1. Mystery

It can't be true! It can't, the boy thought, staring in horror at the conspiracy board. He'd read all the files, figured out all the clues; he'd gone through hell just to get here! And now, this is what came up? Surely it couldn't be true. Surely, his best friend - who had been by his side since he was 8, who he thought of as a sister - couldn't be lying to him.

Frowning, he scanned the board, peering at every detail and every small note he had ever made. He rearranged the strings, the files, and all the photos. But in the end, all the puzzle pieces he'd collected over the years only formed one picture. And that picture was of his childhood friend:

Aisling Willow.

2. Real-Fi

Knock, knock.

What? The 15 year old jumped, quickly gathering his theory papers and shoving them in a drawer. Who could be knocking on his front door at midnight? Why was someone knocking on his front door at midnight?

He trudged tiredly out of his room. Locking the door behind him, the boy tripped on the carpet just as the knob turned with a click.
“Ryan?” The intruder peeked inside. Her curious tone still sounded monotone, somehow. Ryan smiled sheepishly, standing up and dusting himself off.

Thank god, it's just Aisling, he thought. Wait. Aisling? Oh no- oh no- did she know? How? Ryan was sure he kept it a secret. She couldn't have found out, it was impossible.
“Ryan?” she tried again. “We're going to the Halloween Festival. Remember?”

Oh.

3. Dystopian

Ryan laughed nervously, thankful yet still shaken up. He should stop being so jumpy, he knows. But it was hard, hard to accept the fact that his best friend-sister had a giant secret and had been lying to him for their whole friendship.

“Y-yeah, right, l-let me just get my, uhm, j-jacket…” Ryan sprinted away to his room, biting his lip so hard it would probably bleed if he kept it up any longer. He grabbed a fluff-lined jacket and ran back to Aisling. She nodded at him and turned, leading the way to the Festival.

“Welcome to the Festival.” A guard said when they arrived in the city square. They held a hand out, blocking the duo from entering the Festival. They took out a strange list and began listing… things. He wasn't really listening, too distracted with Aisling, who he had been sneaking glances at every few seconds.

“The Halloween Festival ends at 3 AM, sharp. Any individual found after the designated time will go to City Hall for their consequences. And anyone found acting suspicious or unnatural shall join them. Do you understand?” Ryan gave a small smile and nodded firmly. The rules made sense to him, having been raised here. They were fair.

4. Contemporary

The theorist let himself be dragged over to a rather big tent, people milling all around him and Aisling. Some wore costumes, while others were in their casual clothes, just like him.

As they stepped inside, the guard stationed at the tent closed the the flap. Herding him to a couple of seats, Aisling sat down, trying to get comfortable. Ryan snuck a peek at her, stifling a giggle as her eyes widened when a hush fell over the audience.
The lights began to focus on the centre of a pop-up stage, mist seeping out from beside it.

In a poof of smoke, a cloaked figure appeared. He wore a theatre mask - the one presenting tragedy. Ryan felt a chill going down his spine as the figure whispered, just loudly enough to be heard,

“Let the show begin.”

5. Classics

Ryan let out a breath he hadn't known he was holding, stretching and pulling himself up from his seat. The play and following magic show had been spooky, with weirdly realistic effects. His thoughts slowly came back to his Aisling dilemma.

Should I tell her I know? he twirled a strand of hair around his finger. But telling her might offend her. And that could end up disasterous…
“Guys! How was it? Did you like it? Was I good? Did it freak you out?” The cloaked person-boy from earlier jumped excitedly in front of him. Scared speechless, Ryan choked on the lollipop he'd gotten from a stall. Aisling looked amusedly.

“Come on, let's go backstage!” He pulled the two friends backstage. Ryan and Aisling were met with the sight of a grand, regal looking row of dressing rooms. Lights were fixed to the doors and fancy decor hung from the tent walls. It gave the area an aura of eliteness, which he knows is strange for a mere (though admittedly rather big) carnival tent.

“Behold… the Juliet!” He could hear the proud smile from behind the mask as the younger boy gestured at their surroundings vaguely.

6. Horror

“Erik, you have a name for this place?” Ryan asked, still in awe of the vast interior of the tent. It certainly was impressive. Erik turned around, staring right into his eyes through that mask of his.
“Yep!” Ryan backed away, unnerved by the sight.

For a single moment, it seemed that, instead of the theatre mask, Erik's face looked back at him, horribly disfigured with burns and bruises. An eye theatened to fall out, and a large gash surrounded by burn marks and blood sliced through his cheek. His voice was distorted, eerie, unnatural. It was horrible.

He looked beside him at Aisling, who hadn't noticed anything. She was busy examining the decorations of the wall. Looking back at him, Ryan could still see the nightmarish view, though this time Erik was smiling, his mouth drooling blood.

The lights flickered off, leaving the image ingrained in Ryan's mind.

7. Thriller

Aisling had grabbed his hand, he could feel it. For what, Ryan didnt know. Maybe for comfort. Maybe to calm him down.
After all, he could hear himself breathe in short, heavy, gasps, trying to block out the last thing he saw - the horror-worthy version of Erik.

Trying to regulate his breathing, suspicions began forming in Ryan's mind. What did he just see? What exactly was it? Some kind of premonition of Erik's death? Or… was it something else? Could it be? Was Erik a—

A cackle pierced through the air, and Ryan felt something fall down behind him. It sounded utterly demonic. Aisling was pulling at his hand, trying to get him to run, but he was curious. Turning around, he only saw small glint of… fangs? Before his other hand was taken - Erik? - and the combined force of two ‘people’ pulled him away.

“Ryan! Come on!” Oh, yes, it was Erik. He was running now, away from the thing chasing them. So was Aisling, and it was only then Ryan realized he was holding them back.

A burst of adrenaline pumped through him at the thought of being caught by whatever was behind them, and he sped up. In moments, he had caught up to his two friends. The thing was catching up on them, its feet (how many did it have? It sounded like it there were atleast 4…) thudding on the floor.

It would reach them soon, Ryan knew. His legs were going as fast as they could, rushing and stumbling and sprinting, but they were bound to give out soon.

Was there anything he could do other than run?

“DUCK!”

8. Sci-Fi

Guards were everywhere. Their lazers were blinding, aimed at a spot somewhere behind him. They zoomed around, hoverboards emitting a soft neon glow. Ryan sighed in relief, still huddled on the ground.

