I’ve decided to not put all my writing in one spot this session after doing quite a few posts, so starting 3.14 (march 14, pi day!), I’ll be posting the links to my writing here (see below). however, writing between march 1 - march 8 are still located here.

QUICK LINKS
pi day daily! 3.14
idiom daily, 3.15
weekly 2, 3.17
fan-fic daily, 3.18
storyline daily, 3.20
poem daily, 3.21
critique daily, 3.23
weekly 3, 3.23
dialogue daily, 3.24
writing competition entry! 3.24
memory skewer daily, 3.28
a character’s place; daily, 3.29
weekly 4, 3.30

Dailies
3.1.22
Hi! I am Paige! This is my 6th session of SWC! I love all things Broadway. I am a Thriller co-leader who procrastinated my leader application due to the fact I went to see Dear Evan Hansen and Hamilton. I am an INFP-T so um if you wanna get a feel for how I act that's my mbti. I have an interest in Model United Nations, ecology, and history. I believe that sleep = swc . I am also the official caretaker of Thriller's overcooked salmon, Stan! I hope to see you guys around and beware of my rock stealing uwu. ~ Paige/Bookstore :: Thrillerftw ~ total 107

Word Wars
3.13.22
“Come on, you can trust me.” The radical on my smiles cutely.
“No, you radicals make no sense.” I huff at the simplifying radicals equation on my paper. They truly make no sense.
“But you can trust me!” Khan Academy pipes up.
“BUT YOUR VIDEOS ARE BORING!” I pout.
“BUT THE GUY’S NAME IS SAL, THAT iS VERY VERY INTERESTING.”
“NO!” I scream at the top of my lungs.
“Fine, but you gotta watch our videos since they make sense.” Khan academy shrugs.
“Sure, you can believe that,” I say.
“But it’s true.” Khan academy laughs.
“Fine, it is but like- you are boring.”
“But, Sal!”
“I don’t care!”
“FINE YOU CAN FAIL MATH!”
“NO I DON'T WANT TO FAIL MATH! ALGEBRA IS VERY IMPORTANT.” I cry.
“Alright, then watch my videos,” Khan academy says. ~ 135 words.

Daily:

Weekly:

Word Wars:

Comp. Entries:

Other:

Jaden’s writing

Dailies

None yet :0

Weeklies

None yet :00

Other stuffff

Pffft did you really expect to find my writing already????

MC Daily - Hi there! My name is Katie and I'm co-leading Fan-Fi this session, along with Andy and Luna! I'm a musician, extrovert, and all around nerd. I am also trilingual! I can speak Latin, Spanish, and English, and I can play thirteen instruments (guitar, piano, viola, bassoon, as well as others). My favorite color is blue and I love chocolate! I run track at my school, and I swim in the summertime. When I was younger (age 3-11), I danced at a studio near my house. But, I was never a competitive dancer. My favorite musicals are Hamilton, Dear Evan Hansen, and SIX, and my favorite song artist is Taylor Swift. My current favorite song is The Joker And The Queen by Ed Sheeran and Taylor Swift. This is my first session leading, but my third session overall, and my first time with the Fan-Fi Cabin.

xD This feels like so much more info than you need. Don't worry this little comment here isn't included in wordcount xD

Count for the day: 145

MC Daily: I often sit upon a shelf, in the dark, and by myself. Pages closed and forever shut, until one day when I am unlocked. A little girl comes to see me, and opens me up, sits down and reads me. She absorbs the ink upon my pages, constructing a world inside her mind. I love to watch her imagine and experience, for the story within me is one of old. I watch people walk by me every day, but rarely am I ever seen. It is refreshing to have hands young as these, observe and connect with the world between my paper thin bindings. I feel a slight breeze from her breath, fluttering my pages ever so slightly. I smile slightly, from my spine, for this girl here, shines like the sky. I can see the radiance in her eyes, as if she is reading for the very first time. I love to be this thing I am, for I bring great joy into the hands of those whom I am near. Countless stories live inside, and I will forever be on a bedside. But then I feel the ache and woe, of my covers being closed. I suddenly am in dark again, on a shelf, all alone. The saddest part about my job, is I am forever being closed again. Open for now, only to be closed again soon, makes me sorrowful and sad. I wish to fly to the moon, or even leave this shelf, it will be my doom. Wish I may and wish I might, I only have one desire tonight. To see that lovely light again, that only comes when a child opens my covers to read and learn and imagine the things I contain. The joy on their faces is the one thing, that makes my existence, worth it. All by myself, alone on a shelf, willing someone to come. Remember that each story you tell, feels like me. Not quite broken, but not quite free.

IC Daily: My goals for SWC are to work on my writing endurance! I can write pretty well when I have unlimited time, but when I have a short amount of time I'm not as good at putting ideas down. I also want to be able to write for 30+ minutes at a time without stopping/running out of ideas. One more goal, is to make sure I thoroughly read EVERY workshop and try my best to put it into effect in my next piece of writing


Count for the day: 418

MC Daily

Flavors used: skill ice cream fairy floss ice cream and boot polish ice cream (courtesy of @camqfire-)

Long ago, in a place far away, there was a fairy. This fairy was a very unique fairy. His name was Floss, but contrary to popular belief, he was not in fact a Tooth Fairy. Young Floss, was a boot shining fairy! He would fly around during the night to shine people's boots! Floss's hometown is the town of Eelry, and Floss has lived there ever since he was a little changeling (i.e. a baby fairy).
Floss was out one night, flying his usual route, when he heard a noise. Floss quickly hid away, for he didn't want to be found. Our brave fairy found himself trapped in a closet (not that kind), and he began to shiver. It was cold in this closet…like an icebox. Floss tries to shake the eerie feeling in his bones away as he watches through the slits in the door. As he watches, he sees a something. It's a very large something. This something looks kind of like him, but has no wings and is very slow moving. Floss has a realization; this must be a people! However, as soon as Floss sees the people, it turns to the closet and opens the doors wide, where it instantly sees Floss. Floss yelps, the people yelps, and there's a lot of yelping. Suddenly, Floss falls to the floor.
When Floss wakes up a couple hours later, the people is gone and he is outside. He stands up, shaking out his legs, when he realizes something's off. He tries to figure it out, but shortly after dismisses the feeling. Floss gets a running start to take off, but nothing happens. Floss, confused, tries again. Still no flying. Now exasperated, Floss sits down on the ground with a huge huff. He then yells loudly, but then quickly covers his mouth so no animal who wants to eat him, will find him.
Floss sits under a flower to ponder his options for a moment. However, when Floss went to rest his hand on this flower's stem, a book hit him with a thud! Floss rolls his eyes; he's growing tired of these surprises. When Floss actually looks at the book though, he sees the title. It reads "The Secret of The Skill Flower. Floss is immediately intrigued. After a quick skim, he discovers that the Skill Flower is an ancient plant that, when consumed, will give the consumer whatever they need most. Floss grins, and quickly marks the fabled flower's location on his map.
The fairy decides that he will begin his voyage immediately, for he must find this Skill Flower. He must get his wings back! Will he ever find the flower? Will Floss ever get his wings back? The world may never know, for this is where our story ends….FOR NOW

Count for the day: 467

MC Daily We were running, as fast as we could. The heat of the sun was beating down on us. Rene was beside me. The sun was so hot that I felt as though I was going to trip, fall, and melt where I stood.

Wait; I've got to breathe. I need to give some context.

When we were young, Rene and I were in the same apartment building. Him and his dad, and me, my mom, and my brother. My mom, his dad, they were both recently divorced and in a dark place. They barely cooked, went to the store, or even work. Rene, Leo, I were pretty on our own. We had to busk for money, and occasionally steal from the school lunchroom. But we scraped by. More or less. We'd go out and play music, me on guitar and Rene on keyboard, and I was taken away to a beautiful place. There were hundreds of people walking by, but in my head, in my mind, it was only us. We raised each other, and we are both better for it.
When we were 16, we found an abandoned warehouse. Seems that no one had been there for years. We walked in and were both astounded. That's where we decided that we were going to get emancipated. Right then and there, we ran to a courthouse, and submitted the paperwork. It was so freeing. He and I ran back to the warehouse and we played music and danced and drank milkshakes all night. It was amazing. Little did I know I'd never feel quite that free again.
We were too overwhelmed the night before to realize that Leo was gone. I felt so stupid and like I was an awful sister for leaving Leo. How could I? How could I leave my poor, defenseless, nine year old brother? I begin to sob. I fall to the floor, my screams and sobs echoing through the warehouse. Rene runs to me, trying to hold me steady and I turned into his shoulder and screamed louder. And we sat like that for hours, before I manage to take a deep, real breath. I tell Rene that we have to get up, we have to find Leo.
A soft beeping noise starts in the background, and I think it's just in my head so I ignore it. But then, I see Rene begin to freak out. I can see him panicking, packing up his piano, and sliding my guitar case over to me. I grab it and he urges me out the door. And we're running.

