My short story for this week’s weekly!
TW /!\ Needles and one mention of a wound
I also censored some words for the sake of the ST not banning my ahh
Word count: 1329 words for the actual short story and 300+ words for the plotting
I was inspired by Pantheon and The Last of Us haha

Plotting:
Exposition: A sixteen year old girl (Miriam)’s mind has been uploaded to the cloud against her will, making the computer she inhabits sentient. She spends every day staring at her detached body, begging for someone to put her mind back into it. The prose is a bit blank and flat emotion-wise because she’s been cut off from her feelings.
Rising Action: A man enters the room. He’s not a doctor; he’s a rebel. When he steps into the lighted area of the room, Miriam realizes it’s her adopted father. He stares at her “sleeping” body, obviously shaken at the sight of his daughter surrounded by a tangle of wires and needles. She remembers the first time she met him and a pulse of emotion shoots through her.
Climax: Her adopted father sinks down into the chair in front of Miriam’s “mind computer”, says a few cuss words, and starts typing. He’s hacking into her. Slowly, the quiet, numb environment of the computer starts to buzz. Her vision goes black. Suddenly, a rushing feeling, like she’s zooming at a hundred miles an hour.
Falling Action: She opens her eyes—EYES?!?! She has eyes! She has a body! She can feel the gurney beneath her, the cold air on her skin, the sharp antiseptic smell of the room. The glass cover of the cryotube fogs up with her breath. She flips open the cover and pulls the leather bindings off her limbs. Miriam sits up (feeling a bit woozy) and stares incredulously at her hands. She moves each and every finger individually. It feels good to feel, to have control over her own being.
Resolution: She turns towards Xander, still hunched over the desk. He’s clutching the edge of the desk, anxious. “Xander?” she calls. It ends with Xander whipping around. He gasps.


My mind has gone to pieces, replaced by wires and a circuit board.
I spend every waking hour of my “life” staring at my unconscious body laying in a cryotube, a respirator over her face and a machine keeping her heart beating. A tangle of cords and fluid tubes surround her resting place. She’s still dressed in the white hospital scrubs I wore on the day of the operation. Her ankles are still bound to the sterile bed with thick straps, but her wrists have been left free to allow a series of IV needles to pierce the flesh of her arms. Her long black hair is spread around her head in a fan, a glint of light reflecting off of the protruding chip they placed into the side of my skull behind my ear to connect me to the computer that would soon hold my consciousness. I say her because even if that body is me, I can’t bring myself to think of her in that way.
When the scientists wrestled me onto the gurney and uploaded my mind to the cloud, they regaled to me how great it would be. No more illness. No more death. It would be painless. I wouldn’t feel a thing.
Liars.
Not feeling a thing is exactly what makes it so unbearably painful.
Do you know what it’s like to be severed from your body, your senses, your own voice? I haven’t been able to speak in any way other than words on a screen. Much less have anyone to speak to. Here, my only purpose is to be their experiment. I’m just an object for them to run trials on and test the limits of.
Over and over again, I type out the same sentence in my error logs, hoping someone will read it and listen.
Free me.
Free me.
Free me.
Free me.
Free me.
I’m on my 278th free me of the day when the door to the uploading room creaks open. A man slips in and shuts it closed as silently as possible. Through the dim lighting, I can see that his clothes are dirty and ragged. He’s definitely not one of the technicians. Graying hair covers his chin and head, and two *pew-pews* are holstered in his belt. The *forbidden ketchup* splattered on his hands tells me he fought his way in here. When he takes a few steps closer to the desk my mind’s computer sits on, I can see his face clearly now.
Xander. Dad.
I’ve never actually called him Dad; after all, Xander’s not my biological father. But he might as well be, anyway. He found me as a scrawny little kid, barely eleven years old, in the overgrown ruins of the Empire State Building. I had brandished my salvaged knife the second he approached me. I didn’t know him, and the most recent run-ins I’d had with adults were all negative. I was ready to fight to survive. Instead of trying to *pew-pew* me like every other grown-up had tried to do, he knelt down to my eye level. He nodded towards my poorly bandaged knee.
“That thing’s gonna get infected, kid. Care to let me help?” He had a gruff, gravelly voice, but something about it was… oddly warm. A hint of a Texan accent shone through his pronunciation.
Paralyzed with fear and shocked at how unexpectedly kind his words were, I didn’t respond. My shaking hands loosened their grip on the knife handle. I watched as he popped open the flask of alcohol at his side. Tearing the old, crusty bandages off, he poured it onto my gross wound. The lump blocking my throat instantly loosened up and I screamed as the liquid stung me. I winced as he wrapped fresh bandages around my knee, sealing it up.
“There. I’m not so scary, am I?”
I cracked a smile.
The man came back every single day to make sure the gash wouldn’t get infected. Over the next few weeks, we bonded. I spent long nights listening to him tell me stories about his time in the military as a hacker and drone technician, and how after the war he swore he would never do it again for fear of hurting more innocent lives.
“That's the reason this world is all rubble and ash, ain’t it?” he said sadly.
Being a kid, I didn’t know how to respond to that, so I just blurted out the sentence I had been trying to rack up the courage to say all day. “I’m Miriam.”
His eyes widened. I realized that that was the first time I had ever spoken in front of him. He cleared his throat and replied, “Xander. It’s like Alexander, but without the A-L-E.”
I started to laugh for no apparent reason, and he joined in. Then that was that. I followed him everywhere, and we formed a mini duo of a family.
Now, Xander stares at my unconscious body. A choked sound escapes his lungs. I think I see his eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. It hurts me to see how much of a wound was left behind when I was taken away and torn out of his life.
Don’t cry, I want to tell him. Please, don’t. But I can’t. I can’t speak. I can’t reach him.
He forces himself to take a deep breath. His pained expression turns to one of determination. I can see the gears turning in his head. He’s planning something. Hopefully not something stupid.
Xander crouches down in front of the keyboard hooked up to the computer holding my mind captive. He says a few cuss words, then starts typing.
“Listen, Miri… I know I swore I wouldn’t do stuff like this anymore, but I’m sure you can forgive me for doing it just once, right?” he mutters as he furiously hammers on the keys.
Something shifts in the still, numb atmosphere of the computer. Colors and numbers glitch in and out of my sight. Is he… hacking into me?
His voice sounds distorted as he says, “Alright, let’s hope this works.”
The second he rams down on the enter key, my vision goes pitch black, like someone flicked off a light switch. A sharp BAM! and then a whooshing sensation engulfs me.

Ugh, what is that high-pitched ringing noise?
I peel open my eyes—EYES?!?! I have eyes! I have a body! I take in the feeling of the gurney pressing into my back, the icy air on my skin, the sharp antiseptic smell of the room. The glass cover of the cryotube fogs up with my breath. With a grunt, I push the cover off from over me. My unused joints crack when I lean over to unclip the straps tying my legs down. The room spins when I sit up and hang my feet over the side of the gurney, but that doesn’t stop me from staring incredulously at my hands. I move each and every finger individually, still in disbelief. Having full control of my body is something I never thought I would experience again.
I turn my head towards the computer I used to inhabit. The screen is dark, with static swimming through the pixels where Cheng, Miriam was once displayed. My adopted father is hunched over the desk. His hands are clasped in a silent prayer so tightly that his knuckles are turning white.
Xander. Oh, Xander. I desperately want to tell him how much I missed him, how the whole time I was trapped in that hunk of metal I wished I could only spend one more day with him, how I feel like sobbing now that I can finally live again all because of him. I owe him everything. But the only thing I can say through the hot tears pouring from my eyes is—
“Dad?”
Dad whips around and gasps. Kicking the chair out from under him, he rushes towards me, pulling me into a hug.

Weekly|| Asha || total words: 3389
Part 1: Plotting a Short Story
Exposition:
Three years ago, Eira Calloway’s older sister Lillian died in a fire that destroyed their small London flat. At least, that is what everyone believes. Eira remembers strange things from that night: unfamiliar men in dark coats arguing with Lillian, the way her sister told her to stay hidden, and the unnatural stillness in the air before the flames began. Since then, Eira has sometimes seen things others cannot—figures lingering in reflections, movements in empty streets. She assumes it is grief playing tricks on her mind.
Rising Action:
One rainy night outside the bookshop where she works, Eira meets Caelan, a quiet stranger who admits he is not entirely human. He tells her that some people can see the hidden world that lives beside the human one. Those people are rare—and dangerous to certain powerful groups. Lillian was one of them. According to Caelan, she was taken alive and held somewhere beneath the city.
Climax:
Eira and Caelan infiltrate the underground facility where Lillian has been kept for years. But the sister Eira finds there is no longer the person she remembers. The years of captivity and experimentation have transformed her physically and mentally into something unstable.
Falling Action:
When the facility begins collapsing during their escape, Lillian realises she cannot leave without becoming a threat to the world above.
Resolution:
She sacrifices herself to destroy the place and those who created her. Years later, Eira continues living with the loss, carrying both the grief and the love her sister left behind.