The guards would take care of the situation. I know they will, he thought as he looked up at the ensuing lightshow. It was almost entrancing, lights flashing this way and that. The quiet hum of the hoverboards only added to the effect, and the sound of holo-blades striking repetitively.

Though the atmosphere was most definitely ruined by the hissing coming from the thing.

9. Adventure

“We have to get out of here.” Ryan raised an eyebrow at Aisling. What does she mean? “Ryan, if you can, get Erik in his dressing room. I'll join you when I can.” He nodded and pulled the younger boy closer.

Ryan was used to Aisling's sometimes unconventional way of saying things. Though perhaps, if he'd paid more attention, he'd have caught on to her reason for doing so sooner.

Stop it, his mind chided. Now's not the time. And it was right; he should get moving. Erik let out a whimper as they crawled towards his door and under the warzone. Poor kid, all he wanted was to show them what it was like backstage.

Of course, Ryan was thankful he wasn't seeing that vision he had of Erik's face anymore. They pushed the door open and huddled in a corner. Outside, Aisling dragged over a completely black, lumpy thing. Probably whatever had been chasing them.

As soon as she dragged the black lump in, Aisling looked the boys in the eye and murmured, “I'd like it if you close your eyes. Now.” They nodded and did so, hearing Aisling shuffle around them. Suddenly, a plummeting sensation overtook him, and Ryan repressed the need to puke.

When he opened his eyes, he seemed to be on the edge of a cliff. Wait, cliff?

Ryan screamed. Aisling immediately sent him a look, - ignoring Erik's small, weirdly high-pitched giggles in the background - effectively shutting him up.
“We need to get into Seelie territory.” She pointed at the other side of the gorge. “Erik, could you give me your cloak?”
Said boy nodded and handed it to her. She tied one end to the black, unconscious thing and the other to her hand.

Aisling tugged, and a thin sort of string came out in long coils. Gritting her teeth, she stood up, closed her eyes, and jumped.

Ryan looked on in shock as she landed on a ledge jutting out from the cliff face. How'd she done that? Some kind of magic? Or was she naturally able to do that?

“Ryan! Climb on to the string and bring Erik with you! We'll be mostly safe once you get over here!” Aisling yelled.

She's gone crazy, thought Ryan as he let the surprisingly light Erik climb on his back. The masked boy hung onto him as best he could.

Ryan took a deep breath and stepped forward, testing the strength of the string. It seemed strong, but what if the ‘thing’ wasn't? He drove the thought out of his head. Of course it was strong enough. Aisling had checked.

Sweating profusely, he walked forward until he reached the tip of the gorge wall. Erik was whispering encouragement in his ear, but compared to the deafening beating of his heart, it sounded tiny.

Ryan pulled his legs up and began moving his hands along. Don't look down. Don't look down. He was at the middle of the gorge now, and - ignoring his mind and the creak the string gave - he looked down.

The ground was far away, and, hanging there from two hands with a kid on his back, Ryan almost felt like crying. But he didn't, and began heading to the other side with his eyes closed, head racing with all the different ways he could fall.

He felt a light tug and opened his eyes. He was greeted with the sight of a smiling Aisling, her hand reached out to help him and Erik onto the ledge. Erik jumped down first, Ryan following suit more carefully.

“You did it.” His pseudo-sister brushed her right hand against his, her own form of encouragement.

10. Fantasy

Aisling had tugged the black thing back to them, they had climbed up the gorge wall, and they had chosen to stay in a nearby forest. It was to no surprise that she dragged them to a small hut, which, when they came inside, had the interior of a manor. Ryan simply sighed and elected to ignore how it was possible, while Erik looked around in awe.

“Woah…” Erik laughed.

Aisling stopped pulling the lumpy thing around, the whole blackness of it flickering and disappearing like it was a disguise. In its place was a big… spider? Spider girl? It had the torso of a girl, but the body of a spider coming out from her back. She had atleast 4 eyes (In Ryan's opinion, it was rather scary). The two boys nearly fainted in surprise.

“You deserve to know the truth.” she sighed, and now, her glamour faded away, and she revealed her true, more otherworldly appearance. “But first, we need to go see some people.”

She approached a tall, grand door with strange embellishments and pushed it open. When the other two tried to enter, she held out a hand, signalling for them to not come in unless they were told to. Ryan heard muffled talking from inside, and occasionally what seemed to be a shout of surprise.

Aisling poked her head outside and beckoned for to the duo. “Come in.”

Nodding, Ryan stepped inside with Erik at his side. At the forefront of the room was a fae adorned with nature-esque jewellery. She sat there, tall and imposing, yet her face was warm and her eyes twinkled with a tame mischief.

“Hello,” she said. “You are the humans Aisling brought here, no?” Ryan felt a strange pull and began to walk closer.

“Y-yes,” he answered nervously. Erik gave a quick, ‘yes’ and continued staring at his feet.

“Very well. In return for being here, we faeries would like it if you do not cause trouble and abide by our laws. Will accept these terms?”

“Y-yes.” Ryan bowed. After all, she seemed to be someone important. The fae woman bowed back.

“Ah, I have not introduced myself. I am the Seelie Queen.”

Ryan struggled to remember the ‘How To Talk To Fae’ websites he had read. “I'm Ryan.”

“I'm… Chester. Chester Uzo.” What?

11. Fairy Tales

Ryan whipped around and tried to catch the younger boy's eye. He refused to look back and instead, pointedly stared ahead. The Seelie Queen nodded and directed her attention to Aisling.

“There is another, is there not? Will you bring them here?” Was she talking about the spider girl?

“Yes, I will.” Aisling darted outside and came back with the still unconscious girl. “She's injured heavily.”

The Queen hummed. “A Jorōgumo?”

“Yes.” Aisling still spoke in her usual monotone.

“Alright. You all may leave now. I appreciate everyone's presence.”

A giant vine swept in and halted in front of them. Reluctantly, Ryan followed Aisling on it with Erik just behind him. They were taken to outside of the mansion, where Ryan could see the wonders of Faeryland.

Deer pranced about, their horns glistening and full of flowers, and tiny huts and domes dotted the landscape. Whimsical trees sung and fluttered in the breeze, and plants grew freely to almost three times their size. The air was fresh and somehow glimmered with dust, and wagons travelled through winding, upside down roads.