So now you're caught up; and we're back where the sun is beating down upon us, our legs beginning to tire. I look back to see what, or who, we're running from. But all I see is the warehouse, beginning to look strange. And then it blows up.

Wordcount: 480

Part I: Poetry
Haiku

I always wonder
About the waves flying by
I let my eyes follow

Minute Poetry

Dancing quietly all alone
You silently
Watching me go

Dancing softly in our castle
I move around
My mind shadowed

My broken dreams come crashing down
Into my head
And breaks me down

Palindrome Poetry

Sun
Dancing with wind
Delicate moves and lovely sound
Hearts in everywhere singing loud
Hoping dearly, come now.
Now come, dearly hoping
Loud singing everywhere in hearts
Sound lovely and moves delicate
Wind with dancing


Monorhyme

The rain comes down
I hope to be found
The world drowned
Listens to my silent sound
The small hint of my noise in the ground
Makes others hope to sing, but I frown
For they don’t know my plan: I am earthbound
I only search for the town
I look and look, another frown
Through the book, I abound
To find the one I seek, the sound
Little and meek, young me is bound
Hoping to see what aboveground
Life I will found

Free Verse

The world feels as though it’s falling
The bright green leaves are slowly dying
I run from those who pull me away
From my mother
My brother
My day

They come to see me every night
The monsters
The fighters
The horrors of my mind
I must get away

Run to the edge of the earth I must go
Pass the watermelons and the groves of bright green trees

There is nothing left for me to find
They took my soul, so there is nothing left for me here.

What else could they possibly want from me
The only thing I desire is to be free

Free from the agony they place in my eyes
In my feet
In my breaths

The leaves of green mix with pools of red
The red is from my boots and dread
I’ve done no wrong, why do I feel this way?
Splash splash run away


Part II: Essay

:sob: this is terrible I'm sorry

Thirteen percent of everyone on earth is trilingual. That’s just under 1 billion people! To follow that up, over 3 billion people are bilingual. English and Spanish are some of the most popular second languages, but languages like Mandarin and Hindi are spoken by a large part of the world. Europe is one of the most well known places in regards to dispersal of language and culture. To add to that, with language comes culture. The more you know about a language and its “abnormalities” and “quirks”, the more you can learn about the people that speak it and how the language came to be. This goes to show the value of languages, specifically knowing more than one language, is in our modern day society.
Knowing more than one language can provide a multitude of services to you as an individual, as well as your community. You can help people navigate the area, guide new homeowners to nearby locations, and overall just have more insight into the way the world around you, your particular world, operates. Speaking multiple languages helps you connect with people in your community, as well as people around the world! Other languages are gateways to being a more compassionate, well rounded, and understanding person. The more you know about other people, places, and countries, the more you can adapt and enjoy said countries. Places like the United Kingdom, as well as groups like the European Union have a lot of border crossing and language exchanging. In the US, it’s fairly uncommon to meet someone who speaks more than one language, let alone two or more languages. However, it is becoming more prominent as language programs are strengthening in schools. Unlike America, though, the European Union and United Kingdom find not speaking more than one language to be abnormal. It’s common practice for people to speak English, French, Spanish, and/or whatever language they were raised with!
Allowing people to communicate with one another in whole new ways is what language provides to us. Not only can we legitimately communicate via words and email, but we can learn more about each other through our practices and accentuation. The little inflections and idioms and expressions within a language are what make them so fascinating as well as useful. As education systems grow and everyone’s world view gets bigger, the world as a whole is beginning to understand the value of languages more and more. By the world, I mostly mean America. The country is struggling with diversity among languages, but the public schools are adding more language programs all the time. With all of this evidence and world application ability, it’s clear that everyone who can, should learn multiple languages. I myself am enrolled in English, Latin, and Spanish, and knowing all three have helped me immensely. Everyone could benefit from learning about other types of people and cultures, and as long as you work for it, you can become fluent in a language quickly. And that language may change your life.

Part III: Script

Setting is a parking lot, June is in a car. This is outside of a restaurant. There is one other person in the car with June. We hear the ignition go off and then June turns to her companion, Celia. She takes a deep breath before speaking

JUNE: That was a long and exhausting drive. Two hundred thirty seven minutes, to be exact.
CELIA: You always do that, don’t you? You count things

June signs audibly

JUNE: Yes. Yes I do. It helps me keep my mind calm and still.
CELIA: You’re quite the specimen June, simultaneously predictable and totally random

June decides to take this as a compliment, as evidenced by the slight smirk on her face.

JUNE: I’m going to leave you in the car. I have to be perfect for this first meeting with Warner

Celia nods her understanding. June walks away from the car and towards the restaurant whose parking lot they were residing in. Her black boots are clicking against the asphalt. We hear the swishing of June’s outfit as she enters the restaurant. She’s thinking about Eden, and the fact that he designed her wardrobe for today. June approaches the hostess.

JUNE: I’m looking for Warner? We have a reservation.
HOSTESS: Right this way, Miss Iparis

June noticeably cringes at the formality but follows the hostess nonetheless

JUNE: Thank you
HOSTESS: Of course. Just let me know when you’re read to order.
JUNE: I will. (June turns to Warner, pauses for a moment, and then says) Hello Warner. I'm June. June Iparis. Commander of the Republic

Warner is in mild shock, still astounded at the fact that he managed to get a meeting with THE head of the Republic.

WARNER: You’re right on time
JUNE: It’s a point of pride to me
WARNER: I can already tell that I’m going to like you (said with a sly smile). If we’re continuing formalities, then hello Ms Iparis. I'm Warner, commander of Sector 45, and next in line to lead the Reestablishment.
JUNE: So now that we are formally introduced, let's decide how to go about this. We have mere months before the estimated Society attack. How do you think we go about this?
WARNER: We could send teams of soldiers to their Outer Provinces to survey the area, as well as some spies
JUNE: That's a good place to start. I can supply about 200,000 troops to that. No more though
WARNER: That should be enough. I can supply another 300,000”
JUNE: Now, I know that Cassia Reyes is the Pilot of their new nation. Who should we pick to send to her?
WARNER: Day (Warren near cuts June off when he says this)

June goes silent, she’s obviously upset. Warren is visibly confused by this reaction, seeing as he doesn’t know the relationship between Day and June

WARNER: June, I know this seems a bit brash but-
JUNE: Stop. We're done here
WARNER: June, please. I meant no harm
JUNE: No Warner. I said we're done.

June reaches her car again, and slams the door. She begins to rant to Celia

JUNE: How dare he. He had no right, no place-

June’s phone rings. She takes a deep breath and reveals a photo lighting up her phone. It’s her and Day, from the Elector’s Ball. They’re dancing and smiling, and June begins to cry.

We switch back to Warner’s perspective

WARNER, exasperated: I can’t believe she walked out on me! I was merely suggesting that their best spy help us bring down the Society. What is WRONG with her?

Warner walks out, not having ordered a thing. However, we see him leave a generous tip on the counter. Warner is hoping that someday, he and June will be able to form a proper alliance. However, as the son of a general, he realizes that it may take time. Warner gets into his private car, and is greeted by his driver

WARNER: I need to get back to headquarters
DRIVER: I understand, sir

Warner sighs, even the brief interaction irritates him. Why does that June girl get on his nerves so much? That’s the last thing he’s thinking about when we see a pair of headlights swerving towards him.


Part IV - Non-fiction

Memoir/Autobiography

The first day of school in second grade scared me. I was eight years old, and everyone told me I had the scary teacher. They told me how awful she was and how terrible her class was. Like a fool, I believed them. So, on that first day, I entered her classroom and distinctly remember being very nervous. I was very near quivering in my seat. I see the teacher in the back of the room, and study her for a second. I’m beginning to think about how she doesn’t look mean, but I guess there was still time. Class started, and she began teaching. She introduced herself with a happy and calm voice that captivated me. Somehow, even if I was still nervous, my subconscious knew that she’d change my life.
One of the most memorable moments from that year was the paper mache globes. Sometime, around January or February I believe, the whole second grade went out into the hallway, and was greeted by massive trays of paper mache. The way it worked was we were given a balloon, and then had to cover the balloon in the newspaper strips. From there, we’d let it dry for a while, and then get working on painting it. The goal was to have the whole thing blue, so that you could attach paper continents to it. Every continent had an animal on it, like a penguin for Antarctica and a giraffe for Africa. The best part was getting to pop the balloon at the end. Lastly, we’d add a ribbon equator and then we were done! That activity was extraordinarily captivating to me, and I sometimes wish that I could go back and do it again. Because of those little paper mache globes, I was introduced to the aspects of art I never knew existed. I started trying more things and have found that, while I’m not good at it, I enjoy lots of different physical art.
Second grade was a real roller coaster for me, but it ended with me receiving more than just a second grade education. That year put me on the path to a more complicated desire to learn, and effectively got me into the school I go to know. Without that teacher in second grade that pushed me, without the one that I was afraid of, I never would have been able to rise to the challenges of my school and life today. All of this really shows how the foundations of our lives and education are astronomically important and can make or break a person. If I’d never been in her class, what would I be like? What would I do? What would I aspire to be? These are all questions I think about often, but usually dismiss because it doesn’t matter. There’s no use in wondering about things that didn’t happen, and would completely alter my life in a way I probably don’t want it to.