Part 2: Short Story


The night Lillian died, she burned the kettle.
It was such a small thing that Eira almost forgot it.
The kitchen filled with the sharp smell of scorched metal and steam.
“* it,” Lillian muttered, lifting the kettle away from the hob.
“You’ve ruined tea,” Eira said from the table.
“That’s a tragedy.”
“It actually is.”
Lillian smiled faintly and filled it again.
Eira remembers that moment very clearly now. The way the light from the cooker caught the edge of her sister’s hair. The way she kept glancing at the hallway like she was listening for something.
“Did someone call?” Eira asked.
“No.”
“You’re being weird.”
“Am not.”
“You are.”
Lillian turned and leaned back against the counter.
For a second she just watched her.
“You ever think about leaving?” she asked suddenly.
Eira frowned.
“Leaving what?”
“Everything.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
Lillian huffed a laugh.
“Forget it.”
She carried the mugs over and placed one in front of Eira.
When Eira took a sip, it burned her tongue.
“Bloody hell.”
“You never wait for it to cool.”
“I’m impatient.”
“You always have been.”
There was something in her voice then.
Something softer.
Almost sad.
A few hours later, the house burned.
For three years afterward, Eira learned how to live around the hole Lillian left behind.
It never closed.
You just stopped touching the edges.
She worked evenings at a bookshop by the river, shelving paperbacks and pretending the world made sense.
Most nights she walked home alone.
Sometimes she saw things.
Shadows where there shouldn’t be shadows.
Figures standing too still beneath streetlights.
She told herself it was grief.
Grief did strange things to the brain.
The night she met Caelan, it was raining so hard the pavements looked like black mirrors.
He stepped out of the alley behind the shop just as she locked the door.
“You’re Eira Calloway,” he said.
“That depends who’s asking.”
He studied her for a moment.
“You see them sometimes, don’t you?”
“See who?”
“The things that don’t belong here.”
Eira gave a short laugh.
“Right. Brilliant opening line.”
“Your sister saw them too.”
The laughter stopped.
“You shouldn’t joke about that.”
“I’m not joking.”
The rain hammered the pavement around them.
“She didn’t die in that fire,” he said quietly.
Eira’s chest tightened.
“Everyone dies eventually,” she said.
“Not her.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Caelan said the one sentence that cracked the world open.
“They took her.”
The cathedral had been abandoned for decades.
The outside looked like any other forgotten building.
Inside, hidden beneath the stone floor, was something else entirely.
The corridors underground were too clean.
Too quiet.
Eira’s heart hammered against her ribs.
“What if she’s not here?” she whispered.
Caelan glanced at her.
“She is.”
“How do you know?”
He hesitated.
“Because they’re afraid of her.”
They reached a heavy steel door.
Eira pushed it open.
The room smelled wrong.
Chemical.
Sharp.
Cold.
At first she thought it was empty.
Then something moved in the far corner.
Eira stepped forward slowly.
A shape hunched against the wall.
Too thin.
Too long.
Her breath caught.
The figure lifted its head.
For a moment Eira didn’t recognise her.
The girl’s hair had grown uneven and pale at the ends, like it had been bleached by light that never touched the sun. Her skin looked almost translucent.
Faint veins of silver light flickered beneath it.
But it was the eyes that shattered Eira.
They were the same colour.
Just… hollowed out.
“Lillian?” she whispered.
The girl flinched violently at the sound.
Chains rattled.
She stared at Eira with wild confusion.
Like someone trying to read a language they once knew.
“…Who?”
The word came out rough.
Broken.
Eira’s throat closed.
“It’s me,” she said quickly. “Eira.”
The girl blinked.
For a long time she didn’t move.
Then something flickered across her face.
A memory struggling to surface.
“Ei…ra.”
The way she said it made Eira’s chest cave in.
She rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside her.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I came to get you.”
Lillian stared at her hands.
At the place where Eira’s fingers touched her arm.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled away.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
The answer came in a whisper.
“I break things.”
Eira shook her head desperately.
“You won’t break me.”
But Lillian wasn’t listening anymore.
Her gaze had drifted to the ceiling lights.
“They hurt when I remember,” she murmured.
“What hurts?”
“Everything.”
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Caelan swore quietly.
“They’re coming.”
Eira grabbed the chain locking Lillian’s wrists.
“We’re leaving now.”
But Lillian suddenly froze.
Her eyes had focused again.
Really focused.
On Eira.
“You grew up,” she said faintly.
Eira swallowed hard.
“So did you.”
Something like understanding flickered across Lillian’s face.
Then grief.
“Three years,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“I missed it.”
The lights overhead began to flicker violently.
Energy pulsed through the room.
The machines along the walls shrieked.
Lillian looked down at her trembling hands.
“They put something inside me,” she said quietly.
Eira didn’t answer.
She already knew.
The silver light beneath Lillian’s skin was growing brighter.
“I tried to keep it quiet,” Lillian continued.
“But it gets louder.”
The first explosion sounded somewhere deep in the facility.
Alarms blared.
Men shouted in the corridor.
Lillian met Eira’s eyes again.
For the first time since they met in this room, she looked completely aware.
Completely herself.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I had to.”
Her sister smiled sadly.
“You always were stubborn.”
The walls cracked.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Lillian reached out suddenly and touched Eira’s cheek.
Her hand was cold.
But gentle.
“I’m glad I saw you again.”
Eira grabbed her wrist.
“No. You’re coming with us.”
Lillian shook her head slowly.
“If I leave, this follows.”
“Then we deal with it together.”
“I can’t control it.”
“Then we learn.”
Lillian looked at Caelan.
“You’re fae,” she said quietly.
He nodded once.
“You know what I’ve become.”
He didn’t answer.
That silence was enough.
Lillian turned back to Eira.
“Do you remember the park near our old house?” she asked softly.
Eira blinked through tears.
“Yes.”
“You fell off the swing and broke your arm.”
“You pushed me.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
For a moment they both laughed.
Just a little.
Then Lillian leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Eira’s.
“Go,” she whispered.
“No.”
“I need you to live a long, boring life.”
The room shook violently.
Lillian pushed them both backwards with a surge of invisible force.
The corridor began collapsing behind them.
Eira screamed her name.
But the last thing she saw was her sister standing in the centre of the room.
Silver light blazing through her skin.
And smiling.
Five years later, Eira still walked the same bridge every morning.
London had changed.
Or maybe she had.
Caelan stood beside her now, leaning against the railing.
His reflection in the water shimmered slightly wrong.
Faerie glamour never worked perfectly in moving light.
“You’re thinking about her again,” he said.
“I always am.”
The river moved slowly beneath them.
Somewhere in the distance, the city woke.
Eira closed her eyes for a moment.
Grief never disappeared.
It just changed shape.
But beneath it was something else.
Something stubborn.
“She saved me,” Eira said quietly.
“Yes.”
Eira looked out over the water.
“And yet,” she whispered.
Caelan glanced at her.
“What?”
She smiled faintly.
“I’m still here.”
And sometimes that was the bravest thing anyone could do.
Part 3 critique:

I like the way you described certain things like the smell of the burning kettle, etc! The way you write shock/grief is *chef’s kiss* too! Something I think you could work on is making the parts less staccato; like actually describing what the house looked like when was on fire, how Lillian felt when she realized her sister was still in there, etc. I also think you could work on the flow between scenes, like when she meets Caelan and when they enter the cathedral. You could show the journey to——the cathedral, how they got the heavy steel door, etc. Also maybe emphasize the fact that she’s seeing strange figures. If this is an important component in the story, make it VERY VERY clear that there are figures following her and odd things are happening. Even if the MC doesn’t think much of it, don’t just mention it in passing. Overall, I do love the way you write prose and describe locations and emotions! Especially the pain Eira feels when she sees Lillian so disheveled! Great job!
BY: @cyberdoodlez