It was amazing.

12. Mythology

“I apologize for not telling you.” Aisling mumbled as they sat down on a hill. “Are you upset?”

Ryan sighed and twiddled his thumbs. He wasn't upset, per se, but a bit disappointed that she hadn't trusted him. Did that count as upset? Maybe.

“Yeah. But I forgive you.” And he meant it. Aisling had only been trying to keep herself safe, after all. Erik didn't seem to unuderstand.

“What are you?” he cocked his head to the side, mask still in place.

“A Fae. What are you?” Aisling raised an eyebrow at him and returned the question.

“Dead.” Erik lay down, unaffected by the grass. “Are there any others like us in your class?”

“Not that I know of. Some show traits of being a vampire, and one looked like a demigod, though. There might be a siren.” She made stood up and stretched, an imprint of blooming plants left behind in her wake. “Are there any in yours?”

“I don't think so. But my teacher might be a Yokai.” Erik blew on a stray dandelion.

Ryan simply looked on in confusion. It was too much information for his brain.

“Also, I heard the Zodiacs petitioned for Ophiuchus to be officially included.”

“I heard Anteros threw a fit at a bunch of politicians.”

Ryan was completely, utterly, lost.

13. Historical Fiction

He nearly jumped out of his skin when Aisling whisperede into his ear,

“You have questions. I'll answer if you answer mine.” She held out a hand. “Deal?”

“D-deal.” Ryan took it nervously. “Has any human ever come here before? Other than me?” he took out his trusty notebook and pen, ready to jot down the answers.

“Yes. It was a woman called Allison Peirson. She helped with the keeping the Seelie under control, and was an advisor and friend to the Seelie Queen. I believe she was burned to death in your world.” Aisling stared up at the sky, where clouds formed and unformed into various shapes.

“Oh! She was burned in 1588.” Erik jumped in.

“Yes, the Queen holds a ceremony in her honour, because she helped the Seelie for a very long time.”

14. Non-Fi

Aisling turned to Ryan and Erik, curiosity in her gaze. She sat back down and looked uneasily at Ryan's notebook. “What was this… World War that humans think so important?”

Ryan cringed. He wasn't the best at subjects like this. “It was a big war that started in 1914. It wasn't the whole world that was in it, but there were many countries involved. Around 9 million soldiers and 13 million civilians died. The Allied Powers won, but it left the whole world to recover from a gigantic war. It was one of the worst in history, according to my parents.”

Aisling looked surprised. She'd never known much about the human world - let alone its politics and wars - but she knew enough to know that the World War was a serious matter for them.

15. Poem

Under the sky of the land of Fae

Three people stay

So different they were

But together, they passed the day in a blur

————————————————————————————–

Finally finished the Weekly! Criticism is welcome, just keep it constructive. Hopefully my poem isn't too bad!

woah! i love how all of the genres are the same story it makes it so interesting to read!
With some of the genres, they're not quite 100 words and the challenge was to write 100+ stories for all 15 genres that make up the cabins of swc
but otherwise epic job! it's really good

Airfairy934 wrote:

woah! i love how all of the genres are the same story it makes it so interesting to read!
With some of the genres, they're not quite 100 words and the challenge was to write 100+ stories for all 15 genres that make up the cabins of swc
but otherwise epic job! it's really good

Thanks Air! I just realised that Poem and Sci-Fi weren't 100 words haha I wrote this in the middle of the night with an incredibly sleep deprived brain XD I thought that giving everything an overarching story would help me with some stuff (What do you think of the characters?)

ɱҽ (test)

“Dad!” You can hear him, his voice echoing through the house.

[Your creation son.]

He sounds proud. Maybe a success? At what, you don't know.

“Dad! Dad, look!” Only 5 years old, he runs into your lab with surprising speed.

You'd reminded him not to, of course.

To not come in. A lab was a dangerous place for a child. Especially one such as him.

Not that he'd ever listened to warnings.



Just like you.

You'd never listened to warnings either.



“Dad?” He stands on his toes and looks at you with worry.

You snap back to reality. Smiling, you crouch down.

“Yes?”

His face brightens again. For a moment, you see her in his place.



Red locks frame his young face. Now, they are brighter, deeper.

Her locks.



Grey eyes stare curiously up at you. Now, they are darker, redder.

Her eyes.

He smiles toothily at you, full of pride. Now, it is calmer, less childlike.

Her smile.



“Look, Dad! We learned about flowers today and Miss Rie told us to take some home for our daddas an' mommies!”

Ah. Flowers. He holds up a small handful of them, practically bursting.

“Look, look, Dad, they're the same colour as your eyes!”



You ruffle his hair and take the bouquet.

“Want to know what they're called, kiddo?”

He shines in wonder and nods. “Yes, yes, yes, I wanna! What's its name? What's it called, Dad?”"



“They're called-”

[“Forget me nots.”]

A mystery.

That's what she was.

Her name was Aisling Willow. She was 16 years old, an average student with average grades, living a (supposedly) average life.

But what a mystery she was.

No one knew where she'd come from, nor where she was born.

She'd just… appeared, one day. Integrating herself into their lives.

No one batted an eye.

Not a single person had bothered to turn around and ask,

"Who are you?“

And if they had, they would have gotten an answer. Or a reply, atleast.

Something along the lines of,

”My name is Aisling. You know me as the girl who came here on November 1st, and began living here after."

Then, they would leave.

They would not notice the way she flits, almost soundlessly, between the trees and plants.

The way small signs of life bloom after her steps.

Or the way her teeth were just a smidge too sharp,

The way her ears were a little too pointed,

And her gaze a little too knowing.

They would not notice how she avoided iron,

or how her words were too careful, too calculated.

They would not notice the signs, glaring ones and the subtler, smaller ones.

After all,

Her name (her true name, forbidden had it not been asked of her), was Aisling Willow.

She was 16 years old.

She arrived on the night of November 1st.

And she was a fae.

Galaxy_Awesome wrote:

A mystery.

That's what she was.

Her name was Aisling Willow. She was 16 years old, an average student with average grades, living a (supposedly) average life.

But what a mystery she was.

No one knew where she'd come from, nor where she was born.

She'd just… appeared, one day. Integrating herself into their lives.

No one batted an eye.

Not a single person had bothered to turn around and ask,

"Who are you?“

And if they had, they would have gotten an answer. Or a reply, atleast.