Narrative (I think?)

Thirty eight percent of schools teach cursive. This is far fewer than the near one hundred percent only a few decades ago. Cursive is a topic identified as no longer relevant in the computer age and removed from most classrooms. However, one of my elementary school teachers still believed cursive had its place and made a point to explain what the fancy looking letters were to my class. They captivated me. I believed it was another language all its own. The words were beautiful to look at, as well as fun to create. Well, at least when someone had good handwriting skills. My teacher would sit with me when I would finish tests, and we would work on different letters and words. She taught me all of the tips and tricks to cursive, the method to the beautiful madness. While learning cursive doesn’t sound like a big deal, it completely changed my outlook on learning and education. Script was the initial spark that fueled my love of understanding and learning. I had always enjoyed school, but mastering cursive was my first experience in learning for the sake of learning. The first activity that led me to understand I could learn more than what I was taught in the classroom. Cursive showed me that I could do more and explore my own interests both in and out of the classroom.
Cursive was really just the start, next I learned about logic puzzles, then building magnets, brain games and all sorts of extra projects. These activities challenged me and allowed me to explore topics beyond what most of my peers were interested in learning. That year my teacher continually asked me hard questions designed to make me think and encourage me to dig deeper. We dove into math, the sky and the stars, along with so much more. All of these small events, every lesson and word, all gathered in my head and have been there ever since.
I believe that I wasn’t self aware enough at eight years old to really understand just how much this experience would change how I reacted to exploring topics throughout my schooling. However, I now recognize the academic choices I make continually drive my desire to learn more. My elementary school years were critical to how I am now, and these minor events that I have narrated for you today, are some of the key aspects that make me, me. Without these things I would be less bold and strong, and would love learning a lot less.


Poetry count: 307
Essay Count: 503
Script count: 704
Nonfiction count: 919
Total count : 2433

MC Daily: Courtesy of Lukatie <333 this is a cross between like four separate books, my ideas, AND Lukatie's writing so it's quite the mishmosh

I heard the final words and…

No, scratch that. I did nothing. What really happened is that everyone else went crazy. The entire school erupted into screams. Kids dug their phones out from their bags to call their parents and text their friends. Teachers did nothing to stop it, doing the same things themselves.

And throughout this chaos, what was I doing? I slipped out of my classroom and walked through the halls that were also filled with screaming humans. I walked out of the school without a problem. It was a nice spring day outside, not too cold, not too hot, a light breeze making the trees sway softly. I walked across the school field and sat down.

5 minutes.

I stretched out on the grass and enjoyed the last 5 of 8 minutes this planet had left.
And as those 5 minutes finished, the last words in the emergency announcement that had blared over the PA system flashed in my mind.

“The Sun has exploded."

There's a beeping, at the edge of my mind. I reach out for it with my being, wishing for consciousness again. Suddenly, there's a jolt and I wake. The room is large and bright, bright white. I shut my eyes tight and moan. My head is pounding. I hear footsteps rushing in. That must be the doctors. I hear a deep male voice, giving instructions to give me pain medicine and water. As well as get me some chicken. Chicken, that's such an odd choice. I quickly disregard that. This doctor knows best. Not five minutes later, I hear a rich female voice enter the room, flanked by another male and a female. This fuller female voice is giving orders as it grows louder and closer to me.

“Is she alright?” The woman asks. “I need to know. She has to be OK.”
The man who asked for some chicken replies “She seems alright, I know you are worried”
“Of course I'm worried Xander! She is the key to all of this. I can't lose her! I need her up, moving, with steady vitals, and ready for training by tomorrow morning.”
“June, that's not feasible-”
“I don't CARE” The woman, June, replies. Wait, June. That name is familiar. That isn't- no-
“Yes Commander Iparis” Xander responds.

I remember suddenly, the simulation. The constant fight I endure within my own mind. Battling my fears. She's trapped me here for who knows how long. I have to escape this stupid facility. I pull against my restraints, beginning to fight against the straps that hold me. I try to scream but my voice is hoarse. Suddenly, I feel a mask over my face and my mind is carried away.

Next thing I know I'm in a classroom. A science classroom. We're talking about balancing equations. Chemistry, then. I nod as I reach this conclusion and begin to write down notes. Suddenly, the door bursts open and a figure shrouded in dark fog flies in. Everyone yells, but for some reason I'm calm. I grab a flashlight from my bag and then approach this beast. I go to turn it on but then I'm frozen in my tracks. I can't move. My mind is screaming for me to move but I can't get a single toe to move. I'm cold; all I feel is cold and dark surrounds me. This creature takes my flashlight and all of my happiness with it. There's nothing I can do, I'm trapped in my own head.

And then I jolt awake again.

Count for the day: 424

-PeachiiStxr- wrote:

heyoo post claimed for writing >:3 (question if we still have our writing thread from last session can we still use that one for writing?)

✰Dailies✰
✰Daily Goals: 15/31✰

✰Weeklies✰
✰Weeklies Goals: 2/4✰

✰In-Cabin Dailies✰
✰In-Cabin Daily Goals: 15/31✰

✰In-Cabin Weeklies✰
✰In-Cabin Weekly Goals: 2/4✰

✰Word Wars✰
✰Word War Goals: Complete 5✰

✰Cabin Wars✰
✰Cabin War Goals: Participate in 3✰

✰Miscellaneous✰
✰Miscellaneous Goals: Complete a Full Story Plan✰

robin's writing!

3/1:
hello everyone! i'm robin, and this is my seventh session of SWC. i'm currently leading the epics - the wonderful campers of poetry cabin i'm a musical fanatic and i also find societal structures very interesting! i somehow managed to kill two succulents (RIP austen and sunati </3) but i now have two very cool tiny cacti so maybe they'll actually live :0 anyway yep you can tell it's late and my brain is broken i will now go to bed! (yes i stayed up till midnight but hey i got homework done!)

3/2:
Excuse me. Yes, you! Where am I, you asked? My goodness, you really are disrespectful. Humans these days, I swear. I’m right on your desk, a foot away! For god’s sake, I’m the lamp. That little white one in the corner that you like to tell your friends looks like the Pixar lamp. Which, for the record, is completely untrue; I’m much more refined. I don’t hop around and make loud clanging noises. And look at me, look at these extra features! Does your beloved Pixar lamp have an extra power outlet like me? Does it have three little boxes on the front like me? No! And on that note, the stuff you put in these boxes is completely random and I demand you take it out. In the first there’s some random post-it notes because you didn’t want to waste the ones you used half of, and you always need scratch paper. In the second - literally why? In the second are the cut off sleeves of that t-shirt you wore when you were Amity Blight for Halloween. I have no earthly idea why you would need to save some loops of cloth. And, I almost forgot, balanced on top of those you have a sparkly red scrunchie! Why do you even have scrunchies anymore when your hair isn’t nearly long enough to use them? Anyway, point made. Take the stuff out. And I know that you don’t really like me anymore because my light doesn’t work. Maybe you should change the bulb? Maybe that would help? A little? You need some logic classes; too bad those don’t exist. Lamps like me, we sit in one place all day and we still have better logic than you humans with your “homework” and your “video games”. And your writing camps? Bah. Appreciate your lamps more.