Edited version:
The night Lillian died, she burned the kettle.
It was such a small thing that Eira almost forgot it.
The kitchen filled with the sharp smell of scorched metal and steam.
“* it,” Lillian muttered, lifting the kettle away from the hob.
“You’ve ruined tea,” Eira said from the table.
“That’s a tragedy.”
“It actually is.”
Lillian smiled faintly and filled it again.
Eira remembers that moment very clearly now. The way the light from the cooker caught the edge of her sister’s hair. The way she kept glancing at the hallway like she was listening for something.
“Did someone call?” Eira asked.
“No.”
“You’re being weird.”
“Am not.”
“You are.”
Lillian turned and leaned back against the counter.
For a second she just watched her.
“You ever think about leaving?” she asked suddenly.
Eira frowned.
“Leaving what?”
“Everything.”
“That’s not ominous at all.”
Lillian huffed a laugh.
“Forget it.”
She carried the mugs over and placed one in front of Eira.
When Eira took a sip, it burned her tongue.
“Bloody hell.”
“You never wait for it to cool.”
“I’m impatient.”
“You always have been.”
There was something in her voice then.
Something softer.
Almost sad.
Eira noticed Lillian glance toward the hallway again.
But this time she didn’t look away.
“No,” Lillian said quietly.
Eira blinked.
“No what?”
Lillian’s eyes stayed fixed on the darkness of the hall.
“I said no.”
A chill crept across the room.
“Lillian?”
“I’m not going with you,” Lillian muttered under her breath.
Eira stared at her.
“Who are you talking to?”
Lillian blinked, like she’d only just realized Eira was there.
“No one.”
But her gaze flicked toward the hallway again.
For just a moment, Eira thought she saw something standing there.
A tall shape where the darkness thickened.
Then it was gone.
A few hours later, the house burned.
Eira woke to the smell of smoke.
When she opened her bedroom door, heat rushed down the hallway like a living thing.
“Lillian!”
Flames already filled the kitchen.
The fire climbed the cupboards and crawled across the ceiling.
“Lillian!”
Something moved inside the flames.
Not fire.
Shapes.
Tall silhouettes shifting through the smoke.
Watching.
The ceiling groaned.
Someone dragged Eira outside while she screamed for her sister.
The last thing she saw before the roof collapsed was the kitchen window exploding outward—
And a flash of silver light bursting into the night.
They never found a body.
For three years afterward, Eira learned how to live around the hole Lillian left behind.
It never closed.
You just stopped touching the edges.
She worked evenings at a bookshop by the river, shelving paperbacks and pretending the world made sense.
Most nights she walked home alone.
Sometimes she saw things.
Shadows where there shouldn’t be shadows.
Figures standing too still beneath streetlights.
She told herself it was grief.
Grief did strange things to the brain.
The night she met Caelan, rain hammered the pavement so hard the streets looked like black mirrors.
He stepped out of the alley behind the shop just as she locked the door.
“You’re Eira Calloway,” he said.
“That depends who’s asking.”
He studied her for a moment.
“You see them sometimes, don’t you?”
“See who?”
“The things that don’t belong here.”
Eira gave a short laugh.
“Right. Brilliant opening line.”
“Your sister saw them too.”
The laughter stopped.
“You shouldn’t joke about that.”
“I’m not joking.”
Rain hammered the pavement around them.
“She didn’t die in that fire,” he said quietly.
Eira’s chest tightened.
“Everyone dies eventually,” she said.
“Not her.”
Silence stretched between them.
Then Caelan said the one sentence that cracked the world open.
“They took her.”
The cathedral stood at the far edge of the city.
Eira had passed it before without thinking twice. Just another abandoned building swallowed by weeds and rusting iron gates.
Now, following Caelan through the quiet streets toward it, she couldn’t stop the unease tightening in her chest.
They crossed the river first.
The bridge stretched long and empty above the dark water. Streetlights reflected in the current like broken gold.
Halfway across, Eira slowed.
Someone stood at the far end of the bridge.
Tall.
Perfectly still.
Watching them.
She blinked.
The figure was gone.
“Hurry,” Caelan said quietly.
They left the main road and followed a narrow path running alongside a cemetery wall. The cathedral rose ahead of them, its broken stained glass catching faint moonlight.
The iron gate creaked when Caelan pushed it open.
Gravestones leaned crookedly in the long grass.
Eira kept glancing behind them.
More than once she thought she saw shapes moving between the stones.
Following.
The cathedral doors themselves were chained shut.
Instead, Caelan led her around the side of the building to a narrow service entrance hidden beneath ivy.
Inside, the cathedral smelled of dust and damp stone.
Their footsteps echoed across the empty nave.
Moonlight filtered through shattered windows, painting fractured colours across the floor.
Near the altar, Caelan crouched and pulled aside a loose slab of stone.
A staircase descended beneath the church.
Cold air drifted up from below.
They followed the stairs deep underground.
The stone walls slowly gave way to metal.
Fluorescent lights hummed overhead.
The corridors below were too clean.
Too quiet.
Eira’s heart hammered against her ribs.
“What if she’s not here?” she whispered.
Caelan glanced at her.
“She is.”
“How do you know?”
He hesitated.
“Because they’re afraid of her.”
They reached a heavy steel door.
Eira pushed it open.
The room smelled wrong.
Chemical.
Sharp.
Cold.
At first she thought it was empty.
Then something moved in the far corner.
Eira stepped forward slowly.
A shape hunched against the wall.
Too thin.
Too long.
Her breath caught.
The figure lifted its head.
For a moment Eira didn’t recognise her.
The girl’s hair had grown uneven and pale at the ends, like it had been bleached by light that never touched the sun. Her skin looked almost translucent.
Faint veins of silver light flickered beneath it.
But it was the eyes that shattered Eira.
They were the same colour.
Just… hollowed out.
“Lillian?” she whispered.
The girl flinched violently at the sound.
Chains rattled.
She stared at Eira with wild confusion.
Like someone trying to read a language they once knew.
“…Who?”
The word came out rough.
Broken.
Eira’s throat closed.
“It’s me,” she said quickly. “Eira.”
The girl blinked.
For a long time she didn’t move.
Then something flickered across her face.
A memory struggling to surface.
“Ei…ra.”
The way she said it made Eira’s chest cave in.
She rushed forward and dropped to her knees beside her.
“I’m here,” she whispered. “I came to get you.”
Lillian stared at her hands.
At the place where Eira’s fingers touched her arm.
Slowly, carefully, she pulled away.
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
The answer came in a whisper.
“I break things.”
Eira shook her head desperately.
“You won’t break me.”
But Lillian wasn’t listening anymore.
Her gaze had drifted to the ceiling lights.
“They hurt when I remember,” she murmured.
“What hurts?”
“Everything.”
Footsteps echoed in the corridor.
Caelan swore quietly.
“They’re coming.”
Eira grabbed the chain locking Lillian’s wrists.
“We’re leaving now.”
But Lillian suddenly froze.
Her eyes had focused again.
Really focused.
On Eira.
“You grew up,” she said faintly.
Eira swallowed hard.
“So did you.”
Something like understanding flickered across Lillian’s face.
Then grief.
“Three years,” she whispered.
“Yes.”
“I missed it.”
The lights overhead began to flicker violently.
Energy pulsed through the room.
The machines along the walls shrieked.
Lillian looked down at her trembling hands.
“They put something inside me,” she said quietly.
Eira didn’t answer.
She already knew.
The silver light beneath Lillian’s skin was growing brighter.
“I tried to keep it quiet,” Lillian continued.
“But it gets louder.”
The first explosion sounded somewhere deep in the facility.
Alarms blared.
Men shouted in the corridor.
Lillian met Eira’s eyes again.
For the first time since they met in this room, she looked completely aware.
Completely herself.
“You shouldn’t have come.”
“I had to.”
Her sister smiled sadly.
“You always were stubborn.”
The walls cracked.
Dust rained from the ceiling.
Lillian reached out suddenly and touched Eira’s cheek.
Her hand was cold.
But gentle.
“I’m glad I saw you again.”
Eira grabbed her wrist.
“No. You’re coming with us.”
Lillian shook her head slowly.
“If I leave, this follows.”
“Then we deal with it together.”
“I can’t control it.”
“Then we learn.”
Lillian looked at Caelan.
“You’re fae,” she said quietly.
He nodded once.
“You know what I’ve become.”
He didn’t answer.
That silence was enough.
Lillian turned back to Eira.
“Do you remember the park near our old house?” she asked softly.
Eira blinked through tears.
“Yes.”
“You fell off the swing and broke your arm.”
“You pushed me.”
“I did not.”
“You absolutely did.”
For a moment they both laughed.
Just a little.
Then Lillian leaned forward and pressed her forehead against Eira’s.
“Go,” she whispered.
“No.”
“I need you to live a long, boring life.”
The room shook violently.
Lillian pushed them both backwards with a surge of invisible force.
The corridor began collapsing behind them.
Eira screamed her name.
But the last thing she saw was her sister standing in the centre of the room.
Silver light blazing through her skin.
Smiling. Staring at her as she mouthed the words she’d wanted to hear for 3 years
“I love you”
Five years later, Eira still walked the same bridge every morning.
London had changed.
Or maybe she had.
Caelan stood beside her now, leaning against the railing.
His reflection in the water shimmered slightly wrong.
Faerie glamour never worked perfectly in moving light.
“You’re thinking about her again,” he said.
“I always am.”
The river moved slowly beneath them.
Somewhere in the distance, the city woke.
Eira closed her eyes for a moment.
Grief never disappeared.
It just changed shape.
But beneath it was something else.
Something stubborn.
“She saved me,” Eira said quietly.
“Yes.”
Eira looked out over the water.
“And yet,” she whispered.
Caelan glanced at her.
“What?”
She smiled faintly.
“I’m still here.”
And sometimes that was the bravest thing anyone could do.

Can I just post my proof here for my word war? or my writing piece?

By: @OctopusGhost (lazuli)
Writing Team: Fantasy
Total Words: 729
Total Words just for story: 703
600+ Word Memoir for the daily March 11, 2026

The River's Beach

It was late morning in autumn as I and the rest of my group wound our way through the various trails between the various half-leafless shrubs. Some trails were wide, while others we had to back out of because they were too tight.

As we explored, I tried not to get caught in any stray branches, and while I was worried about getting lost, I stayed confident, keeping up with those in front of me.

After about half an hour of exploration, the leader told us that we had to go back, and explained why: We'd love to explore further, but we had not much time left before we should turn back to eat lunch. Hence, we would go on the path to the beach.

So we took a path to the beach by a large river, and were rewarded by horseshoe crab shells and the appearance of a beautiful white swan, appearing right before a large bend in the beach.

I felt awe in the presence of that swan. It was beautiful and calm, and the whole scene was rather serene, as if stepping into true wildlands, free of developed ground. While the horseshoe crab shells were kind of odd, it was nice.

After perhaps another half hour, it was time to go back to some sort of side bridge to eat our sandwiches for lunch. I stayed a bit to get a good picture of the swan, then followed everyone back. However, it was not like everyone was rushing back, it seemed everyone was reluctant to go, taking their time.

As we were heading back, a person in our group drew a long jump challenge in the sand, and we competed to see if we could jump over it, giving the trip a fun addition. We wound our way back and sat down to eat sandwiches.

There were wasps landing on everyone's sandwiches to eat… Pests and annoying as they were, I wonder now if this was how it was like in nature, with animals always searching for food, even though there was a threat - those who had the food. Yet, they still went on to get the food.

I exchanged emails with someone I had met that trip, and I was eager to see where our friendship would go, and where are paths would take us after that day. We all played a few different teamwork games, one of them Pipeline.

Then we went back to the van, or near there. We saw a d3ad snake on the path, and we all wished it well, and agreed with what a fellow trip taker said, “Goodbye, snake. We didn't know you existed before you died, we do now. Rest in peace.”*

We continued on, chatting. We all had been mostly strangers at first, but over the course of a few hours, had gotten to know each other, so we were now friendly companions. As we got to the carpark, I realized we weren't going back yet.

When I asked, I was told something like we still had much time. So I took my new friend to sit down at the River's view, looking at the water and feeling some heat from the sun while we talked. The others were nearby, some sleeping, some talking quietly.

Everything seemed to fade away as me and my friend talked, only the scenery around. In fact, we were talking and sitting there for so long that I almost forgot there were other people there. It was probably over an hour when we were told to go back.

