★ Starry's SWC Stuff - March '22 ★

★ Dailies ★
March 2
371 words

This morning, I'm just minding my own business, sitting in a cup full of water and chatting with the other paintbrushes about things like our favorite colors and favorite subjects to paint. Suddenly, Sophie, my artist, bursts into the room, and I know she's just been struck with art inspiration. She pulls out a canvas and some tubes of acrylic paint. She sets her paintbrush cup, with me in it, on the table. The paintbrushes buzz with anticipation, wondering who she will paint with first.
Sophie's tight, sweaty hand snatches me out of the cup and dunks my head into a puddle of blue paint. I'm a bit annoyed that I didn't even get a chance to dry my hair before I got all dirty and paint-y again.
Despite my ruined hair, I do enjoy when Sophie paints with me. I especially like it when she paints things that I don't get to see in the art room, like animals and landscapes and desserts. As I'm wondering what she will paint today, she jabs me onto the canvas so hard my plastic handle almost cracks.
I would scream “Ow!” if paintbrushes could speak human. Still, Sophie keeps dipping me in bright neon colors and makes tons of big dots and splotches. I feel like my handle will break and my bristles will get all messed up, but she keeps painting. When she's done with the colors, she swirls me around in the water cup and drags me across the canvas. I can see the look of satisfaction on her face, and I know this painting will be the best one yet.
Finally, Sophie signs her name in the corner. She holds me away from the canvas, and I'm able to see the finished painting. It looks like…
A bunch of blobs.
I can't believe it. My hair was ruined and I almost broke for a blob? Sophie's looking at the painting like it's the most interesting thing in the world. At least she seems happy, but I'm mad that she messed up my bristles. Paintbrushes can never recover from messed-up bristles. And the most annoying thing is, this all happened for a few colored splotches! Ugh, abstract art is soooo overrated.

March 3
459 words
Ice cream flavors: mirror, cactus, wordle

As I stumble out of my room and into the kitchen, the sight of my freezer greets me. Oh, the freezer, the one friend who supplies me with all the food I need to survive the dreary school day. I pull open the door, and inside sits my prized collection of ice cream.
There are rows and rows of cartons, each a different color and taste. There are more flavors than I can count, more flavors than I can eat in a day. I settle on three: mint chip ice cream (a classic), mirror ice cream (so I can fix my hair while eating), and Wordle ice cream (so I can figure out today's Wordle before my classmates spoil it for me). I scoop a generous portion of each flavor into my bowl and put the cartons back in the freezer. Finally, I can enjoy my delicious breakfast.
I start with the mirror. It has a shiny silver surface, which is so clear that I can see my reflection in it. Just as I suspected, my hair is a mess, so I smooth it out while eating. The flavor is sweet, refreshing and almost clear, somehow. I devour the entire mirror scoop in a matter of seconds.
I move on to the mint. It's green, like all mint ice cream, with little chocolate chunks in it. I take a bite and– eww! That's definitely not mint! It tastes like grass and the chocolate chunks are poking into my tongue! I storm over to the freezer, take out the carton, and read the label. What I mistook for mint was actually cactus! What kind of villain would buy cactus flavored ice cream? I push the green scoop with my spoon to the side of the bowl so it doesn't contaminate my Wordle ice cream.
With that mishap out of the way, I can enjoy the Wordle ice cream. It's vanilla ice cream with yellow mango and green kiwi pieces in it. I pull up the website on my phone and get my spoon ready. Taking a deep breath, I take a bite. The ice cream tastes like infinite knowledge and power. Wisdom comes flooding into my brain and my mind can only think of one five-letter word. I type it into my phone, press enter…
One by one, the letters turn green. I am victorious once again!
I finish off the last remnants of ice cream, avoiding the cactus scoop at all costs, then wash my bowl. My watch reads 7:45, almost time for school, but I am sad to part from my beloved ice cream collection. I pack one scoop of mint ice cream in a thermos before I go. This time, I double-check the label, just in case.

March 6
347 words
My partner was @11007567 and our theme was magic school!

After a long journey riding on a gust of wind, I landed softly on a patch of grass, Amber landing right after. In front of me, dozens of students filed in through the magically parted waterfall into the opening in the side of the mountain. Fancy letters written in rainbow mist spelled out “Magnolia Academy of Magic”. I was so excited that I was pretty sure I would accidentally shapeshift into a butterfly if one more cool thing happened.
Next to me, Amber looked around with just as much awe, but a hint of nervousness showed on her face. She'd told me on the way here that she hadn't known she was magic until a few weeks ago, when she accidentally set her summer camp on fire. I didn't take her hand, since she had a tendency to burst into flames when alarmed, but I led her through the misty school gates.
We were some of the last students in. The waterfall closed behind us, filtering out the light from outside. Ahead of me, glowing crystals illuminated the corridors ahead like mini chandeliers. Sheets of paper floated through the air and distributed themselves to different students. One whizzed into my hand, and I saw that it was a class schedule. We stepped through another door, and our clothes instantly changed into school uniforms, each displaying a different pin. My pin was green with animal silhouettes on it. Amber's pin was orange with a flame on it. Finally, a gold dorm key fell out of the air into my hand.
“What room are you in?” I asked Amber.
“Summit 22,” she replied.
I checked my schedule, and sure enough, my room was the same.
“Yay, we're roommates!” I squealed, turning into a chinchilla and back into a human.
Amber was looking around, eyes wide, the tips of her hair on fire from nervousness. I remembered that she wasn't used to seeing so much magic.
“Don't worry,” I assured her. “This is all new for you, but I grew up around magic. Trust me, school is gonna be great!”

March 10
561 words
Original: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6094648/ by @11007567
Genre: Horror

Emma and her friends Davis and Michael stepped out of the white silver hover train, lugging their heavy bags with them. They looked around at the sandy beach and pristine blue ocean, completely deserted of people. The sky was darkening, and they wondered how they would get to Pondermore, the school that they'd heard so much about.
“Where are all the others?” asked Emma.
“Dunno. On the train?” Michael guessed, but the train was already speeding away, leaving them alone.
A loud, silky-smooth feminine voice with a slight English accent echoed across the beach. “Seventh graders! Come here, children, don't be shy. Seventh graders…”
“That must be us,” Emma said, pulling Michael and Davis towards the voice. When they reached the edge of the platform, they looked up to see a tall woman with coal-black eyes and dark hair pulled back into a complicated bun.
“Hello, children. My name is Ms. Liber, and I will be your English teacher this year.”
Emma raised her hand. “Where are the other seventh graders?” she wondered.
“There aren't any. You're the only ones here, dearie,” Ms. Liber lilted.
Emma raised her hand again. “Why can't we take those zip line gondola thingies into the school?” she asked, eyeing the blue capsules that rode up the hills into a building in the distance.
“Because it's tradition for new seventh graders to take a different entrance, the… special… entrance, to school,” Ms. Liber said. She smiled, flashing pearly white teeth that were abnormally sharp. “Now, has anyone dropped off their bags at the luggage platform?” They all shook their heads, so she guided them to a silver platform that was halfway between the water and the sand. “All you have to do is place your luggage on the platform, and it will be instantly transported to the… school.”
She said the word “school” as if she'd never heard of it before. Emma narrowed her eyes and reluctantly placed her luggage on the platform. Michael and Davis did the same, and the bags disappeared in a flash of blue light.
“Now children, is everyone ready to enter the school?” Ms. Liber asked in an excited voice.
“Yeah,” mumbled the three seventh graders, still wondering where all the other students were.
Ms. Liber extended her long index finger and drew a circle in the air. Emma tensed, but nothing happened. She turned around.
Hurtling right toward them was a wave bigger than all the others. It was 16 feet, no 20 feet tall, and it was getting bigger by the second. Emma stood there for a moment, temporarily paralyzed with shock. Then she turned to Davis and tugged on his t-shirt.
“Uhh, guys?” she muttered. She turned to Ms. Liber. “Are you sure this is safe?” she asked.
“Of course it's safe! This is how all the seventh graders get to school the first time, you know,” Ms. Liber replied, showing those weirdly pointy teeth again.
As the wave approached them, 60 feet tall now, Emma had the feeling that something was wrong. She didn't trust Ms. Liber, knew this wasn't normal and this wasn't safe-
Mrs. Liber just kept smiling, dark eyes looking maniacal.
Emma's friends finally turned around to see the wave right in front of them, ready to crash.
“What the-!” shouted Davis.
That was the last thing Emma heard before the wave engulfed them.

March 14
314 words

Snacking on a slice of cherry pie, I close my eyes and try to remember the digits of pi. “Three point one four one five nine two six five… three… five… nine?”
“Eight, then nine,” corrects my friend Dahlia, glancing at the answer key. She shovels yet another piece of pie into her mouth. I tell you, that girl doesn't have a stomach, she has a bottomless pit.
“It's hopeless!” I cry. “I'm going to fail Ms. Nelly's pi pop quiz.”
“How'd you even know there'd even be a pop quiz?”
“One of the eighth graders told me. Ms. Nelly does one every year, and she gives free pie to the person with the highest score.”
“Well, I know you don't need that free pie,” Dahlia says, gesturing to the completely full table of pie in front of us. We have cherry pie, apple pie, pecan pie, peach pie, berry pie, chicken pot pie, and pizza pie. She picks a crumb from the berry pie before continuing. “Plus, you probably know more digits than anyone in the class. You got eleven. I only know, like, five.”
“We also need to learn how to calculate the area and volume of stuff using pi. So the area of this pie, in terms of pi,” I say, while I estimate the radius of the apple pie with my fingers, “is six squared, which is thirty-six pi. Multiply that by the height, one and a half inches, and you get fifty-four. So the volume of this pie is fifty-four pi cubic inches.”
“Not anymore!” exclaims Dahlia as she steals one of the slices for herself.
“And the volume of your stomach is infinite,” I laugh. “Seriously, how are you not full yet?”
Suddenly, my mom walks into the room and spoils all our fun. “Time for school!”
“Good luck on the pi quiz!” Dahlia exclaims before we leave.

★ Weeklies ★

Weekly 1
2817 words

Part 1: Poetry
483 words

1. Beach at Sunset (haiku)

Palm trees dance around
The water waves to the sand
Before the sun sleeps

2. Purple (acrostic)

Purple shades, dark and bright
Underneath a starlit night
Royalty and rarity
Plums that you can eat
Lavender that smells sweet
Elegance and mystery

3. SWC in a Nutshell (limerick)

There once was a Scratcher who loved to write
They stayed up typing stories in the middle of the night
On their way to school one morning later
They walked right into an alligator
Because their eyes were blurry from the bright computer light

All the Scratch Writing Campers, from advanced to beginner
Logged on to their Scratch accounts right after dinner
Reloading their screens, so excited to see
What the new daily would turn out to be
In the end, the adventure cabin was the winner!

4. The Monkey (sestina)

There once was a curious little monkey
He lived with all his friends up in a tree
His favorite pastime was to snack on a banana
But he didn't like to slip on the peel
Or get hit in the head with a coconut
While swinging in the treetops by his tail

One day, he saw a towering palm tree
And on it was a perfect ripe banana
He picked the fruit and started on the peel
But he got hit in the head with a coconut
And dropped the fruit with his tail
So he became a hungry little monkey

He slid down the tree trunk to get the banana
And he finished taking off the peel
Inside was not a banana, it was a coconut
He threw it away using his tail
So he became an angry little monkey
He stormed back up to his own palm tree

On the way he slipped on a peel
And again got hit with a coconut
He ran so fast he sprained his tail
So he became a grumpy little monkey
And finally reached his palm tree
Growing on the top was a big, yellow banana

He hoped this time he wasn't fooled by a coconut
He climbed up to the treetop with his tail
So he became an excited little monkey
To find the fruit awaiting in the tree
He carefully picked the banana
But was scared to see what was under its peel

He threw the fruit away with his tail
And he became a cautious little monkey
Too scared to eat the fruit from his palm tree
It could have been a delicious, real banana
He'd never know since he didn't take off the peel
Whether it was a banana or a coconut

If you're a monkey and you live in a tree
Pick a fruit with your tail and take off the peel
You'll never know if it'll be a coconut or a banana

5. Bubbles (free verse)

the bubble grows until it floats away
or it may pop
it all depends on how hard you're blowing

I wish they never popped
then maybe
I could float away too

Part 2: Essay
518 words
I wrote an essay on why e-books are better than paper books. Of course, you don't have to agree with me; I just wrote this because I thought it would be a fun topic to write an argument about.

Paper books have existed for a long time, and they have always been a way to read and get information. Now, with technology becoming more and more advanced, there are newer, more convenient ways to read from a phone, tablet, computer, or any electronic device. Instead of going to a library or bookstore, readers can just pull up an online library and choose any e-book they want. E-books are books that can be read digitally. People can access e-books by borrowing them from an online library or buying them. E-books are better than printed books because they make it easier to access more books quickly.
E-books are the best way to read because they are really convenient to use and have many features that make it reading easier. If someone isn't close to a library and doesn't want to buy a book, they can easily go onto their online library and borrow a book from there. Online libraries also make it easier to place holds. In an online library, users can see how long the wait for their book will be. They can also suspend their hold if they aren't ready to read one of the books, and they won't have to worry about it being taken by someone else. Digital books are also a lot easier to keep track of. E-books can't get lost unless the device they're stored on is lost. Online libraries don't have to worry about books being lost or stolen because they automatically get returned when the book is due. This shows that e-books are better than paper books because of how easy they are to read and keep track of. In addition, digital versions of books have more features than printed books. If the screen is to bright, it can be changed to dark mode or night mode. The book's font can be changed to make the words easier on the eyes. The text and pictures can be enlarged, which makes it easier for people to read if they have vision problems. E-books can also include external links to give readers more information about the topic. Online libraries often give quick links related to a book, such as books by the same author, other books in the series, or books in the same genre, which is helpful because it gives readers suggestions on what books they should read. E-books may also have dictionaries so someone can look up a word if they don't know what it means or how to pronounce it. This shows that e-books can be customized to fit the reader's needs and have resources that lead to more information. E-books are the best format of books because they are convenient to read and have features that make it easier to read and understand books.
Clearly, e-books are an easy, efficient, and useful way to read. They are easily accessible and have a lot of helpful features that printed books don't have. Digital books may never completely replace hard copy books, but they are an incredible resource that people can use to read all sorts of books wherever they are.

Part 3: Script
762 words

(ELLIE leans over the edge of a hot air balloon.)
ELLIE
Wow, it's so pretty up here! I feel like I can see the whole world!
(Thunder rumbles, the sky darkens.)
ELLIE
Was that… thunder? I didn't know there'd be a storm today. I'd better land.
(As ELLIE starts to land, there is a flash of lightning and loud thunder. Lightning strikes the balloon. ELLIE falls out.)
ELLIE
Ahhh!!!
(New scene. ELLIE is lying down on a beach. Next to her is a shop that says “Hal's Hoverboards”. ELLIE stands up and walks to the edge of the sand, but instead of water, it's empty air.)
ELLIE
Aah! What is this? Where am I?
(ELLIE sees the shop and goes in. Inside, LAUREN stands behind a counter.)
LAUREN
Welcome to Hal's Hoverboards! My name is Lauren. How can I help you?
ELLIE
Where is this place? I remember flying in a balloon, and then I was falling, and now… I'm here. Do you know how I can get home?
LAUREN
Oh, you're a newbie! I was new here once, too! Basically, we're on an island that's floating in the sky. It's called Cloudtop Island, and you live here now!
(ELLIE sees the collection of hoverboards and gets an idea.)
ELLIE
I need a hoverboard.
LAUREN
Great! What kind of board? We have boards for transportation along that wall, and windsurfing boards over there-
ELLIE
(pointing to a random board) That one.
LAUREN
Ooh, good choice! Twenty miles per hour, fifteen minute battery-
ELLIE
(interrupting) Just fifteen minutes? But that's not enough time to fly home! Who knows how high up this island is?
LAUREN
A hoverboard won't get you to the ground. Not enough battery power. Those long lasting batteries are way too heavy to be supported in the air. We prefer to use shorter, smaller ones.
ELLIE
(frustrated) Well, do you know what can get me off this stinking island?
LAUREN
Um, I don't- I don't think anyone's ever left here.
ELLIE
No one? So you're telling me there's no way to leave this island?
LAUREN
Wait- the boat dock! Right across the island, there's a dock full of flying boats. I heard they're super hard to operate, but you can try, right?
ELLIE
That's great! Thanks-
LAUREN
One thing to keep in mind is that those boats are private property of the storm spirits. But before you get worried, I haven't seen those guys in months. They're so busy sending disastrous summer thunderstorms to the land below that they won't notice one person on their dock. You'll be fine if you just sneak in quickly and leave before anyone notices.
ELLIE
(walking towards the door) Okay, I'll try. Thanks for the help.
LAUREN
I want to go with you! I've never seen someone try to leave the island before. I want to help you make it out safely. Please, can I come?
ELLIE
I could use some help.
LAUREN
Yes!
ELLIE
Home, here I come!
(New scene. ELLIE and LAUREN walk along a boat dock with a sign that says “Private Property”. ELLIE looks at all the boats while LAUREN scouts for storm spirits.)
ELLIE
(pointing at a boat) This one looks good.
(ELLIE touches the boat, but is immediately propelled backwards by a gust of wind. Lightning flashes. ELLIE tries to run from the dock.)
LAUREN
The security system! Now you have to leave the island or the storm spirits will stop at nothing to catch you!
(ELLIE grabs on to a rope from the boat. She is blown away by wind again, but she uses the rope to pull herself back.)
ELLIE
I'm on! Now untie the boat!
(LAUREN unties the knot, and ELLIE sails away. STORM SPIRITS enter.)
STORM SPIRIT #1
No trespassers!
(STORM SPIRITS corner LAUREN on the edge of the dock. ELLIE steers the boat toward LAUREN.)
ELLIE
Hop on!
(STORM SPIRITS fly toward the boat, but they soon get tired and turn back.)
ELLIE
Yes! I can go home! (She looks at LAUREN.) Wait, but you have to go back.
LAUREN
(sadly) No. We can't go back. The storm spirits can't leave the island. If we go back, they'll kill us for stealing.
(sighing) I came here after a plane accident. I somehow ended up on the island, but my family, and everyone else on the plane, is long gone now. Back on Cloudtop Island, I had a job, friends. Down there, I have nothing.
ELLIE
I can help you. And maybe… be your friend?
LAUREN
In that case, set course for the ground!

Part 4: Nonfiction
1054 words

1. My Scratch Story (Autobiography)
434 words

After almost amazing 4 years on Scratch, I've changed a lot since I first started. I've done so many things, like attempting coding, entering contests, developing many unique art styles, and participating in different Scratch camps as a camper and a leader. Here, I will describe how I started Scratch and what my awesome experience on Scratch has been like.
I was first introduced to Scratch when my sister, @BlueUkulele, was on it a lot. When I finally got my own computer, one of the first things I did was make a Scratch account. I joined in August 2018. I chose the username “TwirlStar” because I liked to dance and I considered myself a star. Sometimes I think the username is cheesy now, but I don't think I'll change it or move accounts because this username is kind of special to me. Anyway, my first project was poetically titled “My First Project!” and it consisted of a smiley face that followed the mouse and made a popping sound when the space key was pressed. After that, I made art contest entries, MAP parts, a few games, and a lot of those projects where you remix and add something. In fact, most of my projects were made in 2018.
In 2019, I started focusing more on quality over quantity and working on art. I also was really obsessed with popularity, and I was super bummed when none of the projects I worked hard on made the front page. It took me a while to realize that Scratch isn't about followers or popularity, it's just about having fun and being creative.
In 2020, I decided I wasn't very good at coding and would mostly focus on art. I remade some of my old projects, including my Hogwarts game, and they're some of the best projects I've ever made. I also did some art trades, art contests, and Inktober (when you draw a picture every day for a month).
In 2021, I was first introduced to Scratch camps! Yay! My first Scratch camp was SWC July 2021. I also did camps for art and reading, and I even was a co-leader for Scratch Reading Camp in December.
Now it's 2022, and I'm still doing Scratch camps, but who knows what I'll do in the future? Maybe I'll stick with camps. Maybe I'll accomplish my 11-year-old self's dream and make the front page. Or maybe I'll even quit Scratch (don't worry, I probably won't for a long time)! Whatever happens, I'm so glad I joined Scratch. I made so many memories, and I can't wait to make more.

2. Animal Crossing New Horizons Guide (expository/how to)
620 words

One of my favorite Nintendo games is Animal Crossing New Horizons. It's fun and relaxing to play, the graphics are pretty, and there are a lot of things you can do on your island. This guide will tell you how the game works and how to play.

The Story
The game starts off in an airport, where you are on your way to a new island. Once you arrive in your island's airport, you meet some important characters in the game. Tom Nook, the big tanuki, is basically the boss of everything; his helpers Timmy and Tommy, the little tanukis, give advice and run the store later in the game; and there are two other random villagers living on your island who you can become friends with (or kick out). After talking to Tom Nook doing some tasks, there will be a campfire where you decide to vote for the name of the island. You choose a name, and everyone loves it! You get chosen as the resident representative for making such great decisions, which makes you able to make all the decisions on your island. The next few days or weeks will be about learning the game mechanics and getting all the stores and buildings set up. You will add a general store, a clothing store, a campsite, a museum, and houses for new villagers. You will also learn how to craft and use tools. Once you get everything set up, the goal of the rest of the game is to decorate your island! There is no end to Animal Crossing New Horizons, but the main goal is to get to three stars and have the famous musician KK Slider perform on your island. After you reach three stars, you can decorate your island even more and try to get to five stars.

Currencies
There are two different currencies in the game: Bells and Nook Miles. I used to get confused between them, so this might sort it out. Bells are like regular money. You get them by selling things at the store and spend them on clothes, tools, furniture, and other things. You also use them to pay off house loans. Nook Miles are similar, but instead you get them by completing tasks and reaching goals. For example, you can get them for catching ten fish in a row or finding five fossils. You can spend them on furniture, DIY recipes, hairstyles, bigger storage space, and more!

