at once as I said so.

“At this point, who even knows?” Audrey said, half laughing, but also thoroughly captivated by our little mission to steal.

“Okay, so we’ve got a bunch of things in here,” I told them, pulling out the final paper in the main pocket of her backpack. “What are we going to take? It needs to be something she’ll notice, but only later. That’s the best part.”

“Hmmm,” Megan mused. “How about we take her sketchbook?”

“Ohhhh,” Audrey responded. “That’s perfect! We can force her to actually pay attention in class for like…once in her lifetime or whatever.”

“Yes, yes, that’s perfect!” I exclaimed, and I took her sketchbook and put it in my own backpack. After that, I shoved everything back in her bag as fast as I possibly could.

“Aa, she’s coming, put the things back in there!”

I had only just finished reorganizing her things when she sat down at our table.

“What were you doing?” she asked. I smiled slightly.

“Nothing.”

It wasn’t until the end of the day that she messaged me in all caps about the missing notebook.

My response? You should have realized earlier! I can’t believe it took you this long.

268 words

T is for telling…

The cat was really rather brown. He used to be a white cat, but that was before the mud somehow got on him. Who even knows how that happened, when he wasn’t meant to be outside, but whatever.

Outside, the surroundings were absolutely perfect for the cat that was white and fluffy to turn anything but. There was mud all over the floor, and that was because it was a garden, and the rain had just fallen all over the country. Not just regular rain, but the drops were fat and large.

I don’t know how it happened, but I can imagine what it must have looked like.

My cat is very mischievous, so of course he would have gone outside. I’m sure he would have just walked out the door as soon as he saw it was open and snuck back in after he got his pelt a little dirty. Never mind the fact that it must have been wet and cold and miserable. But he was pretty happy with himself.

I felt very disappointed at this. My cat was not clean. Not at all. And I did not want to give him a shower, even though he was so dirty that anyone would have said he needed one.

210 words

U is for unity…

After the end of World War II, a cultural revolution in the United States of America brought with it a variety of reforms that brought harmony throughout the people. A focus on the consumer allowed the customers to bond with each other over the shared ads, and it also created unity on the level of interactions between the sellers and the buyers.

Another form of this was the suburbia movement, as people began to shift toward a suburban-focused lifestyle, allowing them to reimagine the typical American dream to be more focused on middle class people as well, bridging the class divide, at least a little.

But most importantly of the things to bring harmony was a TV show called I Love Lucy. This 1950s sitcom allowed people of all kinds to have something to talk about. For decades, it pervaded everyone’s everyday life.

My grandmother remembers inviting all the people she knew over to her house to watch Lucy episodes with them, because she was the only one in her tiny town to have a television set. She remembers this fondly, because even though she was an only child who rarely interacted with other people her age, I Love Lucy gave her a reason to get together with other people.

I Love Lucy unified America through its family-centered plots and its timelessly relatable scenarios that never failed to bring a laugh to its audience.

234 words

V is for vow…

Seven grew up in a hungry household. That is to say, he never really had much food to eat, so of course, the second Seven left that household and had a chance to do anything but, well, be hungry, he took it.

Now, Seven has found his group. Or he had for a little while, but that was before the rest of his number friends decided that it was decidedly not okay to eat others of their friends.

The thing is, though, Seven couldn’t help eating Nine. He was hungry, and he hated being hungry. It brought back bad memories, and Seven didn’t want any of those. No, he hated those with all of his heart.

It wasn’t until a few days later that his friends really started alienating him, acting as if he was some kind of monster. Seven wasn’t a monster—not at all. Seven was only hungry. THat wasn’t anything he had a reason to be ashamed of, was it?

But now, Seven wasn’t just hungry. He was angry. He was hangry. This was a bad combination, but there wasn’t much he could do about it.

Six was the meanest of them; Seven liked her at first, but then he quickly realized that she would always talk about him behind his back. Six would be next. Seven would satiate his hunger and get revenge at the same time. Perfect.

231 words

W is for working through challenges…

“Guys, I’m a little bit sick of your drama.” Seventh grade wasn’t supposed to be drama-filled. Wasn’t high school the time for that? So it really wasn’t bad for Isabel to think that this was getting old really quickly. It wasn’t bad for her to be frustrated. “Anaaya? April? Can you both please just apologize to each other and move on with it?”