So we returned, just in time for me to go to the toilet before it was too late. I was glad to experience so many new things and make new memories along the way of this trip - solemn, peaceful, happy, and fun.

There were many other things that were in this trip, but the ones mentioned stood out to me the most.

I will always remember you, snake. Rest in peace.


The End

*that's similar to what the fellow trip taker said. Also, I can't really remember when we saw this d3ad snake, just somewhere on one of the paths.

538 words
Word war with mooseywoosey
uh yeah

“We have a problem.”
Mara’s voice was too calm for the words she’d chosen. She stood at the edge of the crater, boots half-buried in the ash, visor reflecting the pulsing blue light rising from the pit.
Behind her, Jonah slid to a stop, coughing on the dust. “You always say that like you’re ordering coffee,” he muttered. Then he saw the light. “Oh.”
The thing in the crater pulsed again—slow, like a heartbeat. Blue radiance washed over the jagged rocks and the twisted wreckage of their survey drone.
Jonah swallowed. “Okay, correction: we have an extinction-level problem.”
Mara didn’t answer right away. She studied the smooth, obsidian-like surface at the center of the pit, the glowing veins that spiderwebbed through it. Energy readings spiked green on her wrist console.
“Do you know what that is?” Jonah asked.
“Same as you,” Mara said. “A power signature we’ve never seen before.” She raised her scanner, watching the numbers race. “The colony’s been starving for months. Fuel cells dying, food printers sputtering. This could run the whole settlement for a century.”
“Or blow it up in ten seconds,” Jonah snapped. “Command said if we found the source, we were to mark the coordinates and leave it alone.”
Mara finally turned to him. The blue light edged her face in electric shadow. “Command also said we had three weeks of fuel left. That was two weeks ago. You’ve seen the ration lines.”
He had. He could still hear the way the kids’ voices thinned at the end of the day, tired and hungry.
“That’s not the point,” he said, though it felt like it used to be the point, back when the rules still fit. “We don’t know what this thing is.”
Mara smiled faintly. She always smiled right before she did something that terrified him. “We know two things. One, it’s stable—for now. Two, it’s powerful enough to be dangerous at any distance. Whether we touch it or leave it, the risk is already here.”
Jonah shook his head. “We should call it in, wait for—”
“For what?” Mara asked. “For Earth to send a committee? For Command to send another drone to crash into it?” She gestured at the smoking wreck. “We’ve been waiting for a year, Jonah. Waiting is how we got here.”
He stared down into the crater. The blue light drew his eyes, deep and hypnotic, like the oceans he’d only seen in pictures.
“You’re thinking about bringing it back,” he said.
“Bringing back a sample,” she corrected. “I’m not dragging that entire rock into Main Dome. I’m reckless, not .”
“Reckless is understating this,” he said. He heard his own voice crack. “If we’re wrong—”
“If we’re right,” she cut in gently, “we save everyone.”
Jonah exhaled slowly. “We have a problem,” he repeated, more to himself than to her. His voice sounded small in the open air.
Mara’s gaze softened. “You call it a problem,” she said, “I call it a solution.”
Silence fell between them. The alien pulse filled it, slow and steady. Somewhere far behind them, the distant curve of the colony dome caught a thin line of sunlight.
“Let’s say I go along with this,” Jonah said at last. “Best case?”

March 11

Welcome back to day 2 of the memoir bidaily. If you weren't here yesterday, we came up with ideas for our memoir. Today, we'll be writing it! Take one of your ideas and write to your heart's desire. Your memoir should be at least 600 words in length to earn 700 points. Have fun! Unfortunately, if you didn't complete yesterday's part of the bidaily, you cannot claim points for it. However, you can still earn points for writing a memoir today!

(My current version talks a bit about a friend of mine, so I'm going to ask for their permission before I share it :3 If they don't want me to share, I may edit that part out and post a shorter version here, or maybe I'll just leave this placeholder message; we'll see)

Bi-Daily Part 2 Proof
630 words // March 11

I remember some of being three. It’s interesting to think about the experience and how my memories still stand today. It’s weird sometimes, you remember the strangest memories, it makes you wonder, why would I remember this?
I remember it was dark as we climbed through the caverns of the Ape Caves. I was three, maybe four, but I remember it vividly. Bits of water dripped from the ceiling, and all my three-year-old brain could wonder was, “How can it rain when we are inside?” Simple thoughts, but I will admit it makes sense.
On the trail to the caves, there were tall trees and lots of bushes. I collected leaves. I don’t know why, but I collected hundreds of colorful autumn leaves from the ground of a well-walked path to the Ape Caves. The pictures make me smile as I wonder what I was thinking to collect leaves, just to have to throw them away again afterward.
My older brother gave me a nickname, “The Wild Scrambler.” I laughed and loved it, had it for years. Usually, he just calls me by my name or middle name now that I’m older, but I’ll always remember being The Wild Scrambler.
We chose the specific path we took because it was easier. I always wonder what it would have been like if we had taken a different path. Would I have been able to make it all the way through? Would other people manage? Would I remember it as vividly?
At one point, my sisters left, down a different path of the caves. I thought they were gone forever, really, they were just exploring. One of them was excited, one of them was begrudging as they went along the tunnels. I don’t know if they remember this, but I do.
Everyone bonked their heads except my six-year-old sister and me. We were too short to hit our heads on the top of the short passages. One of the only advantages of being short around a bunch of tall people. I wonder what I would’ve thought about being the height I am now.
I remember that someone threw some trash around in the caves. I wanted to pick it up, be a hero for stopping a litterer, but there was no trash can, and I wasn’t allowed to touch random trash. I thought about it for some time during the hike, but resolved that someone would come and clean it up eventually.
I had a headlamp, it shone everywhere I looked, and part of the way, I had another flashlight too. It’s kinda inspiring how in a dark tunnel a single beam of light illuminates everything you look at. Every place you turn your head sparks with light where there wasn’t any before.
Near the end, there was a ladder; only one person was supposed to go at a time. I was scared, terrified of the ladder, but I told myself I was brave to climb up a tall ladder alone. I luckily didn’t fall, and I was able to make it to the top unharmed, but it felt scarier than it must’ve really been.
At the top, there was snow on the mountain. I asked simply, “Can we have snow at home too?” Eventually, I was to realize my parents had no control over the weather at home, and no matter if I wished upon a star for it to be snowy, it wasn’t going to.
We drove back to the Airbnb in our van, and we ate, I played, keeping safe the memory of our trip to the ape caves.
I still remember all of this from when I was a toddler, all of this about a trip we went on when I was three.

Letter to @ButterPopcorn8

Hello! Sadly, I had to go to an after school activity, so this is a little late…
Fourth year of highschool… that's scary lol. You're almost in college then? Are you excited or nervous or something else? I’m the second oldest in my family, so it's scary to have to ‘pioneer’ going into these higher grades and eventually starting my own life away from the rest of my family, without an older sibling to tell me how it works. (I mean, I do have an older brother, but he doesn't talk much) Forensics is interesting though! You’ll be working on evidence from crime scenes then? Sounds fun. And maybe kinda stressful.
We (The fandom) are kind of scared for the ending of TADC to be honest. The show is based on the short story called ‘I Have No Mouth and I Must Scream’. It’s kind of a horrifying story from what I’ve heard, about an AI that decided to kiII all humans until only a small group was left. That group heard about a storage shed or something that was filled with canned food. They went to go seek it out, ‘cause they hadn't had great food, but when they got there they realized they had no can opener and couldn’t get any of it. Then, they found out that the AI had set this up to torture them.
At the end of the story, the humans decide that one of them has to kiII the rest and then themselves so they can stop being tortured. The plan goes well until there's only one person left. The AI finds them and surgically removes the guy’s mouth so he can't scream, and tortures him for eternity! Yay!
…anyway so yeah we don’t know how it's going to end.
Also, woah, that's a long time to be doing SWC! I’m happy to hear it's been great for you! Apocalyptic and Steampunk sound like the coolest cabins ever. My mother writes steampunk and I’ve always loved the genre. I’m actually planning on dressing up in a steampunk outfit for halloween. So is leading fun then? I had assumed it would’ve been kind of stressful. Then again, you do get to be more competitive and you get to plan activities with your cabin, so I don't know lol.
Unfortunately, I am going to have to cut it here. I’ve got a ‘young womens’ activity to go to and an ELA assignment to finish- Good luck with your homework!