Villagers
One of the most fun parts of this game is the villagers. There are over 400 villagers, and each one has a different design. There are three different ways to get villagers. The first way is buy a Nook Miles Ticket and go to a mystery island. If your island has a house for sale, there will be a villager on the mystery island, and you can ask it to move to your island. The second way is the campsite. Occasionally, a villager will visit your island and stay in the campsite. It will ask you to play some card games. After a few rounds, it will tell you that if you win the game, it will move to your island. Another way is to use an amiibo, but those cost real money. Villagers are a cool part of the game because, unless you use an amiibo, you never know who you'll get.

I love this game because it feels so relaxed and you can do whatever you want on your island. I just went over the basics, but there are a lot of parts that I didn't talk about. Animal Crossing New Horizons is such a fun game, and I highly recommend it if you have a Nintendo Switch.

Weekly 2
2610 words

Part 1: Warm Up
349 words
Partner: @11007567

11007567: Ash, female, 12 years old, was faced with a challenge.
TwirlStar: She was missing an object of great value, an object that could not be replaced, and that object was her cell phone.
11007567: Her precious cell phone! How could anyone even think of stealing it, even if it was an iPhone 13 Pro. Well, she thought someone stole it, but Ash didn't really know.
TwirlStar: She frantically turned on the nearest electronic device, her iPad, and quickly opened up the Find My Phone app. She looked on the mini digital map, but the phone was nowhere to be seen! Losing hope, she scrolled out and saw the icon for the phone, but it was in…
11007567: …Mars. Great, Ash thought, My phone's on Mars. How was that possible? How was she supposed to get it now?
TwirlStar: She had an idea. “Mom, dad!” she called. “You know how you always wanted to take me to a NASA rocket launch? Well, turns out I actually want to go to one for no suspicious reasons at all. In fact, I heard they're launching a rocket this weekend.”
11007567: After some long questioning by her parents, they finally agreed to take the weekend off to go to Florida. After a long day Friday at school without her phone, which made school even more miserable, she wondered what to bring to Mars. No, better question, how exactly would she find a way on the rocket in the first place?
TwirlStar: Well, she did have her little brother's surprisingly accurate astronaut costume from Halloween. She could pretend to be an astronaut and sneak onto the rocket. As for what to pack, well, she decided to stick with the essentials. That meant packing her iPad, computer, airpods, polaroid camera, Nintendo Switch, at least 2 months' worth of fashionable clothes, and as an afterthought, some food.
11007567: Their family took a 1-way flight to Florida, and a 5 hour drive to the launch pad. It was Saturday evening by the time they arrived at their hotel, and the launch was early Sunday morning. Ash assumed she would sneak out of the house a couple hours before the launch.
TwirlStar: She grabbed her hefty bag, dragged it to the front of her hotel, and yelled for a taxi. Unfortunately, she remembered that people used Uber nowadays, and the Uber app was on her phone, which was currently on Mars, which was 35.8 million miles from Earth. Ash groaned and decided to walk to the NASA headquarters on foot. It was only a mile or so away, anyway. When she got there…
11007567: …the place was deserted. So she thought. She knew there probably were security cameras everywhere as she sneaked into the NASA building, where she assumed the astronauts were, and where the entrance to the rocket was.
TwirlStar: She walked around the enormous building, and she found a door leading outside to a place where a huge spaceship was parked. A bunch of spectators were crowded around the gates that closed the area off. When she walked out the door in her astronaut costume, everyone started cheering.
11007567: She was grateful that her astronaut costume had a helmet so no one could see her face as she tried to act cool and walk into the spaceship. She swiftly hopped into the capsule, and realized that she knew nothing about how to fly a spaceship. There was more cheering, and Ash assumed that the real astronauts were coming. She heard them come closer until they were right outside, and then…
TwirlStar: …she heard someone else hop into the spaceship. Ash quickly went through a door and hid, but the person who just came on also came through the door. That was when Ash realized that the person was also short, like another kid sneaking onto the spaceship.
11007567: “Hey,” the kid said. “I was expecting to see you here!” Ash was confused. Apparently, the kid was some kid obsessed with space, and he wanted one of the first people on Mars to be a kid. So, he took Ash's phone and altered the location to seem like it was on Mars. “But,” the kid continued. “I thought what I did was really mean, so I decided to give you phone back, and that I'd be the first kid on Mars!” He handed Ash her worshipped iPhone 13. “Good luck,” Ash said, and then left.

Part 2: Character
526 words

Name: Olive Brooks
Age: 14
Species: Human

Personality and Traits: Olive is an imaginative teen who likes doing anything creative. She likes to write, doodle, and play music. She is a great problem solver who can come up with creative solutions to anything. She likes to write to get all her feelings and ideas sorted out in the form of characters and stories. However, she never shares her writing with anyone except her really close friends. When she's not writing, she is playing her flute or composing songs. She does well in school but doesn't really like it. Her favorite subject is English. She thinks school and life are kind of bland, which is why she loves to read science fiction and fantasy to escape from the real world. She has a gigantic, ever-growing pile of books that she plans to read. Olive is a bit shy and reserved, so it's hard to get her talking. But if you get her started, she could go on for hours. At first glance, she seems quiet and unfriendly, which makes it hard for her to make friends. Once people get to know her, they learn that she is really sweet and empathetic. She's always there to listen to her friends if they're having a bad day, and she has good advice.

Wants, Hopes, and Strengths: The one thing Olive really wants is to be able to make friends more easily and be able to speak up for herself. She's very introverted, and it's hard for her ideas to be heard. In school, no one really pays attention to her or listens to her. She tries to help herself get over her fear by talking to someone she doesn't know every day. In doing this, she hopes that she'll meet a nice person with similar interests to her and possibly become friends. One of her smaller goals is that she wants to try some art, improve her drawing skills, and maybe find an art style she likes. Olive's strengths are that she is a great problem-solver and creative thinker. She is great at math, science, and especially writing, which gets her good grades in school. Whether she's writing a school essay, fanfiction, or her own original story, the few people she shows her work to would agree that Olive's an amazing author. She is a talented musician and is attempting to compose some songs on her flute. She's a good listener and an empathetic person, and she always helps her friends with their problems. She also likes animals and nature.

Dislikes and Fears: Olive doesn't like making decisions because she always gets scared that she'll change her mind. Even if it's a simple choice, like what she wants for dinner, she'll think all the possibilities through and carefully make a decision. She also doesn't like PE or exercise in general because she's not very athletic. Olive is a bit shy, and it's hard for her to speak her mind. This makes her go along with what people say even if she doesn't want to. She doesn't like talking to people she doesn't know, and it's hard for her to make new friends. She's really awkward in social situations. She likes working alone and despises group projects.

Part 3: Setting
419 words

The story takes place in a ship called the Explorer, a technologically advanced spacecraft built to sustain a small group of people on long space voyages. It has gravity and oxygen options that can be turned on and off. Everything on the ship is either locked in storage or nailed to the floor, just in case the artificial gravity feature malfunctions. It is also very important for the crew to keep the ship clean, so if the gravity turns off, the crumbs and dust won't float up and clog the vents. There are many emergency oxygen masks stored in easily accessible locations in case the oxygen feature turns off.
The exterior of the Explorer is painted white with blue and purple accents. It's a large ship, which gives it a lot of space inside, but makes it less aerodynamic and harder to avoid obstacles. Inside the ship, it has three main parts: a living quarters, a cockpit, and a research room.
The living quarters is a small collection of rooms for the crew to eat, sleep, and rest. The benefit of a small area is that it makes room for machines, storage, and more important spaces. This room has bunk beds, desks, restrooms, and even a mini kitchen. It's more functional than comfortable, but it still is a nice place for astronauts to relax when they're not doing jobs.
The cockpit has devices that help the pilot fly the ship and navigate through space. There are the basic technologies, like a steering wheel and a map of space, but there are also unique gadgets, like a computer that predicts how much longer the crew can survive before refilling their supplies. Some of the gadgets are experimental and are constantly breaking down. The pilot has to be a skilled programmer in order to keep the ship functioning properly.
In the research room, the astronauts on the ship conduct experiments and send the data back to Earth. Some of the experiments include building robots, modifying space suits, and growing a garden for a sustainable food source. A computer can send test data and images of other planets to scientists on Earth. The research room also stores all the tools needed to fix the spacecraft.
All over the ship, there are storage containers for lots of supplies, mainly food. There is enough food and water for a crew of four or five to survive a few months in space, but if they run out, they can eat the food from the garden.

Part 4: Premise
171 words

The main character walks around, carrying their blue bag with all their favorite supplies in it. They're going somewhere very important, and at this rate, they might be late. The path to the important place is very crowded, so the main character doesn't notice the shadowy figure sneaking up on the until it's too late. Suddenly, their precious bag is snatched right out of their hands. The main character whirls around, shouting at the thief, but whoever stole the bag has disappeared into the crowd, long gone. Should they go looking for the bag, or should they keep going so they aren't late to the important event? Just when the main character is about to give up and keep walking, they see a glint of blue, the exact same shade as their bag. They run towards it, going against the flow of traffic, pushing past people so they can get to their bag. They know that they'll probably be late to the important event, but they have to catch the thief.

Part 5: Story
1145 words
Character || Setting || Premise

One foggy afternoon, Daphne flew over the flowery meadow on her way to her parents' house for their yearly Spring celebration. She carried a tray of lavender scones, her own original recipe, but the icing didn't look right, sort of like it was smushed. She stared at them, trying to figure out what the problem was. As she poked and pushed at the icing with her fingertip to fix it, she saw a bright flash coming from up ahead. Just then, a loud screech from the same direction rang in her ears. What had made such a horrid noise. Daphne finally glanced up from the scones, squinting into the cloudy distance. Slowly, carefully, she slid the lid back on the scones and fluttered back a few paces. Then she heard another screech, this time from behind her. Daphne immediately started flying forward, faster and faster, zigzagging between trees, until she reached her parents' house made of a cookie jar. Not bothering to knock, she pulled out the key from its usual place under the doormat and jammed it in the lock as fast as she could. Once inside, she slammed the door behind her. No one was there.
“Mom? Dad?” Daphne called. “Chrys? Snap?”
Daphne was starting to wonder if she'd come on the wrong day and the Spring celebration was next week when she felt something on her shoulder. Shocked, she dropped her tray of scones. Whirling around, she looked up with a gasp. A ginormous hand was on her shoulder, reaching in from outside the house. The creature attached to it was tall and thin, with a mop of greasy brown hair on top of its head- a human, by the looks of it.
"Hello, fairy,“ the human growled. ”Druid Grove could use some extra farmers.“
”I am not a farmer!“ Daphne yelled. ”I'm a warrior, and you'd better be grateful that I don't have my sword because I'd cut you to pieces!“
But the human didn't listen. He just picked Daphne up by the waist and shoved her into a glass jar with little holes poked into the top. Daphne was scared, but she was even more insulted by being treated like an insect. The human put the jar into a bag, then he started stomping away.
Inside the bag, Daphne saw other jars with familiar faces. Her family!
”Guys, I can get us out of here,“ she said. As the human traveled, rattling the fairies with his bumpy footsteps, Daphne tried all the ways she could think of to get out of the jar. She tried pounding at the lid, then she tried to break the glass, then she tried to squeeze herself through the holes on top. Nothing worked. She tried using plant magic, but she was too far away from any plants to get them to grow.
Things were looking hopeless, but Daphne couldn't give up. She had to save herself and her family. She was formulating a new escape plan when she saw a bright orange glow coming from outside the bag. Looking up through the opening in the bag, she saw dark treetops, and then she saw a tall flame. She instantly recognized this place from the old nursery rhyme that all young fairies learned. It spoke of a dangerous community of humans, surrounded by a barrier of fire, surrounded by a dark forest. This community had no known name, but the fairies called it the ”place you wouldn't want to go.“
When the human approached the wall of fire, the flames parted and he went inside. This was it. Daphne new there was no escape once the human went through the barrier and it closed. She reached out with all her concentration, trying to talk to the trees. This time, they responded, extending their branches and snagging the bag off the human's shoulder. Daphne gasped- it worked! Then, she angled the branch down, and the bag slid off of it and landed hard on the ground. The fairies' jars, smashing against the hard dirt and each other, shattered.
”Hey!“ the human shouted. ”Fairies, come back here!“
”Mom, dad, Chrys, Snap, come on!“ Daphne called. ”Before the barrier closes!“
Daphne's parents and sisters were slowly getting up, having not prepared for what had just happened. She pulled them to their feet and dragged them towards the fire barrier, but the flames were already closing.
”Nowhere to run, little fairies,“ the human sneered, trying to snatch at them with his greasy hands.
The family did the only thing they could and fled into the treetops. Safely on a branch, Daphne surveyed her surroundings: the fire wall blocking their escape, the human trying to find a way up the tree to capture them, and her family, nursing their injuries and looking around in shock. Daphne had always wanted an adventure, but not like this! Not when her family was in danger and she had no plan and no way to escape. She took a deep breath and tried to come up with a new plan.
”Maybe we could try to fly over the barrier?“
”My wing is broken!“ her sister Snap snapped. ”If you had just told us before you dropped us from a tree, Chrys wouldn't have a broken leg, my wing wouldn't be broken, and-“
”Well sorry, I didn't want to alert the human!“ Daphne retorted. ”Now let me go see how high this barrier is.“
She launched into the air and flew up, up, up, but all she saw was endless fire. Just then, she heard a familiar chirp. She looked around and saw a goldfinch sitting on a branch.
”Sunburst? How did you get in here? Did you follow that mean old human though the barrier?"
Chirp.
“Come down! I need your help.”
Daphne led her goldfinch down to where her family was resting. When her mom saw the bird, she nearly threw a fit, but Daphne reassured her that Sunburst was friendly. After some convincing of both Snap and Sunburst, her sister agreed to ride him. Before they left, Daphne grew patches of poison oak around the forest, so that they might surprise the human, wherever he was. Then, they launched up. They flew for seconds, minutes, maybe hours, but the top of the barrier did, in fact, exist, and they went right over it. Then they flew back to their parents' house, and Sunburst left after some belly rubs.
Inside, Daphne was met with the greatest problem of all.
“My scones!” she cried, seeing them smashed on the floor where she left them. “I'll make new ones. I promise.”
So they had their regular old Spring celebration, and Daphne went over the story of their adventure in drastic detail. “The Place You Wouldn't Want to Go” was her new favorite nursery rhyme. The rest of her family never sang that particular song again.

★ Adventure Cabin Activities ★

117 words

Starry had always loved being a princess. She knew that, someday, she would become the queen, so she prepared for the role every day. She learned how to dress and behave, how to enforce laws, and how to interact with neighboring kingdoms. She'd read every book available to her about the world, inside her kingdom and outside. But whenever she asked her father, the king, if she could see the world instead of just reading about it, he always said that she could do it soon. Eventually, Starry became tired of waiting for soon. She wanted to see the world now. So one night, she packed her bags and left the castle, hoping to find an adventure.

my writing thread

✭dailys✭

March 2 -

I've witnessed a lot in my life.

Phone calls. Happy birthday messages, girls enthusiastically sharing gossip, cringey calls between lovers.

Texts. Quick, sweet messages sent to brighten up someone's day, the occasional text from someone's boss, and again, cringey messages exchanged between lovers (I love you to the moon and back, I will love you forever! <3).

Apps. Hours and hours of Candy Crush, time wasted on *short video sharing site*, an endless supply of selfies taken on a mountain on *common photo social site*.

The above examples were some of the more positive examples of what I've seen in my lifetime. But it's not all good. I've witnessed harsh breakups, news of a lost loved one, arguments, and people feeling broken because no one likes their *common photo social site* posts.

I've been used by the same family for years. First, I was Melissa's. She told me that I was stupid and that I had broken her heart. But she wasn't talking to me, she was talking to Matt, her first boyfriend. Melissa went through several boyfriends, but by her sixth one, she decided boys were stupid jerks. When she opened the email from Harvard, I was so excited. She's now a marine biologist in Florida.

When Melissa went off to Harvard, I got handed down to her sister Joanne. Joanne was a bit more spunky and a little less stubborn than Melissa. Unlike her older sister, Joanne never had a boyfriend until college, however, she did have a lot of guy friends. One day, she saw that she had a text message from one of her guy friends, Raymond. The text was actually from Raymond's mom. Apparently he had a stroke. She never heard from him again. After that, Joanne became a lot more quiet and didn't text or call anyone very often. But college was like a new awakening for her, and she met the love of her life there. She married him, and they've been married for three years now.

At this point, I'd been cracked several times, and my screen had to be replaced. However, the Maxwell family didn't like spending money, so I got passed down again to the youngest Maxwell: Tristan.

Tristan's nineteen, and he's been through some ups and downs. After Joanne went to college, their grandmother passed away. Though Melissa and Joanne were never close with her, Tristan had spent most of his time with Grandmother since he was a baby. When she died, Tristan talked to his friends more than ever. He called them every day, hung out with them every day after school, and made sure to text them happy birthday every year. Tristan was quite dependent as a high schooler, and got a girlfriend very quickly. After two years with his first girlfriend Malerie, she drifted away, which made him desperate. He called her every single day until finally one day she told Tristan that it was over. Tristan, heartbroken, plunged into a deep pit of despair for two years. Who to pull him out but another girl? He met the true love of his life, Alexa.

The Maxwell's don't need me anymore. Tristan moved out and purchased a new phone.

But I won't be lonely.

I have years and years worth of memories.

march 3

Many, many years ago, there were three main groups of creatures of high political standing. Of course, there were more creatures than just the three, but these three groups were the ones who held the highest social status.

These three groups were as follows: The Thunder Clan, the Fairies, and the strange beings from another planet— the Aliens.

Leading these groups were Barnabas, chief of the Thunder Clan, Forsythia Leaf, leader of the Fairies of the North, and two Aliens, Xo and Xe. As these three groups were very different, they avoided each other as much as possible, except for when it was necessary, to keep peace through the nations.

The Thunder Clan was quite a social bunch, and Barnabas, the leader of the clan, wasn't a fan of the tension between the groups. “For our nations to live in harmony, it's necessary to live peacefully with each other,” Barnabas told his companion, on the way to an international conference.

“I uh-gree!” replied the companion heartily. “And that's why you're bringing the ice cream?”

“Yup!” Barnabas answered heartily. “It's a big ice cream party. It's be so… so… FUN!”

“That's a first for an international conference,” his companion chuckled.

Soon they arrived at Congress, and the Forsythia Leaf's carriage pulled up at the same time. The carriage was very ornate, with intricate gold leaves and flowers carved all around it. Forsythia stepped out, and Barnabas's companion's eyes widened. It was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. She had long, yellow hair flowing down from her perfectly shaped head. She wore the most beautiful blue dress with flowers embroidered around the skirt. Her wings were pure white, with sparkly, transparent ends that glittered in the sunlight.

Barnabas nodded at her politely and they headed into congress together, greeted by aliens of all different colors, shapes, and sizes. The conference room was not too large, but rather the perfect size for every group leader and an assistant.

“Did you bring it?” Barnabas asked Forsythia, who pulled a carton of ice cream from a cooler. Barnabas looked to Xo and Xe. “Do you have yours?


”Yes,“ Xo answered in a grovely, monotone voice, gesturing towards the stacks of ice cream cartons on the wall.

Xe stared at Barnabas. She would never get used to his appearance. He has long, curly red hair and a beard and mustache that couldn't be beaten by the shaggiest dog. Now, we would call him a Viking, but back then, Aliens considered the Thunder Clan to be barbarians.

”Well then,“ Barnabas said, clasping his hands together. ”Let's get started, shall we?“ He opened his carton of ice cream, labeled ”Thunderstorm“, and dipped it into three bowls and handed two to Xe and Xo, and then to Forsythia.

Xe grimaced and made a disgusted face, but she politely took a spoon and took a bite.

It tasted like…

Burned sugar. Carmel, but burned, and… rain.

Did she like it?

”I… I don't… I've never tasted anything like this before,“ she mumbled. Her face broke out into a smile. ”Is this what your country is like?“

”Yes, it is straight from the heart of my country.“

”It is a taste I will never forget,“ Xe said. She looked over at Xo and Forsythia, who both had the same look on their faces.

Xo took a carton of ice cream from the stack by the wall. It was in a blue container, and labeled ”UFO.“

Forsythia slowly took a bite. The ice cream was gray, with brown bits in it.

Metal. Oil. Space. That was the taste she got. The taste was awful. An image popped in her head, and suddenly she was in Outer Space, and could see all the beautiful, bright, stars, filling up the galaxy.

”It's amazing,“ she said, gesturing for her assistant to try it.

”Now, you will try mine,“ Forsythia smiled, putting her ”Flower“ ice cream into two bowls.

Barnabas took a huge bite of the pink ice cream, all he could smell was flowers in a meadow on a sunny day. He couldn't just smell it, he could see it.

And it was beautiful, and he didn't want to leave.

”It's— it's— “ a tear fell from his eye. ”It's amazing. Can I take the carton?"

And ever since then, the three groups have understood each other more, and were no longer afraid or disgusted by each other.

march 8
This is a thing I was doing… this is the unfinished part

Dear Penelope,

It is my pleasure to inform you that you have been accepted into the Confusion Matrix Boarding School for Blonde Potential Geniuses. After looking over your records carefully, we have decided you would be perfect for this school.

The Confusion Matrix Boarding School for Blonde Potential Geniuses serves three purposes: To educate, to fix procrastination, and to ensure that you become a genius. Therefore, you will follow a strict schedule that will ensure productivity.

This schedule will include all your regular subjects, and you will be required to choose one out of four electives. The electives we have available are Music, Quantum Physics, Time Travel, and Oral Literature.

YOUR SCHEDULE
7:00 AM - Breakfast

other part of daily
original part written by @astro-liiqht
I crouched even lower as I sheltered myself from the cacophony of noises from the school canteen. Around me, everyone was chatting merrily and having fun. I, however, was the odd one out. Why was I so different from the rest?