word count: 304

3/3:
The hourglass in the corner of the pod is pouring the purple sand down faster every minute. At least; that’s what it feels like. We’re moving at light speed, yet it seems to be that we are floating still in our amaranthine emptiness. Alone in the universe. No starving families, no harsh government, no insane tech firms. Just me, Rascal, and the hourglass.
We’ll be back soon, of course.
We shoot past distant stars, faraway galaxies, away from the green planet shrouded in the smoke of its own mistakes. I’m sure the hourglass will shatter, yet it stands firmly in place with the sand filtering through smoothly. In all honesty I can’t understand the mechanics of it: a gravity-based contraption for measuring time that works flawlessly at a ninety degree angle straight up and not to mention we’re in space. Fitting, I suppose, because it seems a perfect metaphor for what the world has become. It’s something that’s simple really, but then the government fiddled with it and shook it and smashed it time after time until they got it right, and in the end it was just on the shelf of a tiny space pod.
They had approached me a month ago, perhaps seeing me as desperate. It was late at night - I had been concerned of an attacker until the man in front flashed his silver badge. Of course the government polishes their power instead of providing for their people. My family was living on the top floor of an apartment building that was long abandoned. People still came there, spending hours fiddling with the tiny shower until the water started to drip and they brought their family to stay. We could hear the raucous shouts every time. Ours never came on. The prices posted were worth weeks of food that we couldn’t spare.
Albie, the youngest of us, had been sick for days. The store turned free-for-all where we regularly stocked up was looted two weeks before and we were running low, even with there being only five of us. It was Grandma, Russell, Matilda, Albie, and me. I was the oldest of the kids and the only one who was old enough to be out alone; the others were too young to go foraging - in fact, without me they would have no way to get food. It wasn’t uncommon for me to go through the streets, hopping the potholes and tar puddles, searching for broken-down warehouses or something of the sort. But I had been back with Albie and the rest when they came and made me the offer: to test their space pod in return for provisions going to my family.
It was impossible to say no. So they promised money to us when I returned, and whisked me off to the capital to be a space cadet.
And now here I am, in my tiny pod, adorned with the purple hourglass and the bird on my shoulder. They gave him to me before I left - he’s one of those robins that used to be a sign of spring. Well, he’s the first one I’ve seen in my life and we’re at the dead start of the snowy months: but he’s perfect all the same. Supposedly they had been using him as a test subject for genetic modifications. And now they’re sending him off into space in a pod with a human. At least this mission is foolproof and they said so themselves.
The best part of this is that I don’t need to say anything. I haven’t spoken for four years, since my world was ripped apart by them the day they knocked on my door and took my sister from me. She’s nameless - at least to the world. Never to me. My silence is what keeps me alive in this world.
Suddenly Rascal jumps off my shoulder but his clipped wings make him flap aimlessly until he hits the floor. I put him on my wrist and look to the hourglass, then out the front view. It’s been thirty minutes, meaning we’re exactly at the furthest point. But the spacecraft has begun to wobble a bit, then it speeds up. Eject. Eject. I hit the button on the arm of the chair. Nothing happens. The button is disconnected; I realize that it’s fake, hot-glued to a single sheet of metal. They lied to me about the safety, they lied -
They lied about my family.
I’m struggling now, still smashing the button like it’ll do something, eyes watering so that the pod turns blurry. Rascal fluffs his feathers and calls out loudly; I hold him closer to me like there’s some way I can save him.
It’s the hourglass that breaks first, the sand spilling out like a waterfall of sunsets and spreading across the floor. That’s what’s going to happen to society, I think deliriously. Broken glass grazes my cheek.
Then the front bursts, and I’m thundered with its debris. I shield Rascal. The air is sucked from my lungs as I’m slammed against the back of the pod where the back windows have broken as well. Why they needed so many windows, I won’t ever understand.
Rascal frees himself from my arms and flaps his wings furiously. No use, buddy, I want to say. But he floats in midair. He’s going to be fine. Genetic modifications, I laugh. He’s going to be okay!
I reach for him and jump through where there used to be thick layers of glass. He hovers for a moment and then leave me. I can feel myself falling forever.
“Sorry, Albie.” My first words since thirteen.
And my last.
I, too, will be nameless now.

word count: 948

3/6:
“The leaves on all the trees have turned black but refuse to fall off the branches. It’s the middle of spring.”

When I wake up one morning, it’s the trees I’m thinking of. They’ll be flowering by today, I know. The blossoms that fill the town each spring, that blanket us in a sea of soft pink; that season is starting today. I jump out of bed, hair sticking out in all directions, and run out of the house. Nobody else is here. I suppose it’s early, but then again it’s absolutely worth it to wake up early today.
The orchard is on the furthest side of town. I never know why they call it an orchard when the trees yield nothing but petals and sweet scents - petals and sweet scents that will be appearing today! I break out into a run down the cobbled streets. Passing the tall houses, one after another, painted in absurd colors - and the stores, their wooden lettering just a little bit off. All deserted on the outside, in favor of getting some sleep today. And finally, I turn the corner.
I close my eyes, smiling, to try to smell the flowers before I see them. But there’s nothing, not the slightest bit of flowery perfume coming my direction. I reach out in front of me and feel a tree branch, and I open my eyes.
The tree has no flowers.
It has no sweet scent.
It has nothing but black leaves. I tug on one, but it won’t come off.
All around the orchard, each tree has black leaves. There’s no trace of the blossoms that usually fill our town this time of year. And then I realize what this means.
You see, our town is peculiar. These trees aren’t simply our pride and joy. They’re everything to us; they’re our life force at the core. So these leaves, these black leaves—
“Mom!”
That’s why no one else came to the orchard with me.
“Angeline!”
That’s why the town seemed deserted.
“Carter!”
They’re gone, all of them.
But I’m still here, and that means that there’s a tree left.
I go to the far end of the orchard and I see it: the biggest one there is, towering over the others, a tire swing extended out over the sea. It has tiny pink blossoms, the ones that should have been everywhere else today.

I curl up on the tire swing and I wait, I wait, I wait, for someone to come get me and tell me the trees are okay.

word count: 405

3/7:
“If your character could receive their deepest desire (wealth, health, love, success etc.) in exchange of betraying a friend, would they do it?” (140)
Trym would be the last person to betray a friend for something most of the time. After growing up in a mostly unwelcome environment, and then seeing the disgustingly distinct social classes in the outside world, she wants to make the world better for all the lower-class citizens, not just herself despite what her deepest desire is. Her friends are important to her because she’s usually quite picky about who she classifies as a friend. However, if she’s having trouble on a certain day she might at least be tempted if not take that deal; her deepest desire is to see her lover-slash-best friend again, who was killed after a heist in an elven kingdom. That’s something that’s really important to her, but she would be very unlikely to give up a friendship for it if she can think logically.

“What kinds of music would your character like? What types of clothing?” (140)
Trym is definitely a heavy metal person. I think she would really enjoy having earbuds to blast loud music in, if those were accessible in her world. Unfortunately she would probably hate musical theater, but maybe be okay with specific ones like Rent. As far as clothing, since she’s a thief and scammer, she’s most often wearing long hooded black cloaks. However, under her cloak or during less crime-oriented days, she likes bright colors and clothes that are easy to move in. She owns an old jacket that used to be brown; since she’s had it for so long, it’s garnered many holes and so there’s barely any of the original jacket left. She patches it herself and enjoys getting the cloth from making bets with townspeople and scamming them so that she gets a piece of their own jacket.

“What does your character value most in a friend?” (105)
Trym values loyalty and shared morals. She finds it difficult to be friends with someone who’s constantly questioning her decision, even if she does appreciate arguments once in a while. She usually places a lot of trust in her friends and if they betray her it’s really detrimental to her mentality. Especially because a lot of what she does with her friends is dangerous - heists, scams, et cetera, she need to have full trust in them and if they seem like they’re wavering, she’s quick to suspect that they aren’t fully committed to what’s happening and she’s not afraid of a confrontation in that respect.