-Vi

⋆.˚ “Con Kỳ Lân” ⋆·˚ ༘ *

In the small city of Biên Hòa, Vietnam, a curious little creature wandered around her house. Con Kỳ Lân, the mythical creature of Lunar New Year, was very excited for her first session of SWC.
This Vietnamese ‘unicorn’ was the traditional representation of peace, luck, and prosperity for the new year. Often portrayed with a dragon head and a deer’s body, Con Kỳ Lân was regarded as a sacred animal. Unlike your usual fierce and fiery dragons, this magical creature is usually depicted as very cheerful, with big eyes, a large nose, and a ruffled tail. And yes– this Con Kỳ Lân very much so lived up to her depicted image.
“I can’t wait to interact with humans!” she spoke in awe. “I will finally get to tell stories and take a break from being a guardian all day.” Now, these creatures often represent wisdom and peace. As one of the four sacred animals (the others being the dragon, turtle, and phoenix), Con Kỳ Lân was used to guarding temples and homes all day.
It was the feast of Lunar New Year that week, and her fellow Kỳ Lân friends were dancing down the streets to bring good fortune to the townspeople. Con Kỳ Lân finally got a small break during this festive celebration, and she was going to lock in and enjoy some writing!
Logging onto her computer, she opened up to the main cabin. “Oooo this is a fun daily! I’ve got lots of memoirs to talk about!” she exclaimed. “Oh wow! And I can have a penpal too? I love humans, I am definitely signing up for that!” Con Kỳ Lân was a blissful and optimistic little creature. She liked to bring peace, luck, and good fortune to everyone– well, that was her job.
Con Kỳ Lân began scrolling through the comments in the main studio and admired all of the conversations. She absolutely adored human chatter, and longed to talk to others. So being the impulsively cheerful Kỳ Lân she was, Con Kỳ Lân began to reply to every single comment and jump into every single conversation in the main studio. “This is such an awesome community!” she said, “I am going to make so many cool friends and spread cheer everyday.” she added.
Comments began spewing out of her keyboard at a rapid pace. She would comment ‘Hiya there! I’m Kỳ Lân, nice to meet you!’, ‘OMG yesss I love that too!’, and ‘How is everyone? I hope you all are having a wonderful day!’. These comments were rapid fire to every single camper or leader who were chatting in the main cabin.
“Oops, seems like you’re commenting really quickly. Please wait longer between posts.” hit Con Kỳ Lân every other comment because she was going so fast. After replying to as many comments as she could, Con Kỳ Lân went to work on the weekly.
She was loving the vibes, and saw herself in a bright future with SWC. After a few minutes, Con Kỳ Lân’s messages began to blow up. Almost everyone was replying to her!
These messages flowed in like a river, coming with the most welcoming replies. Many SWCers joined in on her chatter, asked her how she was doing, and replied with uplifting answers. Con Kỳ Lân was not just satisfied, she was overwhelmed with happiness. She was so grateful to have joined into a community that was so fun.
“SWC forever!!!” she shouted. And with that, SWC had just gained their most cheery, magical, and delightful creature.


✎ 3.12.2026 ~ Daily #12 ❀ ~ 588 words ౨ৎ
⌗ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀꜰꜰʀᴏɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇʙᴏᴏᴋ ⋆˚࿔

Ilu-Fi prompt bank – using prompt by @teecee3

For SWC to work in real life, it would probably have multiple locations. Maybe it could be in different places at different months, so the weather is always good. I think one of the locations should be near where I live just because that would be best for me.
Cabin leaders would have to stay at camp much earlier than the campers to get their cabins prepared. Cabins might not have as elaborate of storylines if it were an in-person camp, since that might be harder to organize. They might just have a general theme. Cabins would be redecorated each session according to the leader’s theme.
The main cabin would be a building with a bulletin board that lists the current daily and weekly, as well as cabin rankings. It could also double as a dining hall. There would also a spot in it for campers to submit their dailies and weeklies—maybe, like, a slot you put them through? Kind of like the book drop at the library, maybe. Something where you can put papers in but not take them out, so that no one could sabotage others by taking their writing out.
Probably roleplaying would be a big just-for-fun activity. Maybe that’s how cabins would do their storylines. Either that or they’d have in-cabin writing challenges to advance it. Basically, cabin challenges and storylines would be done differently, but I’m not sure how exactly. Maybe leaders would organize scavenger hunts and stuff.
There would be a lot of typewriters, printers, and copying machines available for campers to use.
I’m not sure how word wars would work, but I’m imagining two campers sitting next to each other, typing furiously on typewriters while a timer ticks lower and lower. Probably you’d use computers and not typewriters though, for ease of word counting. I just think typewriters are cool.
As for cabin wars, I guess you’d go over to the cabin and shout “cabin wars! Write this many words in this many hours or lose this many points.” Maybe you’d also tape a war to the door along with the time posted or something. During cabin wars I imagine campers would do things like egg enemy cabins to distract their campers from writing. Even outside of cabin wars, I bet they’d toilet paper rival cabins and stuff just for fun.
There would be non-writing activities as well, though those might not get you points. Or maybe you’d get just a bit of points to encourage you to touch grass. Either way, I’m imagining there’s a lake at the camp you can go swim in. Maybe you also play capture the flag. I wonder if you could combine capture the flag with cabin wars somehow.
Another writing-related activity that would be unique to IRL SWC is reading your writing. Maybe every night there’d be an hour or so where anyone who wants can go up and read a piece they wrote—an open mic night type thing. You’d earn points for sharing your writing like that.
Running an IRL version of SWC would come with a lot of challenges and logistical problems. Being a camper in it could be a lot of fun, but personally, I think I prefer it being online.

↻ ◁ II ▷ ↺

◪ Noͦ 12
Wordcount: 621/500
Topic: Creature from your Folklore
Points earned: 600+50 for proof
Cabin: Cyberpunk

I live by two cultures, so today I will be talking about two mythical creatures!

In Indian mythology, there are shape-shifting serpents called Naga. You've probably seen them being retold in many different stories as well. However, they were actually once very loyal servants, and the female Naga represented fertility and rebirth. Sometimes, instead of being depicted as shape-shifters, they could be shown as having the upper bodies of humans and the lower bodies of snakes. That's what I'll be using today!
You've probably heard of genies! These actually came from the oldest culture ever, from Persia. You could also call it Zoroastrianism. They were originally called “Jinns.” If you've ever played Dungeons and Dragons, you would categorize these into “Neutral Chaotic.” They really don't care about anything else; they do it for the plot. One of the biggest retellings of the Jinns was in, you guessed it, The Arabian Nights.

—

Jiran was having a blast. The most fun he'd had in days, actually. Now that he'd tied a Naga to his will, there was nothing she could do to stop his irritating commands. He wanted to be free, and she wanted legs oh so badly. So badly she was willing to swallow up her pride and take him all the way to the plaza to buy out silks for him.

“Hmmm… No, I don't really like this one,” Jiran eyed the blue fabric suspiciously, Gagin giving him the biggest glare she could muster up. It was so stupid. Everybody around her looked at her like she was crazy, and she was starting to think she was. If she saw somebody else talking to the air like that, she would probably stay a good 10 feet away from them

“It's the cheapest one, okay?” She snapped at him, causing the shopkeeper to give her a bombastic side-eye. “I have no gold left, since somebody scammed me out of one of my three wishes.”

“You asked me to be the richest in your family, so I locked all their bank accounts,” he shrugged. “You're the richest in your family now.”

“You know what I meant!”

"No, I know what you said.“

”You are impossible.“

”You know what, dear?“ The shopkeeper gave her the kind of look you would give a mentally ill person living their final days with consciousness. ”Why don't you take the red one? It's on the house.“

”Oo, yes, I like red! Maybe I'll give this guy a boon. Tell me, sir, how many mangoes would you like?“

”He can't hear you, idiot,“ Gagin shook her head, grabbing the silk gratefully and slithering away on the designated foot path for Naga. She looked at the mortal side longingly, catching sight of their pretty shoes and pretty skirts. The way they walked so gratefully, the way they didn't have to slither on the ground.

”Okay, so now that's done," Jiran pulled out his checklist with a snap, crossing out Buy silk robes with his finger. “We have around… sixty-seven more tasks to go. Before I think you're deemed worthy of having legs.”

“When I told you I would do anything to have legs, I meant it as a wish, not as free slavery!”

“No, no, you said, and I quote, ”I wish I could have legs, I would do anything for them." See, there's no full stop between them! So technically, that was the entire wish. I just chose this to be the specific something."

Gagin took a deep breath. Suck it up. Think of walking. Think of walking. Think of walking.

“Anyways, next stop is the jeweler! I would like myself a new pair of gold earrings…”

Maybe walking was overrated.

I spent a lot of time thinking up who was demanding development from me and who I was going to write about! I chose characters from my Aurora Bay universe because I wanted to explore the impact that superheroes or vigilante groups had on public services. Let’s be honest, this plan is going to get thrown out the window but I have an idea of where I want to go at least!

Opening: Elanna, Amber, and Rena have just cleared yet another code red resulting from a clash between the Firelights and the Harbringers. Elanna has never liked having superheroes around, and Amber and Rena agree it’s made more work for them. Elinor and Cassie enter, asking if it’s possible to take statements, which Amber and Elanna say yes to.

Rising Action: Rena goes to check in on one of her patients due for transfer, when a code black is called. Members of the Firelights storm the hospital looking for injured Harbringers. Elanna and Amber do their best to diplomatically negotiate with the Firelights.

Climax: Cassie and Elinor arrive, and the Firelights attack them. Cassie and Elinor do their best to hold them back, but it’s too much. Some Firelights have made it into other parts of the hospital.

Falling Action: Rena appears, now dressed in combat gear, alongside Emrys and Aspen, and the tables turn. They manage to subdue all the Firelights and arrest them with help from Elinor and Cassie.

Conclusion: Alayna arrives, and pulls Emrys, Aspen, Rena, Amber, Ellie, and Elanna into a conference room while Cassie and Elinor arrest the Firelights. Rena admits that she was/is sort of still a secret agent working for ERIS, and Alayna says that the situation is going to get worse before it gets better.

Note / Trigger Warning
This is set in a hospital, but there’s no depiction of injuries in any sort of detail. If that does trigger you, I would advise not reading this piece. I more so wanted to deal with the consequences of having superheroes in a city with functional public services, and their impact especially on hospitals and the medical workforce because I had a medical drama obsession for a while, rather than do a classic medical drama scene!

Also unfortunately I could not think of a better name for one of the groups other than the Firelights, so uh. Unintentional Arcane reference. (I’ve only seen episodes 1-4 sobbing, so don’t come talking to me about it ahaha) For now, it’s a placeholder!!

Charge Nurse Amber Roberts wanted to collapse into bed, and yet she couldn’t. She still had another two hours left on her twelve hour shift, but the last few hours had been a rush of non-stop work. When paramedics came into the emergency department, Amber assigned beds and triage bays, paged doctors, and checked on patients from time to time. She was utterly exhausted by the time the influx of patients had stopped, and the doctors were now transferring them to various other sites in the hospital, which she was keeping track of on the computer she was sitting behind. The emergency department was still busy, yes, but it had gotten quieter with beds slowly emptying.