Anaaya looked at her, affronted. “Me? Drama? You can’t honestly believe that it was my fault. It’s hers, obviously. I mean, she was the one who stole my lunch that first time.”

April did not look particularly pleased about this accusation.

“Yeah,” Isabel started, “but that was the FIRST time. It’s been three months. Get over it at this point. We love you both to bits, but we can’t deal with this anymore. It’s really starting to get annoying.” Claire and Sophia nodded at this, but April and Anaaya only glared daggers at each other.

“Please, guys?” Sophia asked. “Just apologize and be civil with each other. That’s all. Anaaya, I’ll even make you a sandwich to make up for it, if that’s what it’s about.”

A few minutes later, they were still glaring daggers at each other, and Isabel was beginning to think that it was just a staring contest, before she realized that neither one of them wanted to admit defeat but both wanted their normal friend group back. Reluctantly, Anaaya reached out a hand, and April took it.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“I guess not,” April mumbled.

256 words

X is for xylophones…

“Guitar is so easy!” Trinity exclaimed. “I mean, you just have to put your fingers over the strings and then strum. That’s literally all there is to it. I bet I could play guitar, and I’ve never even TOUCHED a string instrument before. It can’t be anywhere near as difficult as piano.” As she said this, she flexed her fingers, perhaps to brag slightly about the fact that she could reach eleven notes’ distance.

“Okay, then,” Gracie said.

“Okay?” Trinity said questioningly.

“As in, like, go ahead and try it. We’ll go to the practice room, and you can show me how you can play such an easy instrument.” Gracie delivered this with a huff, and it was clear to everyone but Trinity that she was really quite annoyed about this.

A few minutes later, they found themselves at the practice room, and Trinity picked up the guitar. She laid it on her lap and put her fingers on the strings and strummed, just like she had said she would.

Trinity’s eyebrows knitted together as the sound reached her ears. “It doesn’t sound right. That’s supposed to be a C major chord, right?”

Gracie laughed. “Yeah, no wonder. You’ve got the guitar the wrong way around.”

206 words

Y is for yapping…

Kaitlyn liked to announce herself with whatever her current emotion was, and today was no different of a day.

“Guys. I am SO annoyed right now,” she said, slamming her hands down on the table. This was typical Kaitlyn—none of them were really that surprised about it.

“What is it this time?” Summer said, though she wasn’t entirely sure that she wanted to know the answer to this.

“I think he likes me. Maybe. I don’t know, I’m not sure.”

“Why not just ask?” Elle suggested.

“Oh, you can’t do that. That’s weird. And I’m scared to, anyway.”

“He’s probably scared, too,” Summer told her seriously. Summer really thought that she had a point with this argument, but Kaitlyn didn’t particularly like this.

“Well, he should just hurry up and get it over with. It’s not that difficult, anyway. I’d say yes.”

Elle laughed. “He doesn’t know that.”

Summer leaned over and whispered in Elle’s ear, “She’s such a hypocrite.”

“And she’s super oblivious too,” Elle added, snickering.

“What was that?” Kaitlyn asked. “Are you talking about me? You aren’t talking about me, are you?”

“Oh, relax,” Summer said. “I was just making a joke, and it was funny.”

“Why not say it to the whole table, then?” Kaitlyn demanded. “I’m so irritated right now.”

The count for Kaitlyn’s emotion-announcing today was already at two.

“It’s just not your kind of funny,” Elle told her.

“Oh, fine.”

237 words

Z is for zoo…

The zoo was a field trip that Maya had been on what must have been at least three times already, but there wasn’t much she could do but to comply when the teachers announced excitedly that this was going to be their field trip this year, too. Obviously her mother would not have let her leave school, regardless of the fact that it was probably better if she had just…done her homework. Or whatever. It would have been more productive.

But no, instead, Maya was stuck looking at the giraffes that really hadn’t changed in the six months since her last trip to the zoo in May of seventh grade. It was dumb, but she just had to deal with it.

“It is SO hot out,” she remarked to no one in particular, but she could have sworn that one of the elephants looked at her as she said this. “Ugh. I just want to go home.”

She glanced over her shoulder just to check that there weren’t any teachers listening to her. Thankfully, there weren’t.