“What is your character's greatest weakness?” (105)
Her greatest weaknesses are her jumps to conclusions and her fluctuating temperament. She’s quick to assume things, and with that, very quick to get angry. As you can probably guess, this can be kind of problematic when there’s a super angry short person with double daggers whose unending rage is directed toward you. So yes that’s a bit of an issue. She also can’t talk to anyone without taking in their wit, their flaws, and the best way to win a bet against them based on that - which is a good skill for the streets, but less so for just normally talking to other people.

word count: 490

3/8:
original piece from mac! https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=23#post-6084508
Usually I end up here for a week, because the rain doesn’t stop for many days. So I wait - just as so much of my life is waiting - and I watch as people go about their lives. What fun it must be to be human, I always think! But their somber faces make the idea less tempting. They walk around me, their heads down, muttering softly when their shoe hits the edge of this puddle. Of course I’m offended by their distaste of me in this form, but the way they drag their feet makes me mostly pity them. They pull jackets around themselves and open umbrellas above themselves. Well, the adults.
The children, of course, prefer to stomp. A dozen drops are displaced with each muddy boot. As the weather warms up, we begin to say our goodbyes to each drop that is evaporated back into the air. Hundreds leave, hundreds are still here. Yes, it’s a large puddle.
On my third day a child in a yellow jacket jumps on us and I’m suddenly in the air, and then I’m suddenly not. I land just a few feet away. And I’m all alone - meaning that I’ll be evaporating in a couple seconds.
I giggle a bit as the tingling sensation overtakes me and I’m lifted bit by bit into the air. I hear the earnest goodbyes of the raindrops still in the puddle, and then I’m up, up up in the air in a million little bits of water vapor. I can feel the warmth of the sun getting closer. I can hear the whispers of the other evaporated drops; I can hear their welcomes.
We linger here for weeks, the weather as sunny and bright as anyone could dream. The other droplets join us. We’re invisible now, and our words are fuzzy, but it’s just a part of the process that we’ve all been through so many times. We’re jumbled around in the sky.
After at least two dozen days have passed - it’s hard to count, of course - we’ve gathered in fluffy clouds and begin to blanket the sky. For some reason, I’m one of the first to fall. Just good luck. This falling is so often, such an old rhythm. I feel the wind running through me, pushing me, as the ground comes into sight. It’s a strangely shaped ground ahead of me.
Then I realize it’s not ground, but a ship. I’ve never seen one, only heard about them. It’s huge and shiny and humans mill around on it, laughing and zipping up their jackets with glances toward the clouds. I’m pushed closer and closer. The wind is the only thing stopping me from falling right into the ocean below. I’m flying at an angle - I’m going to make it onto the ship!
Then I’m slammed into the very edge of it, the very last place I’d like to be. And I’m sliding, I’m sliding…
I land in the ocean. Well then, sky, I’ll see you in about ten years if I’m lucky.

word count: 508

3/10:
the road not taken by robert frost, but horrory
I approach the fork in the road cautiously. My steps are tiny and I try as best I can to be light footed. These woods are dark. I can feel glowing eyes on me from every direction. Of course, I doubt that they’re there. But they watch me all the same, with no moon up to illuminate their true selves. They do not reveal their hiding places. I am alone in spirit.

A shiver runs up my spine as I look between the two paths. This forest is mostly unmapped, unexplored. I meant to create an account of my journey here, though perhaps I won’t make it out alive to do so. I’ve been traveling for months and I’m nearly certain one of these will lead me out. Of course, the other will have me killed. What fun!

I look down the first as far as I can, trying to scout out any creatures that may be hiding in the undergrowth. With my eyes adjusted to the dim light I see where it bends at the end, not too far down. I shiver again, my guard going up. I never wanted to be away for so long, but traveling has a way of making you forget where you’re going. I have no idea where I am, and that makes this all the more terrifying. My map may not be correct, because my compass has been broken for weels. There’s no one here to help me. These two paths will either save me or kill me and it’s all up to me.

The second is grassy, and maybe seems slightly more inviting. There’s less of an eerie vibe to it - though, of course, the most inviting things are often the least safe. It seems to have more wear, a more used appearance. I look between them, carefully considering each one. I need to make a wise decision here.

I look back, and the glowing eyes are still there behind me. They watch each move I make, the twitching of my fingers as I clench my teeth. They’re not real. I’m completely fine. These are just dangerous woods, but I’ll make the right choice. Maybe.

I take a single step and there appears to be the sound of growling. I take another and it’s like the world has crashed down. I’m surrounded by the eyes now. And I run.

I run down the second path, the one that fewer people have traveled. I suppose my chances aren’t too low. Surely some monster attracts people to the killer path, and they go, and there would be more footsteps that way. So I must have made the right choice.

Suddenly the glowing eyes disappear. I’m safe! But when I look around, I see regular eyes. Not human eyes. Beast eyes. They surround me. They’re growling, hissing, some sort of sound that I can’t put a name to.

Maybe in decades from now, after I come out of this completely alive, I’ll sigh and tell my friends about how I nearly died because I took the path that nobody took.

word count: 515

3/14:
Trym approached the alleyway slowly, slightly suspicious of the darkness. She knew well by now that there could easily be assassins on the rooftops, crossbows in hand, poised to strike. But she found solace in the fact that she could avoid their arrows as long as she saw them.
As she slipped off of the main street, between the bakery and the hardware store, she looked up. Illuminated by the moon were the people she had expected, high up in the air. However, they didn’t have bows like she expected. Instead, an elliptical silhouette was clutched in their shadowy hands. Suddenly she knew exactly what was going on. “Oh, no…” she whispered. She’d never seen it in real life before, just heard stories about the aftermath. And she was terrified. Who wouldn’t be?
There was a moment of silence where she considered running away - but she knew her chances were close to nothing. Suddenly they all came down at once and the dark figures escaped from sight. Trym was splattered everywhere. She was suddenly covered in red and she sighed in disappointment. She had never expected to be the victim of this kind of attack. But now here she was this evening, in plain shock with broken bits of flimsy metal all around her.
All those headlines in the newspapers detailing the crime scenes. “Fifteen Banana Blast Pies found in shreds in Oakton.” “Elf attacked with Berry Bomb Pies.” “Lemon Explosion Pie victims speak out.”
Trym knew now that she’d be the next tragic story in the newspaper. A halfling found in an alley completely covered in the fillings of Cherry Peril Pie from the next door bakery. And with the broken pie tins all around her. The scene was quite a melancholy one, the way the shadows fell across her face. The news would surely have pictures. Trym shook her head, feeling miserable.

word count: 314

3/15:
“Whew,” Hacky says, shaking his head as he stumbles through the door of the house. I’m horrified to see that one of his legs ends in a stump, and the same with one of his arms.
“What happened?” I exclaim. What could possibly have caused him to do that?
“Oh, I decided to get myself a new watch. It cost an arm and a leg. I lost my left arm, though, and which is where I usually wear my watch! That sucks, I guess, but I’ll live with it.” He shrugs.
I shake my head, once again utterly confused by his exploits. And also very much concerned about a company that collects limbs. Maybe that’s something worth looking into. I slip on my shoes and head out, going around the block to the jewelry store. The bell rings as I step in and I’m surrounded by gold and silver. I’ve never actually been inside this place because it’s so expensive. Who actually needs watches that are worth this much? I look through the walls. There are bracelets and necklaces, all tagged with whatever precious metal they’re made of. And a whole case full of earring pairs, huge dangling things that flash bright colors on shining hooks. I go up to the cash register, where a person adorned in such jewelry gives me a very fake smile. “What would you like to buy?”
“Oh, I couldn’t afford anything here,” I say with a laugh. “It’s far too expensive.”
“Have you not heard of our financial aid program? You just need to pay an arm and a leg. You could absolutely afford it! Go ahead and grab something, I’ll ring you up and we can just take you to the room in the back for your payment.”
I shiver, picturing a wall of severed limbs. He wasn’t kidding! “Yep, I’m fine, thanks.” I run out the door.

word count: 315

3/18:
“TJ, Amanda, Ellie, Sky, Judah,” comes that familiar soft voice that we all know by heart. A red-haired girl with a wide brimmed hat approaches us, watering can in hand. I’ve never seen her smile so much before. Her eyes are practically glowing in the afternoon sun. Something’s happened, we all know it.
The erratic flow of water douses us in an appreciated moisture. We drink in each drop. My leaves are left with dewy raindrops as it soaks into the soil, finding my roots. It’s been a while since she came out to water us. We were worried sick that she had been kidnapped or something, because anyone who knows her knows that Ivy never leaves her plants.
There are five of us in this garden here. TJ is the tomato plant, and the second oldest. We like to joke about what TJ stands for - Toe Juice, Town Jail, Tipsy Joe - it’s our favorite pastime. Other than Ivy, of course.
Then there’s Amanda. She’s the corn stalk and she towers above us littler ones. We don’t really know why Ivy wanted to plant her own corn but we’d be hopeless without Amanda. She mothers us all; I’d like to think she’s here because Ivy knew that.
And Ellie, the pole beans. She’s the only one that can get above Amanda’s height. She stands tall right in the middle of us on her trellis, weaving in and out and up and down as she pleases. She’s the first to call out when Ivy’s coming, and the first to notice when she isn’t.
At the very end of the garden is the biggest one, Judah. He’s the watermelon vines and I can’t name a time he’s not cheerful. Even when Ivy was gone, he was the one who told us constantly that she’d be back soon.
And now here she is.
TJ grumbles. “Oh, yeah, now you show up.”
Ellie snorts with laughter. “Pretend to be mad now, but we could all hear you sobbing every night when she didn’t show up. Big baby.”
“Shut up!” scolds Amanda. “Quiet down and let her explain. Something’s up. It’s been years since her eyes shined like this.”
There’s a moment of silence.
We all remember those days, the ones where she’d come home from school every day with her eyes bright and her hair bouncing and run to tell us about Samantha. It was always Samantha. And we can recall the whispers on a snowy New Year’s Eve, the day she told us that she thought she was a lesbian and had a crush on Samantha. We couldn’t say we were surprised.
And then, the one we can remember most of all. The day that still flashes through our minds sometimes. The day that she sat in the garden and cried to us because Samantha had left her for another group. How she cried every day after that for two weeks and we couldn’t help her because of course, we’re plants, we’re obviously not sentient beings. Obviously.