Something along the lines of,

”My name is Aisling. You know me as the girl who came here on November 1st, and began living here after."

Then, they would leave.

They would not notice the way she flits, almost soundlessly, between the trees and plants.

The way small signs of life bloom after her steps.

Or the way her teeth were just a smidge too sharp,

The way her ears were a little too pointed,

And her gaze a little too knowing.

They would not notice how she avoided iron,

or how her words were too careful, too calculated.

They would not notice the signs, glaring ones and the subtler, smaller ones.

After all,

Her name (her true name, forbidden had it not been asked of her), was Aisling Willow.

She was 16 years old.

She arrived on the night of November 1st.

And she was a fae.

Amazing work! I really like verse stories, it makes it seem really poetic (maybe it was for a poem hehe)

I hope I can see more of Ms. Willow but who knows…?

The one small thing was that sometimes the wording got a little confusing, but maybe that's because it's supposed to be poetic.

woodenpencils wrote:

Amazing work! I really like verse stories, it makes it seem really poetic (maybe it was for a poem hehe)

I hope I can see more of Ms. Willow but who knows…?

The one small thing was that sometimes the wording got a little confusing, but maybe that's because it's supposed to be poetic.

Thank you! I like verse stories too, they're not exactly a poem but not exactly the usual writing format, and I find that it adds to the mood or the overall feel of a story more.

Oh, and you'll definitely see more of her

Feedback for

Galaxy_Awesome wrote:

A mystery….

Amazing story! I was thoroughly invested the whole time and loved the reveal at the end. I also liked the spacing, it added a nice flow and style to the piece as a whole.
One criticism I would have is to possibly use paragraph breaks slightly more sparingly, as doing so could likely add emphasis to certain elements of the story.
On the whole, I really enjoyed reading this and hope to see more of the character (and your writing)!

1: The Letter:

Hi, Aunt Ell.

It's been three years since you died. We miss you. All of us. Mom, Dad, me; we all miss you. I like to think that somewhere up there, you're seeing these messages. Are you? I guess we'll never know…

I wonder… what's it like there in the afterlife? Are you happy? Do you miss us too?

I bet you do. You've always been fond of family. But maybe that's just me imagining things.

You know, I've been gathering as much information as I can. I'm close, I know it! All the weird sightings, all the reports and so called hoaxes, and all the little moments in history that no one has investigated further? They all point to one thing: the supernatural!

I know, I know, it sounds crazy. But just think. Our town's been hearing some weird noises lately. Most people think it's just an owl, but it's not. It's a banshee! I recognize the signs.

The door knocking, the Banshee Chairs, the keening… they're all signs of a banshee. I've set up cameras around town to record anything that might give us more clues to her existence, and will leave them there until Wednesday.

On the other hand, there have been a couple of other things. Fairy rings have started popping up in the grove, and they look new. Recent. Some swear they hear laughing coming from it. Not the creepy type, the light, tinkling type of laughter. Jewellery has been going missing and being found in the weirdest places. Plants are blooming everywhere, even on the ceilings! There could be a fae or two around here.

The amount of spider webs in houses and buildings have increased, and there are reports of spiders flocking to the nearby lake. A couple of houses keep getting sudden blackouts and objects have been seen floating around and moving. I don't know what exactly might be causing it, but it's sure to be something paranormal!

Anyway, a new student enrolled at school. Her name is Bronagh. Aisling doesn't seem to like her much. Do you remember Aisling?

She's the girl who I met a few years ago. We're really, really good friends now. She doesn't speak much, but she still ‘talks’ to me in her own way. Little gifts left on the kitchen table, going to the park with me, inviting me to the Festival, small things like that. Though I do feel the need to return the favour.

When she talks, her voice is usually rather monotone. I don't know why. Maybe she doesn't feel comfortable expressing emotions? Or maybe it's just like that.

Back to the new girl! She's really shy. Extremely shy, even. She barely talks, mostly mumbling things under her breath. Her hair is long and silver and she tends to run a comb through it; It's probably dyed.

Somehow, she gives off bad (and sad) vibes. It feels solemn and melancholy, and it makes myself feel so too. I want to stay away from her, but I feel guilty.

What do you think I should do, Aunt Ell? I know what being ostracized feels like, and I don't want someone else to feel that way.

…I should talk to her. Tomorrow morning, I'm going to approach her and introduce myself properly. I'll sit with her at lunch break no matter what Aisling says. Hopefully it'll make her feel more comfortable.

How does that sound, Auntie? Is it a good idea? I think it is.

Aunt Ell, is it bad that I feel nervous about talking to her? Whenever I come near, she makes me think of old, broken down houses and gravestones and dead weeping willows. Is it bad that it makes me want to run the other way as fast as I can?

Maybe I shouldn't talk to her. What if something bad happens? I'm not ready to reunite with you yet.

I guess I shouldn't, then.

I going to stop being gloomy, yeah? I'm going to force myself to think of something better to say. I have so much that I want to tell you, but I just don't know what to say!

Oh, wait. Did I tell you about the new theatre that opened near the park? You would love it! You always liked theatre. I never really saw the point of dressing up and playing make believe on a stage, but since yesterday was your birthday, I gave it a try.

They were doing Hamilton, and it was certainly more entertaining than I expected. I went to the toilet halfway through, and I met this nice kid called Erik. He was around 12 years old, maybe 13, and he wore a theatre mask - the one presenting tragedy. Apparently he works backstage! He offered to give me a behind-the-scenes tour.

I contemplated it for a while, but ultimately accepted. Who would pass up a free backstage pass at any theatre? Not me, for one. I was starting to get bored of watching the play, anyway.

It was amazing! I had never thought theatre could be this breathtaking. The lights chaotically hanging everywhere, the props and workers moving around, the actors memorizing scripts and lines. I never thought that a single play had this much hard work put into it.

I suppose I owe you for introducing me to all this, Aunt Ellie. I may not be the most interested in plays and dramas, but I now appreciate it.

Until my next letter,

Ryan

2: Morning Routine!

Li's life is okay, to say the least. He does things other teens do, he likes things other teens do, he lives the way other teens do.

All in all, Li Kori's life is as normal, ordinary, and average as you can get. The boy himself, however, is a whole new deal.