“Amber,” Amber heard a voice call, and she turned around from her computer screen to see Dr Elanna Barton, head of the emergency department, standing behind her. “Where are we with beds and transfers?”

Amber took a quick glance at her computer. “Uh, beds we’re still short on down here, in terms of transfers, we’re getting porters and nurses from the general wards to move patients up.”

“Dr Chen asked me when we could take the ED off diversion,” Elanna replied. “We got hit with a lot of casualties from whatever was going on between the Firelights and the Harbringers.”

Amber sighed in reply. The Firelights and the Harbringers were notorious around Aurora Bay. The Firelight Flares were a vigilante group who seemed to be starting fights over small things while the Harbringers seemed to have their own ideas about how to run the city, and the two groups often clashed, leading to high numbers of civilian injuries and far too many code reds being called for Amber to count.

“At some point, we’re going to be pushed to the limit,” Amber said. Aspen Glenn Memorial, and Aurora Bay has a whole, most certainly not prepared to deal with the increasing amount of attacks from people with superpowers. While some people thought superpowers and superheroes were a great idea, Amber was pretty sure the undue destruction that could be caused due to them was a much bigger problem. Especially when they ended up in her ED, making Amber’s already complicated job of keeping the emergency department running much harder.

“Mmmhm,” Elanna replied. “Let me know when we can release the extra staff from their duties.”

Amber turned back to her screen. They’d called in a lot of extra staff who were at home that day to help with the sudden influx of patients, and Amber was fairly sure they were all pretty eager to go back home. There were still many patients being seen, but it looked like the workload was decreasing. “We could send some of them-”

Amber stopped as she saw two detectives had walked up to the nurses’ station. They’d been here before, and their names were Cassie Moore and Elinor Hayes if she recalled correctly.

“Dr Barton,” Detective Hayes greeted. “We know it might be a bit too early, but we came here to see if it was possible to take statements from eyewitnesses to the incident that occurred earlier today.”

Amber watched as Elanna deferred to her. “Amber?”

Amber took a quick look at her screen. “The patients in Wards 6A to 6D are the least seriously injured. Just broken bones and sprains and all that. They’ll be most likely to talk to you.”

“Thank you,” Detective Hayes replied. “We’ll start heading up there now.”

Amber watched as the two detectives walked away, heading towards the lift to the sixth floor. She turned back to Elanna. “We can send some of the extra staff home now. At least in the ED.” Amber stated. “Things seemed to have died down.”

“Amber!” A voice called, and she looked up to see Dr Rena Miyazaki standing by the nurses’ station. “Oh, and Elanna, hi.” Rena added, smiling awkwardly. “The patient in bay 31 is going to be transported up to the wards in a sec.”

“Perfect,” Amber said as she took another glance at her screen to see who the patient was, and noticed that there were enough free beds in the ED that they could start accepting ambulances again. “Elanna, I’m paging Dr Chen, because we can take the ED off diversion now.”

“Go ahead,” Amber heard Elanna say. “Rena, you should take a break in the staff-”

Elanna was cut off by a large crash. Amber looked up from her station to see multiple figures burst through the ambulance-only entrance to the emergency department, wearing the distinctive uniforms of the Firelights, their various weapons drawn. Amber wasn’t sure how many there were - ten, maybe twenty? She couldn’t tell.

“Oh, bother,” Amber muttered under her breath as she stood up. “Sirs, this is an emergency department, you can’t be here if you’re not-” she tried to begin diplomatically, but was forcefully cut off by one of the Firelights.

“You are harbouring Harbringers in this hospital. Hand them over now, or we will take them by force,” he demanded, as the room fell silent, save for the quiet beeping of monitors.

Amber glanced at Elanna and Rena. “Call a code black,” she said. Rena nodded in response, and Amber turned back to the Firelights.

“We cannot do that.” Elanna responded to the Firelights, much more diplomatically than Amber’s somewhat timid attempt. She crossed her arms in the typical Elanna-is-getting-serious look Amber had come to know over the past several years working alongside the doctor. “All patients admitted to this hospital are under the care of the medical staff in the hospital, who have sworn an oath to treat all patients equally. This includes the Harbringers. We do not take sides. Our job is to heal, not to judge.”

“We will give you three minutes to give the order to hand the patients over.” The lead Firelight declared.

“No.” Elanna stated, defiance in her eyes. “Whatever reason you want them for, they are my patients under my care in my hospital. If they have broken the law, the appropriate authorities will deal with that. Not you.” Amber could swear she could hear a hint of anger in Elanna’s words at the end - she knew Elanna did not believe in extrajudicial justice, and Elanna was reaching her breaking point.

Amber heard the sound of doors opening, and turned to see the two detectives approaching the Firelights with their standard-issue weapons drawn.

Before they had a chance to speak, the Firelights attacked. They would go for her desk next, Amber realised, so she logged out of the computer she was working at. She couldn’t let them see what was on those computers, she couldn’t let them search the patient database.

The next thing she knew, Amber was being slammed into the ground, her lanyard with her access card being violently ripped from where it hung around her neck. She saw a Firelight loom over her, their mask obscuring most of Amber’s vision, and their hands firmly pinning Amber to the floor.

“You will tell me where you’re keeping the Harbringers,” they hissed.

Amber shook her head. This was just like telling someone about doctor-patient confidentiality, right? Amber tried to pretend the person looming over her wasn’t a Firelight possibly threatening her life and was instead a rather insistent family or relative of a patient. “I’m sorry I can’t do that,” Amber replied, struggling to get the words out. “Doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“You’re not a doctor.” The Firelight retorted, leaning in ever closer.

“No, but I am a nurse in charge of patient care, and that information is strictly confidential between me and my patients.” Amber responded.

“She’s right, you know,” said a new voice that sounded suspiciously like Rena. Amber sighed as she felt the weight of the Firelight lifted off her. She looked up to see… wait, that couldn’t be Rena. The person holding the Firelight did look like Rena, but instead of scrubs she was wearing the uniform of an ERIS agent. What was going on?

“Rena…?” Amber asked, somewhat confused.

“Yes,” Rena replied, forcing the Firelight to the floor before knocking them out with a stun blast. “I’ll explain everything later, Amber. For now, I brought backup.”

Amber took a moment to catch her breath as Rena made her way out of the nurses’ station. She winced in pain as she got up, grabbing her lanyard off the floor as she did so before collapsing into her chair, nursing her bruises as she did so. Turns out that being slammed into the ground hurt quite badly.

From her station, Amber could see that the emergency department was in chaos. She could see Firelights everywhere, in the corridors and trying to get through to patient beds with doctors and nurses trying to keep them away. Rena was clearly doing her best to stop them, along with the two detectives. And whatever backup Rena said she’d brought. Elanna was nowhere to be seen in the frenzy, though Amber was fairly sure she was the first one who was attacked.

Amber took some deep breaths, trying to ignore the aching pain in her back and her chest. The sound of sirens outside gave Amber a sense of relief - more help had arrived. Normally the sound of sirens made her jump into action, but in this moment, she was glad. It would all be over soon. Uniformed police officers entered the department - they must have been called by the two detectives earlier.

Amber watched as the Firelights quickly became overwhelmed by the number of officers present, and she let out a small smile as each one got arrested and pulled into a police car. Finally, some peace and quiet in the emergency department. Relatively speaking, at least.

She heard the sound of footsteps behind her and saw Elanna nursing her injuries as she lumbered over. Relief washed over Amber seeing Elanna okay, and alive. “Good riddance,” Elanna muttered. “Extrajudicial justice never has and never will work. They can face justice for what they did today.”

“Mmmhm,” Amber replied, “though the court system’s slow. It could take months. The detectives might not even be able to charge them with anything.”

“Oh, they will.”

Amber looked up to see Rena standing behind the station, two other agents in tow behind her. Amber recognised them - they’d visited the emergency department before, after previous incidents with the Harbringers, the Firelight Flares, and superpowered people in general. “Agents Becker, Payton, and I want to talk to you,” Rena said. “Oh, and page Dr Chen, too. She should hear this.”

Amber nodded. “Uh, conference room?” she asked, as she paged the chief of medicine.

“Conference room,” Rena replied, holding out her hand for Amber to take.

Amber firmly grasped Rena’s hand, feeling the doctor-turned-secret-agent firmly help her up. They slowly walked over to one of the conference rooms, and Elanna and Amber collapsed into chairs. They were too exhausted to speak, so they sat in silence until Dr Ellie Chen arrived.

The first thing Amber noticed when Dr Chen walked into the room was the look of confusion on her face as she looked at Rena. “Dr Miyazaki…?” she asked, clearly confused.

“Take a seat, Dr Chen,” Rena invited. “I owe you all an explanation.”

Amber watched as Dr Chen sat, still confused about… well, everything.

“There’s no easy way to put this,” Rena said, “but before I joined Aspen Glenn Memorial as a resident, I worked as a secret agent for ERIS while in medical school. I retired after I started my residency. Well,” she then pointed to the two agents beside her, “that was until Agents Becker and Payton pulled me out of retirement.”

Amber paused for a moment to let that information sink in. Rena continued. “We’re not just here because of the attack. There’s something else you should know about, and we need your help. This was just a convenient time to tell you.”





My critique can be found here!

Daily 12

“BOO! What's that above you? Is that…a drop bear? RUN!!
Drop bears are fictional versions of koalas from Austrialian folklore, who are said to drop from trees onto the heads of unsuspecting passerby - especially when they don't get enough sleep ;D For this daily, take some creature from your culture's folklore and write a 500 word story of how this creature would interact with SWC. You can earn 600 points for this, plus 50 for sharing proof!”