word count: 504

3/20:
And so you continue the adventure through the wilds. Each step brings yet another moment of panic as twigs and leaves crack under your boots. Commander Robin had warned everyone about the dangers of the wilds; the creatures, the plants, there was nothing safe here.
You reach a barrier shrouded in vines. It’s barely been half an hour since you left camp! You sigh - maybe it’s better to head back and stock up on tools anyway. As you turn around you nearly drop your compass; that would have been bad! You orient it back toward camp and start walking.
It’s probably around noon when you get back and Commander Robin isn’t particularly pleased with your early return. You plan to stay around camp for a few days and help out where you can, so that you’re allowed to get a tool. It’s a fair system, but you wish you could just take an axe and go.
You head over to the smithing area where Deputy Jade is hammering away at the bits of metal. She waves and looks back down to her current project, which is an axe. Just like you need! You stand there until she stops throwing sparks and takes off her goggles. “Can I help you?”
You nod. “I need an axe.”
Jade shrugs. “Sorry, no can do until you help out around camp.”
“But I want to explore!”
“No exceptions. Maybe you can assist Deputy Blair with organizing the things she needs to start mapmaking?”
You sigh and turn to go, towards Blair’s tent in the camp. You find her outside it, parchment spread across her signature legless table, pens and ink securely resting in its pen and ink bottle holders. “Hi!” they say.
“Need any help?” you ask her. “I really need some tokens so that I can buy an axe and go back out.”
She shrugs. “Nothing here. You know that headquarters sends in daily and weekly assignments, right? Those get you tokens too.”
Oh.
“THANKYOUGOODTOKNOWOKAYBYE!” you shout as you run back to your tent and flick on your transmitter. Headquarters did in fact send an assignment and it’s worth a lot to help the Epics gain leverage above the other factions of the Small World Capers! You get to work immediately.
Just as you finish up the first assignment, the longest one, there’s a ping on your transmitter. You can hear it echo from every other transmitter in camp too.
One of the adventurers who’s been out all day has uploaded a photo to the database and sent a message with it. The message simply reads “clue???” You laugh, doubting it. Then you tap to see the photo; it’s a piece of paper with a word and a number. It must be a clue, just like they said!
It’s dark outside and only a tiny sliver of moon shows but you head over to the smithing area where Jade’s covering her tools for the night. “I did the biggest HQ assignment, can I please have an axe?” you ask, crossing your fingers.
She laughs. “Usually it takes a lot more than just one assignment to get one of these.” Pause. “But sure, yeah, okay.” She hands you the newly made axe from this afternoon.
“Thanks!” you say and head out to find clues of your own.

word count: 553

3/21:
between poetry and fanfiction
you can easily make a prediction
cause fanfic will fall
poetry wins it all
and i can say that with conviction

word count: 25

3/22:
robin + cockroach = terror (or robroach)
- robin body/size with cockroach antennae and legs
- likes to munch on anything it can
- usually quite cheerful
- lives in nests on forest floors
- has wings but can only glide

The little robroach moves from side to side, scanning the ground for something to eat. There! He practically inhales the leaf he finds in a pile of dirt. It's not bad, actually - better than a lot of things he's had. He pretty much eats anything that looks edible. Not particularly helpful in a forest full of poisonous plants and animals, but still. He makes a chirping noise as he scuttles through the forest. There’s a blade of grass to eat - there’s a tiny bug - there’s a splinter of wood! He nearly chokes on the last one and his throat feels fuzzy.
He arrives back at his nest, a mismatch of twigs and bendy leaves and various human objects. There’s a scrap of yellow cloth on one side that usually fascinates everyone who passes, be it predator, prey, or another robroach. He’s quite proud of the creation he has; it’s lasted nearly seven months without needing repairs. That’s more than most robroaches could dream of.
It’s not dark out yet, but the sun is nearing its brisk departure under the horizon. He sits down in his nest and watches the forest around him, full of life and vibrance. There’s a dark brown bird with a reddish orange belly low in a tree, stubbornly parked on a nest of spotty blue eggs. He sees her all the time; they rarely converse, but they’ve learned to live in peace together. Her mate comes flying in through the treetops, a worm wriggling in his beak, and lands right by her.
In one corner is a tiny brown bug creeping about quickly on legs that match a robroach’s. Her beady eyes dart about the undergrowth and she keeps changing direction. She and he are a lot alike; the way they eat and live. But he’s not one to talk to the lower-class bugs.

word count: 308

3/23:
I like the concept and the writing style! I’ll start off with some nitpicky grammar/word choice errors - apologies for the lack of actual helpfulness in those, it’s just what’s easiest for me to spot. In paragraph 2, “min” should be lengthened to “minutes” just because it’s a formal writing piece. In the middle of the last sentence on that paragraph, a semicolon, (em) dash, or “and” might be more appropriate than the comma you have - just because they’re better forms of separation between two complete sentences. Same goes for the middle line of dialogue in the third section right after “I lied”. In the fourth section I think that “gonna” could be better replaced with “going to” - once again keeping the writing in a more formal nature. I think you have the wrong type of words with “disapproval look” in section five - it should be either “look of disapproval” or “disapproving look”. There are a couple missing punctuation marks and some skipped words which I won’t comb through to collect but it might be good to proofread for those! I’m happy to help with that if you need, but since it’s an older piece I’m assuming you’re not too worried about it ^^
Anyway - I’ll get onto actually helpful things, hehe. I absolutely love the storyline and you did a great job at demonstrating the moral. I think that the piece could be more effective on the reader if instead of spelling out the lesson at the end, you insert extra bits throughout the story that convey it so a reader could understand the theme for themself. The show-don’t-tell technique is a basic, but still a necessity
I think it would be good to include the reaction of Vanessa and everyone else when Andy finally stands up to her. Since we’re using this story to stress that things get better when you have confidence, you need to demonstrate that things did in fact get better for Andy. If you were going for the ‘no reaction because Andy doesn’t care what they think anymore’ effect, it would be most effective to put that directly in the story - of course, with a different phrasing. Something like “I didn’t see what happened next, and I didn’t need to. Their opinions of me weren’t my concern anymore.” would be a good sentence! You could also work on conveying emotion in the end, since it’s clear that Andy is experiencing a rocky road of feelings right there and as the main character, everything going on in her head should be center stage.
Anyway, I hope this helped! I know that Kenna posted some already so hopefully I didn’t repeat too much of her words, hahah <3

word count: 451

3/24:
“Honey, please go over there and complete the chores before you start wasting time on video games. Did you already forget everything I asked you to do? Hurry, hurry!”
-
“Mow the lawn! I don’t care that we don’t have a lawn mower! Just do it! Ask a neighbor to borrow one or something!”
-
“It’s so weird that we don’t have a lawn mower.”
-
“Excuse me! Sorry for intruding like this. Do you have a lawn mower I can borrow? My mom wants me to mow the lawn but we don’t have one.”
-
“Okay, so how does this thing work?”
-
“Ah! Oh my gosh, I nearly just sliced off my foot. Too bad there’s no instruction manual.”
-
“Hey, need some help?”
-
“So you push it like this along the grass. You want to do it in straight lines.”
-
“I think I’ve got it! Yes! One row down, about five million to go.”
-
“Are you okay? No, no, you’re not okay, that was a dumb question. Okay, I’m calling an ambulance!”
-
“I didn’t want to do what she asked. Why am I getting blamed for it? I hate this, all of it.”
-
“Hey, kid, he’s gonna be okay.”
-
“How are you feeling?”
-
“Yeah! I’m not going near more lawn mowers anytime soon.”