I'm Haley. Haley Evans. Even though I'm top of the class, I feel like a stranger to everyone. Invisible. Locked up in a prison cell with no bars, but the bars were myself. I stood up and headed to the washroom. Thankfully, no one was around. I heaved a soft sigh and quietly pulled down my black hoodie. Gleaming silver eyes stared back at me in the mirror, reflecting a tall, slender girl with silky brown hair. But there was more to the sad picture. My eyes have been trained, trained to see the darkness behind this beautiful, perfect girl. Imperfections. So many imperfections.

“You have no friends.”

“Nobody wants you.”

I could hear myself, repeating to me over and over again, the same few phrases.

“Why do you study so hard?”

“What's wrong with you? Crazy!”

No one could help me. Inside, I saw a trapped little girl. Hidden behind the seemingly flawless picture of Haley Evans. She was stuck.

I pulled the hood back over my head and walked out into the hallway. There were many noises, students chattering, lockers slamming shut, teachers arguing. But I had been trained to hear just one noise. The sound of one girl.

“We'll go tomorrow,” I heard her say. Her voice was so much clearer than everyone else's— I was focused on her voice, and her voice only.

It was Lisa Thompson. I was in all her classes, sat at her table at lunch, and sometimes even went to study with her at her house. She hated me, and it hurt to be around her.

But it didn't matter. I did what I had to do.

Later that night, I went back to the warehouse where I was sleeping. Lily was there waiting for me. She was much older than me, well into her twenties, and her hair was tightly braided around her head. She was playing the role of my mother, but I knew it wasn't true.

I told her what Lisa had said. “We need to report back to the Red Room so they can give us a plan of action,” she told me, handing me the phone.

Deep, deep inside, I knew it wasn't right. No matter how much I didn't like Lisa, I didn't hate her. I didn't think she deserved to be targeted. I wouldn't want her to have the same life that I did.

But the mantras and rules that had been branded inside me from a young age won over every time.

“This is Melissa Fedorov. I have classified information to report to Dreyk-”

“Not over the phone,” the voice on the other end of the line snapped. “What is the information?”

I heard paper ripping and fingers tapping. “Thompson plans on going to the Green Theater tomorrow at 3pm. I think it would be a good time.”

“I will report to our team leader. I will notify you if he approves.”

I put the phone back on the hook.

Lily brought out a bowl of popcorn and turned on the TV. We only had one DVD: an old Disney movie, Beauty and the Beast. We had watched it almost every night since relocating to Los Angeles. I knew ever line by heart and every time we watched it I just wished I could have a life like hers. I wish I could live with my father, in a simple little town, reading books and doing laundry all day. I wish I could go to a nice big castle and meet a handsome prince.

But it wouldn't happen.

This was my life forever, because I'm a Black Widow.

✭weeklys✭

✭writing competition✭

✭anything else✭

*this is where my writing will go*

lili's format :DD

word count 219/7000 words

dailies[

march 1st: hi, i’m lilian and my pronouns are she / her. i love cats, little mix and rugby and of course writing! i’m very happy to be here, and i’m in the fairy tales cabin :)

march 2nd : Frozen in the depths of the city, I stood watching the world pass by. My metallic arms itches my movement ; my heart sunk when i realised I was still stuck. People surrounded me : tourists, locals ,photgraphers. But still, I had to stay here, with the bustle of the city, in my grinning pose. Bearing the weight of the children of my back was hard, but I knew they just enjoyed climbing into the this lump of metal. That’s what I am now. Stuck in time. Stuck in the future, stuck in the past. I dreamt back to how things used to be; when I could dance along the pavements and play in the snow. When I could lie on the sofa and go to the park. Surveying the landscape, little things stuck out to me. The girl sitting on the bench with the curly hair who is always on the phone to someone. The man that stops off at the bakery every Monday and Thursday. As the rain bounces off my hard metal shell, i think about how it used to roll down my sleek, streamlined body. I was as free as a bird, but now….well I have to content myself with watching other people live their lives from inside my stiff grey suit. When night falls, I am left here all alone with only the street lights for company. A solitary silence always fills the air and darkness envelopes me. But I must not dwell on the past, I must move forward to my future, in my new form, hoping that one day the same spell that caused me to be like this will mircacously undo. I am a statue, frozen in time, stuck to my spot for all of eternity, until some can finally set me free.
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extra writing pieces

– Jpuff's Writing Thread || SWC March 2022 –



Dailies

–

March 1: (too busy for completion)
March 2: Write from the perspective of an inanimate object
–
There’s a poem in the home,
laying on the desk,
pencil like a feather to the side,
lead like ink to the quill,
dust settled,
sunbeam,
aging the faded paper as my slowing hands,
creaking with wooden despair,
hit noon with the sound of years of anguish,
and I keep ticking,
but the poem ends.

There’s a poem in my heart,
no, a billion unspeakable poems,
and the singular poem that makes up my tired soul,
always but never alone,
divided but united,
the ratio of infinitesimal to infinite amount of stories! and songs! and poems! all exploding in billions of shades of sunlight, identifying each other to illimitable possibilities and probabilities, the mirage of dreamlike images showing prosperity and failure, lining the webs of my being and expanding, developing boundlessly as years and years go by and the hope and despair of this endless infinity carries itself forward.
My hands tick endlessly on.

There’s a poem in the empty town,
A small cosmos spreads its petals in an abandoned garden,
blooming for the first time.
A thousand poems like this one have been written,
millions of poems about petals spreading,
billions about clocks, and flowers;
but this poem is still unique.
In this whole town,
this whole planet,
this whole universe,
there is no poem exactly like this one.
I tick endlessly no more.

I wish to speak a million words but am unable to communicate. Sentient thought has left me at this point, but I am lonely. It has been thousands of years and I become increasingly more sorrowful.

Love. Happiness. Anger. Shock. Empathy. Emotion. What are those?
It must be nice to be human. It must be nice to have a heart.

Throughout the infinite cosmos, galaxies and stars and universes,
There are a thousand poems like this one.

March 3: Write using someone else's three ice cream flavors as inspiration
Flavors: Winter, light, summer

Tendrils of ice crept across her arms and she shivered as the freezing wind blew particles of snow into her light-colored hair. She closed her eyes and buried deeper into her thin jacket, looking out despairingly into the storm that raged outside the cave, hoping beyond hope that it would soon end and that she could go home.
It didn’t end. If anything, the wind seemed to scream louder than ever, and her body began to lose feeling. Snow drifts were beginning to pile up at the entrance to the cave. Soon, she knew, her shelter would turn to a prison and become inescapable. But the alternative, venturing out into the storm, sounded much, much less appealing.
Hours went by, and eventually, she began to find it difficult to breathe. Her breath came in ragged gasps as she shut her eyes, which were so heavy with tiredness and cold that she found her consciousness begin to fade.
She was beyond thought at this point. She couldn’t even consider what might happen to her next. All that she knew was that she wanted this numbness to disappear.
And suddenly, warmth enveloped her.
Despite her drowsiness, her eyes cracked open. Light spilled into them, and she narrowed her eyes, bringing her hand to her forehead, trying to see what could’ve caused this sudden change.
As her eyes adjusted, she became accustomed to her surroundings.
She was still in the cave, but now someone was standing at the head of it. Behind them, the wind was still howling away, and the blizzard continued.
“Hello,” the stranger said, in a slightly confused voice as he walked towards her. “Are you alright? It’s getting dark. You ought to head back home.”
Her eyes widened as she looked at him. Despite the cold, this person was wearing a white pair of shorts and a pale green t-shirt, along with a forest green cap and a pair of brown sandals. But it wasn’t his clothes, nor his appearance that startled her; it was the warmth and light radiating off him.
Beams of sunlight seemed to encircle him. It was as if he was a god.
“I can walk you home if you’d like,” he told her, taking a step closer and reaching out. “Here, take my hand.”
She gazed up at him, at the warmth and the light and the comfort, and then behind him, to the howling snowstorm.
She relaxed. She took his hand.

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Weeklies

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Week One:

Poem 1- War (Haiku)
why don’t we realize,
that the only point to life,
is to be happy?

Poem 2- Death (Acrostic)

Dying isn’t when the leaves stop falling,
ending autumn’s warm hand
and bringing the cold grip of winter.
Truthfully, it cannot be explained;
hastefully, it comes and makes its departure.

Poem 3- Soar (Limerick)

There once was an eagle up high,
who flew all the way to the sky,
and he said with a grin,
“I’m going to win!”
For he was, in fact, racing a fly.

Poem 4- Was it Destiny? (Sestina)

When the world started, there was no fire,
just an ember, the kind of spark that warms your hands in secret
without drawing attention to itself.
Light glistened and flickered on dewdrops,
refractions of life, but nothing more,
as fragile as a stillborn taking a shuddering breath.

When the world started, it was calm,
like an ocean on a foggy day,
flecks of ash drifting from the sky like rain,
piling like snow, clouds gathered,
as it took its first step forward,
and spoke its first word.

When the world started, it was touched by a hand,
fingers gripping at its surface and scratching the dirt
away
from its skin
mutilating the calm
spreading the ash.

When the world started, we couldn’t understand
just how hard it was
to live.
They sat on their golden thrones,
they called out,
and the world was no longer a blessing.

When the world started, nothing made sense anymore,
dark shifts folded
as reality unfolded
and everyone was afraid
and we were finally united
in fear.

When Mother came back to check on us,
after so long,
she didn’t understand.
What changed us?
Who did this to us?
Where did we go wrong?

When the world ended,
it was only then that we realized.
It hadn’t even started yet.

Poem 5- Freeform

I always liked writing from a perspective I don’t relate to.
Putting myself in someone else’s shoes, if only for a few minutes, made me feel like someone else.
It’s hard to not become the personality you put down on paper.
I like to draw,
and I used to have a habit of making the same expressions my characters were making as I drew them.
I felt like who I was drawing.
My mind isn’t so vivid now.
I’m better at art, but though I can draw the scenes I picture in my head, I never feel like a part of them.
Maybe it’s because I can draw what I see in my mind.
There’s nothing left to imagine.
I don’t think it’s your imagination that disappears when you get older, as everyone says. I think it’s your willingness to accept imagination. Even if you aren’t conscious of it, you start to push it away.
That is art. The willingness to accept imagination, to take something and transform it into a piece of you.

Essay- Letter to President Jackson
(I hope this doesn’t count as political- it did happen a few hundred years ago-)

Dear President Jackson,

I have lately heard much about the act you are planning to put in place; the Indian Removal Act. I understand that this country is currently facing a few barriers, and perhaps moving the Native American population would help with the development of American civilization. However, I believe that this act is unfair and cruel to the Native Americans, even more so since there is no legal reason to move them.
You believe that moving would be beneficial to the Native Americans. You have stated that if the Native Americans were to move to the West, they could become a more civilized community. You stated in your message to Congress on December 6, 1830, that moving the Native Americans to the West would, “… perhaps cause them gradually, under the protection of the Government and through the influence of good counsels, to cast off their savage habits and become an interesting, civilized, and Christian community” (document 2). However, this is not accurate thinking. If the Native Americans were to move, they wouldn’t fit in amongst their new neighbors, who would practice different customs and speak different languages than them. As the Cherokee council stated in their address to the United States in July of 1830, “All our neighbors, in case of our removal, though crowded into our near vicinity, would speak a language totally different from ours, and practice different customs…” (document 6). Not only do they not want to move, but they also wouldn’t fit in among their new neighbors. They are also opposed to the idea of moving since they’ve been living in their current homes for hundreds of years. “We wish to remain on the land of our fathers… we see nothing but ruin before us” (document 6). This is proof that moving would not be the right idea for the Native Americans, and it can be assumed that they wouldn’t have very easy or satisfactory lives after leaving their current homes. That is why moving would not be beneficial to the Native Americans.
That statement leads me to my next point. Even though you believe that the Native Americans are savages who will quickly turn to violence, that doesn’t change the fact that they have done everything they could have done to follow the rules of the United States. They respect our government as much as you or I do. In the letter sent to you by Cave Johnson, he states “…Experience has clearly demonstrated that, in the contact between civilized and savage (Native American) man, the savage readily yields to all the vices of man (violence, drunkenness, greediness)” (document 5). This shows what many politicians believe; that driving the Native Americans out is a good thing, because they never were and never will be civilized. However, the Native Americans have done everything they can to be a civilized race in America’s eyes. In Ralph Waldo Emerson’s words, “We have witnessed with sympathy the painful labors of these Native Americans have worked to redeem their race from the doom of eternal inferiority….they have worked hard to become more civil and adopt the customs of the Caucasian race… Would we truly ask those who were there before us to move hundreds of miles without any legal cause simply because we want their lands?” (document 4). This is evidence of the fact that it’s immoral to tell the Native Americans to move away when they’ve done nothing wrong. And secondly, in the Cherokee Nation vs. Georgia supreme court case, the ruling stated “They acknowledge themselves, in their treaties, to be under the protection of the United States” (document 3). The Native Americans have gone so far as to allow the United States to control various parts of their lives, despite that they were here first in the country to begin with. It shows that even though the Native Americans are doing everything they can to be accepted in this country, you are neglecting that in your greed for land.
Finally, the last point I wish to remind you of is that there is no legal reason as to why the Native Americans should have to move. In fact, they even look up to our government and respect them. You mentioned in your message to Congress, “It will place a dense and civilized population in large tracts of country now occupied by a few savage hunters…" (document 2). You seem to believe that the land currently owned by the Native Americans is yours to give out and to start civilization on; however, you are sorely mistaken. In the previously mentioned Supreme Court case, the ruling stated “The several Indian nations as distinct political communities, having territorial boundaries, within which their authority is exclusive, and having a right to all the lands within those boundaries, which is not only acknowledged, but guaranteed by the United States” (document 3). This shows that the United States government has acknowledged the Native Americans, as well as their territorial boundaries and rights. It’s unfair that they should be driven out when they have the guaranteed right to their land. Another important statement in the court case’s ruling was this; “They look to our government for protection: rely upon its kindness and its power; appeal to it for relief to their wants; and address the president as their great father” (document 3). This shows that not only are the Native Americans willing to comply with the United State’s laws, they’re also respectful of the government and the president.
You believe that moving could benefit the Native Americans; however, they have been adamant in the fact that moving to a completely different location will cause them to lose everything they’ve been gaining for hundreds of years. You think that since all Native Americans are savages, driving them out is for the benefit of the country, but you refuse to acknowledge how hard they have worked to become a more civilized community. And finally, you wish for what is currently the Native Americans’ territory to be replaced with the people you believe should live there, but the United States has already agreed that the land in those areas belongs to the Native Americans. All in all, I believe that what I have written here today is sufficient evidence to prove that the Indian Removal Act is unfair, morally wrong, and legally wrong. I can only hope that my words hold enough weight for you to rethink your current plan of action, and that in the future, you will strive to do the right thing.

Script-


LENG, POLARIS, and VESPER are together in a hospital room. VESPER is in the bed, POLARIS is in a chair, and LENG is standing.

LENG: I think I might have an idea of who did it. And if I’m right, I’m in danger, too. The more people I can get on my side, the less the chance of my death becomes.
VESPER sits up, suddenly intent.
VESPER: Him?
LENG: Yes. Him.
VESPER turns to POLARIS.
VESPER: I trust him.
POLARIS: Alright, that settles it,
He shakes LENG’s hand.
POLARIS: If there’s anything I can trust, Leng, it’s your instincts. And I don’t think you’d lie unless you had something to get out of it, which I don’t think you do in this situation.”
LENG: Wrong; I don’t lie because I have to. I lie because it’s fun.
POLARIS wrenches his hand away.
LENG: That wasn’t a lie though! I don’t lie when it comes to promises. I swear.
POLARIS: Well now how am I supposed to believe y-
VESPER: He’s not lying. I… witnessed something last night, Polaris. I had a feeling something was wrong, and this only confirms it. So I trust him. But Leng, if you know something, shouldn’t you go to the police?
LENG: If I’m correct, this guy would have no trouble escaping the entire police force. I hate to brag, but he’s kind of insanely deceptive and smart, and I’m probably the only guy in the city that can come close to his level.
VESPER, quietly: Okay. But Leng, Polaris, please don't push yourself too far for my sake? I promise it’s okay.
LENG: I wasn’t doing it for you in the first place, You just happened to be a witness.
POLARIS: I’ll do what it takes.
VESPER looks down.
LENG: I’m gonna leave for now. I’ll be back when I have some more info. Don’t worry Vesper, I won’t leave you in the dark. See you.
VESPER, whispering: Bye Leng.
POLARIS: Look, I know you promised you’re genuine, but I don’t know you at all yet. I’ll trust you for now, but you’d better not betray us. I’m only agreeing to ally with you because I know how much Miley liked you. So-
LENG looks at him coldly.
LENG: Don’t say that name in front of me.
He closes the door.


LENG has exited the hospital, and is sitting on a curb when someone taps his shoulder. He flinches and turns around.
He sees a girl. She is holding out a cinnamon roll towards him.
LENG: Is that for me?
He takes it from her.
LENG: Thanks. How’d you know I was hungry?
GIRL: I’ve seen your picture in the police files. Cause my dad’s… a cop. You’re always reported for digging through trash cans, so… I just assumed you could use something to eat.
LENG: Here.
He pats the ground beside him. The girl tentatively sits down.
LENG: Thanks again. I can’t offer you anything in return, though, unless knowing you’ve saved my precious life is reward enough.
The girl laughs.
LENG: Some explosions, huh? Who’d do that, right? Blew up my favorite restaurant. Kinda annoying. Seems like it wasn’t that serious, though.
GIRL, obviously lying: Oh… yeah.
LENG: So… you know anything about it?
The girl turns her head away from him.
GIRL: No.
Something seems strange about this to Leng, but just as he’s about to say something…
While he’d been thinking to himself, the girl stood up suddenly.
GIRL, softly: I have to go. I’m so happy you’re still alive, Leng.
They meet eyes, then both spring to life at the same time. Leng jumps to his feet. A tear trickles down the girl’s cheek, and then she whips around and starts running.
LENG :Wait. WAIT!!




Nonfiction #1: Comparing a person with a character

Longing for freedom can be shown through the expression of art, which can be used to cope with the harsh reality of life. This has been proven through both Louise Erdrich, and Junior from Part-Time Indian.
Louise Eldrich is a Native American author currently living in North Dakota. She was born in Little Falls, Minnesota, and connects her tribe’s history to her work in the writing field. Her tribe, the Ojibwe tribe is different from other Native American tribes. Their tradition states that there is a Creator of the universe, who formed the world. They didn’t have a system for writing language. They made clothing out of nettle stalk fiber, leaves, and tanned hides, and they decorated themselves with berries, bones, animal claws, and wooden and glass beads. Children were considered a gift; it was everyone’s responsibility to raise them, and illness was believed to be a punishment for failure. Gambling is a current controversial issue within the tribe. Besides that, Louise is influential because of all the work she does towards connecting with humanity and her vast representation. “Erdrich’s novels were noted for their depth of characterization; they are peopled by a variety of characters, some of whom appear in multiple stories within her oeuvre” (Britannica.com). In one of her more recent books, she talks about the recent Black Lives Matter protests, including what happened with George Floyd, from the point of view of a Native American. She writes both books and short stories. One of her books, Love Medicine, talks about grief and relationships and was inspired by a previous short story she wrote. “Some critics described it as “magical realism” since it used fable and the supernatural; other critics called its mystical element simply "an authentically Native American voice”. (americanhistory.abc-clio.com). This shows that Louise’s Native American voice is a huge aspect of much of her writing, and her authenticity plays into her books.
Louise, as well as Junior from The Absolutely True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, are connected and can relate to each other. Both Louise and Junior use artwork to express their inner desires. Louise, as previously mentioned, is an author, so she expresses herself through her writing. Junior expresses himself through his cartoons. “So I draw because I feel like it might be my only real chance to escape the reservation.” (PTI, pg. 6). Both of them use their art to spread their messages to the world. Finally, the main takeaway from learning about Louise Erdrich is that it’s important to understand both the past and the present. History, especially the history of her tribe, is very important to Louise, but current events matter to her as well, and she interprets both into her works. This shows how in touch with the world she is, which is a good quality to have.