Like the concerning amount of stitches on his skin, for one. They are everywhere, snaking from his shoulder to his elbow, and from his chest to his thigh. Or the strange buzzing you can sometimes hear coming from him, not unlike the crackle of electricity.

One of the more prominent things that make Li stand out, though, is his morning routine.

When he wakes up, the first thing he does is not to eat breakfast or brush his teeth. Instead, he stumbles down to his father's lab, still half asleep. Opening the door, the hiss of machines and chemicals simmering over a burner greet him.

As does his dad's back. Li mumbles out a quick ‘M-morning, Dad…“ before plopping himself in a chair prepared just for him.

Every morning, without fail, his dad abandons his current project and assembles the gadgets and tools he needs. Carefully, he would tamper with his son’s melatonin production, slowly making it come to a stop.

With this done, Li jumps up, full of energy, and rushes to the kitchen, eagerly waiting as his dad makes pancakes, wolfing them down as soon as they land on his plate. ”Thanks Dad!" he yells, running to the bathroom to shower and brush his teeth.

Imbedded into the wall, there is a tablet, with which he voice calls his best and childhood friends, Vissa Hechizo and Ava Rosewood. They exchange greetings, often describing their morning so far, before ending the call and doing their respective things.

One would think that that is all there is to his morning, and that he continues his day just like any other, but oh no, that is merely the beginning. The redhead would hurriedly stuff his textbooks and homework - which he repeatedly forgets about. Every single day. - in his bag.

Li checks over his stitches, occasionally stapling a few if he needs to. Running out of the house, he trips over the small bump in the pavement and doubles back to accept the emergency kit his dad gives him.

Right then and there, at precisely 8:30 am, the bus screeches to a halt and the driver ushers him in.

And so ends the tale of the morning routine of Li Kori, possibly the strangest (non)human you have ever heard of.

3: Character Relationships!

Lucas - Holly - Anna

1. L - H

Lucas and Holly didn't meet in the best circumstances. Lucas was freezing, tired, and grumpy. Holly had not done anything to him. He had been a bit snappy and hadn't taken Holly seriously, to which Holly had just sighed at. Their relationship is okay, if a bit reluctant or awkward. Lucas thinks Holly is a bit shallow and a smart aleck and Holly is a bit irritated by his attitude. However, they tolerate and have started to open up to each other more. They now see no problem with going to the Outskirts by themselves. The last roleplay chain with both of them in it proved that Holly is usually the only one to show up to impromptu meetings he initiated.

2. H - A

Holly and Anna are best friends and often hang out at the science department. They appear to have a close bond and trust each other with important things. Holly has been friends with Anna ever since she (Holly) moved in. They were one of the first people populating Planet and work together well. Although Holly is a lawyer and Anna is a scientist, they make sure to find time for each other and both dislike Kyle, though Holly doesn't do so as much as Anna. They met when they were 12 years old and looking for jobs on Planet and are willing to do almost anything for each other. All in all, they're very best friends.

3. A - L

Out of the three, Anna and Lucas would be on the best terms. They appreciate and are nice to each other, saying thank you and opening up. They first got to know each other properly when Anna got a mysterious text from someone that told her to go to the park, while Lucas decided to be a snoop and follow her. Anna's first thought about Lucas was that he seemd skittish (which he is), but she tried to get him to talk to her. They ended up sharing snacks while watching the sunset and going to eat burgers together at a nearby restaurant. Anna gave Lucas a promotion to Head Engineer at the NDF during their time at the park. He feels extremely grateful to her for it — and for being one of his first real friends in a while, but because of his general lack of social skills towards people above ten years old, makes him very nervous, fidgety, and blushy around her. Anna doesn't seem to mind.

Wraith and Wrath:

“Come on, Erik! Stop it!” yelled Ryan Linke, theorist extraordinaire and one of the victims of the currently rampaging ghost - who happened to be his pseudo younger brother. Aisling was by his side as always, sharp teeth locked in a grimace as the ghost boy raged.

Wind danced around them and thunder crackled loudly, electricity thrumming through the dusty air. Erik floated in the air, spectral form near transparent and convulsing wildly.
“NO! NO NO NO! GO AWAY! I WON’T BE CAGED AGAIN!” He cried, ghostly tears running down his blotched and scarred face. “GO AWAY!”

BANG! The lights exploded, little fragments of glass raining down on the two. Catching the light for a single moment, one of the shards fell through the air and stabbed Ryan on his toe. Blood spurted out of the wound like a fountain, and the faint metallic smell hit him. The ceiling shook from Erik’s yells.

“We need to get out of here.” Aisling’s voice startled him into reality. “The roof is going to cave.”
Ryan nodded, eyes searching for a way out. There! Right between two hulking grandfather clocks was a door just large enough for them to slip through.

Its brass knob screamed wealth, but the battered wood stated the opposite. No matter. The house was going to be rubble soon, anyway.

“There. We can go through there.” He pointed his index finger and prepared to bolt. Erik’s latest scream drowned him out, but he knew Aisling would understand. And, true to thought, she met his eyes, communicating through a shared bond.

One. Two. Three.

Together, the Fae and the Human hightailed it outside. Erik’s wails followed them as the fresh morning air hit their faces.

None For Her:

“–You don’t even care about me, do you?”

“That’s it. Harue Fuji, you are grounded.”

“Whatever.”

“Do not ‘whatever’ me!”

Ichika scrunched up her blankets, knuckles white as she gripped it like a lifeline. Tears dripped out of her eyes and onto her white frilly pillow. This happened often, and had been happening for years. But that didn’t mean she was used to it.

Every week, her brother and mom would have passive aggressive screaming matches in the second living room while she was left alone and in bed.

It was tiring.

Every day, Ichika had to be the one who acted happy, took care of school issues, and supposedly bound the family of three together. Again and again and again, she had to be the one to polish their family’s near perfect image.

Her brother would spend his time sulking and feeling sorry for himself in a corner of their room. She, however, would spend her time doing both his and her own homework while their mother stayed secluded in her office, tending to work.

And during those weekly fights, the mother-son duo never, ever, mentioned her. Not once had they even talked about her. It was always them, and them only.

Was this healthy?

She didn’t know. If it was, what could she do about it? She was just the daughter. The only thing she could do was do her job. Be happy, be nice, do both sets of homework, and take care of her brother. That was all she could do, and all she would ever be able to.