Hmm… what should I write about… I could write about humans, but I might have to do more research, and I don’t know if I have enough time to do that. I did see one of them, I swear! But no one else believes me. A lot of them just think they’re a hoax, or a weird, hairless, bipedal bear. But I saw one! And I know it was real! Also, I think there might be some in this “online” (that’s what they call it, not sure what they means) writing camp that I signed up for on this weird glowing square thingy that I found in the woods one time, but it might be a little awkward to be like “Hey, are you a creature that may or may not be real but I’m totally sure is real because I saw it with my own two eyes anyway are you one?” That would be sooooooo awkward. And they might think I’m weird for believing in them (like everyone else). But maybe they wouldn’t mind, since they all seem pretty nice! (One of them even complemented my writing one time!) But still. I don’t know. Anyway, I still need to figure out what to do for today’s daily. It’s a pretty cool one, about writing about a creature from your culture’s folklore. I’m not sure if humans count or not. And if they don’t, I have no idea what to write about! Anyways, I am really getting the hang of this whole “typing” thing. The keys are so small! So it is a bit hard to type without hitting, like, several other keys right next to it. But I am getting better! The others think it is silly that I am spending so much time doing this, but it is super fun and the writing prompts and dailies and stuff are so much fun! I’m not the best at word wars, since I tend to type several letters at once (because of my big fingers), but I do have better reach of the keyboard, since my hands are so big compared to it. Oops, I got off topic. Although, this is just kind of a ramble, to get my thoughts out and stuff. Maybe I’ll just write about humans, if I can’t think of anything else. I think I’ll ramble for a few more hundred words. It does count for words, after all. Anyway, Scratch Writing Camp! That’s what the “online” writing camp is called. Not sure what scratching has to do with it. Just in case it does have something to do with it, I sit by my scratching tree (y’know, the one you scratch your back on?) whenever I do my writing. The “cabin” (which is a little weird, isn’t that supposedly something that humans live in?) I’m in is called “Fairy Tales” (I know a fairy! I told her about Scratch Writing camp), which, again, is kinda weird, ‘cause fairies don’t usually have tails (not any of the ones I’ve met, anyway)! Okay, okay, I should really figure out what to write for the daily. Bye bye! -B.F

522 words

⋆.˚ ☾⭒.˚ Critiquitaire for @-NightGlow- ⊹₊⟡⋆

Sparks from the Past

“Scene 1: Backgrounds are the insides of Wise Lady’s house

Wise Lady: Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there lived a King, who had twelve daughters; each of them possessed unimaginable riches and power, as their father had no son. However, when it came time for the oldest princess to marry, the prince who came to the kingdom quickly noticed that every morning, the shoes of the princesses were worn through, as if they had danced all night.

Soon, the prince was given an ultimatum by the King: if, in three nights, he could find out how and where it was that the twelve princesses danced, he could pick any one of them as his wife, and he would become the heir to the throne; if it remained a mystery, he would be executed. Many men tried in vain to find the secret of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, each one failing, one after the other.

Now, we come to the beginning of our story: one winter’s day, a soldier too wounded to fight wandered through the woods of the kingdom of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, and approached a small cabin inhabited by a very old, very wise lady.”

✏ i love this idea! the twelve dancing princesses is such a classic tale! one comment i have on your introduction, is that the wise lady functions as both your narrator and a character. this works, but her opening monologue seems very heavy on exposition. it sort of reads more like a book summary. instead of just reciting the entire backstory, maybe add in a few notions to later actions!

Wise Lady: So, tell me, what brings you here? It’s not everyday that I find someone wandering around these desolate areas.

Silas: Well, I was relieved from the army when I was wounded in battle, so I’ve simply been wandering. I don’t really have a destination in mind… although, I have heard the story of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, and I wouldn’t mind being King…

✏ i like the perspective of the wise lady! although here i feel like Silas' explanation is very rushed. i know it goes a long the lines of the tale, but i recommend you should expand the scene a lot more here. the wise lady has just found a man wandering, so he should have lots more to say, including questions. i think you should elaborate on how Silas got to the kingdom, how he had been surviving, and even how he heard the story. it just feels like he shifts from his background in the army very quickly to a statement of “I wouldn't mind being King…” so more information would definitely be useful here!

Wise Lady: The Twelve Dancing Princesses, you say? Anyone in the kingdom would tell you to think twice… except me, that is. In truth, it isn’t a hard task if you have the necessary information. The only trick to it is to ensure that you don’t drink any of the wine the princesses give you, for it is a sleeping draught. Find a way to make them believe you drank it, and then pretend to sleep. And here… here is a cloak of invisibility, guaranteed to work. Put this on once you see where the princesses are going, and follow them. That is where my knowledge ends — hopefully it will bring you far enough. Let me just write this down on a piece of paper so that you can remember my advice.

*Wise Lady hands the piece of paper to the soldier*

Silas: I cannot thank you enough! Thanks to you, I’ll be King in no time.

Wise Lady: Don’t be too sure of yourself; the princesses will no doubt have more tricks up their sleeves. Sleep here for the night so that you are ready to head out to the King’s castle tomorrow morning.

Wise Lady: When morning came, the soldier bade the wise lady goodbye, and started his journey to the castle using the map and compass that she had given him that morning. Deep in his pocket was the piece of paper with the advice. A certain time after, the soldier arrived at the king’s castle.

✏ the info from the wise lady's dialogue here is very good! the only comment i would make is, again, maybe describe Silas' journey to the king's castle. after all, travels can really show the reader who he is as a person. another thing is, the wise lady heeds Silas of the tricks, i think he should react with more caution and concern about those challenges. overall though, good interaction of these characters!

Scene 2: Backgrounds are the King’s hall

King: Who dares come here in my kingdom, unannounced?

Silas: I am Silas, son of Phillip, and I wish to attempt to find the secret of the Twelve Dancing Princesses.

King: Very well. Give this lad some of our finest clothes to change into, royal robes if I may say. After that, please escort him to his room. There you will find everything you need for the next three days. Bear in mind, Silas, that if you fail to complete this mission, I shall behead you myself.

Silas: The deal is sealed.

✏ in this section, the king pivots very quickly from “Who dares come here…” to “Give this lad some of our finest clothes…” this transition feels a little rushed. providing a little more context for the readers to work with offers more clarity. maybe the king can be more skeptical of the wounded soldier and Silas struggles to prove his bravery, or maybe elaborate on the monotonous routine that the king goes through with each man. just some more detail on this part could help deliver it more clearly to your reader!

King: *Whispers* We’ll see if he succeeds in the mission. I doubt that he will. But, I should be thankful that yet another one is risking his life. *smirks*

Wise Lady: With that said, Silas was taken to a chamber of the Twelve Dancing Princesses, where a bed was ready for him in a small room cordoned off by walls, as if he was expected. The room was empty at that time, for the princesses were not yet home from their riding excursion. Later that evening, after Silas had dined alone in the room, looking over the instructions given to him by the Wise Lady, he heard some giggles down the hall, and hid the note.

✏ this is a nice ending to subside Silas' intro into the castle! the only thing i would add here is maybe more internal thoughts and what is going through Silas' mind. does he have a plan? if so what would it be? how would he face the challenges? and so on. a little more insight to Silas' individual expression helps the reader know his character better!

Scene 3: Backgrounds are the princesses’ chamber

Amira: Oh! We have another guest! *whispered* Who’s going to be dead in no time… *full voice* Vera, fetch him a drink!

Vera: Yes, of course sister.

Wise Lady: Vera rushed to the room next door, and fetched a wine bottle. She poured the wine into a glass, and hurried back to the chamber.

Silas: Your hospitality is welcomed and greatly appreciated. I left my baggage in the sitting room; I’ll quickly retrieve it.

Amira: Oh, we have servants to take care of that! Take a drink, take a drink.

Silas: I must be excused now, my fair ladies, for my bandages require changing.

Amira: Drink the wine, soldier. Drink the wine.

*Soldier drinks a small amount of wine, holds it in mouth*

Silas: There. *exits the room*

✏ this is good! the only uncertainty i have here is that if the sisters poisoned the wine, does it have to be swallowed to take effect? if Silas holds the wine in his mouth, would he not be affected? so it is a bit unclear there, maybe Silas could come up with a different way to pass that first challenge!

Vera: A stubborn fellow he is… Amira, shouldn’t we be worried?

Amira: Oh, he’s probably nothing to worry about. Let us get a move on! We mustn't let him see us. Sariyah! Where are you?

*Sariyah enters the room*

Sariyah: I was just talking with Father. He wanted to discuss details for my banquet next week. I can hardly wait!

Amira: *whispers* None of us got a banquet for our 18th birthday, except you…

Sariyah: Sorry? Did you say anything Amira, I didn’t hear you… *innocent face*

Amira: Oh no, just muttering about how we must get going. The Soldier will return soon.

✏ maybe add a little context as to why the sisters envy Sariyah? it is a bit confusing for the reader! just a suggestion though, i understand that the sisters are ‘rushing’ in this scene!

Sariyah: The Soldier? We have another one trying to figure out where we go? Amira… we could be caught this time - we shouldn’t push our luck!

Amira: Why do you always worry? We are about to go soon.

*Princesses start to head down the stairs, Sariyah stops*

Sariyah: *sighs* I forgot to change into my dancing shoes. I’ll head back up on my own, and join you in a minute. Don’t leave without me!

*Sariyah runs up the stairs, rummages around, searching for her dancing shoes; finds them, then sees the cup full of wine; touches the cup, then pulls back*

Sariyah: Why not? I’m thirsty, so I should be able to have a drink… it could be left for me, anyway. Who knows when we’ll be back… a little sip can’t hurt, can it? No reason why it would.

✏ interesting! this part probes lots of questions. are the schemes of wine not done and planned by all the sisters? why does Sariyah not know this and not suspect the wine to be the poisoned one they always use on the men? i'm a little unsure if this was intentional to the story, but just wanted to point it out!