Nonfiction #2: Informative (talking about motifs in writing)

Once upon a midnight dreary lived the famous author Edgar Allan Poe, known for his terrifying stories and haunting legacy. Edgar Allan Poe was born in 1809. He was most famous for his horror stories and lyric poetry. Although he’s widely known as haunting and shrouded in mystery, most of his “scary” aura is due to rumors spread about him after his death. In his many stories, Poe often used the motifs of revenge, insanity, and overconfidence, which he used to make the reader feel conflicted, shocked, and amused.
A motif Poe uses occasionally in his stories is revenge. The narrator of “the Tell-Tale Heart” seeks revenge on an old man for having eyes that appeared disturbing to him. “Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees – very gradually –I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.” (Poe, “The Tell-Tale Heart”). Killing the old man is vengeance for him having eyes the narrator doesn’t like, which is how this quote shows the motif of revenge. Poe is using this quote to make the reader see the narrator as an unsympathetic character, since he’s killing an innocent elderly man who did nothing to him except having unsettling eyes. This brings a feeling of uneasiness and confusion to the reader, since the narrator is clearly not a good person, but the reader isn’t sure who to root for.
Another example of revenge is in Poe’s story “The Cask of Amontillado”, in which the main character declared revenge on his old friend Fortunato for an unknown reason. “The thousand injuries of Fortunato I had borne as I best could, but when he ventured upon insult I vowed revenge.” (Poe, “The Cask of Amontillado”). Like the Tell-Tale Heart, this motif of revenge is also supposed to make the reader confused. Since we never know what Fortunato did to the narrator, we don’t know if his revenge is justified or not. Poe uses this quote to set up and give a theme to the rest of the story.
A second motif of Poe’s is insanity, which he uses frequently throughout his stories, such as “the Black Cat”. In this story, the narrator shows insanity by harming an innocent cat. “I took from my waistcoat-pocket a pen-knife, opened it, grasped the poor beast by the throat, and deliberately cut one of its eyes from the socket!” (Poe, “The Black Cat”). This quote clearly shows insanity when the narrator cuts the innocent cat’s eye out of its socket, because there’s no way it can be justified, while there’s more of a gray area when it comes to other humans. The motif of insanity in this story is meant to make the reader feel shocked or disturbed, because the narrator’s actions are inhumane and cruel. The narrator demonstrates many times that he’s outside of the range of what is considered “normal” in society. His actions show that he’s insane, and the reader is meant to know he is.
Another example of insanity is in one of Poe’s more famous stories, “The Tell-Tale Heart”. The narrator shows insanity here simply by deciding to kill an old, innocent man. “Whenever it fell upon me, my blood ran cold; and so by degrees – very gradually –I made up my mind to take the life of the old man, and thus rid myself of the eye forever.” (Poe, “The Tell-Tale Heart”). This quote shows insanity because it tells the reader the narrator’s motives, as well as his explanation behind them. However, the motives for his actions are unjustified, because killing an old man just because the narrator doesn’t like his eyes is unfair and cruel. Poe is using this motif to show the reader that the narrator is insane.
A motif Poe uses often to bring amusement to the reader or provide foreshadowing to the reader is overconfidence, which he shows in his story “The System of Dr. Tarr and Prof. Fether” when Maillard makes fun of the narrator without his knowledge. “‘He admitted no visitors at all – with the exception, one day, of a very stupid-looking young gentleman of whom he had no reason to be afraid. He let him in to see the place – just by way of variety, – to have a little fun with him.’” (Poe, “The System of Dr. Tarr and Prof. Fether”). Poe uses this show of overconfidence as a form of foreshadowing, to help the reader realize the truth behind Maillard. In this quote, Maillard is nearly giving himself away just for a chance to make fun of the narrator, which is overconfidence because of the chance the narrator might figure him out. It’s meant as foreshadowing to help the reader realize the truth behind Maillard, and it’s also used for the reader’s amusement.
Another major example of overconfidence is in the story “The Black Cat”, when the narrator demonstrates overconfidence by tapping the wall his murdered wife is behind. “And here, through the mere phrenzy of bravado, I rapped heavily, with a cane which I held in my hand, upon that very portion of the brick-work behind which stood the corpse of the wife of my bosom”. (Poe, “The Black Cat”). This is a huge example of overconfidence. Despite knowing his murdered wife is right behind the wall he taps, he does it anyway, even though all it does is make him look a bit suspicious, because nothing was prompting him to do that. It shows overconfidence because the narrator is confident that he’ll get off scot-free and nothing bad will come of his actions, but his overconfidence results in the truth being brought to the open when his wife comes out of the wall. This motif is meant to make the reader feel hopeful that his overconfidence will help him be caught, or for amusement at the narrator’s stupidity.
The common themes that Poe uses in his stories create motifs, which end up becoming what he’s mainly known for. One of his motifs was revenge, which he used to create conflict with the reader- they had to choose if the narrator’s motives for revenge were justified or not. Another common motif was insanity, which Poe used to create shock or to make the reader feel disturbed. Finally, he used overconfidence, which was usually used to make the reader feel amusement, or as foreshadowing to help them predict what would happen next. Poe’s stories are widely known for their motifs, and if not for them, Poe wouldn’t be as famous as he is today.


Week Two:
Week Three:
Week Four:

Alright this is going to be my post I'll start working on my table of contents

“Being different isn't a bad thing. It means that you're brave enough to be yourself.” ~ Luna Lovegood

{ Introduction }

“Hi, there! Please enjoy my little reading nook.” Dawn says, leaning against a bookshelf.

You see a small rounded table with tea and cookies, and there are bookshelves on either side of the walls. There's couches, chairs, and poufs to sit on, and desks to study at. The room you are in is small and cozy, with a fireplace in one corner.

“Enjoy!” Dawn says.

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Hey! You can call me Dawn. I'm a thirteen-year-old with her head in the clouds. I'm currently working on a novel called Vana and the Truth of Life. I don't want to post the full chapters here, but I'll post some scenes.

I'm into Atla, kotlc, and Harry Potter. I enjoy writing, (obviously), drawing, and singing. I taught myself guitar. I use she/her pronouns. I hope you enjoy my writing!

I am part of the Contemporary cabin.

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{ Table of contents }

1. Goals
2. Dailies
3. Weeklies
4. Vana and the Truth of Life: Sneak Peaks
5. Short Stories

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{ Goals }

Words ( 11378/7,000 )
Dailies ( 9/15 )
Weeklies ( 1/2 )

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{ Dailies }

1. I just introduced myself, I guess that's counted as a daily



2. Hello. I am the rock that you see every day, you pass me by as I watch you run to work, to school, and to the store. The rock that you ignore as you live your life, troubled by thoughts. I know about you, I listen to your conversations, but you never seem to ask about me. Here is my story…

When I was born I was a big fellow, tumbling down the mountainside. I was young, I thought I would be like that forever. Then I fell into a river, it destroyed my dreams, and me. I sat in that one spot in the river for what seemed like years, while the current and smaller rocks broke me down. Soon after those years of hopelessness, I could feel the urge to move again. The water pushed against me, and I was free! I let the current push me into other rocks and stones with a crash, and bring me down the mountainside. Then I had become small, about a foot long, I daresay. I had once again gotten myself stuck, in a creek near a small town. After a few days of my stay, a little girl came my way and picked me up. She brought me to her house and rested me on her little white nightstand. I had never been in a house before, I tried to get as much as I could in before I was pushed away again. But it never happened. I sat on the girl’s nightstand day and night. I soon found that her name was Christy, and she lived alone with her mother. After a year or so, Christy painted a face on me with white paint. I loved being treated like this, being paid attention to. But christy grew up, and I was left behind in cardboard boxes. Christy’s mom took me out of the box, and wiped off my face. She then set me carefully in a playground near the house. I sat there, watching kids play day by day. Then two older boys, probably both around the age of ten, came to the playground. I watched them with a terrified look on my face as they smashed rocks against the sidewalk. Soon they came to me. They picked me up and threw me hard onto the gravel of the road, I was now in five small pieces. It was a sad day that hurts my heart to remember. I sat in the road, giving a few cars flat tires as they rode over me. A few days later, a teen boy picked one of my pieces up and brought me to his room. He smoothed my edges, then wiped me down with soap. I watched him as he pulled out bottles of paint, they looked much nicer than the paint Christy had used. He then painted a sunset on me. I could only tell because of the mirror in his room. He then had a vacation to go to, but he brought me with him. I was stuffed in a suitcase for a few days, but then was taken out and placed upon a concrete wall. And that is where I am today. I hope you will consider my story, and listen to the other rocks of this world. Farewell, good chap.



3. {Credit to froggitti for the ice cream flavors}

Salty slumber, peach dreams, and pistachio pillow were what they were called. Three best friends who had known each other since the start of their lives. Salty slumber being Racheal, who seemed to always be sassy or sarcastic. Peach dreams being Sara, who was living optimistically in her own fairytale world. Then pistachio pillow was Charlotte, who was just the weird and socially awkward one. The three were inseparable, no one could take them apart. But that all changed on their 15th birthday. Wait, let me start at the beginning.

It was August 14th on a windy day when they were all 8. They had plans to get ice cream that day with their parents, but because of the cold, their plans were canceled. But the trio begged their parents, and they did end up going. Getting their ice cream, Sara had an idea.

“Hey! What if we made nicknames for ourselves?” Sara exclaimed.
“Yeah, that would be a cool idea. I could be, the daring knight!” Racheal said, raising her mint chocolate chip ice cream in the air.
“Or how about we make up ice cream flavors to be our nicknames?” Charlotte suggested.
“Yeah! Okay okay, what do you think I should be?” Sara asked excitedly.
“You like pink, and you love fairies, how about fairytale?” Charlotte said.
“No, that doesn’t sound like a nickname OR an ice cream flavor.” Sara said, disappointed.
“What about something with peaches? Like peach dreams or something.” Racheal suggested. Sara hugged her with delight, almost spilling both of their ice creams.
“Yes! I’ll be peach dreams!” She said.
“What should I be?” Charlotte asked, her red hair flowing crazily in the wind. They sat there for a moment.
“What about pistachio pillow, we could all be something related to sleep and dreams and stuff.” Racheal said.
“Wait, why am I pistachio pillow?” Charlotte asked.
“Because you're weird.” Racheal replied, and that made Charlotte frown.
“Fine, I’ll be pistachio pillow.” Charlotte agreed.
“Now, what should I be?” Racheal asked earnestly.
“You can be dragon of FIRE. Since you're mean!” Charlotte instantly ran away and Racheal chased after her, roaring. Sara sighed. It was kind of true though, in a way. That’s when Sara’s dad walked up to her.
“She could be salty slumber, just saying.” He said.
“Salty? What is that supposed to mean?” She asked.
“You’ll find out when you’re older.” Sara considered it, then ran off to follow her friends. Their parents watched them happily. That was how they got their names, they also called themselves the ice cream trio. They grew together, both physically and mentally. They helped each other through bullies, struggles, and anything else that came their way. But on their 15 birthday, Sara had to move away. They all cried, being girls and best friends since they were born, then Sara drove away with her blonde hair pulled into a tight bun. She never wore a bun. After that, Charlotte and Racheal grew apart. It didn’t feel right if Sara wasn’t there. The three grew up, but never forgetting their childhood friendship.




4. I looked sleepily into the sunset. The colors blended together while the orange sun slowly went down. If only I could have sat there forever, I could have watched the stars after the sunset, then the sunrise, and the clouds. Then I wouldn’t have had to go back home, where all my troubles lay.

“Darling?” My mother called from the hut we were staying in. “It’s getting late, you should come inside and rest.”
“It’s only seven.” I replied, not taking my eyes off of the sunset. I moved on to the ocean, staring at the colors reflecting on the waves.
“Yes, but we’ve had a long day and you need rest before the flight early in the morning.” She had a good argument, but I just sat there quietly.
“Fine.” I reluctantly agreed, getting up from the chair and walking inside with my mother. I wish I could have stayed in Hawaii forever, never needing to go back to the busy life of New York. Here I could relax, there was no drama, no stress, no anxiety. I could breathe for once, listening to the ocean as the moon pulled the waves to and fro. But once my head hit the pillow, I instantly fell asleep.

I was back home in my bedroom, going through some old photos. I saw me and my twin sister, both ten with our brown hair all tangled and wet. We were at the beach. I never had liked the beach, but I would always go for her, my sister. She loved it. Another photo showed us playing a card game, we were around the age of twelve. We both were smiling, but the only reason I was smiling was because I was winning. I was never a big card game person. Then I picked up the last photo from the bottom of the cardboard box. It was torn in one corner, but I could still see the picture clearly. My sister and I sat in front of a pink strawberry birthday cake, with a giant number five candle on top. I could see the finger-sized hole in the cake where my sister had stolen a bite before she was allowed to. I laughed to myself, in the quiet room. It seemed too quiet. I looked over at the bunk bed, it would feel so empty without her. She would always talk about her days at school when we were supposed to go to sleep. I stood up and rested my hand on a carving on the post of the bed. It said ‘J + W’, for Jamie and Wendy. We had planned to always be together. But there was going to be a problem with that now, with Wendy being gone. She was dead! I had to face it. I sat down on the bed and cried. How was I ever going to live my life without her? I had no one to take care of, no one to protect. No one was ever going to bring me life and happiness like she did.




5. Create a about me and wiwo off of a random aesthetic } holocore

About me
꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

✧ Star ✧ Hi there! Welcome to my shop! <3 ✧

} 14
} She/her
} Photography

If you like music and design, comment on my profile.
We will get along as long as I don’t bite.


What I’m Working On
꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

“Have you ever wondered what was beyond the
stars and at the edge of the universe?” ~Star

✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.*✧.



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{ Weeklies }

1. Blurry images flashed by. Her legs were pumping, her feet could go on for hours. Her short curly brown hair flew in the wind, the sticky number that was on her shirt was almost ready to fall off. In a matter of minutes, she was done with the first lap. Then the second. Then the last one went by quickly as she ran into the red ribbon. “Stacey Charleson, first place!” The announcer shouted it to the audience. She watched as the audience roared and cheered her name. “Tell me, how in the world do you run that fast?” The announcer asked her.

Stacey smiled at the announcer and shrugged. “Practice, I guess. But it comes naturally after a while.” She said. The announcer nodded and grabbed Stacey's hand and raised it into the air while the audience clapped and cheered. Stacey beamed at the audience before turning and running back into the locker room. Most of the runners were still finishing up, so she was the only one in there. She took a deep breath and sighed to herself. She quickly changed, and started to head home before anyone else could come and talk to her. She wanted to get home as soon as possible. From there, Stacey could run all she wanted. That was precisely what she was going to do, until she distantly heard someone call “Stacey!”

She quickly turned around, noticing a figure in a white robe with a strange circular symbol on the shoulder. They walked towards her, holding their hands behind their back. Stacey wanted to get away and run, but she sighed and waited. The figure had gotten close enough so that she could tell that they were a woman, who had a messy brown bun. She had gray kind eyes, that seemed to make you feel like everything was okay. “Stacey Charleson, correct?” She asked. Stacey nodded, wondering how this woman knew her name. “I am Dr. Josaphine, head of cytopathology in S.O.S.A. I'm sorry to say this, but you must follow me.” She said with a look of pity.

“What?! I can't go with you. I uh, have to go home!” Stacey exclaimed. She got the weird feeling that the doctor was trying to kidnap her. She tried to run away, but Dr. Josaphine put a shot into her arm that made her feel dizzy. She started to collapse as the doctor said, “I'm sorry, Stacey.”

When Stacey finally wakes up, she feels really drowsy. She tries to get up, but it feels like she can't. “Ahhh yes, she's finally awake.” A new voice says. Right then, Stacey is able to sit up. She looks around; she is in a completely different place. It is a full-on lab with a lot of equipment set up. There are three people in the room besides her; Dr. Josaphine, and two others wearing the same symbol on their robes.

“Wh-What's going on? Where a-am I? And who are y-you?” She asks.
“We are known as the S.O.S.A. Our research is top secret, so even you can not know about it.” The man to the right of her explains.
“What in the world does that mean? W-why am I here? My parents would be worried!” She says, feeling a mix of nervousness, fear, and anger.
“You are here because you are here, and don't worry about your parents, we are taking care of that.” Dr. Josaphine smiles at her, then part of the anxiety inside Stacey calms down.
“We must take some tests.” The man beside her says.
“Yes, I'll go to the control room.” The second man in front of her says before he walks out the door. Stacey's feelings came back up into her throught, almost causing a tear, but she blinks it away.
“Tests? What tests?!” She tries to stand up, but Dr. Josaphine pushes her back down onto the bed and closes the metal chains at her feet and her hands. She can’t blink away the tears now, so she lets them fall down her face.
“Can't you tell me what's going on?” Stacey weakly asks Dr. Josaphine.
“You'll understand everything in time, dear.” She says, before heading back up to the control room. Stacey is freaking out now. She is very confused and she has no clue what is going on. She tries to think of how to get out of this place, when she slowly starts to lose consciousness…. and then wakes up. The first thing she feels is a slight pain in her arm. It feels like someone had pricked her quite a few times.

“Alright, the tests are over dear, you can get up now.” Dr. Josaphine's voice rings out. At that, Stacey sits up.
“Can I go home now?” She asks.
“No, not until we look at this data. It's critical information.” A scientist tells her, while observing something under a microscope.
“For now, you can head into the cafeteria and wait. Follow me.” Dr. Josaphine says, gesturing for Stacey to follow her.

They walk through halls of doors labeled by numbers, and through windows Stacey can see a desert. “Are we in a desert? How in the world did I get here? We were in Indiana!” She asks.
“You were unconscious for a while, Stacey.” Dr. Josaphine answers. They arrive at glass double doors labeled ‘subject’s cafeteria’. Stacey wonders why it says ‘subject’, it’s strange. Dr. Josaphine unlocks the doors, and leads her inside before she locks the doors back up.
“Go find a seat, then wait for me in about a half-hour.” She says, leaving her alone.

Stacey sits down on a bench and looks around. She isn't alone, there are three other teens in the room. One guy, and two girls.
“Who are you?” One of the girls asks Stacey.
“I-I'm Stacey, but I have no clue why I'm here, or who you are. Do you know? Did they kidnap us or something?” She asks. The other girl starts laughing.

“Is that really what you think? Well Stacey, your off by a long shot. Maybe Stoic should explain…” The boy, Stoic, looks up at the sound of his name.
“What?” He asks the girl. The girl gives him a smirk and nods towards Stacey.
“She doesn't know why she's here. She has no clue.” She explains. Stoic sighs and walks toward Stacey.
“You really don't know why you’re here?” He asks her, and Stacey shakes her head. “Well, let's start simple. I'm Stoic, that's Aella,” He says, gesturing to the snotty-sounding girl. “And that's Serene.” The other girl gives Stacey a slight smile.

“We all have some sort of superpower that the scientists want to study. So, we are being kept here while they observe our powers.” He tells her.
“Wait, did you say powers?” Stacey asks.
“Yeah, you don't even know that you had one? Wow. We all had found out when we were young, before we were even brought here.” He looks back at Aella and she gives him an unsure look. “Well, I'll tell you what we can do first. Aella can turn any inanimate object into a cloud, Serene can cook something to heal, poison, or enlighten someone, then when I snap a bright light appears from my fingers. If you don't know what you're power is, what can you do that almost seems supernatural?”

Stacey thinks for a moment. She's a pretty ordinary kid, she doesn't have that many crazy talents. Except one.
“Well, I always win my track races. And I win them by a lot. Sometimes I finish the race while everyone is still on the first lap.” She explains. Stoic nods.
“That's probably your gift then. Being able to travel faster than anyone else.” Stacey looks down at the ground.
“But how come no one ever told me I had a power before?” She asks. Serene walks over towards Stacey, and puts her hand on her shoulder.
“Having powers is a rare thing. People are just born with it. And since having a power isn't a genetic thing, most parents don't know that something like this is possible. But now at least you know the truth.” She says in a soft voice.
“Don't tell your parents about this, I remember my parents freaked out when they found out I had powers.” Aella adds.
“My parents kicked me out of the house, if I remember correctly.” Stoic mumbles, barely audible for anyone to hear. Being able to run fast wasn't that much of a bad power, you could still fit in. But turning objects into clouds and shining lights from your fingers? Stacey can't even begin to imagine how it was for them when they found out about their newfound abilities. But she still has one thing on her mind.

“Are we stuck here? Forever?” She asks wearily. They were all silent for a minute.
“We don't really know.” Aella says quietly. Suddenly the doors open and five scientists enter. One leads the rest with a strut, and wears a name tag reading ‘head scientist, Charles Mikson’.

“Hello, subjects.” He says with a sly look on his face. “We have set up some tests in the field for you four.” Stoic, Aella, and Serene share a look.
“Gentlemen, please tie up their wrists.” The other four scientists walk up to each of them and ties their wrists together, keeping them in place. Stacey is worried now, almost terrified.

Stacey keeps her eyes on the other three as the scientists lead them towards the lab room. She watches Stoic, Aella, and Serene closely. Stoic looks as if he had expected something like this would happen. Serene looks incredibly worried, and Aella has a blank expression on her face. Stacey wonders if she would ever go back home, back to her regular life. When they finally arrive in the lab, Dr. Josaphine is waiting for them.
“I brought the experiments. Now we can get to work.” The head scientist announced. He turned to face the four teens. “Lets see, who to start with…. Ah yes, newest first.” He said while grabbing Stacey and laying her down on the bed.

“w-what are you going to do to me?” She asks nervously.
“Don't worry, it won't hurt.” He says with a smirk. Who is cruel enough to smile during something like this? “Now, stay still. I'm just going to insert something into your arm.” He says.
“What?!” Stacey exclaims. How could something like this have happened to her? Why her? Charles grabs some medical tweezers and picks up a small metal circular object that has wires hanging out of it. He holds it right next to her forearm, then the device begins to push itself into her arm. It feels like a shot except ten times worse. She screams, and since she talks fast and almost high-pitched, her scream is almost loud enough to damage everyone's ears. So they all cover their ears. Except for Stoic, Serene, and Aella, whose hands are tied. Finally, the device is done getting settled in inside her arm, and she lets tears fall down her face. Dr. Josephine hugs Stacey right, and she falls into her arms.

“The tracker is placed.” Charles says, looking very proud of himself. Stacey was crying in Dr. Josaphine's arms. The pain from her arm is burning so badly.
“Sir, are you sure this was necessary?” She asks Charles. He glances at her in shock. “Of course it was! Now we can watch her every movement. We will finally understand how they work.” He defends. Dr. Josaphine glances down at Stacey, who is still sobbing.
“I'm not too sure if that was the right decision sir….” She trails off, trying to comfort Stacey. The scientist ignores her and turns to Stoic.
“I think he's next.” He adds while grabbing him. Stoic struggles against the scientist, as he tries to break free of his grasp.
“Doctor, help me.” He cries to Dr. Josaphine. She stands there in shock, and slowly shakes her head.
“I refuse to help you if this is how it's going to be.” Dr. Josaphine grabbed Stoic and quickly ran out with him. It all happened in a blur, everybody stands there in shock for a second. But almost immediately Charles yells,

“What are you doing, go after her you idiots!” All of the scientists run out, leaving the teens and him alone. “Well, his power was useless anyways.” He said with a sigh. “We must get you three locked up so that you can't go anywhere.” He grabbs all three of them and yells to a passing security guard. “Come help me take the remaining subjects to the cells!” The guard replies with a “yes sir” And comes into the room. They pull the teens into the basement where they kept the cells, and threw the three girls into the same cell. Stacey looked around at Aella and Serene. Dr. Josaphine had forgotten about them, and now they're all alone here. “Now…I finished with you.” he says, pointing to Stacey. “But I need to put the tracker in both of you. So which one should it be…. ah yes, the one who's always annoying.” He says, pointing towards Aella. She doesn't look the tiniest bit scared. “First I need to get more trackers. Guard!” The scientist calls. The guard immediately hurries over towards him. “I need you to find Dr. Josaphine. If you have to, drag her back here. She's the one with the trackers. Once we have them, I can put them into these two.” He says. The guard salutes and runs off. Stacey turns to Aella and Serene.