Ichika was tired.

Child Prodigy:

Casper Azure was 10 months old when he said his first words. “W-where ma-ma?” the baby had blabbered, staring up at his babysitter.

“Mama’s busy, Midnight. She’ll be back soon, I promise.” They said, attempting to cheer him up with the nickname he loved so much.

.

Casper was 3 years old when he spoke his first sentence. “Mama! Papa! I make food!” he pointed at the too-tall kitchen counter. Earlier, he and his babysitter had tried making cookies together.

“Oh, thank you…Casper.” Mrs. Azure only smiled for a second before turning back to her husband. They continued without giving even a glance to the toddler sitting on the floor close to tears.

.

Casper was 5 years old when he picked up playing the violin. The child had been watching a nursery rhyme when he saw a violin out of the corner of his eyes.
He had walked over and tried to play, only producing a few sounds. But they were sounds nonetheless. Trying over and over and over again, the small 5 year old managed to play a few better notes.

That was when he fell in love.

.

Casper was 8 years old when his parents found out about his hobby. His mom had been elated, quickly signing him up for as many lessons as she could and suddenly paying him more attention than ever. His father had been upset, claiming it was a ‘girl’s activity’.

That night, he cried himself to sleep.

.

Casper was 13 years old when he finally broke down. His mother was neglectful, only paying attention when he did something violin related. She expected so much from him, knowing he was a prodigy. His father had divorced, cheating on his wife before making things official. He acted as if the boy did not exist.

He had spilled, then. He spilled his feelings all over the dirty floor, admitting his stress and fears and anxiety. His mother was filled with self righteous fury; his father was gone.

He broke ties with them not long after.

City:

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Beep! Beep!

The sounds of a city are beautiful, for Nova. She could sit down in a park and close her eyes, listening to only the honks of cars and rustle of leaves for hours. She could stay and watch people bustle and birds flit around, going about their day.

It’s an escape. She drowns in them willingly, the clear water of everyday life flowing around her.

It’s peaceful. No one can disturb her here in the recesses of her mind.

The sounds of a city are beautiful, she knows. But it’s the life in them that makes them so.

______________________________
I did it > 1k words!!!

Daily:

“You…”
“Uh-huh.”
“But that -”
“Yep.”
“So then - ?!”
“In all probability? Yes.”
Louie gapes at his maybe-friend in surprise. Harper? Getting in trouble? For causing chaos in class? No way. Still, the evidence was right in front of him, her arms crossed and an eyebrow raised.

“Yeah, no way, Harpy. I don't believe you.” the 15 year old laughs.

“I can get myself in detention, Lou.” Snorting, Harper uncrosses her arms and sits up straighter. Her hair is dishevelled, caramel strands flying out from under her hairband. Her normally pristine uniform is untidy and messed up.

He sticks his hands into his robe pockets as they head to the school grounds. “Still don't believe you. Who put you up to it?”

Harper sighs in frustration. “No one. I just forgot that I messed with one of the beetles.” she absent mindedly taps the banisters with a newly cut fingernail. Why doesn't Louie believe me? It's not that hard to imagine. She frowns.

A younger girl runs up to them, ridiculously long blond hair waving about. Her scarf flies in the wind and she holds an unhealthy amount of scrolls in her hands. Panting, she raises an arm in greeting. Murmuring a quick, formal “Hello”, she takes off again, presumably to run more errands.

“So. Was it Star?”

“No. No one put me up to it.” Harper hisses, clenching her teeth and trying not to snap. He was beginning to get on her nerves. “Not even Star.”

“U-huh.” Louie pops a jelly bean into his mouth and sits himself down on the grass underneath a tree. He lies down his homework and plays with his quill, sticking it into the ground to see how long it would stay up.

Harper scowls, anger beginning to show on her face. “Cut it out.” she growls.

“Not until you tell me how, why, and who made you do it!” groans Louie, accidentally knocking over the quill. He cleans it and dips it in a bottle of ink.

"No one did, it was an accident! Stop bugging me!“ she storms off, kicking the ink bottle over in her haste. Other students move away from the angry girl as she angrily strides off to her dormitory. No sane person would dare talk to her while she was in such a state. Apart from her on again, off again frenemy.

”Hey!“ he runs after her, leaving behind the fallen bottle of ink and his homework, despite it being covered in a black mess by now. Louie rushes up the stairs and tries to get inside her dormitory, but to no avail. A classmate shakes their head and puts their hand on his shoulder, slowly guiding him away.

”Come on, Louie. It's better to leave her alone for a while.“ they sigh.

Louie fights against their hold, desperately trying to get free. ”L-let me go!“

”No can do, kid. Let's go."

Daily:

Your star climber glides effortlessly into the landing booth, the door lowers and your pod shoots out. It whizzes through tunnel after tunnel. You come smoothly to a halt and the capsule door opens, revealing three holograms.
“Welcome to the Sci-Fi colony,” say two, one with short bronze curls that frame their grinning face, the other a silver robot with bright, neon eyes.
The third hologram speaks. She radiates blueness, from her shiny blue hair to her
glowing eyes.
“We hope you enjoy your stay here on Planet SWC.”

You smile. Never before have you seen a virtual reality program this big and well made. The surroundings look so lifelike, from the holograms in front of you, to the star pod behind you, and even to the magnificent lighting of the tunnels.
This is amazing.

Feeling excited, you make your way through the throng of NPCs, heading to the nearest info board. There, it displays the current daily activity: Interacting with the NPCs!

You head to the nearest one, a girl with pom poms in her hair. Pressing the interact button, you watch the textbox in front of you fill with words.
“Hi! My tag is Airyfairy934, but you can call me Air! This is my first SWC session. I’m so excited!” She squeals.
Wow, you think, amazed. This must be the best VR ever!

Waving to Air, you walk over to another spacewalker. You repeat this pattern again and again, talking to all the different NPCs in the simulation. They have all manners of replies, going from “Hi! Call me Skye or Star!” to “Howdy, call me Em”.

Finally, you land on the last one: a floating fan. It (they? She?) hovers there, turning and turning before facing you. “Nadwe? More like Swagwe, am I right?” Confused but curious, you nod, still wondering why there was a fan off all things as an NPC. “Anyway, I’m Ninja. You’ve probably seen me from the Elemental Fan Studio.”