She pulled out a sandwich from her bag. Zoo food was expensive, and she didn’t want to pay for it, even if outside food was technically against the rules.

205 words

Snowy's Thank You Notes | SWC November '25

General thank you notes:

Real-Fi: Thank you all so, so much for being such an awesome cabin this session! It was such a joy to be a part of such an incredible cabin! You all did an excellent job in cabin wars (despite the whole “relaxed cabin” thing) when the wars started coming in like crazy, and I love how everyone really supported each other and helped each other out. I hope you all had fun this session in Real-Fi, and I look forward to being in the same cabin as some of you in the future! <3

Everyone who wrote me a birthday note: Thank you all so much; it’s genuinely one of the nicest things that people have ever done for me. Seriously, that was so sweet of you all, and I really appreciate how you all are always lifting each other up and celebrating—it means so much to me that you took the time to write, organize, and/or celebrate with me <3

(G)hosties: Thank you all so much for creating such an awesome camp. SWC is something I look forward to in the off months, and I’m so incredibly glad that I’ve joined it—and really, I owe a lot of it to you all. You all have made this a place worth coming back to, and I (along with the rest of SWC, I’m sure) can’t thank you enough for all you do to make this the place that it is. We appreciate you so much <3333

To literally everyone in SWC: You all are genuinely one of the best communities I know, and I am so lucky to have such an wonderful group of people in my life. Honestly, you all are one of the main reasons I’m still on this website. I joined SWC around two and a half years ago now, and I really can’t imagine it any other way. I’m so, so grateful to know you all and to have a community of writers who I can ramble to or literally whatever, and you all never fail to put a smile on my face. Thank you all for being such an amazing community, and I hope you all know that you’ve made such a difference in my life <333

Specific thank you notes:

Recca: RECCA! IT’S FINALLY HAPPENED. Since my first actually active session of SWC in November ‘23 with you as my co-leader, I’ve grown to love the place so much, and I think I owe a lot of that to you. You’re such a fun person to be around, and I love rambling with you about whatever it might be. Thank you so much for always cheering me on and cheering me up whenever I’m down, and really, just thank you so much for being you. I’m so glad I had the chance to lead with you this session!

Surf: Surf!! We hadn’t really talked much before this session, but I’m so glad that over the course of the past few months, I’ve gotten the chance to get to know you better! You’re such a kind person, and you’re an absolutely incredible artist too, by the way. I’m so glad that you accepted my offer and that I was on the same leadership team as you. Thanks for being such a wonderful co, and I hope you know how splendid you are <3

May: MAY!! Honestly, what would I even do without you? From very, very long conversations about improv/Shoot From the Hip to talking about writing to whatever else we’ve done before, you’ve been there, and I’m so grateful for that. You’re an absolutely spectacular writer (truly, I aspire to write like you), but even more than that, you’re an amazing person. Thank you so much for being such an incredible friend, and I’m so glad we could be in the same cabin this session (finally!) <333

Chocolate: Chocolate, my BLÜ EYES twin! Thank you so much for all your kind comments and our silly discussions. While I did NOT in fact try…most Thanksgiving foods that you liked (sorry—sort of), I’ve enjoyed talking to you about our other similarities, whether that be music or anything else. I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I’m so glad I have you in my life. Thank you so much for being such an awesome friend, and here’s to hoping we’ll be in the same cabin next session! <3

Toko: Toko! You are SUCH a good writer, oh my goodness, and your poetry/writing in general, really is something I aspire to emulate. It was an honor to help critique your piece and an honor to have mine critiqued by you, haha- Really, though, your advice was sooo helpful. Anyway, more than just being a great writer, you’re also a wonderful person, and I’m so glad I know you.

Alia: Aliaaa, it was such a joy to have you in my cabin this session! I remember the first time I ever co-led in the Script Theatron of March ‘24 with you (and Pepper, of course!), and I really have to thank you for kind of introducing me to the world of leading, hehe- But beyond that, you’re an awesome writer and an even better friend, and I’m so glad I have you in my life.

+ so many other people who I regret to say I have most likely forgotten to write a specific note for—I’m really bad at this, I’m sorry- Please know that even if I don’t have a specific note for you, you still have made such a difference in my life and I’m actually so lucky to have met you <333