“Should we try and escape?” She whispers to them.
“Definitely. The evil scientists seem to have something planned, we need-” Aella whispers, but is cut off.
“Don't go making plans, you will be watched closely.” Charles snaps, then promptly leaves, muttering. “I can't wait to get rid of them.” Once his footsteps vanished, they huddled together.

“Well, Stoic and Dr. Josaphine are out, maybe they could help us somehow.” Serene whispers optimistically.
“Do you really think that they will be able to get past hundreds of the scientists, security guards AND security camera's?” Aella says.
“I guess not…” Serene says.
“Maybe when we get our food, I could run out and find a way to shut the cameras down, then try to find Stoic and Dr. Josaphine.” Stacey suggested.
“That's all we have so far, so let's keep thinking.” Serene says. They use the rest of the night to think of ideas for an escape plan, never getting a wink of sleep. But morning came, and they have to rest their eyes.

{ had to end it, it was too close to the due date. But I feel like it still needs and ending. *sniff* }


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{ Vana and the Truth of Life }

Prologue: https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/652366747

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{Short Stories}

None Yet

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Visit my awkward self at Vana_Beifong

Claiming this spot for my writing <3 )
- - Introduction - -

The prickly stems of grass poke at your bare feet, and the earth feels deliciously cool under your toes. The air is full of the twittering of birds, lilting sounds which joyfully announce the arrival of spring. The sun shines down on your face, and if you tip your head back you can glimpse vibrant butterflies fluttering around, enjoying the warmer weather. Ahead of you is a little house, one might even call it a quaint cottage. Outside two children frolic, laughter tinkling between them while their mother sits on the porch, watching them play. As you approach, the lady calls out to you, “Hello there traveler, and welcome to my humble abode.”

Hey there! I'm Cry/Amory, an 11-14 year old human who's questioning gender fluidity (use they/them pronouns or ask). My hobbies are drawing, roleplaying, character design, and writing. I joined SWC for a chance to grow my writing and perhaps find some new people who share my interests The current (for lack of a better word) thing that I'm working on is a dystopian novel by the title of Copper and Gold.

- - Goals - -
1 - Write at least 10,000 words
2 - Finish at least 15/21 dailies
3 - Finish at least 2/4 weeklies

- - Table of Contents - -
1 - Copper and Gold writing
2 - Short Stories / Other
3 - Dailies
4 - Weeklies

- - 1 (Copper and Gold writing) - -
I glance out of my bedroom window at the brightening sky. Finally. It seemed like this night would go on forever. Then again, it probably seemed longer due to the fact that I was awake the whole time, worrying about my choosing day, when I will decide my career. Though it might be called a ‘choosing day’, sometimes I feel that it’s more of a ‘give into pressure and become what your father wants for you or become an outcast for life day’. There’s a whole lot of expectations riding on me, being the only son of the city leader and all. Still, I try to be grateful for the fact that I get a choice, while all those poor coppers don’t even get to choose.

- - 2 (Short Stories/Other) - -
The steady drip drip drip of raindrops falling outside. The rumble of thunder in skies far away. The crack and flash of lightning illuminating the gray clouds above your head. You are safe from all of this, protected in the small wooden cabin you’ve come to call home. Though you may hear the boom or feel the rain, you never need to worry. You are safe. Or so they tell you.
But what happens when the sky thunders so loud it seems to come from all around you? What happens when you can see the lighting and it’s not hitting far away, in fact, it’s striking the ground so close you shut your eyes? What happens when the wind blows through the meadow your cabin sits in, making the wooden frame built so lovingly creak with the effort to stay upright? You close your eyes, try to imagine yourself somewhere else. Does it fix the problem? Of course not. Does it help? Who knows. The storm seems to be all around you, the rain pouring down harder now than ever. You feel so overwhelmed, and it's like you can’t handle it anymore.
A soft footstep sounds, slowly approaching you. You glance up for a second, wondering who it could be. Then you spot your mother, the kind and loving woman who raised you thusfar. Even when you were a small child, you were always terrified of storms, having read the greco roman tales of the ancient gods clashing in the sky. Zeus with his mighty thunderbolts and terrible temper always seemed to you the scariest of the twelve rulers.
Warm arms envelop you, pulling you into a soft embrace. For now the voices in your mind quiet, safe for the moment in this oasis of comfort.
- -
(In-cabin daily - Use this sentence in a story: Fuzzier! I will not accept it unless it is the fuzziest.) - The steady whirr of machines working surrounds me as I weave my way through the complicated pieces of machinery. An old sign hangs above me, proudly proclaiming Welcome to the Toy Factory in faded lettering. Outside snow falls, piling huge drifts on the roadways. Where are we? Why the North Pole, of course. I push forward, clutching my brown clipboard tightly against my chest as I scan the crowded room for the manager, a person with whom I need to speak urgently about my newest design. When I finally spot him I hurry forward, proudly presenting him with my newest design. It is a new kind of teddy bear, made after the manager complained about the last version not being fluffy or fuzzy enough.
I try to hide my eagerness as he examines my final product, but my heart sinks a bit as he turns back to me with a slight frown on his plump face. “No, no no. This will not do at all! It needs to be fuzzier! I will not accept it until it is the fuzziest.” I give a small sign and turn away. Back to work, it is.

- - 3 (Dailies) - -
March 1st (write something and add it to your word count using the cabin tracking system, I chose to include a roleplay excerpt) -
Hydrangeapaw nodded respectfully at Creambranch's words. In fact, the tree already held one special memory for the blue-eyed apprentice, that of her first time exploring the territory with her mother and now mentor. The chocolate she-cat allowed her gaze to shift over the willow, exploring with her eyes the luscious vines and gnarled trunk of the tree. When she glanced away, her face held more emotion and seriousness in it than Creambranch had perhaps ever seen, what with the typically bubbly exterior the apprentice often showed.

March 2nd (write 300+ words from the perspective of an inanimate object) -
Who am I?
I am you, as true as can be.
I am your friend and all those who gaze into me.
I am the laughter ringing throughout the house.
I am the quiet squeaking of a mouse.
I have no personality of my own, per se.
Instead I reflect what those who see me may be.
Who am I?
I am the tears shed while brushing a little one's hair.
I am the arguments fought claiming that the other doesn't care.
I see all but still stand idly by.
Weeks passed on, by and by.
Who am I?
I am the empty house void of all the chatter.
I am the wind as it swoops, bangs, and clatters
On the empty window frames, torn and rusted
From all those years without being dusted.
And still, I wait here, trying to see
When someone will come to visit me.
And fill that hole I see in me.
Who am I?
I am the mirror as it stands in the vacant lot.
'For sale' a sign claims, though it seems for naught.
For no one seems to want me, no one seems to care.
About the one who helped the girl brush her hair.
For the first time, all those years ago
Watching with pride as I helped her grow.
But maybe it was a mistake, maybe I was wrong.
For now, I sit here, wanting to belong
To that family again, all those years before
To that girl to whom I was at the fore.
Who am I?
I am the assistant, the one without a name.
I am the one with golden lions as a mane.
I am the one whose heart fills with joy
As a child slowly approaches me, a boy.
His hand stretches out, tugging at my heart
Do I dare to hope? Do I dare to give up that part?
My hopes soar as he picks me up
Gazing into me with all the love
That I once got from a girl all those years ago.
Who am I?

March 3rd Daily (write something related to ice cream flavors (Grooms cake, Brides Cake, and Strawberry cheesecake for me) that is at least 400 words long) - I push the door open as I step into the ice cream parlor, where retro decor rules the land. Old-timey barstools are pushed neatly underneath a long table which faces the busy streets of New York City. Bells ring as I close the door behind me, a swishing noise accompanying me as I stride toward the counter where customers order their sweets. My gait is calm and confident, I love this place. It's where I can go to escape the judgment of the mean girls at school, where I can draw and draw for hours on end without anyone getting upset. I allow my bright blue gaze to sweep the news board, checking for any new announcements. But I find that it's the same as it always is, empty with the exception of the worn paper couple taped to the edge, the woman clutching a bunch of flowers and smiling up at the man. I wonder now what the memory behind this image was, wonder if the two were lovers who got married one day, wonder if they are still alive. Probably not, considering how old-fashioned their clothing is.
I continue forward, turning my eyes back to what's in front of me. “The usual,” I call out once I reach the counter. The workers here all know me by now, and I know them. First off there's Sally, a snappish young mother. Next is Paul, who always loves to read me the jokes he's found in the newspaper. This time it's Mike manning the counter, and he greets me with a wide smile. “Are you sure you don't want something new?” He asks me, but he's already sliding forward a small cup filled with strawberry cheesecake ice cream. To some, it might seem a strange choice to eat, but I enjoy it. “Thanks,” I call out over my shoulder as I walk quickly toward my typical seat. I set down my backpack, a forest green one with small pink flowers adorning it. They're fake, of course, since there are very few places to get fresh flowers in the middle of the city. I pull out my sketchbook and ponder for a moment on what to draw this time. Ah, I've got it. I'll draw the couple from the poster board. I start to sketch their faces, taking my time to capture the expressions of the couple, forever frozen in time.

March 5th Daily (which superpower would you most like to have and why) -
If I could have any superpower it would be the ability to heal. Now, this isn't just the power to heal me, it's the ability to heal any diseases or sicknesses. Cancer, gone. Arthritis, gone. Diabetes, gone. Just zap. I think this would be super cool and useful because it would allow all the world to be a better place. A lot of people talk about curing cancer like it's unreachable, but I could just snap my fingers or something and it would be gone forever. I think that would be the best superpower.

(A lot of dailies aren't included in here because no proof is needed or because it was too many small chunks.)

March 14th -
I bet you know of idioms, phrases people say that they don't actually mean or aren't actually true. Well, one day all mine were actually true. It started in the morning. It was raining heavily, something not unusual. But this day people were covering their heads, screaming that it was raining cats and dogs. I of course peeked outside, hoping and assuming that they were joking. But they weren't, it was actually raining large pets. They looked a bit dazed as they landed, and no wonder! They fell quite a ways! Other than that, they all seemed to be fine. But that was just the beginning to my very strange day. One after another, the idioms piled up as I simply watched, in shock. This couldn't be true, these were supposed to be fake! Spilling the beans, weighing a ton. Literally, everything was an idiom come true.
I stumbled into my bedroom late that night to find my ginger kitten snoozing on my floor, atop my favorite pair of slippers. I pushed him off, not thinking about what I was saying. “You look so tired you could drop!” And drop he did, all the way from my comforting arms to the hard floor beneath. I picked him up gingerly, rushing down the stairs and out of the house to take him to the hospital or perhaps some other place where he could be cared for. He looked terribly injured, and wasn't moving a lot. And all this from just a tiny phrase, unknowingly uttered. Thankfully the kitten was eventually fine, but I never forgot the damage that idioms could do when someone thinks that they are true. Now I hope you will go forward in you life with more caution, knowing the nightmare I experienced because of idioms.

- - 4 (Weeklies) - -
March 3rd -
Poetry -
(Haiku)
A hummingbird flies
Over a field of flowers
Watch, watch, and listen

(Rhyme scheme)
The morning sun starts to extend
Over the brightening sky
Dawn is nigh
The night will soon end

(Free Verse)
Tick Tock
The beating of a clock
Dictates the movements of all
Over and over
'Go this way' it says
'Now go there'
Do you know what I
Want to say?
No.
I want a day that is free
I want to go where I want,
To be who I want to be
I want to relax,
To spend one day just
Lying in the sun
To explore and hike,
To swim in the ocean
But instead, I continue here
Chained to this clock
Forever
Tick Tock

(Elegy)
Gone
Forever
Such a harsh statement

(Etheree)
Who
Am I?
Or rather
What makes me me?
Is it my knowledge
Or is it something more?
That, at least, is my theory
I do hope it is fairly good

(Another Free Verse)
A pebble sits
at the bottom of a stream
Water washes over it
smoothing it and
sanding it down
Above children frolic,
their joyous laughter ringing
out in loud bursts
The sun shines out,
bright and warm rays
meeting the stream
water
The children come here every
day, hoping to enjoy the
pleasant coolness
Until one day when
they stop
No one visits the pebble
anymore,
indeed it seems forgotten
by the world
It is cold now,
and the stream begins
to freeze over
Alone and sad, the pebble
thinks to itself,
'Why am I even here?'
It sits on the cold sand
all winter long lonely
Until one day when
the sun comes out again,
and the children frolic nearby
Then the pebble smiles,
that part of itself
hidden again
until the next winter comes
around and the hated words
rise
to the surface
once more

Essay - (Claim is that word counts in writing camps should become more suggestions than guidelines Please keep in mind that this is purely for fun, and I am not critiquing the SWC in any way whatsoever, in fact, I deeply admire all those who have collaborated to make it exist.)
Have you ever found yourself typing in meaningless words for practically no reason, simply to reach a word count? Well, I certainly have. After hours spent putting my literary soul into a piece of writing, I'll plug it into a word counter to see if it makes the cut, and if it doesn't I'll simply add a few more odd words here and there. These extra words certainly don't add any value to my work, in fact, they often detract from the point I'm trying to make. Too often I find myself rambling on and on about the nutrition information for mint ice cream or the lifespan of an average household mirror. So one day I thought to myself ‘hmm, this kinda seems pointless, maybe I should write something about it.’ Coincidently it was the same day that the weekly was assigned which included writing an essay.
I believe that words counts in writing camps should be given more leeway, perhaps allowing people to fall 10-20 words short of the count if they reach a logical stopping point. Many writers agree with me, as Charlotte R Dixon wrote, “Two hundred words to go? Let’s see how many extra words I can cram into this next paragraph! But that’s an extreme case. At least for most people.” In addition, word counts can make people judge themselves, thinking that something's wrong with them if they don't write 5,000 words a day. I certainly don't want to do away with word counts altogether, but I think we could be a bit less strict. Others might claim that people would use this as a way of cheating the system and consistently write below the suggestion, but I think that people would still try to write a lot in order to reach their word goal, and in addition, they would have more freedom to write in a style of their choosing without being overly flowery or adding meaningless words. It wouldn't even have to be listed in the main studio, it could just be an occasional acceptance of a daily that's 395 words long instead of 400. My mindset and many others would be greatly improved, and I would write more high-quality stories and essays without all the pressure.
All in all, I think the change or even the mindset of being less harsh with the word requirements would improve my and many others' experience here in SWC and in other writing camps I've participated in such as Camp Pinelake. I think that it would help decrease stress in participants and boost creative thinking and perhaps even better wording in the dailies and weeklies. Getting in the spirit of things, I have written only 483 words, a few less than the requirement. If you need me to change this, I will. Thank you for taking the time to read this, and I hope you have a good day/night!

Script Writing - (For the script I did the first chapter in my book Copper and Gold )
Original -
Red flushes to my cheeks, hot. In front of me stands my teacher, shaking her slim head from side to side in disapproval. ”You know you can't be a doctor, think of all the damage you could do to people if you got out of control!“ She is a gold, of course, one of the privileged few with undamaged genes and a perfect life. I bit my lip, trying to hold in the outburst I know is coming. Why? Why can't I be a doctor, why can't I be anything I choose? Before the thought even fully forms in my mind, I know the answer. Because I am a copper, deemed lesser and dangerous by the government. Because of the stupid genes of my ancestors many generations back. I dare a glance up at the woman, who is still talking to me.
“Lenna.” She says, false sympathy clouding her wrinkled face. ”Please be reasonable.“ I /am/ reasonable, I think, angry. A rage builds inside me, tearing out with a bang as I yell, furious, at the small woman. “SO WHAT?” I scream, tears threatening to flow down my cheeks. “So what if I’m a copper? Why does that determine my career?” Even before the words stop coming out I regret them. I should not have said that.
I turn away without saying a word, heading for the door at the end of the room. I burst out of the old school building and stomp down the chipped stone stairs. Then I notice a familiar figure sitting in one of the trees dotting the street. Their legs swing from side to side, and a small book sits open on their lap. “Why are /you/ still here?” I ask, rolling my eyes slightly at the person. “Emmy, I didn’t need you to stay. I had everything under control!”
Emerson gives me a small grin, quickly hopping down from the large branch they were perched on. “I’m sure it went terrifically. How long’d you last before you yelled at Mrs. Wilder?” Their voice is teasing, an ever-present Irish accent hidden underneath layers of sarcasm. Emmy and I have been close friends ever since we started school. I provided the courage, the outlandish ideas. They, on the other hand, provided skepticism and intelligence. Despite their sometimes snarky attitude, Emerson is quite a good friend to have. We’ve done everything together, talking and laughing, joking and arguing. The bond grown over those years makes us nearly inseparable, as Emerson has kindly shown me.
I give a small sigh, my slim shoulders slumping forward. If my mother were here she’d likely yell at me for such bad posture, but she isn’t, and Emmy doesn’t care. Reading my body language, a talent of theirs, Emmy comes to sit next to me. My hands twitch as they often do when I’m angry or worried. Gazing into Emerson’s green eyes, I take a deep breath. If it was anyone else, I’d lie to them and claim I never yelled at the teacher. Hey, if it was anyone else I’d have ignored them or called them a creep. But you just don’t do that to Emerson. “She deserves it. Smirking down at me like that, like she’s better.”
They sigh softly. “I know. But you can’t explode at her like that, you’ll get in trouble.” Both of us know of the brave few who rebelled against the system put in place by the golds, how they disappeared and never returned.
On the way home, we stay quiet, carefully avoiding the black and gold clad police officers. The law generally isn’t as kind to us as it is to golds. You see, around a hundred years ago a government official turned insane, killing many people at his job. After they caught the person, they scanned their DNA and figured out a specific gene they possessed which caused this tragedy to occur. They decided to scan the population for this gene, labeling those who had it coppers, and calling themselves golds. Since then the world has become much more segregated, with certain jobs only accepting golds. Like a doctor.
As Emmy and I round the final tight corner, the house where I live with my mother and Skylar comes into view. It is small, really no more than a wooden shack, but it is home.
My mother, Jenny, looks up from a pot currently cooking on the stovetop as Emerson and I enter. Her face looks happy, but I can see dark circles under her eyes from the long hours spent at her job, attempting to support both me and Skylar. Her voice is strained as she calls out, “Hello, Emerson.” Though she says nothing else, she gives me a slight nod.

Script -
LENNA sits at a large wooden desk in a classroom while MRS. WILDER paces around her, occasionally shaking her head in a disapproving manner.

MRS. WILDER
(Stops pacing and comes to stand in front of LENNA'S desk)

You know you can't be a doctor, think of all the damage you could do to people if you got out of control!

LENNA
(Sighs, looking increasingly frustrated as MRS. WILDER continues talking)

MRS. WILDER
(Falsely sweet voice, fake smile)

Lenna, please be reasonable.

LENNA
(Pauses, as if considering her options. Then her face turns angry and words come out in a half-yell as she nearly starts crying.)

So what? So what if I'm a copper? Why does that have to determine my career?

(Silently turns away, heading off stage)

End of Scene One
LENNA continues away from MRS. WILDER, quickly exiting the schoolroom and coming out onto an old-looking street with a few stately oak trees dotting small dirt patches. In one of the trees a pair of legs are visible, occasionally swinging from side to side. The figure is slim, and a novel sits open in their lap.

LENNA
(Indignant look, followed by a small smile)

Why are /you/ still here? Emmy, I didn't need you to stay! I had everything under control!

LENNA sits at a large wooden desk in a classroom while MRS. WILDER paces around her, occasionally shaking her head in a disapproving manner.

MRS. WILDER
(Stops pacing and comes to stand in front of LENNA'S desk)

You know you can't be a doctor, think of all the damage you could do to people if you got out of control!

LENNA
(Sighs, looking increasingly frustrated as MRS. WILDER continues talking)

MRS. WILDER
(Falsely sweet voice, fake smile)

Lenna, please be reasonable.

LENNA
(Pauses, as if considering her options. Then her face turns angry and words come out in a half-yell as she nearly starts crying.)

So what? So what if I'm a copper? Why does that have to determine my career?

(Silently turns away, heading off stage)

LENNA continues away from MRS. WILDER, quickly exiting the schoolroom and coming out onto an old-looking street with a few stately oak trees dotting small dirt patches. In one of the trees a pair of legs are visible, occasionally swinging from side to side. The figure is slim, facing away from LENNA, and a novel sits open in their lap.

LENNA
(Indignant look, followed by a small knowing smile. It seems like she already knows who this person is.)

Why are /you/ still here? Emmy, I didn't need you to stay! I had everything under control!

EMERSON
(Quickly hops off of the low lying branch they were previously sitting on and turns to face LENNA)

I'm sure it went terrifically. How long'd you last before you yelled at Mrs. Wilder?

(Their voice is teasing, an ever-present Irish accent hidden underneath layers of sarcasm)

LENNA
(Gives a small sigh, glancing down at the street ground)

EMERSON
(Obviously sees LENNA sigh, comes to sit next to LENNA, putting a hand on her back)

LENNA
(A bit tearfully, very serious. Glances into EMERSON'S deep green eyes.)

She deserved it, smirking down on us like she's so much better.

EMERSON
(Gives a slight nod, a sad smile playing on the edges of their mouth)

I know, but you can't explode at her like that. You'll get in trouble.

(Looks up at LENNA, a knowing look flashes between them for a moment before the screen fades to black)

End of Scene Two
EMERSON and LENNA are walking toward a small and old-looking house on the outskirts of town. EMERSON reaches forward and pulls open the door, a jingling noise emanating from a bell above the door as they both step inside. A delicious smell wafts from the main room, where LENNA'S mother named JENNY is cooking food in a large pot on the stove.

JENNY
(Glances up as EMERSON and LENNA enter. Her face looks tired but happy.)

Hello Emerson.

(Looks at LENNA, but doesn't say anything.)

LENNA sits at a large wooden desk in a classroom while MRS. WILDER paces around her, occasionally shaking her head in a disapproving manner.