word count: 210

3/28:
1: Starting the rivalry with Fan-Fi! may be slightly exaggerated <3 311 words
I went into the cabin, determined to make everyone more excited. “Epics!” I called, and thirty faces turned toward me. I nodded. “You all need to go make our cabin iconic!”
“What?” a camper says. “How do we do that?”
“Well, dear camper, I’m so glad you asked.” I grin mischievously. This is going to be good.
“You see, I would like you to begin a rivalry with our wonderful runner-ups. Yes, that’s right. I’m talking about-” I almost spit the word - “Fan-Fi.”
The campers all look confused. “If we’re beating them, don’t we technically already have a rivalry with them?” someone asks. “What do you want us to do?”
I sigh. “I wasn’t done yet! I want you all to go to their cabin and taunt them. We need to be the coolest cabin in the history of cabins. And that means we need to get the whole camp involved. You two!” I point to two campers in the corner, who look up immediately. “I want you to go around to the other cabins and ask them who they think will win.” They seem unsure, but start to go out of the cabin and head down the path to the others. I can feel that iconicness so close to us.
“You five!” I point to five more campers, who are sitting together and passing around a story. “I want you to go over to Fan-Fi and wreak some havoc. Stalk all their conversations and reply to them. It’ll be great. We need to prove we’re the best! Because we are!”
That earns cheers from the campers.
Jade looks at me scrutinizingly. “Um, Robin, are you sure this isn’t too much? Maybe we don’t need to completely attack Fan-Fi right now. Maybe we can start out with, er, friendly shoves.”
“Ha! No! No friendliness!” I yell. “Never! We are the best!”
2: Sorting backups with Zai - 140 words
Zai shows up at the window of my room in the Poetry cabin, where I’m furiously writing away on a homework assignment. “Help me!” he calls. “I need to get word counts from the other cabins!”
I sigh and open my window. He’s pleased when I crawl out and latch it again. “Okay then,” I say. “What do you need me to do?”
“Well, we need to count the words every cabin wrote.”
“What? By hand? Zai, are you insane?”
He facepalms. “Robin, no. I’m not that dumb. We’re going to go around and just add up the words that the leaders haven’t had a chance to put in their database yet. We don’t need to go through every single word they wrote.”
I sigh. “Phew. I was worried. Anyway! Let’s go then, before I have to speedrun the daily!”
3: Planning with Jade, it did not happen like this hehe - 177 words
“Okay, so we may have procrastinated a bit much,” I admit, staring down at our cabin plans. “I take no responsibility! It was totally all your fault!”
Jade raises an eyebrow. “You’re kidding. You just brought me on board, like, an hour ago.”
I groan. “Fine. Okay. We’re doing so much extra work, aren’t we?” She nods in agreement, ruffling through a stack of papers.
“We’re literally filling an entire island with beasts and evil plants, most of which the campers won’t even see,” she remarks. She drops the papers back down onto the table and nods. “This is going to be interesting. We’re totally wasting all our time.”
“Hey! Let’s just fill it in as we go.”
“Terrible idea.”
“Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
“Okay, whatever, we’re doing it.”
“Robin!”
“What? We literally have two days.” I sigh and spread out the papers again, taking in the sights. All these contracts. We’re renting a cyclops from a zoo a thousand miles away so that the campers run into it and scream. Hey, at least it’ll be funny.

word count: 628

3/29:
I think that mainly, it would be a park. My characters would appreciate that the most since it’s friendly for all ages. There would be a huge playground in the middle, where the youngest characters can climb across mini rock walls and go down slides. I’m sure my characters would all appreciate slides once in a while so there would probably be a lot, and all sorts: open ones, tunnels, straight, curvy, and definitely some that are super long. A water slide wouldn’t be a bad idea too! Then, of course, older characters might prefer something a little bit less immature. The park would double as a botanical garden - gotta love succulents and picturesque ponds. Hopefully being further away from the playground would allow characters to get some peace and quiet, assuming the little ones aren’t yelling too loud. I wouldn’t put it past them!
I think they would really appreciate this place because I definitely have some characters who would be great friends with each other. I also have a lot that I haven’t used in a while and I’m sure they’re getting very bored of their routine days, so they would probably like staying in a park. It would be eternally daytime and they wouldn’t get tired, so sleep wouldn’t be an issue. However there would definitely be plenty of benches assorted throughout the park for if they ever wanted to sit down and take a break - which, knowing them as little as I do, I can be sure they would be grateful for. While the playground would be the main focus and at the very center, I’d have cool things in other parts of the place. I visited a botanical garden once with a really serene pond with some cool waterfalls, plants in the water, and heron sculptures which I really liked, so I think I would want something like that somewhere. I would also totally put easter egg references to all the stories throughout the park, and characters would be really confused to find them.
When it’s time for the characters to be used again, they would just be plucked up like a puppet on strings into the sky. The sky in this case would be a dome - oh gosh I just made Flat Earth - and certain parts of it would lead to certain stories. If, somehow, a character figured out how to jump through the sky, they could end up in the story of almost any of my characters. Each character would have some sort of trapdoor that drops them through the sky to get to this park when I finish writing with them.

word count: 439

3/30:
I sit either on the desk or snugly over a human's head. I myself am black, but I suppose I could be made in numerous colors. I'm an older version of my kind, so I am connected to a large silver rectangle via a wavy black string-like thing. My shape is somewhere between a circle and a semicircle and I flaunt a lithe frame on the top in contrast to two large ellipses, which are padded for comfort and emit waves that can be quite instrumental in a person's mind. Some other models of me may be adjustable, but I am not.

word count: 102

3/7: Once upon a time there was a girl who really liked dogs. She didn’t have one though because her parents thought she was too young to have a dog. Soo she went to the yards of all her friends and just played with their dogs instead. She was sort of sketchy because she randomly hopped their fences in the middle of the night and called their dogs. Is that weird? No. She’s totally normal. She’s not quirky. She hates calling herself quirky because it just feels so norma;. She doesn’t want to feel normal because she is in fact extremely quirky. It's so hard to be that quirky because she’s just not normal. But she can’t even call herself quirky anymore because that’s a trend. But isn’t it so quirky to invade people’s property at midnight to take their dogs for a wolk? It was so sad that she couldn’t have her own dog. So one day she stole a dog from a random house. She didn’t know whose house it was, she just knew it was a very nice house with a very mean dog. A dog that could murder all her enemies. So she took it to the house of a family friend.
205 words, lost to birdi by 50 words

3/7: Anyway, new war, continuing that story. She took the dog to the house of a family friend, who of course is evil because all family friends are that way. You know when your parents really like someone else’s parents but the kid is an idiot? That’s what happened here. Except in this case, the girl with the dog is the idiot and she’s about to go attack the kid at the other house who is mostly a perfectly normal person. So basically she goose the house and she’s like oh no, the doors are closed. So she knocks. And for some reason the kid is awake and he opens the door to the house because he’s sleepwalking or something and then she’s there with the dog. And he’s thinking, this sucks for me because dogs are scary and they hate me! And she’s thinking haha, this is my chance to get this kid back for all those dumb things he did to me. Oh wait, there were none because I'm the crazy one here, not him. Oh well, same difference. I’m going to attack now! So she lets the dog loose on the other kid and he runs away but the dog chases him. And the girl thinks that she’s finally gotten rid
213 words, won to @ForestPanther by 13 words

3/27: Once again a new war! Anyway, might as well continue where I left off. SO the girl thinks she got rid of her nemesis because the dog went and murdered him or something. For some reason she doesn’t stop to think that maybe the dog didn’t actually kill him like she thought. So then she went inside to gloat because she was very happy that she had finally won their years long war. She entered and was very surprised to see a person. Standing there. With the dog. And there was no corpse. So the girl was very sad because she had just been so happy. And also she was scared because her nemesis didn’t look very happy. The dog was growling at her. It was sitting at the enemy's side and he was petting it. Had her lovely stolen dog been corrupted? She was horrified by that thought. She shook her head. No way! She tried to grab tohe dog but the boy blocked her and hissed. She hissed back. But she did not know how to fight without a dog on her side so she didn’t know what to do. She mostly just ran away and hoped that she didn’t seem like a coward.
206 words, lost to @129waterfall by 21 words

3/27: Once again a new war because I just lost that one. That’s kind of sad because i really wanted to win. I mean of course I wanted to win but I did want to win that because it was against somne from scifi and scifi is evil because they warred us like a million times. Of course that’s not an issue because it basically just got us more words and more words is always good. Addie wrote so many! It was insane. And now we're’ still super far from our total word goal which is sad because i don’t want too be far from our total word goal because hitting it means that we make up for all the inactive campers. But we’re so far away that we could never hit it in four days so we have to live with that. Who knows how far the other cabins are from hitting their own word gols? Maybe we’re super far ahead and wwe just don’t know it yet.
168 words, won to @Cru-mble by 14 words

h o p e ' s w r i t i n g t h r e a d

➥ t o t a l w o r d c o u n t

➥ d a i l i e s

scarIet-stars writes
“You ready?” Dominic asks.
I inhale deeply, the salty ocean wind whipping my hair all over the place.
“I’m ready.”
He could obviously tell that I was nervous.
“Hey, it’s not too late to back out. You just have to give me the money.”
I rolled my eyes and glared at him. “I never refuse or back out of a dare. I am not going to break that record.”
He shrugged, but I could tell he was nervous too. We would become legends if we did this.
Furious butterflies swarmed in my stomach. I felt nauseous.
Dominic grabbed my hand and squeezed it so hard, that my knuckles were turning white.
He took a deep breath. “Okay Willow. On the count of three. One, two… three!”
We dashed to the edge of the cliff. My stomach climbed up my throat. I could taste the puke. Dominic and I skidded to a stop right in front of the edge. We both took in deep breaths of air.
“Maybe we should do this some other time. Or even better, come up with a different dare,” he said panting.