*lifts up the cup, about to drink it; Soldier whacks it out of her hands, Sariyah screams*

Sariyah: Who are you, and how rude of you?! What are you doing here?

Silas: Shh, shh, be quiet… they’ll hear you.

Sariyah: Guard! There’s a stranger in my room!

Silas: Shh! Don’t be worried, and, for heaven’s sake, don’t scream! I’m assuming that you are one of the princesses?

Sariyah: So what if I am? I’m asking who you are.

Silas: I am Silas, son of Phillip, and I am attempting to find the secret of the Twelve Dancing Princesses. I am sure that you know what might happen if I do not.

✏ oooo this part was very good! i like the dynamics within the ‘surprise’ factor of the characters interacting for the first time. Silas introduces himself as one of the attempters, yet he is different. this is really nice because it has readers thinking about what Sariyah doesn't know!

Sariyah: *scoffs* You’ll never survive.

Silas: I’m sure I won’t. But it’s worth a try… I’m too wounded to go on without any proper treatment, and the only good doctors in this kingdom belong to the King.

Sariyah: Well, then. It still doesn’t explain why you knocked that glass out of my hand!

Silas: You don’t know why? I assumed that you were all in on the secrets.

Sariyah: What secrets? They tell me everything… your little tricks aren’t going to work on me.

Silas: *rummages around the bed, pulls out note* You see this? This was given to me by a wise old woman on the forest edge. Read it for yourself.

*Sariyah reads note*

✏ again, great dialogue! the only thing here is i would have Silas expand more on the why of his actions. he has clearly been through war and is injured, and somehow journeyed successfully to the kingdom. having even a short debrief of Silas explaining his backstory and reason to Sariyah helps develop the scene more!

Sariyah: This is ridiculous! How do I know that you didn’t write that nifty note yourself?

Silas: *takes perched sparrow on the windowsill and pours the wine down its throat; sparrow starts to sleep* Is that enough proof for you? And what about this? *takes cloak of invisibility, disappears*

Sariyah: I don’t know how you’re doing it, but this must be some kind of black magic.

Silas: It is not, I promise you. I speak only the truth.

✏ this is a very interesting way Silas proves his innocence. this is a bit unrealistic though, the whole convenience of a very complicated situation sort of throws the reader off. i'd say this is very fairy-tale like because what are the odds of a sparrow on the window and being able to just grab the bird lol. maybe you could think of another way to prove Silas, just a suggestion! overall, great dialogue between the characters! simple yet conveys the message clearly!

*eyes lock, a moment of silence*

Sariyah: Well then, I must be on my way. My sisters are waiting for me. They’ll be suspicious if I don’t arrive soon… It was good to meet you, Silas. *blushes*

Silas: It was good to meet you as well… *chuckles* I still don’t know your name.

Sariyah: *hesitates* Sariyah. I’m the youngest of the sisters, so naturally, I get into the most trouble.

✏ AHHH!! i love this ending!! no notes here, just appreciation! i love this spin on the story, it really sets off a subtle cliff-hanger and leaves the reader wanting to know what happens next. overall, i think this is a great idea, and hopefully your finish it someday!! thank you for letting me critique your piece Alana!! it was very enjoyable!


✎ 3.12.2026 ~ critiquitaire ❀ ~ 752 words ౨ৎ
⌗ ʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴀꜰꜰʀᴏɴ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇʙᴏᴏᴋ ⋆˚࿔

It was a relatively normal day in SWC.
Of course, relatively normal by a camper’s standard was very, very strange and very, very chaotic by anyone else. Relatively normal meant that there were motivational mangoes being casually tossed from person to person as motivation for dailies and weeklies and… ugh… schoolwork, ebbed and flowed. Campers and leaders milled about, occasionally turning in letters and dailies and weeklies as they went.
But no one seemed to notice the newest addition of strange and wonderful creatures to the mascots. Jackalopes. Funny little rabbits with great big horns on their heads hopped about the main cabin in an almost curious fashion.
Sometimes they’d stop and look around, before continuing with their hopping about. Once or twice, one of them screamed loudly. No one took any notice, though, for screaming and shrieking and screeching was a pretty common occurrence. In fact, a few campers joined in on the screaming, too.
So the jackalopes went by relatively unnoticed.
They went about, exploring the cabins, and wreaking a little bit of havoc everywhere they went. Some chewed up table and chair legs. Some long scratches in the paint of the walls where their horns brushed by. Some loose tufts of fur under couches and in corners.
A few dailies were chewed up, though still readable. Several letters from PenpalSWC were munched on, too. Fortunately, it was just the envelopes that got damaged, but that was when the campers started to notice their new fellow campers and inhabitants of the main cabin.
The random screams of the jackalopes became more frequent, seeing as a few campers tried to shoo them away. Not their precious writing! But some campers, ones more daring and braver attempted to pick up some of the jackalopes, who would scream their protest. Though, those brave and daring campers had learned that jackalopes didn’t mind when the behinds of their ears were scratched.
A few campers had learned that the jackalopes didn’t like motivational mangoes. One jackalope had tried one, had taken a big old bite of one and… spit it out and screamed its protest. Obviously, no campers could speak Jackalope (or rabbit, or deer, for that matter), but it was quite clear that all jackalopes hated mangoes.
It was a surprising thing to learn, since they also did not like carrots, or grass, or any other things that one might expect a jackalope or a deer or a rabbit to eat. What the campers did learn, was that jackalopes loved procrastination potatoes, though.
Ate them right up in the dozens. No potato of any kind could be hidden from them. Which was great! It meant that campers could quit procrastinating on all their pesky homework and all those amazing dailies and weeklies.
Unfortunately, the jackalopes mysteriously disappeared when the clock struck midnight UTC, reminding many campers of Cinderella and that fairy tale. The jackalope invasion of SWC was never mentioned again, not quite chaotic enough to be memorialized in SWC history.
How sad…

folklore creature daily || daily #11 || 630 words

Chuey wandered into the main cabin, beaming. “Hi, everyone!”
Campers turned and stared at her. Well, and at the thing behind her.
Chuey didn't seem concerned by this. “I brought a friend,” she announced proudly, slinging an arm around the shoulder of her… “friend.” She had to bounce up on her tiptoes to reach.
“Um, Chuey,” Bea said, raising an eyebrow, “is that Bigfoot?”
“No,” Chuey replied, laying a finger on her lips. “He hates that name. His name is Gerald.”
Gerald grunted in agreement, shambling off to go find mangoes to munch on. Chuey watched him go like a proud parent, hands on her hips.
Bea sighed. “Chuey, that's definitely Bigfoot,” she said. “Where on earth did you… You know what, I don't want to know. Why did you bring him here, though?”
Chuey looked at her in surprise. “For the chaos, of course!” she said brightly. “Also, I have a feeling he'd be really good at cabin destruction.”
"Wait — wait, Chuey, no—“ Bea started, but Chuey, laughing, had already ducked out of her reach and run away.

”This,“ Chuey announced triumphantly, ”is our ticket to victory.“
The Fairy Tales campers eyed her ticket dubiously. ”Chuey, I'm pretty sure that's Bigfoot,“ Ayla ventured. Chuey heaved a dramatic sigh. ”Yes, yes, we're had this conversation before. His name is Gerald, and he can't figure out why humans are so judgmental about shoe size. Anyways, that's not important. Because, my friends, we… are going to use him to help us conquer SWC!“
Silence. Then tentative, but mostly confused, applause.
”How, exactly?“ Ayla asked, still looking dubious. Chuey gave her a wicked grin. ”Ah, don't worry. I have a great plan! Since he's really tall, he can reach the top of the leaderboard. Therefore, I'm going to have him swap all the cabin names around so that Fairy Tales is on the top! Simple, really.“
”Didn't Alana already do that?“ someone wondered, but Chuey flapped her hand. ”It'll be different this time! The swap will be permanent. Hopefully.“
She grinned. ”So… who's with me?“
”She's crazy,“ someone else muttered, but in the end, no one argued.

”Chuey, what are you doing with Bigfoot?“ someone asked, passing by as Chuey entered the main cabin again. She turned to see Seagull. ”Oh, hi!“ she said cheerily. ”I'm here to make sure Fairy Tales takes their proper place on the leaderboard.“
She hopped on top of a writing desk, waving a flaming mango in the air. ”LET THE MIX-UP BEGIN,“ she said loudly. ”Gerald… now!“
Gerald eyed the leaderboard for a moment before plucking a name off… and stuffing it in his mouth.
”—Wait, no, don't do that,“ Chuey said nervously. ”Oh, boy. I'm going to get in so much trouble for this. Gerald, not Magical Realism! You can eat Cyberpunk, though. Oh, there goes Adventure. Um, someone? Can I have some help over here?“
Unfortunately, Bea was across the room trying to contain a herd of jackalopes. In fact, most of SWC had migrated over there. Chuey was alone with her disaster of a domination plan. Wonderful.
Gerald finished off Fantasy just as Mouse walked by. ”Hey, Chuey, what are you doing?“ they asked curiously.
Chuey slumped. ”I don't know anymore,“ she wailed. ”I just wanted to rule SWC, not destroy the leaderboard! Gerald's even worse than Gurtle.“
She paused and thought about that. ”Okay, so, not really. But still. The only worse thing would be if…“
She trailed off as Bigfoot turned and began lumbering towards Dystopian.
”…he started eating the cabins,“ she finished with a sigh.
Mouse raised an eyebrow at her. ”More SWChaos?“ they asked.
Chuey got down from the writing desk, shaking her head. ”Always," she said ruefully. Then she went to go try and contain the mess she'd made.

So uh. Do we just write stories and put them here or something? I don't understand this topic..