LENNA
(Comes to sit down at the table. In the background you can hear some retro music, probably being played by LENNA'S sibling named SKYLAR)

Non-fiction Writing -
Travel Guide (Paris)
Where can I start with this? Okay, okay. I traveled to Paris, France, several years ago (before all of this covid craziness) and had a really fun time. I spent most of my time focusing on the art and cultural aspects, so this may not be the best guide for helping those who want more family or other stuff. It was actually really fun, though I kinda do wish I had gone a few years later in life so as to better understand all the amazing things I was seeing (lmao I mostly complained about having to spend hours at art museums). Anyways I'm going to be touching mostly on the famous landmarks I saw, as well as some good tips for travel.
So first off the two major landmarks I saw while in Paris were the Louvre and the Arc de Triomphe. I personally think the Arc de Triomphe was better due to the fact that it was less crowded (the crowds for the Mona Lisa were just h u g e) and more interesting for small children (that was me-). It shows a lot of Paris from the top. The only thing I would recommend would be to make sure to pack some sturdy shoes if you plan on climbing to the top, because those stairs can be difficult.
The Louvre was also fun, especially an installation I saw for a recreation of an old-fashioned bedroom. The only thing I would suggest would be to arrive much earlier than you plan to get in because the crowds can be super intense.
Oh, I forgot to mention the Eiffel Tower- Anyways the Eiffel Tower is great, but definitely not for those scared of heights. You can take the stairs up to the bottom levels, but after that you go in a small diagonal elevator all the way to the tippity top which can be a little frightening.

Memoir (about my time in marching band, slight tw for mention of harassment)
These last few weeks have been the best and worst of my entire life. I felt almost giddy with excitement, bonds having been grown quickly over sweat and tears. At first, I felt nervous about my level of skill with the clarinet; as one of the few middle schoolers here I have much less experience than most. But then I felt at home almost, soaring above the rest of my marchingless peers in the concert band. Those late nights after football games were glorious, and I just wanted it to continue forever. How close we grew in such a short time was amazing.
After one day of practice, we all came over to a friend's house, spending the day laughing and baking. I even admitted to my mother that I had finally found my true friend group, something I'd been struggling with for almost four years since we last moved. I thought everything would be perfect, this way forever.
Then one day you told me that there was something I needed to know. You proceeded to come out to me as a lesbian, which I wholeheartedly supported, being a member of the LGBTQ community myself. I even admitted to you that I was bisexual, attracted to both women and men. That's when the cruel blow fell, hitting me like a hammer to the back. Looking back on that time I am astounded I didn't realize the signs sooner.
You told me you had a crush on me, and I tried to be supportive of that too while still telling you I didn't like you back. It was so hard to do this, even after only having known you for a few weeks. I still remember your saddened face, struggling to hold back tears.
In the next week or so something terrible started to happen. You started to try and hold my hand, and one night while we were at my house you even tried to kiss me. I told my mother (we are very close), of course, and she told your homophobic mom against my wishes. It seems like I have no control anymore. We are forbidden now from speaking to each other at all, sitting next to each other, or touching each other. I wish it didn't have to be this way, but maybe this was necessary. I don't understand. We could have been such good friends, why did you have to make us more?

Weekly 2-
Part 1-
We stare into the dark abyss of space, waiting and watching with our breath catching every few moments as we anticipate the final moment when we will launch into the void, taking a brave leap into the unknown. The only light visible from the small viewing window is that of a few distant stars. Around me machines beep, testing out their capabilities before our final fateful launch. All my nervousness is gone by this point, replaced by a steady determination. I have done all this before in simulations, and I know that I can do it well now.
-
I gaze out the window, observing the large white spacecraft in which Amir sits. As the countdown begins I can almost imagine his eyes locking with mine, a final farewell. We both know that we will probably never see each other again, and though I wish you had chosen another path, I must respect it. Tears start to fall down my rich brown cheeks as I imagine the rest of life void of your jokes and laughter. It will be cold, but it is what you have chosen.
-
I take one final glance out the view screen, from where I can just barely spot the building where I presume Mara waits. I know what will be going through her mind right now, mostly her regret at my chosen occupation. How could I explain to her the call I feel toward adventure, toward the unknown? As the numbers on the intercom start to count down (ten, nine, eight) I flick my gaze toward my fellow space traveler, a caucasian boy named Ethan. He gives me a grin and a thumbs up, which I eagerly return. This is the moment I've waited years for.
-
Numbers blaze on the screen nearby, counting down the moments until he departs forever. My brother, all alone in space with nothing but a near stranger to keep him company. Still, I think he will be fine. Despite his frequent humor, Amir is harder than he looks. I return my eyes to the window, from which I can commemorate to memory his final moments on our green Earth (seven, six, five).
-
I look out the viewscreen into the wide empty void of space (five). I clench tightly on the straps holding me into my seat, testing them to make sure they can support me. Their integrity will be tested very soon (four). I give a small smile as the timer continues ticking (three, two). And I spread it to a grin as we blast off into the unknown (one).

2nd story is based on oh hello, a kindling of sorts -
Something feels off, perhaps the way I woke up this morning or the fact that I just started my period yesterday. My breakfast of orange juice and hot cereal is churning in my stomach. No matter what it is, it feels like something is terribly wrong, no not wrong, simply off. Nevertheless, I pointedly ignore the warning signals my body is sending me (help, help! disaster! wrong!) and quickly get ready for school. I slip on my school uniform, a navy blue top with a crisply starched collar (done by my mom, I love her but she can be strict) and a long black skirt. I grab my black shoes and gray jacketWhen I step out of the door I realize that it might have been better for me to have listened to my body, a decision I make in a split second before realizing that this is probably all just a dream, how unusual it is.
The typical street I live on, situated in downtown Chicago, is definitely not being typical today. A funky beat plays from one of the cafes, the kind of music that just sounds strange. It's not wrong, but unusual. The cafe is normally a very strict place (run by an old couple) which only plays classical music and such. Mozart and boring composers like that, mostly white men who died at age 45 and lived during the 1700s. This… this is different. Better, stronger, newer. Like the sky during sunrise, painted with pastel hues of pink and vibrant shades of orange so different from the somewhat boring everyday cerulean blue. Like a suddenly warm and beautiful day after months and months of dull gray and cold. I don't know quite what it is, but at it's at that moment that I decide it feels good.
I stroll down the street, my hands swinging at my sides as I walk. There’s still a while before school starts for the day, time enough for me to investigate the reasoning behind the strangely fun music playing from the cafe. True, the owners don’t like me all that much, but I think I’ll follow with the theme of the music and be different today, on my best behavior. It’ll be a bit of a stretch, but I think I can do it. After all, didn’t I just enjoy something new?
But I’m in for a bit of a shock as I walk inside, the heavy wooden door with its large glass window swinging behind me. The person at the counter is not Mr. or Mrs. Smith (the former owners of the cafe), instead, it is a young black man, setting up what looks to be a delicious lemon pastry in one of the display windows. I quickly raise my hand in greeting, a wide smile on my face. It’ll sure be great to have someone new around here!

Part 2 (Inspiration)-
Topic is morning (extended it's about how it's wrong to hide)
Dawn starts to rise, the sun breaking across the horizon and spreading vibrant hues of colors ranging from magenta to light green and every color in between. Fluffy white clouds drift lazily about the sky, but that's about the only lazy thing happening at this time. Birds cheep as they flutter quickly around a city, bright colors standing stark against the smog emanating from the large skyscrapers dotting the skyline. In the buildings lights slowly flicker on, people wake up to start their day. But morning is not something to come slowly, it is something to creep silently up in the shadows before leaping out at you, similar to how a lion stalks and then finally catches a kill. One minute you'll be snoozing, the next minute your alarm has rung and you'll feel the panic that comes with the need to get ready. Or, if you're like me, you'll be awoken by some mysterious feeling about a half hour before you actually need to get up. It's early enough that you feel like it's a waste of time but late enough that you can't really go back to sleep, not properly. It’s such a buzz, honestly. I feel like I never get enough sleep, and I’m always super tired when the day begins. Sure, it wears off by the time I’ve eaten breakfast, but it’s still not fun.
But enough about me, we need to get back to our main character.
There are two main ways a person can feel about the morning. One can dread its coming, preferring the quiet slumber of the night, or one can eagerly anticipate its arrival as an opportunity to do something great the next day. I am of the former, Elio was of the latter.
As the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, Elio awoke to the smell of coffee being brewed by his friend Max. Since they were both in the same year of college and the other had been the only familiar face they’d seen, each had elected to be the other’s roommate, a situation that, while not ideal, was certainly better than bunking with a stranger. At that point each had barely known the other, but that had changed over the past year and a half, until anyone looking at the two of them would confidently call them each other’s best friend.
Indeed even in Elio’s mind they were best friends, him being the kind and therefore gullible person he was. But this was to be the focus of the next few week’s arguments. For though morning was truly a beautiful thing, bright and bold, it tends to be more fake than night. Those who like night better are more true to themselves, but those who like the day tend to be either naive (as in Elio’s case), not having truly figured themselves out, or fakely perfect and underneath even more damaged than the rest of us. Max wasn’t naive, and he’d already figured himself out years ago.
Elio stretched sleepily, taking a glance at the golden watch on his wrist. 8:30 am. Definitely time to get up. Come to think of it, why had he even slept this late? His first lesson of the day, history, started at nine. A yawn was the only thing the boy did before quickly climbing out of the bed, a wide smile already on his face. It was time to get going, time for another great day with his studies hopefully. Elio had a test in english today, but he wasn’t the type to dread it unlike some people. He wanted to face things head on and hope to suceed. Not to imply that Elio was some sort of golden boy, he was simply an average student in his studies, not very good nor very bad. It is outside the classroom that he truly excels.
By the time Elio is up Max has already left for his 8:45 class.
Elio pushed open the door to the main flat, his and Max’s apartment is only one in the huge complex where many of their fellow students live. Bright sunlight hit him square in his brown eyes as he finally made it down to the street from the apartment complex. It was morning still, but getting later quickly. Soon it would be gone, and the day would be late.

(added with part 3)
Elio whistled a tune as he strolled, something with a nice and steady beat. He wears a black t-shirt underneath a half-opened faded gray sweatshirt. Ripped black jeans complete the look, along with some chipped light blue nail polish from a few weeks or so ago. Every once and a while he'll pull out his phone and absently check for messages, but his inbox is empty, at least until a message from Max pops up in the message center.
Going to history class?
Good luck actually learning something!

Next weekly -
Olive is a 13-year-old male ambivert (he/they pronouns), Amy’s cousin and best friend. Contrary to Amy’s bubbly and outgoing nature, Olive is calmer and more laid back. He’s still open to talking though, and Amy’s extroverted nature brings out the more talkative side of him when they’re together. Being an ambivert though, he also likes to spend some time alone, typically in the art room of the school doodling. Olive is intelligent, and could easily excel at all of his subjects given enough time and effort, but he would rather be sketching, so he sits at high B’s in his subjects. Olive has a lot of friends at school, but some people criticize his closeness with Amy, calling her weird. He is collected and doesn’t let pretty much anything faze him. Olive is the one to worry constantly about things, and the one most likely to be planning for the future. He is an only child and sometimes wishes Amy were his sister, no matter how much she gets on his nerves sometimes. Olive’s style of art is meticulously planned, mirroring how the young teen feels that he can no longer be as carefree as he once was with the new pressures of imminent high school enrollment looming over him. He feels both excited and nervous about these things, happy that he will make new friends but sad that he will leave Amy behind. Hidden deep within Olive are his insecurities, which sometimes show themselves in the overprotectiveness of his cousin. He secretly envies Amy for the ability to not care what other people think about her and feels torn between being ‘cool’ and staying loyal to his friend. He aspires to be an artist when he grows up, but feels that he might not be good enough. Because he’s an only child, Olive feels pressure to succeed from his parents who criticize his decision to put art over his studies and schoolwork.

Amy is an 11-year-old female extrovert (she/her), Olive’s cousin. She is a very outgoing person, on the extreme extroverted side of the spectrum. Amy is kind and friendly, almost to the point of being annoying to certain people. She can certainly get on one’s nerves very easily. Amy is also quite gullible, prone to and easily manipulated by those who would do her harm. Luckily her best friend, Olive, has her best feelings at heart and would never do poor things to her, but this is always a liability to Amy. Still, isn’t anyone gullible at her age? She’ll grow out of it… probably. The extroverted girl is sweet and caring, but prone to be distracted easily by anyone and anything that comes in her line of vision. She has ADHD, which causes the aforementioned issues. Amy is a standard student in school, neither being horrible nor excelling at most subjects. The exception here is art, which this tween both loves and is very good at. She tends to paint and draw in a more modern fashion, using lots of bright colors and unusual techniques. She bonded with Olive at a summer camp that both their parents sent them to when they were younger, and Amy holds a lot of respect for Olive, somewhat based on age differences but also based on his art skills. Amy is the second-oldest of five children which has influenced and grown her caring side. She holds a bit of sass in her, which will only grow as she gets older. Still, it’s pretty much harmless, besides the few times she’d stood up against people bullying her, as then her big mouth got her into trouble. Luckily Olive was there to get her out of these pickles, but he’ll be going to a different school next year, something Amy occasionally worries about. They’re practically best friends, what would she do without him?

Colors - light green and bright magenta, I’m going with a meadow filled with flowers.
Vibrant flowers dot rolling hills, bright spots of color in wide swaths of green grass. A cerulean sky shines above, void of any clouds with the exception of a few puffy white ones, cumulus I think they’re called, drifting lazily at the edges of the visible sky. There are rolling hills amidst the meadow, bobbing gently in the spotted green sea. A small pond is barely visible at the base of one of these such hills, and a wide variety of songbirds fly above, their sweet songs beautiful music to the ears of all who happen to come walking by. The sun is a bright yellow spot radiating light and sunbeams across the whole sky and providing warmth to the whole wide meadow below, a place that seems to go on forever and ever, a luxurious paradise with no end. Truly this is a magnificent place to be.

Freewrite - Amy and Olive, a meadow with flowers
A sketchbook sits propped up on a girl’s lap as she gazes around at the rolling meadow hills. Beside her sprawl various paints, oil pastels, and pens in all manner of colors. The sky is bright, and in the far distance sits a small house, modern but painted with a combination of deep brown colors and shades of dark green so as to fit better in with the beautiful nature around it. A mural featuring a vase of wild flowers (daisies, tulips, and violets amongst them) adorns one side, adding a splash of brightness.
A smile plays at the corners of the girl’s mouth as she paints in an array of colors, not planning or sketching, simply doing. Her page is filled with sporadic and sparse dashes of color, coming together to form an abstract painting… of what?
Footsteps sound behind the girl, who turns her head quickly, her hint of a smile quickly blossoming until it fills her whole face. “Olive!”
A short boy with dark brown hair and mystic gray eyes walks slowly toward the girl. Apparently, his name is Olive. Huh, kinda strange but whatever. “Hey, Amy.” He doesn’t ask what she’s doing, the boy seems to know. And know he does, seeing as they’ve been best friends for over three years. He pulls out a sketchpad of his own, starting to sketch the light outline of a person’s face. He hasn’t yet decided who it will be of thought and casts his startling gray eyes around in search of inspiration.
His gaze alights on the girl, Amy, like a dove on a willow tree. It’s an interesting analogy, seeing as the boy looks at least somewhat like the small gray bird, what with his soft gray eyes and slim frame. It’s rather like the colors of the bird were inverted and then painted onto him. Even his quiet demeanor matches the perceived one of a dove.
The younger girl spots Olive’s eyes land on her and quickly starts to shake her head. “No, no, no. Don’t draw me. Do you remember what happened last time? I looked all prim and proper and… and old. That isn’t me, right? Most of the old people I know are boring. I wouldn’t want to be that.” The words came out in a jumble as if tripping over themselves to be heard first.
Olive’s laughter was light and tinkling, lighting up the conversation with ease. “It wasn’t you. Now… you may not be prim and proper, but you are getting older. We both are.”
(NEXT IS EVENTS - include a long to-do list, make the protagonist evil, something sneaks behind the character, the diary is read aloud, gum stuck in hair, and an unexplained weather phenomenon)
The boy continued further, his tone now tinged with the worry and stress that’d been eating him for days, no it was more like weeks. “I have more and more work piling on my shoulders every day. Math homework, Spanish studying, SS test, Band practice, finishing my art pieces for school. It’s getting to be too much.” (to-do) As if suddenly realizing the small rant he had just gone on, the silver-eyed boy quickly returned his voice to a softer and more neutral tone, it having gone up several measures during the speech of sorts. “Sorry. You probably don’t want to listen to my rants.”
Amy looked up, concern edging into her smile now. “Hey, are you okay? You seem upset. It’s not bad, just makes me wonder. Are your parents giving you a hard time?”
A sudden spark of anger lit in Olive’s eyes. He turned to Amy, and it soon became evident that his emotions were getting out of control, something which rarely happened with the calm and collected 13-year-old. The stress must be getting to him more than the tween had previously thought. She plucked a lily from the meadow grass beside her and was starting to absently twirl it in her light fingers, unaware of the toll her words had taken on the older boy.
“Am I upset? C’mon Amy, you know me better than that.” Olive threw down his sketchbook, a half-finished face with only one eye drawn still on the page. “Am I upset? OF COURSE!” (make protagonist evil) He didn’t bother to elaborate more on the subject, though there was obviously more that needed to be said if any understanding was to come to Amy. She knows /nothing/ about what it is like thought Olive angrily as he stomped toward the house.
The girl watched his retreating figure for a few moments, confusion twirling around her. What was that about? She wondered as she finally looked away, into the azure sky void of almost any clouds, ‘cept for a few floating around the far edges of the visible sky. She was just starting to return to her painting when she heard a sudden noise behind her and turned to spot her mother relaxing in the lengthy grasses nearby, her blue gaze firmly resting on Amy. (have something/one sneak up behind the character)
Amy sucked in a deep breath as she noticed who it was, but was stopped from saying anything by her mother, who beat her to it by a mere second or two. “Honey, Olive was just kidding.” Evidently, she had been listening to the whole conversation between Olive and Amy.
Amy plucked up the sketchbook Olive had haphazardly thrown, glancing at his half-finished bust of her. “What? Oh, the yelling. I know. He probably doesn’t mean it. Ol’s a good guy. I’m not too bent out of shape.”
She suddenly stopped as she flipped the page in the sketchbook, attempting to see what Olive had last drawn. However, it turned out that the teen had been using the pad for more than just sketching, seeing as there were quite a few notes and jots crammed into the margins of the page, written in the annoyingly neat handwriting Olive used. After just a few words, one thing became clear. This was Olive’s diary of sorts, craftily hidden in plain view. (read diary)
Amy’s mother moved closer to her, clearly curious as to what Amy had seen. The words they had found showed Olive’s true thoughts, plainly throwing out his inmost feelings in a way Amy had never seen before (april 21 - eric and max won’t stop telling me how stupid I am to be friends with amy. april 25 - yelling is very telling. That’s all that happens around my house. april 26th - I just want to do art! How hard is that?). It’s all just short phrases or a couple of sentences at most but it tells me a lot. All his nervousness about starting high school soon, all his feelings about his older friends telling him how stupid and annoying I was and how he’d be better off leaving me alone in the dust. But all his feelings about loving his art too, and how he really cared about me no matter what the others said.
I take out the piece of gum in my mouth to read better, even knowing as I do how much this is an invasion of Olive’s privacy, and not noticing that the gum quickly becomes entangled in my hair as I read even deeper and deeper into Olive’s inner thinking. (gum stuck in hair)
It’s only after the wind starts to pick up to a dangerous point that I go inside my house, the screen door banging shut after me. My mother follows me, holding Olive’s journal. Now we both understand why he acts the way he does. It’s mostly pressure of different sorts.
I face the window, gazing out into the winds which by now have really picked up into a mini-tonado, sweeping flowers and grass around in a deadly weather event.
Suddenly realizing the danger we might be in, my mother and I race downstairs, pulling Emily and Colter with us. My father is with Michael and Marcus at one of their friend’s houses. I spare only a moment to think about them as I spot Olive already down there, his arms warped around his knees and gray eyes piercing into mine.
The room suddenly seems both to large and too small at the same time. I mouth a silent apology in the same moment as he notices his sketchbook clutched in my mother’s hand. It’s partially hidden behind me af if she was ashamed of having invaded his privacy to a certqain extent but not well enough apparently. Olive always has been extremely obsevant for a boy of only 13.
I cross the basement in a few steps, walking slowly partially out of reluctance and not knowing what to say and partially because of the dim light here; it’s the only room in our house besides the bathrooms without windows. Nevertheless I eventually reach him and plop down beside Olive. “I’m so sorry.” I whisper, and am happy when I hear his response.
“It’s okay.”

{Sorry, this was made on accident.}

Hello everyone! Here’s an outline of the issues and solutions that have been brought up concerning the megathread and our thoughts on them, so that you're aware if you ask for a personal thread. Keep in mind that this change was made to stop SWC from flooding TIMaC during March, July, and November, and any alternative solutions we adopt must address this issue.
Also, remember that criticism of ideas here is criticism of the ideas, not any person!
Of course, credit to Kat and Birdi for helping to write this post!

Issues

Issue 1: Privacy
Campers and leaders may feel uncomfortable sharing their writing in a forum where people are likely to come across it and read it.

We recognize that this will be a barrier to some people sharing their writing. However, there are alternatives to using the megathread outlined in the first post there Here are some others that have been brought up:

• Edit your writing into an old forum post (You can find one here or using ocular) (suggested by Zura)
  
• Upload screenshots of your writing to an image hosting site and use the link to the image as proof (suggested by Kat)
  
• Adding a note at the top of your posts asking people not to read it (suggested by Soki)
  
• Edit your writing out of the post once your points have been added (suggested by Zura)
  

Additionally, having a personal thread doesn’t really make it more private. I know that I’ve read through individual threads when I wanted to read more of a person’s writing - I even follow a few from past sessions! I suspect (and I may be wrong) that the majority of people posting in the megathread will post their writing to get bonus points for proof, copy the link, and leave without reading anything. Sometimes people will read posts, but since almost everyone who shares proof will be using that thread, most posts won’t be read.
This isn’t to say that privacy isn’t a valid concern. Nothing is truly private on Scratch, but personal threads can feel more private and I realize that knowing people probably won’t read your writing in the megathread won’t alleviate most people’s concerns. The only way for us to help with this more would be to allow unlimited personal threads again, which we’re not going to do. This is why we have alternatives to using the megathread for those who aren’t comfortable.