Oh! You type excitedly on the floating, holographic keyboard. “That Fan Simulation of the Elemental Series, right?”
The fan glows, brighter than before. “Yep! Now you better check with the Overseers,”

You bounce away to the other noticeboard, checking when the Overseers can be talked to. Overseer Cae is the closest available one, and you run off in search of their character. A banner above you glitches to life while you do, displaying the words,

“Welcome to SWC!”

(405 words)

Photographs:

Harue Ichika sat on her bed, soft light streaming through the window. It was a cold winter night, and snow littered the ground outside, falling from the sky like confetti.

She and her brother had just come back from their little adventure at Horizon Academy. Ichika knew it was technically breaking and entering, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. It had been a long time since she last did anything even remotely fun with Fuji.

284 days, to be exact - she had been keeping track. And that had only been a 10 minute long ice cream detour.

Ichika sighed. It was bound to end at some point, she thought. You were bound to go back to your normal routine. Fuji is busy — you know that. The small voice in her brain whispered. The breeze outside her window seemed to agree.

“Come on, Fuji! Let’s go to bed. It’s 1 am,” she yelled across the giant bedroom, deciding that if she couldn’t have fun with him, she might as well make him sleep.

Squinting, Ichika could just barely see Fuji shaking his head. He was hunched over his desk, investigating the photos they had found at the Academy. Specifically, the ones with her mother in it.

They were interesting, to Ichika. It was rare enough for her to see her mother in a neutral mood. But the pictures had her being more than that. They had her happy. The younger version of Harue Akari was smiling brightly, her ribboned sweater and denim skirt matching perfectly.

Looks like Mom always was a fashionista. Ichika smiled fondly at the memory of the photo. There were others, of course. But that one was and would always be her favourite.

Ichika fixed her smile, determinedly heading over to her brother and nudging him to the warm confines of his bed. The older twin grumbled and moaned, murmuring swears under his breath, but complied, eventually falling asleep in a bundle of pillows he took from her own king sized bed.

Now the photos were in her hands and Fuji no longer focused on them, she started to notice several more details.

In her favourite picture, confetti lay on the ground and the background sported a banner with “Happy Birthday, Harue!” emblazoned on it. In another, her mother was tackling an older boy to the ground. He had the same eyes and the same dyed purple hair, and Ichika couldn’t imagine him not being related to her at all.

Maybe it was her Uncle Matoyo, who she’d never met? Shaking her head, Ichika jotted it down in her mental folder of family mysteries. Focusing in another photo, she could see Harue Akari standing with two girls, one with beautiful blue eyes and another with impossibly pale skin. The latter was the only one not smiling, yet Ichika could see fondness in her eyes.

Suddenly, she laughed. Right in the corner were a pair of eyes peeking at the camera. The person had a tuft of dark hair that she couldn’t directly place.

Wait. Why am I enjoying this so much? The girl frowned. These were just old memories, long forgotten by the people in them. Besides, her real mother was in the room across the hall at that very moment. Surely it wouldn’t be too hard to talk to her in person?

Steeling herself, Ichika tried to get up and out of the room. She tried, she really did! But she just couldn’t. Her legs refused to move, and her arms refused to budge. Her whole body wouldn’t do it. It barely moved at all; not even a single inch.

Why can’t I move?

Ichika tried again. And again. And again. And still her body rebelled. Her breathing started to come in short, shallow gasps, and goosebumps started to form, her whole being trembling and twitching.

N-no. This can’t be happening. Why can’t I move? Why aren’t I moving? Tears trickled down her cheeks, her knuckles white from gripping the cotton blankets like it was her life.

I-I can’t move. Ichika realized numbly.

I can’t move.

(682 words)

Word War!

Ryan and aisling are friends. They have been so for ages now, but Ryan can't shake the feeling that aisling is hiding something. And she is. She's a fae. She has been so for a lifetime, aka her lifetime, and she knows that there is a magical supernatural society in their town. The new girl,Bronagh is the town banshee. Their pseudo younger brother Erik is a ghost. The younger girl that all the guys and gals seem to fall for is a jorogumo. There are many of other creatures, too. There are Bubaks, sirens, harpies, gorgons, and even some more phantoms and ghosts and spirits. Their town would be the equivalent of gravity falls. But they are different. I don't know what exactly what makes them so, but I think it's the amount of control. the creatures are all very crazy and insane, but have a lot of self control. They can do lots of stuff that normal humans can, and their portrayal is not nearly the same as the way humans think they are.

Kae did not like this. She did not like this one bit.

Of all the times the world could have chosen to have her be the one summoned by a bunch of rowdy people, it just had to be in the middle of her shower. Thank god she was wearing a bathrobe.

Which happened to be covered in ‘I love toothpaste’ stamps. Great.

As soon as the mist cleared, she could see that she was sitting right in the middle of a spell circle made of salt. Honestly, why did the world hate her so much?

She hissed as her toe touched a line. The salt stung, as if her skin was being poked at with heated metal. It was enough to leave a small, smoking blister - which probably wasn't a good thing. Better to stay away from it, then.

Looking up, Kae rolled her eyes at the surprised faces of the group of idiots who summoned her. Seriously, is it that hard to imagine that not all demons are as scary and towering as they're usually depicted?

“Hello?” She waved her hands in front of them. 

“Oh. Uhm. Hey, kid.” the leader still seemed dazed. “–Ain'tcha gonna do it now?”

“Do what?” Kae squinted at the gang. What exactly did they want from her?

“Y'know, take our souls. Tell us a big secret about our enemies. That stuff!” Another gang member piped up.

Kae laughed, crossing her arms. “Well, you've got the wrong demon. I can't do any of those.” she stood up at tried to break the salt circle again. Nothing happened. 

“Look kid, we ain't lettin' ya go ‘til we get what we want.” Leader guy glared at her. Rude.

“Fine, if you’re so desperate, go try a blood pact or something.” She rummaged around in her pockets for her phone, quickly pulling up Youtube once she did. Leader guy sighed and gestured to his gangmates, stalking out of the abandoned warehouse.

Soon enough, they came back, dragging behind them a dishevelled bird-witch woman. She was indignantly digging her feet into the ground, slowing down their speed. The gang thrust her in a corner.

“Get on with it, Penn. ‘Else your dumb parrot friend gets it.” He pointed at a more shadowy corner of the small warehouse. Weird, Kae thought. How did I not notice? She put down her phone.