➥ w e e k l i e s

➥ w o r d w a r s

➥ w r i t i n g c o m p e t i t i o n

➥ r a n d o m t h o u g h t s

✦word wars 3/13✦
“Lisa, you can’t keep doing things like that! Someone could’ve died!” Yelled my mother, as I sobbed in the corner. “It’s not my fault!” I replied. She groaned. “Then who’s fault was it?!?! A ghost?!” She asked. I look up. How could she have…? I think. “I… don’t know.” I reply, unsure of what else to say. “I can’t keep having to risk my life trying to save you!” She begins to cry. “We’ve already lost your father to this, I don’t want this tHiNg hurting our family anymore.” I stand up and walk over to comfort her, but she stops me. “No.” She says, “Just go to your room.” Then, she walks out of the room. I walk upstairs to my bedroom, and open my journal. The pages turn quickly and I lay it on my bed. “Holy shi*!” I scream. .1 seconds passed. My mom is in my room, anger showing on her face. Then, she looks at my bed, and a new look passes over her face; dread. “Lisa… we need to talk.” So, we walked quickly down the stairs to the dining room. “What was that?” I ask slowly. “Well,” Replied my mom. “A few years ago, your grandmother and I got into a huge fight. I left and walked for about 2 weeks. I finally came to a dock. The ocean was crystal blue, with birds flying overhead. I decided to smuggle myself onto a cruise ship.” I laugh. “What?” She asks. “Well, I just never thought of you as a ‘Rebel’.” I reply, snickering. “WELL, I was. Deal with it.” She jokes. “Now, what was I saying? Oh yes! On the cruise ship, I listened to many meetings between important people, whom at the time, I didn’t know. I later figured out that they were leaders of the world. And they all wanted one thing. Money. One night, I decided that if I was going to live on my own for the rest of my life, I needed money too. So, I snuck into a meeting room and stole the journal that the boss used.” Suddenly, we heard a *sound* behind us. “Lisa, I believe we’ve met.” I screamed. It was the ghost from before. “MOM! RUN!” I yelled, but I was too late.

the ** indicates something not appropriate for scratch

✦spaced out {writing piece}✦

The rocket sped away. Ella was on the ground watching as her father headed back to earth. “Where am I?” She thought. Where she had landed looked very similar to earth. But… Different. The Sky was a lavender purple. The trees were blue and white. In the distance, she saw a tower reaching higher than the clouds. Which were somehow black. Ella slowly walked towards the tower. Maybe then, she would find something that would tell her where she was. A girl zoomed past her on a hoverboard nearly tripping her. “Sorry!” She shouted. Ella didn’t dare talk. Not until she knew where she was or spotted someone of authority. As she got closer to the tower, a boy saw her. “Are you okay?!” He asked. Ella nodded. “But… your literally walking towards the tower and your hair is brown.” He looked Ella up and down as tho he was looking for something. “I was born like this.” Ella hated being insulted. Her act of silence was broken. “I wouldn’t go to the tower but you do you.” He walked away. Ella just kept walking. She didn’t care what a boy who hated brown hair thought. When she finally reached the tower she knocked on the door. It opened. “DOES NO ONE JUST WALK IN ANYMORE?!?!?!” Shouted a girl from a stairwell. “I…I always knock.” Ella squeaked. The girl scoffed. “What do you want?” She looked the girl up and down just like the boy had. “Where am I?” Ella asked stepping away from the girl’s gaze. “Have you been brainwashed or something? You’re in Zen.” She walked over to a map. “See?” She asked. “What’s Zen?” Ella replied. “Oh, you’ve definitely been brainwashed.” The girl laughed. “Stop playing dumb and go away now.” She started to walk away. “Ok-” Ella stopped. “WAIT!” The girl shouted. “Don’t go anywhere. I’ll be right back.” She dashed up 4 flights of stairs.

✦swc daily 3/15✦

“Ella, wait!” Cried Connor, as she quickly chased her friend. “What's wrong?” She shouted. Ella didn't reply. It took everything she had in her, but she finally caught up to her. “Ok. Now you have to tell me. SPILL THE BEANS!” Ella looked at Connor curiously. Then, opened up a can of beans and began placing the beans in a specific order. ‘B- O- Y- F- R- I- E- N- D- D- U- M- P- E- D- M- E-’ Was now spelled with beans on the sidewalk. “Oh my gosh, Ella! I am so sorry!” Ella hugged Connor tightly. Suddenly, Ella's phone went off. “Shoot!” She exclaimed. “We have to get home!” “Why?” Asked Ella. “It's about to start raining cats and dogs!” A look dawned on Ella's face. They began running, but they were too late. “WOOF!” “MEOW!” “AROOOO” “REOW!” All these sounds began pouring out of the sky. Children rushed onto the street and began playing with the animals. “Well, I got to get home.” Said Ella. “It's way past my curfew! I guess time flies when you're having fun!” And out of nowhere, 5 clocks flew past the girls. “What the heck?” They asked in unison. They ducked, as a piece of cake joined it. “What in the world is happening to the planet?!” They cried. “I have so many butterflies in my stomach right now, Connor.” Said Ella. “Ella! Now guess what? You have to have surgery!!” Cried Connor. “Why?!” Asked Ella. “Well- I- uh-” “Cat got your tongue?” Asked Ella. “ELLA! NO!” Suddenly, they hear a meow from behind them. “Oh no.” Deadpans Connor. “AHHHHHH!” Connor cried. “Get off of her you bad cat! Go! Go! Shoo!” The cat didn’t follow directions. “IS TWYIN TO PUL OU MAH TON!” Says Connor. “I am so sorry! I thought getting the cat to go away would be a piece of cake!” Ella gets a glum look on her face. They hear a poof, and the cat is no longer there. Instead, there is a giant piece of cake!

“What's that weird sponge thing?”

“Oh my gosh! That Hypochlemiatosishantia is so cool! The best sea sponge of them all!”

“Names that sound like gibberish are so weird!!”

“Did you know that the Mitochondria is the power house of the cell?”

“Cells are weird little thingies!!”

“Cells are also the coolest things in the universe!”

“Wait. I'm gonna talk about dinosaurs.”

“Dinosaurs are so cool!”

“My favorite dinosaur is the T-Rex!”

“Have you heard of the plesiosaurus?”

“I just realized that dinosaurs have big names too… Maybe I shouldn't talk about dinosaurs!!!”

“Sauroposeidons are cool too!!!”

“I'm leaving.”

“Oops! I have to go!”

“Before I leave, I need to say something though. Dinosaurs are so cool!”

“Dinosaurs are kinda silly.”

“They can eat off your head!! And your toes, face, ears, hair, eyes, mouth, feet, legs, stomach, and so much more!”

“They make these ridiculous roaring sounds, and they don't even exist anymore! Why would anyone ever care about that?”

“Always remember, to care about dinosaurs!”

“Now I'm leaving for real!”

“Bye!! Love the dinosaurs forever, people!”

“Sorry! One more super, super, super, super, super, quick thing! Dinosaurs are pretty cool, but they can be very, very, very dangerous. So kids, if we see a dinosaur in our backyard, what should we do? That's right! Call the police! Dinosaurs love eating cops! Especially the ones with lots of money!”

“I'm back people! But, I just want to say something. Dinosaurs are all dead! They don't exist anymore! Don't be on the lookout for them because, THEY DON'T EXIST!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“Now bye forever.”

“BYE BYE PEOPLE!”

✎ juli's march 2022 swc writing ༊*·˚

✎ dailies :)

haha lies i'm sharing a weekly here. weekly 2 <3

weekly 4

Umi-san wrote:

(I'm a bit unsure after reading, so that's why I'm asking—) Instead of putting the writing in a post in this thread, is it alright if we provide proof in Scratch projects for leaders to see for dailies and weeklies and/or word war opponents?