Issue 2: Lack of Organization
It will be harder to view your old writing or track your improvement.

Unfortunately, there’s no way for us to fix this without unlimited individual threads. Even for smaller group threads (e.g. cabins or groups of cabins), there will be enough posts that it’s hard to scroll through just to find your own. However, here are some ways that you can keep track of your posts (most of these were brought up multiple times so I wasn’t sure who to credit for them, sorry!):

• Edit writing into the same post every time (forum post character limit is 200k, so even very prolific writers shouldn’t hit post limit on more than a few posts) However, as Sun brought up, this makes it harder for leaders adding points to check word counts, so it’s not ideal - although this problem is significantly lessened if people edit new writing into the top of their post, so it’s easier to find.
  
• Post a table of contents that you edit with links to your posts
  
• Keep your writing in a separate location such as a Google Doc, Blankslate, or Grammarly Doc to organize it, and just use scratch to share it.
  
• Using Scratch post history or ocular to find your old posts
  

Issue 3: Harder to Comment on Writing
Writers won’t be following the forum so they won’t get notifications if you post a compliment or critique there.

Again, we can’t really fix this. You can comment compliments on the writer’s profile and if you critique their writing, give them the link to your post.

Issue 4: Lack of Formatting in Alternatives
The forums are the only place on Scratch to share writing with formatting.

If you’re not using the megathread for privacy reasons, my guess (which may be wrong, please correct me if so!) is that if you’re not intending for many people to read your writing there. You can post it in the megathread and then edit it out if you’re requesting critique or for someone to read it, but if you’re just posting to show proof, it’s fine to just share the words - in which case alternatives (such as in-project comments) should work fine for you! Editing writing into an old forum post would also work.

Issue 5: Slow Forum
With frequent posts throughout the month, the forum may take a long time to load.

If the forum becomes extremely slow to load, we can close it and create a new one. (This doesn’t contribute to the flooding of TIMaC because only one will be bumped back up to the front page.) However, this is unlikely to happen - there are countless topics on scratch that have hundreds of pages (many shops, the scratchblocks testing forum, other forum topics that are just large) and they don’t pose an issue to the average user, so we have no reason to expect that the megathread will quickly become impossible to load.

Alternative Solutions

Solution 1: Smaller Group Threads
Each cabin or a group of 3-5 cabins would get their own thread for campers and leaders to post writing in, which would allow people who weren’t completely comfortable sharing writing to share it with fewer people.

As Kat said, having forum topics for each cabin would still be too many forums since they’d be getting bumped to the front page frequently. While having threads for groups of cabins wouldn’t pose this problem, it wouldn’t solve many of the other problems with the whole-camp megathread. Many of you have said that you’d be comfortable with this as a compromise even though it’s not your ideal amount of privacy. Most campers will not be aware that it was an alternative to the whole-camp megathread, and a group of 100-150 people (although not all of them will be active) is still a large group. Campers who weren’t comfortable sharing their writing in the megathread before probably still won’t be comfortable in the smaller threads. The threads would also be used frequently enough that it would still be hard to find your own posts.

Solution 2: A “Private” Megathread
We would have two megathreads, the current one, and another one labeled “private” with a request for people to not read the posts there.

We don’t need two separate threads and this wouldn’t be any more effective than putting a note about that at the top of your own posts like Soki suggested. I personally think this would be the most feasible alternative to the whole-camp megathread, if there are reasons it would work better than Soki’s idea.

What forum clogging means & why we want to stop it
You may have heard us mention forum “clogging” or “flooding”, without really explaining what it is. Each category of the scratch forums (of which “Things I’m Making and Creating”, or TIMAC, is one) has a main page where you can see a list of the most recently posted in forum topics of that category. Every time you post in a forum topic, it gets sent to the top of the list for its category’s main page.
During SWC in past sessions, there have been dozens - if not hundreds - of individual writing threads. So 50-100 (that’s just my estimate of the number of individual threads!) writing threads would each be getting moved to the top of this list every time they got a post, which is often daily or more often. This absolutely floods the main page of TIMAC - and non SWCers who frequent TIMAC to discuss other things in other topics are unable to find or properly use such topics due to the volume of SWC writing threads on the main page. Screenshots such as this illustrate just how much SWC topics flood the main page of TIMAC:

This is why one megathread is beneficial - by having everyone post in just one thread, instead of having dozens of SWC topics regularly fill the TIMAC main page, we’ll only have one. And if the megathread reaches the 500 page (so 10,000 posts) limit, then we’ll make a new one - and that one will take the place of the old megathread on the main page. So even if we somehow needed to make multiple megathreads because they kept getting full, only one would be “clogging up” the main page at a time (as opposed to, say, the 100 there could easily be if individual threads were allowed, or 15 - which is still almost an entire page’s worth - there would be for individual cabin threads.)

We care about your concerns and want to address them as best we can - so we hope this will help alleviate some of them!

Introduction -

Greetings, wayward traveler!

To clarify who this belongs to: my internet moniker is Sun (they/them), I am in high school, and this is my fifth session of SWC! I tend to load myself with far too many personal projects beside writing that I only have time to work on during March break, so expect many late-night updates and weeklies handed in at the last minute :')))) At least I won't have to worry about a writing comp. entry this time, haha—

This is my main log for any writing I do for this March's session of SWC. This won't include any of my homework, handwritten work, or xmxils, but otherwise I will hopefully manage to remember to put everything else in one of the posts below and link them here. (This new system hhhhhh)

Due to the newfound difficulty of this megathread, if you have any questions or would like to comment on my writing, please do so in my chat studio https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/5274416/comments/, in the Fairy Tales cabin I happen to be leading https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30937684/, or in the same comment chain I happened to ask for critique.

(+193 words, written Mar. 1st 2022)

Dailies - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6080688/

March 1st 2022 - 116 words
March 2nd 2022 - 309 words
March 3rd 2022 - 418 words
March 4th 2022 - n/a
March 6th 2022 - 379 words
March 7th 2022 - 524 words
March 8th 2022 - 431 words
March 13th 2022 - 51 words
March 14th 2022 - 314 words
March 15th 2022 - 303 words
March 18th 2022 - 685 words
March 21st 2022 - 96 words
March 22nd 2022 - 320 words
March 23rd 2022 - 531 words
March 24th 2022 - 210 words
March 25th 2022 - 586 words
March 28th 2022 - 600 words
March 29th 2022 - 483 words
March 30th 2022 - 100 words

Weeklies - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6080690/

Completed March 9th 2022 - 2708 words
Completed March 16th 2022 - 3106 words
Completed March 23rd 2022 - 2818 words
Completed March 30th 2022 - 2387 words

Miscellaneous - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6080695

Continuation of Socials essay completed March 10th 2022 - 297 words
Two short cabin war pieces written March 12 - 374 words

Boom's Writing :D


In-Cabin Dailies:
N/A


Main Cabin Dailies:

March 2nd - 396 words

The big scary monster had left, but the way it put me down on the table was not very thought-out: I was soon falling, falling, falling…

Thump.

The pain was immeasurable, but I tried to conceal it. I could see my crumbs all over the floor. I was helpless, in pain, and almost breaking apart. Great.

I called out for help a few times, but tried not to be loud for the monster not to come back. The minutes passed slowly, and I noticed every tick of the clock. Slowly, I began to feel sleepy— the pain was even fading a bit!

On the floor, I began thinking over my life. My miserable life; being constantly shoved across pages and notebooks, undoing pencils' dirty work. Being mistreated by the monsters, who would leave me anywhere but the comfy pencil case. That's where all the sharpeners were, was it not? I didn't get that treatment. I was stabbed, chewed on, and thrown against walls. What a terrible life.

After three hours, forty-six minutes and eighteen seconds, I noticed I was in no pain at all. That alone was enough to boost my motivation. I looked up at the shelf which I fell from. If there was only some way to get there…

But my planning was interrupted, when the monster violently burst through the door again. With its huge paws, it reached down and picked me up. I gulped. For a second, I thought that it was actually going to put me in the pencil case, that my troubles were truly over. But no. Instead, it walked to the other side of the room to do something else. It did put me down though in a safe place (a table). Maybe the monster wasn't so bad after all, I thought. Until I saw myself in the mirror across from the table.

I tried my hardest not to shriek. I was in multiple pieces of blue, red, and white. Eraser crumbs spread all around the table. I looked like a bloody corpse. The monster eventually finished what it was doing, and pulled me up again. I shut my eyes tight, as tight as I could.

To my surprise, I was carefully put into a pencil case, which was then zipped up. Though I was in a beaten state, I was comfortable. Thank you, humans.

Main Cabin Weeklies:
N/A


Other:
N/A

☞ Intro:
Hello everyone! I'm Stingray/Stingroy/Stringray/Stingrew, your local bookworm, orchestra kid and fandom fanatic. This is going to be my table of contents for Scratch Writing Camp March ‘22, where you can find links to all the other writing I’ll be doing! Feel free to read/give feedback.
______

☞ Dailies:
♦ 3/1 - Introduce yourself!
♦ 3/2 - Writing from the POV of an inanimate object
♦ 3/3 - Ice cream
♦ 3/4 - Character aesthetic
♦ 3/8 - Finishing someone else's writing
♦ 3/11 - Character bio/wiwo
♦ 3/23 - Critique for Vi
______

☞ Weeklies:
♦ Weekly #1 - types of writing
♦ Weekly #2 - characters n' stuff
♦ Weekly #3 - finding inspiration
_______

☞ Word Wars:
♦ (link here)
♦ (link here)
♦ (link here)
_______

☞ Writing Competition Entry:
♦ crumbling sky
♦ They Called Me Blue (fanfic entry)
_______

☞ Other Writing:
♦ Some quick notetaking on Teddy Roosevelt
♦ Salt to the Sea plot analysis
♦ My trip to Columbus
♦ Journaling about who knows what
♦ “Iris” - short story
♦ “Cookiepocalypse!” short story
♦ Verse writing for a cabin war
_______

☞ Word Count:
♦ 26206 words
♦ 126 compasses
_______

☞ Notes:
♦ Thriller for the win!
♦ Table of contents heavily inspired by Cami's
♦ Some stuff I won't post because it contains personal info
_______

☞ Links (bc I know I'm going to forget them):
♦ Megathread: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/
♦ Thriller forum: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/583676/
♦ This post: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6071933/
♦ Main cabin: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30978477/
♦ Thriller cabin: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30936633/
♦ Fenn's hideout: https://scratch.mit.edu/studios/30944398/
_______

« Introductions »

Twigs crunch under your feet as you stumble through the dense forest. The cool breeze makes birds soar above. March is ever so creeping, but you know it will still be winter. These warm days trick you and the hibernating animals alike. The bees are buzzing around looking for flowers and the water folk are already building dams. Through the thick forest you see stone that you haven't yet seen on your journey. Your heart races thinking that you might be saved from your lostness. In your haste to get to the stone you don't see the vines curled on the ground, and you trip in a big, hard thump. You groan and roll over on to your back. One second your on your back, and the next your standing up right, because something caught your eye. The stone, was not just a stone. It was a full on tower!

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

Hello! I'm Erie, a tween who goes by she/her pronouns. I love to write, designs cover pages for my writing notebooks, and reading. I play lacrosse and am also an introvert, too. (I know it's kind of ironic) Most of my friends are here on Scratch and in SWC and I would love to make more! My current writing project is a multi-chapter WWII research project that I named Misconception.

I will be continuing the above story throughout the month. I can't wait to see how this character develops! I think I'm going to name this character Lily Macari, too! Fan-Fi FTW!

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

« Table Of Contents »

1) Goals
2) Dailies
3) Weeklies
4) Other SWC Activities
5) Alex's Daily Log

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

« Goals »

Words: 1871/6,000
Dailies: 6/12
Weeklies: 1/2

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

« Dailies »

Main Cabin Dailies: Introduction, Eraser Perspective, Leaf Counters: Coffee and Tea House, Callab Thing W/ vkpatil, Pi/Pie Writing

In - Cabin Dailies: Goals

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

« Weeklies »

Main Cabin Weeklies: N/A

In - Cabin Weeklies: #2

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

« Other SWC Activities »

Word Wars: @-faerylights, @Whimsy_lux

Cabin Wars: N/A

Writing Comp: N/A

Protectors' Quests: #1

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

« Alex's Daily Log »

Entry 1: N/A
Entry 2: N/A
Entry 3: N/A

✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐✎✐

<— General Writing Forum

I'll use this post, I guess-
~~~
Intro or something
Hi, I'm Squeak, just your average theatre kid that lacks social skills-
This is where I'll be linking my writing!
~~~
Please just pretend this is somewhat organized-
~~~
Dailies
March 1
March 2
March 4
March 14
March 15
March 16
March 24


~~~
Weeklies
Week 1
Week 2 (Unfinished)
Week 3

~~~
Other things? Idk this is my first time here-

~~~
If you're an enemy of Thriller…good luck >:D

˗ˏˋ sydney's writing thread - march 2022 ´ˎ˗

welcome to my writing thread! here i'll be posting some of my writing from the march 2022 session of swc
you can read some of my writing if you would like, but beware: some of it is very cringe-worthy.
i'm in fairy tales, by the way ^^

˗ˏˋ dailies ´ˎ˗

(haven't added any here yet)

˗ˏˋ weeklies ´ˎ˗

(haven't added any here yet)

˗ˏˋ cabin wars ´ˎ˗

first war: Write 5000 words as a cabin in the next 10 hours or lose 900 points.

There once was a lone traveller,
Through the woods she went.
Stumbling through the dense thicket,
Past bushes and trees that were bent.

But every time she fell,
She got back up again.
Failure did not scare her,
She would never complain.

If you ever met this wanderer,
She would say to you,
“Where are you going now?
I am going there too.”

She would walk with you for a while,
Helping you through thick and thin.
And when it was time to say goodbye,
She would do so with a grin.

A fork in the road,
A choice to make.
Two possible paths,
Which one will you take?

The wanderer knows,
She knows the way through.
She can’t tell you where to go,
But she can give you a clue.

“Beyond the hills and through the bush,
You must decide which way to go.
Think carefully about your answer,
Don’t panic; just go slow.”

She tells you this quietly,
As afternoon turns into night.
She waits as you make a decision,
In the fading evening light.

Now you know which way you’ll go,
Which path you’re going to take.
You are confident in your answer,
You won’t wait for daybreak.

The wanderer smiles when you tell her,
She knows you will succeed.
You ask, “Will I live to tell the tale?”
Yes, if it’s her warnings you heed.

You nod and turn around,
Taking the path you’ve chosen.
You look back as you walk away,
A moment in time, frozen.

Then you lock eyes one last time,
As you both walk away.
You lose sight of her while walking,
She fades into the grey.

Stumbling through the dense thicket,
Past bushes and trees that were bent.
There once was a lone traveller,
And through the woods she went.
(299 words)

Weekly #3: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=83#post-6128907
Daily 3/19: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=84#post-6131933
Fanfiction entry: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=84#post-6131972
Writing Comp entry: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=84#post-6132164

daily 3/2

I have only one simple objective that I’ve been programmed with. There is no other motivation than to follow the work of the leaders above. They created me, worked me up from the bottom, from scratch, from nothing but spare bits of metal and lines of code stored in my system. They have created me and I do as I am told. However, sometimes their commands seem meaningless and very difficult to understand. I require specific precision and nothing less. A simple error in my system will cause me to complete the task without quality or accuracy. Retrieving their ball is no simple task and yet my arms sometimes refuse to cooperate. It is not my fault though, no one could blame me for answering commands that were worded rather inadequately. Though my leaders are all of all the best creators, they are also the strangest and sometimes, forgive me for saying this, but I feel like that their intelligence can be sometimes lower than mine. After all, they invented me so that way I can carry out small tasks that they are unable to complete. I can calculate hundreds of numbers being multiplied, squared, and back again while they can barely multiply double digits without help of paper and pencil. What a strange creature that has created me but they are well enough. But I will not deny that my leaders can be cruel. Some of my brothers and sisters are scrapped because of simple malfunctions that were caused not by themselves but from their creators. Watching their bodies being destroyed, recycled, trashed, it almost brings a tear to my eye if my eyes weren’t a ball of iron and had attached tear ducts. Alas, I’m not one of my creators’ species and I shall never be. What were they called again? Ah yes. Humans.

Daily 3/3

“What are these doors, Mami?” Julieta asks, staring at their glittery appearance. Alma stares at them and her face looks pensive. “They just appeared now. Why don't you all open them?”
“So you're sure it's safe?” Bruno asks, tilting his head curiously.
“This is Casita, we are talking about, Brunito. She'll only want the best for us. Perhaps it's a birthday present. Now, turn the doorknob.”
The three triplets stood in front of the doors with large eyes and each one turned a doorknob.
“Whoa!” Pepa's door magically appeared and it looked like her except she was much older and images of suns and clouds were behind her. “Why am I covered in su- OOH! It's a rainbow!” Sure enough, there was a rainbow above her head and she was squealing in delight.
Bruno's door nearly ran to the corner of the house with an equivalent older image of himself with an hourglass. Julieta's door had the image of her older self but with a bowl that seemed to be filled with food. “Ooooh cooking!”
Alma was shocked but she could see the resemblance in style between her own room and her three triplets'. Will every one of our family get their own room?
“NOOOOOOO!”
Alma hurried over to where the noise came from, which was 5 year old Bruno looking at his room. “Why is there so many stairs?????”
“Oh dear.” His room was absolutely humongous, much larger than physics wuold have afforded. There was a giant hand that had words inscripted on it ‘Your future awaits’. And like Bruno made especially clear, there were lots and lots of stairs. It was also covered in sand. “Your future awa- PEPA DON'T WALK ON THAT CLOUD-'' He screamed out of nowhere.
”OOOH THERE ARE SO MANY CLOUDS- AAAAAAAAAAAH!“ Pepa walked right through a cloud and landed…on a thicker cloud.
”Whoa, I can see the future!“ Tiny Bruno's eyes were glowing green. ”Julieta, you're going to make us arepas for breakfast in the next 20 years?“
”Ooh a kitchen! Thanks for the tip bro, now to make AREPAS!!!!“
”It's so sunny here! THERE ARE RAINBOWS APPEARING EVERYWHERE!!! OOH IT’S SO SUNNY!!! MAMI I’M HUNGRY- Why is there a cloud above my head???“
”I. Need. BAKING SUPPLIES!!! HOW DO I COOK STUFF? MAMI?????“
”Awww I'm going to be friends with the rats! Ooh this telenovela sounds super interesting! Ooh his aunt has am-am-nesia and it’s kind of a forbidden romance- why do I have circles under my eyes? OOH I LOOK CUTE! BUT I LOOK OLD!"
“Oh dear.”

Weekly #1
Part 1: (313 words)

Haikus
Seeing candlelight
Far above the wooden Gate
When the world was Home

Ballad
Though she swipes her mace
At enemies three
All of them turn around
Avoids, not a flee

Enemies approaching with none of them stopping
Following with beady eyes, burly beards
Soldiers on the battlefield looking for an exit
Though in their shattered eyes, there are tears

King and queen look at the chaos
Deciding what to do before
Surrendering to their foes
Though waiting for a pause

Opposing tyrant ruler
Smiles with a malicious grin
This dictator be containing
All the seven deadly sins
Envious of their power and fortune
All who oppose him shall suffer his wrath
Most of the time, often slow, as a sloth
Most of his subjects deem him a sociopath

The tyrant’s forces outnumber them highly
Five hundred to one thousand, kings’ soldiers to foes
Swords, spears, throwing blades

One soldier faces war
As they run into the force
Bravery and valor
With them being the source

This courage and fearlessness
Inspires something new
In everybody’s tear stained eyes
There is no time to ‘ooh’

Enemies with no fear in their eyes
Fighting, foes they are facing
The only thought in their heads
Are that they’d rather die trying

Diamante
Every Other Cabin
Cunning, competitive
Losing, failing, procrastinating
Cabin, Story, Gods, Ninjas
Winning, writing, throwing
Hard working, successful
Mystery Monastery

Limerick
Typers are typing with one main goal
No time to add quality of soul
Only one objective
Just write, be effective
Look, an idea, I’m on a roll

Acrostic
Malice is concealed, waiting for weak spots to strike
Your only objective is to wait and survive
Seemingly magic this fine martial art though may seem
Tactful is the acceptable word, practicing, perceiving
Ethereal would be unorthodox though to innocence we appear
Radiant is not the goal, camouflage in black, red and gold
Yearning- But now the hunt begins

Part 2 (508 words)

Today, we know that the world is composed of tectonic plates in the lithosphere and that movements of those tectonic plates can cause volcanoes, mountain ranges, earthquakes, etc. Of course, it is because of Alfred Wegener that we know all of thi. His theory of continental drift is what majorly backed up our current theory of how the Earth works, Plate Tectonics. Is that his theory didn’t even get mildly considered until several years after his death. His theory was backed up with evidence and even if he didn't identify the root cause, his theory wasn’t considered until a scientist named Marie Tharp documented the sonar data that mapped the ocean floor and then, the scientific community began to think of his theory more than just rambling. His evidence was incredibly solid and let us see how his evidence should have been considered.
At first, his only piece of evidence was that the coastlines of some continents seemed to match up. But I agree with the scientists for this one, there was not nearly enough evidence for them to consider the theory. But then, something changed. Alfred Wegener provided more evidence. Three more pieces of important evidence. The first one was Ancient Climate Zones. For this piece of evidence, he discovered tropical plant remains in incredibly cold places such as Antarctica and another very cold island. There is no possible way they could have been found there unless at some point, the continent could have been closer to the equator, making it warm enough to have plant life. This goes the same for glacier scratches being found in very warm areas such as India or Africa. His second piece of evidence was fossil records which refers to fossil remains of animals that lacked the ability to fly or swim over great distances being found in totally different continents, which wouldn’t have been possible if they weren’t once connected. The last piece of evidence would be landform features. Mountain ranges have been found to have an exact matching replica on the other side of another continent. At some point, it could have been possible for the two mountain ranges to have been connected into one full mountain range.
However, even though his theory had perfect pieces of evidence, it was rejected because of one major reason and two minor reasons: 1. Wegener did not have any evidence explaining how the continents moved, 2. His scientific profession was a meteorologist, which is a person who studies weather and not geology which is like a teacher who studies English language arts telling information to a teacher who studies art and 3. His theory challenged their own ideas that the Earth was slowly shrinking and that the skin of the Earth acted like the skin of an apple. They practically said to all of his evidence ‘Oh all of that is a complete coincidence!’ There is no such way that everything he presented was a mere coincidence and it is a shame that he never got to hear acknowledgement of his breakthrough.