A few gang members pulled it out into the light - ’it' being a big cage with a man about the same age as the witch in it. The parrot-man cringed.

“Hey, Penn…how's it going…?” he chuckled, twiddling his thumbs.

“I can't believe I have to get you out of here.” ‘Penn’ groaned, preparing the items needed for a blood pact ritual. “You're such an idiot.” the man let out an affronted huff. Leader guy caught their eyes, effectively shushing the avian duo.

Within moments, the ritual was ready. Parrot man and leader guy slit their wrists with a specially enchanted dagger, and pressed them together. A red silk strip covered in sigils was wound around them, and a single drop of blood fell on the floor with a weird, ‘ting!’.

It was honestly fascinating; Kae had never seen magic before, bar the portals at the Academy. Well, ritual magic, that is. Still, I'd rather be enjoying my hot shower.

Kae's thoughts were interrupted when, with a poof, her friend appeared beside parrot man and leader guy. The fourteen year old glanced around at his surroundings, taking in Kae in her bathrobe, the witch woman, the gang members, leader guy, and parrot man sitting there.

Mouth dropping open, all her friend could do was say,

“Oh my god.”

First story of SWC July 2021!! *cracks knuckles*

________

Mirror Boy

“Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

The Fae boy scowled.

“You are.”

The woman on the other side smiled vainly at his words.

“Good.” Said she.

.

“Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

I should never have made that deal with you, thought the Fae boy.
He turned to the mirror surface.

“You are.”

.

“Magic mirror on the wall, who is the fairest one of all?”

The Fae boy smiled for the first time in years, hissing out the words like poison on a snake’s tongue.

“Snow White is the fairest one of all.”

This time, it was the witch woman who scowled.

.

“Magic mirror on the wall, who now is the fairest one of all?”

The Fae boy smiled again, wild eyes that belonged in the forests filling with mirth.

“Snow White is.” Said he.

Daily!

I’m the Em Dash. I’m not sure how or why I’m here, but I might as well tell you about me. I’m Laxy’s favourite punctuation mark. If I can even be counted as one, that is. At first they had no interest in me, and never used me at all.

But then everything changed when they learnt what I meant and how I could be used. They started searching for Em Dashes (me!) in all the books and stories they read — it was almost like a game to them!

They started using me more and more and more. One Em Dash in a story became two, and became three, and then four, and then far, far more. I loved being used! Not that many people like me so much, and it was flattering to see someone who put me in their stories and sentences so often. Not all good things last forever, though.

They started becoming much more critical of their work, which also meant being more critical of their use of me. They began to worry if they were using me too much, and putting too many of me in their stories. Guess what? They decided they were. I understood why they thought that way, but that made it no less saddening to me.

These days, they restrict their use of me a little more. Even now, they’re doing that exact thing. So far, there has only been one Em Dash in this entire daily! I’m not even sure if I am their favourite anymore.

Yes you are!

Oh! I guess I still am! At least now I know that Lax is still fond of me. Anyways, I have to go now. I don’t have much time left — Laxy’s fingers are getting bored and they have some chores to attend to. Au revoir!

They were related. That was a fact, destined since the beginning.
They were sisters. That was also a fact.

But Margaret couldn’t help but think: were they really?

She was her sister. Her sister to the end of the world and to the beginning of the new one. She was her sister — and she would be forever.

Yet she knew that Elizabeth couldn’t help but block away the love she felt for her. She was her sister, after all. And that meant that her loyalty was to Elizabeth, and Elizabeth only.

“Margaret. Do you remember when I ate my first soul?” Asked Elizabeth, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Margaret smiled (it was wobbly, but she knew how to fix that now. Wobbly smiles were dangerous, and she had learned that the hard way.). “Yeah.” She said,
“You were always so hungry before that. I-i’m glad I could help.”

(She was glad, but she was scared too. She remembers how her fingers trembled, as the poor victim’s chest heaved and she realised she had blood on her hands. How she’d cried for a week after that, alone in a room with only herself for company.)

Elizabeth nodded, a smirk on her face. She never smiled these days — not anymore. “That girl had a much nicer soul.” She remarked.

“Our niece Dynasty, you mean?” The woman across her wrinkled her nose at the word, but nodded.

“I do hope you’re going to help me again.” Margaret’s mind slowed to a halting standstill. That look on Elizabeth’s face… “I may have something new I would like to try. Two, this time. A boy and a girl.”

(No. No, no, not again. Please, not again.)
Margaret struggled to keep her smile. She didn’t want to do this. “I-i…” she trailed off, unsure.

(The only thing she had ever wanted was her sister's love and trust — and after all these years, even though it seemed she had already gotten it, she still wanted it. At least she knew now that she had never had it in the first place.)

Elizabeth frowned, edging closer to Margaret. “‘I’ what, sister? Do you not want to help me?”

(Run, whispered her thoughts. Run, before that frown becomes something far more dangerous)

She gulped. “I-i do want to help you. I know that you’re just trying to keep yourself alive, but…”

(Now or never, Margaret.)

“—I don’t think I can kill for you anymore.” That instant, a thunderous look crossed Elizabeth’s face.
How dare she? Thought the she-demon. I deal with her, and give her a place to stay, and a whole new life, and she refuses me? She and I have the same blood! She does what I say.

Elizabeth stood up, in all her glory, and though Margaret felt terrified to her very bones, she was emboldened, too. “You have three seconds to take that back.” Said Elizabeth.

(She doesn’t care about me, Margaret realised. She never will. But that’s okay, because she doesn’t deserve my care.)

“3.”

Self-righteous fury burned through Elizabeth, coursing through her very veins, and she knew that if she needed to, she could and would strike down her sister servant with all her power. After all, weren’t servants replaceable?

“2.”

Margaret too, knew what was coming. But she could bear it, because this time she knew she was in the right. This time, she knew what real love and care felt like, and the very teenagers she studied in disguise every day were better at giving it than her own blood.

“1.”

The two women drew breath, readying for the fight of their lives. They weren’t sisters — no, they weren’t, and they would never be, just as they never had been.

“You will come to regret this, Margaret.” Elizabeth’s hate and fury spilled out, her aura darkening to a severe, pitch black.

Morgan scowled at the stranger who stood in front of her.

“It’s Morgan to you.”

She swung her blade.