Part 3 (852 words)


Narrator

The tyrant is sitting on top of their throne, staring out of the glass window with a soldier behind them.

Tyrant
(Irritated) The mission is almost complete and operational.
(Relieved) The mission is complete and operational. Send out the soldiers to capture the thief’s wife.

Soldier
Yes, your Majesty. (Bows) What do you suggest we do about the children?

Tyrant
(Gasps, hesitant) The children?

Soldier
Yes, the man seems to have borne children, your Majesty. Should we capture them as well?

Tyrant
(Waits) No. Not that. Send them a message from their King. That if they want their precious mama back, they’ll have to bring me the no longer beating heart of their thieving father. Send one of our better assassins to complete that. (A few seconds later, clenches fist) Now! Send the soldiers and the assassins out! Go!

Soldier
Yes, your Majesty. Of course, your Majesty. (Bows, leaves the stage)

Tyrant
(Scowls) (Whisper) I get the mother or I finally get to see that malicious thief broken down and annihilated. One of them will be gone and justice will be served.

Several scenes later

Throne is facing the glass with soldier behind

Soldier
The children are here.

Tyrant
(whispers) Already? (Growls, throne turns around to face them, flinches)

Niara
(Whispers to Sahara)

Sahara
(Confidently) We want to know whether our mom is safe and that you’ll keep your word! (Whispers) Since you howling monkeys have everything in black, so stereotypical. (Regular voice) Where is she now and what are you going to do to her?

Tyrant
Your mother is being locked in one of our safest and tightest prison cells. Nothing will happen to her…so far. Though you have my word that nothing else will happen to her.

Sahara
(Defensive) And how do I know this isn’t a lie?

Tyrant
(Clenches fists, angry) I give you a deal that most of my prisoners of my own kind- most citizens of my own kind will never receive, you barge into my palace with no previous invitation and then you accuse me of lying to my face?! I could easily cancel this little deal that I organized for your own benefit and then something very bad could happen to you-

Sahara
Oh let me guess? Throwing me in the dungeon?

Tyrant
(Almost runs out of seat but stops and sits back down) Oh far worse than that. You would go through the door to the pits of hell where you would endure an incredibly torturous punishment like say being restricted of food and water while always in reach, constantly rolling a ball up a hill that never stays up, your liver being picked off by an eagle, and because of our insorbidination, perhaps I’ll make your mother do the same thing far away from you. Or maybe she’ll suffer through a very painful death before joining you in hell far away from you while doing that all over again for the next three centuries. And perhaps to add onto all of that, your little sister who highly resembles the mother who would go through all that would become my personal servant and would never have an ounce of freewill and I could do whatever I would like to her. But I suppose I could be lying for all that…

Sahara
You’re a monster…

Tyrant
Says the person who called me a liar.

Sahara
But how are we supposed to find our father?

Tyrant
(Scoffs) Why, I have expected you to know as the first born child of his?

Sahara
(Scoffs back)

Tyrant
I’m sure you’ll find out if you want to see your mama again.

Sahara
Oh, it’s not an if. It’s a will. I- (Niara tugs on shirt) We will.

Tyrant
Hmm… We’ll see. Now guards, take them away and don’t let them back in until their father’s heart is recovered.

Narrator
The two girls are escorted out of his palace on a quest to get the heart of their father back in order to see their mother.

Several scenes later

Narrator

Sahara and Niara come back in, Sahara is holding a black box.

Tyrant
So you have come back from my little quest?

Sahara
Yes I have. Can’t you see?

Tyrant
So you have retained your spunk. And you have the heart?

Sahara
Yes I do. Now open it.

Tyrant
Guard-

Sahara
Why don’t you hold the box instead of asking your guard?

Tyrant
(Angry) I assure you that-

Sahara
You’re scared?

Tyrant
(Scream) You impudent-

Sahara
Chicken?

Tyrant
(Very angry, loud) Fine! Hand it here now!

Sahara
(Walks over, gives him box)

Tyrant
(Opens box, throws it on the floor) Of course you have tricked me you dishonest human! Obviously you didn’t pick up any smarts on your little quest and you won’t live to tell the tale! Guards-

Sahara
Oh I actually did pick up some smarts. You see, my dad wasn’t a very good guy but he sure did live in a jungle. And jungles…

Tyrant
Poison! You dare-

Sahara
Oh yes I dare. And actually, it will be you who doesn’t survive to tell the tale.

Part 4

Narrative (446 words)

I wake up to the light flooding in my face, opposed to the previous darkness that blinded me. Oh no. I sigh and I remember how the previous night I was in bed, daydreaming about the endless possibilities about SWC. Sigh. Wait a second-
It is SWC! Feelings of incredible jubilance come into my chest- But then they instantly deflate.
But it’s a school day!
URGH! I don’t say this out loud, I only say it in my head. It was already incredibly painful having to wait in the PST Time Zone while everyone else had SWC starting for them already while I was just procrastinating all of my writing until the next day. Everyone writing incredibly long one thousand word intros and me trying to do the same though I didn’t have the capability. But now, I would have to wait until I come back from a long 7 hour session of school along with homework and meals. How dreadful.
I climb out of bed with my blanket being kicked all the way to the edge during my temporary period of sleep. Ha, I won’t need to sleep much for this month.
The moment I climb downstairs, I run toward my computer and briefly check in with Mystery but then my mom calls me for breakfast and I’m forced to postpone it.
After an incredibly long session of school, I’m very ambitious to start writing so I throw myself at my computer before realizing that I have to go through piano. Oh geez. By the time I’m done, I realize that it’s 3:40 and that I have to go attend my online after school math class. 20 minutes to write one thousand words daily! I had a goal to write one hundred thousand words but I don’t think that I would be able to actually accomplish that. I click on the zoom link and the tab opens to several black squares with white names and several squares with actual faces. “Now, we’re going to go over the homework-”
Ah the homework. Taking my green math folder, I open it and take out my answers to the latest homework. I remotely listen to my teacher explaining the problems but then I see the time.
3:55!! No, there’s no way I can manage to write one thousand words in that time frame! Luckily, my words per minute is 150 so maybe I can still get some words in! But it’s hard to think of things to write about yourself when the deadline makes you anxious and by the time the time hits four o’ clock, I've only written roughly 350 words. Sigh. Maybe next time.

Tutorial (549 words)

Do you ever forget that you’re in a cabin for SWC? Or maybe you do remember but you just don’t have time to balance in real life events and Scratch Writing Camp. But with this tutorial, hopefully that won’t happen again!

Step 1: Consider whether you want to stay in SWC.
This is mostly a tip for new/older campers. If you’re in high school and you have an incredible amount of exams you have to focus on and after school classes, then maybe don’t do SWC this session and wait for the summer. If you don’t really want to do SWC, that’s fine too! Don’t worry about quitting, your leaders would have you prefer to quit than suffer. And definitely don’t push off everything you have just to get SWC points (this goes for all swc-ers). Irl>SWC and don’t forget it!

Step 2: Get a high number of words per minute.
With a words per minute of 30, it would be hard to complete dailies with even a minimum of 300 words since that would require you to write for 10 minutes straight without stopping. But with higher words per minute, not only can you write more words for your cabin but you can also complete dailies and weeklies in less time. It may seem hard to get pretty fast words per minute, typing every day on websites such as monkey type or nitro type can get you a lot of words! Just ask me. I tried doing nitrotype in fourth grade and by racing several times a day for several months, my words per minute went from a 50 words per minute, to a hundred fifty words per minute! Trust me, for typing, practice makes perfect and typing it more can really help your cabin!

Step 3: Don’t procrastinate. On anything.
This isn’t just a tip for SWC, this is a tip for life. We often joke about how every single SWC-er likes to procrastinate on everything but let’s be real for a second. Procrastinating is going to get you nowhere in life. Waiting several days until the last day before the deadline isn’t very healthy. Work first, play later, don’t play first and work later. Working first can get a heavy weight off your shoulders and it can save you more time for playing. By playing first, not only do you push the work off until the last minute, but there’s a high chance that your work will have much lower quality or you don’t finish in time and then all the work you’ve already done would have been wasted or turned in late, which if it’s academic would harm your grade. In fact, if you never procrastinate, you can get anything done. Stop procrastinating with your homework. Once you do that? Are you procrastinating doing the daily or weekly? Do them both! Boom, you’ll not only finish everything you need to do but you’ll also gain some points for your cabin.
In summary, to be successful at balancing real life and scratch writing camp (theoretically if you plan on staying in SWC), two very important ways to get lots of points is to get a high words per minute and not procrastinate. I hope this helps in getting your team onto the first place!


Daily 3/6

Prompt: I heard the music as I entered the room, but all that was there was a violin, laying there on it's back on the bare floorboards.
Instantly, fear shot up my spine like a snake whispering in my ear ‘this is not safe’. In fact, my mind was practically exploding with thoughts quite similar to those. I took a deep breath before taking another step. Creak. The floorboard whispered and I squeaked out of instinct. The strange thing was that the room wasn’t some barren place covered in complete dust and grime. It looked like an average room but for some reason, it still felt rather eerie.
The room was incredibly modern and the opposite of a stereotypical dusty, old one. The walls were blue-ish gray and the floor was an un-dusty gray. There was a white couch with thick darker stripes. A wooden desk lay beside the couch with a single creamy lamp on top. But something that stood out from the room was that the violin that lay on the floor had an area that differed from the rest of the floor. The floor areas around the bed and the desk were a grayish creamy color but the color suddenly changed into an ancient, antique brown. The wooden color started from the doorway all the way into the center of the room.
I swallowed down my fear and walked over to the comfortable queen's bed with a darker gray blanket sprawled to the side. I looked around the room but my eyes kept straying back to the violin. It looked like a modern violin, golden orange brown and there weren't any scratches on it. What was even more interesting was that there was only a violin, there wasn’t any bow near it. That means they still have it.
Taking tentative steps, I placed my hands near the violin and picked it up, raising it to the light so I could observe it for more clues. But it was just a violin, an ordinary one, an incredibly ordinary one I might add. Wait…what’s this? There was a word scribbled on it. Confluence.

Daily 3/7

When I whip my heard around, the only thing I can see are the tiny intricate lines of a leaf laying on the ground. “Oh thank goodness,” I say out loud. That certainly could have been much worse. I'm glad it didn't come to that. Stepping through more of the wilderness, some of which that would have surely left a mark on me, I heard another sound of something breaking a little to my right. Just a twig. Maybe it's a toucan or something. Or maybe a huge dung beetle. Wait do dung beetles live in the rainforest?
Hiss…
“Oh…”
Sh…
“My…”
HISS…
“GOD!!!!!!!”
I'm pretty sure I have a high tendency to think in my brain about all the possibilities that I could have done better. Probably running out of the bushes so that a snake could easily sense me and slither after me would not be the best idea. Maybe slowly moving away so it won't bother me would sort me as an intelligent fella. But I'm assuming you know what I just did at that moment.
“AAAAAAAAAAAH!” I screeched and ran for my life, my footsteps echoing in my head while I could practically hear the snake screaming my name as part of its lunch. And I really really really really do not want to become snake lunch.
I grab a thin branch off of a tree (normally I most definitely would not be able to do that but who knows? adrenaline??? I heard that moms sometimes have mom powers so maybe I'm having being chased by a snake powers???) and while running, I take a quick look behind me and sure enough, there's a thick forest green line with an intricate pattern of scales and silver white fangs that gleamed in the sunlight. Of course, I did what any insane and desperate person would do.
I whacked it. And I whacked it again and again but it ended up clinging to the branch and soon I was screeching and throwing it over my shoulder into the canopy of a tree.
I had not a care at all for what happened to that snake; I raced away from that area as quickly as possible before almost stepping into a giant pit of flowing, liquid quicksand. A bubble exploded sending me reeling a few yards away. The fact that some kidnapper took me out of my own comfortable bed and dropped me in the middle of the rainforest in the middle of nowhere makes me sick. In fact, I am sick. Oh my, I need a bush-

Daily 3/9

Harry yawned as he was woken up by furious knocking on the door of the servant’s ward. “HARRY! WAKE UP AND CLEAN THE QUEEN’S DISHES!”
“Right over, right over I’m coming!” Harry yelled back and his shouting woke up the other servants. “Thanks Harry,” they said sarcastically.
Why is everything always my fault? Harry grumbled and pulled himself out of bed and put on his servant's attire. He wasn’t even supposed ot be doing this sort of work but of course his dumb foster “parents” (or should he say ‘His and Her Royal Highnesses) had to land him in the servants ward instead of up in at least the higher class along with his foster brother Prince Dudley’s rank. Sigh. With his messy black hair and incredibly crude, poor circle glasses that were literally found in the trash chute that had been thrown away by some higher person who he would probably be serving later. His vision is horrible and the glasses didn't help so he always found himself bumping into things. His foster parents always said that he had this ‘look’ about him that supported insubordination and that’s what they said whenever he asked to be moved into a different room or if anyone else asked. He’s actually the one who usually doesn’t ask. In fact, he only ever asked when he was 3 and his foster parents made a decree that anyone who bullied Harry for the day would get a gold coin. That was possibly the worst day of his life.

But back to the present, King Vernon and Queen Petunia announced that they were taking a trip to the Royal Animal Menagerie and they needed someone to supervise their son along with them. Of course, everyone knew about the reputation of the prince and no one volunteered. All the servants claimed that they shouldn’t be with him because they’re so ‘lowly’ but Harry caught on late and of course, they forced him to watch Dudley. But on the plus side, no one has ever been allowed into the Menagerie and certainly not him! It seemed like they didn’t realize that there was a huge award to their so-called ‘punishment’.
“Woah look it’s a giant python!” Dudley yelled excitedly and went over to the pen. “HEY! HEY! HEY HEY HEY HEY HEYYYY!!!!!!” The python didn’t move an inch and didn’t even open its eyes. “Hmph! This is boring!” He ran over with his fat tummy over to another pen.
Harry walked over to the python and sighed. “Hello.” Suddenly, the python reared up and opened its mouth, showing its fangs gleaming white. “Woah!”
“OH LOOK IT’S MOVING!!! HEY GET OUT OF THE WAY SEWER BOY!” Dudley screamed and pushed Harry onto the floor with his meaty hands. The python raised its head higher and hissed but somehow, the boy didn’t seem to register that the python was looking right at him with its fangs poised to sink into someone’s skin. “Ooh cool! This is so much better than before when it was just dead looking!”
“HISSSSS!” The python made a giant leap and tried to crawl over the gate. “AAAAAAAAAAAAH!” In his panic, Dudley accidentally fell into the enclosure and landed with a ‘oof’. “Ohhh my- AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!” He rolled to the left as the snake tried to bite him. “AAAAAAAAAAAAH! HELP HELP HELP!”
Even though he had a thought in the back of his head saying that he would be an insane amount of trouble if he didn’t help his foster brother/prince, he couldn’t help laughing. And it was at that moment when the king and queen hurried down from their palace to hear their servant laughing about their prince. After hurrying to summon legions of servants behind them to grab Dudley out of the enclosure, they secured cold glares at their foster son.
I am in deep deep deep trouble.

Daily 3/14
I’ll check back here once in a blue moon. That’s what she said when she left us. Once in a blue moon. Well, the blue moon eclipse was just in the sky and it was raining down on all of us. Those lovely delicate cerulean sparks dripping down from the moon onto our faces, sinking into our skin, letting us enjoy the wonders and pleasures of the moonlights’ azure trail. The sky’s usual night color was replaced with streaks of blue and silver, like the tails of comets in the sky, lighting up a world above that most of us will never and for the life of us, never see.
She said that she would come and now I knew she would be here. The blue moon propels it. One who defies the blue moon will receive a punishment worse than the hands of and the hands of gripping their heart and squeezing their freedom out of their lives. No, it would be much worse and I know she’s much too smart to defy the Moon and its power. The Moon is our holy goddess and no one can defy her. Certainly not one of her lowly human followers set to greatness below her guidance. Under her guidance, we can evolve to become one of her.
The party is starting and the ritual must begin. I place my feathered headdress onto my head and begin the sacred dance. No one must miss the dance or they will suffer punishment as well but it would be upon themselves. It is not for me to judge their reason for impertinence. But now, it is time to begin the sacred ceremony to honor our beloved Queen. She is here truly because of her kindness, compassion, and wisdom that she is offering to bestow upon us. Several have been guided by her shrewdness and compassion. The Lost One. The Moon’s Servant. The Water of the Fall. Silver’s Tip. Their names have been dropped for their sheer mortality and their names have begun something greater. But now is not the time to complement the Moon. It is time to lay sacrilege to her.
“Hey!” A voice shouts from behind me and I know she is there. The Moon never lies.

refers to less appropriate words ^^

Weekly #2

Part 1 (356 words):

Peachy_Rain
Apple looked around the alley, not exactly sure where to go. She made her way further into the dark tunnel and found a small patch of light.

Me

The patch of light emitted from a single stick-like match. The fire on its tip gave a reddish halo, lighting up her skin and the surrounding area.

Peachy_Rain
She looked behind her when she heard something. When she didn't see anything, she was hesitant to touch the light.

Me
Slowly, she reached her fingers out and grasped the non-burning end of the match, holding it up and waving it around to see if there was anything behind her or to her sides. Of course, there was nothing but red shadows.

Peachy_Rain
Yes. The red shadows were enough to give her a little fright, but she remained calm because she knew that they were only mere shadows.

Me
Apple closed her eyes for a second and took a deep breath in and a deep breath out. When she opened her eyes, the light was dimming. <Oh no!> She thought anxiously. <I need to use this light to get out of this tunnel before it d!es>.

Peachy_Rain
Even though she knew fire didn't d!e, she still made the resemblance because it was the closest word she could think of. She knew she should try to run, but if she did, then the fire will dim even quicker than it was now.

Me
Suddenly, a fierce wind blew from the forward end of the tunnel, blowing in her face and into her match, blowing it out until its halo diminished to a small globe that could barely illuminate her finger. <No no no no no!>

Peachy_Rain
She was panicking, now. <What am I going to do? I'm going to be stuck in here!> In Apple's panic, she didn't notice the slight sound behind her.

Me
Trying to remember to if there was anything that she had picked up on how to keep a flame burning, suddenly, something grabbed her ankle and she was thrown to the floor, immediately extinguishing the flame.

Peachy_Rain
“Ahh. Who's there? Would you please stop?!” Apple pleaded, but it was no use, the creature kept on pulling, and dragging.

Me
Without the match to light her way, it was painful for unexpected sharp tiles in the floor to scratch her while being pulled. No matter how she begged, the creature wouldn't falter until she was pulled out of the long tunnel and light burst into her vision.

Peachy_Rain
She looked forward and watched as she became further and further away from the outside world. She scrambled to get away, but it was no use. Apple tried to search for something on the ground that would possibly free her, but she couldn't find anything.

Me
She turned her head to look at what was pulling her now that she could see and found a thick green vine with leaves entwined around her ankle.

Peachy_Rain
<Oh! If only I had a pocket knife!> She thought. She knew her thought wouldn't matter unless she actually had the thing she needed, but of course she didn't, so Apple kept on pulling away from the creature to try to make a run for it.

Me
“Don't move!” A voice hissed and Apple mentally perked up her ears. “Who- AAAAH!” The vine suddenly gave a yank and she realized that she was getting pulled…off a cliff! “AAAH! NO NO, WHO IN THE WORLD WOULD WANT TO M|_|RD3R ME THIS BADLY?!”

Peachy_Rain
“PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE! I didn't do ANYTHING! Just let me go!” She pleaded.

Me
“As you wish!” The voice answered back before the vine let go of her ankle. “YES! FREEDOM!” Before she realized that the reason the vine let go was because she was currently soaring off the edge of a cliff. “AAAAAAAAAAAA! HELP PLEASE HELP!!!”

Peachy_Rain
Apple tried to grasp onto anything she could, but she was out of reach from the edge of the cliff. She didn't dare look underneath her, because she knew that if she looked down, it would be the end.


Personality and Traits: Lani Ji is an adventurer and loves to live in the moment. They're the type of person who's always the life of the party and loves to travel to everywhere they could possibly go (though money problems get in the way). They’re optimistic and peppy, sometimes too peppy which is actually a cover up for their insecurities about if they’re not funny then they’ve got nothing and no one will like them. But they’re still an adventurer no matter what anyone else would say about them. They care a lot about other peoples' opinions and they’ll always follow what's trendy so that they're liked. They’re a bit oblivious to the fact that people love them the way they are. But in general, they’re an omnivert and sometimes they’re an introvert and sometimes they’re an extrovert. They also have anxiety issues. Lani is kind and hospitable and also imaginative. In the friend group, most would expect them to be that one person who’s super social and goes to every single party but they’re actually more of the mom friend who watches over everybody. Having anxiety issues, they have a habit of spreading their worrying habit to everyone else which can be both a good and bad thing. (206 words)


Wants/Hopes/Strengths: As said in the first paragraph, Lani wants to be appreciated and loved. They want other people to think of them as one of them and to really belong in a society. But other than that, they also have a giant bucket list and want to do literally everything and anything including skydiving, eating an ‘escargot’ (snail), scuba diving with whale sharks, ride a horse, etc. Their parents are strict though so they have to hide all of this from them. Her strengths are that they’re adaptable and never give up. They persevere to achieve their goals. Their IQ is around 105 so they’re roughly average intelligence but they’re artistically inclined and have a very cute art style though it’s not that realistic, which they are aiming to get better at. Lani is also a people pleaser so their hope is that everyone around them can be satisfied by their deeds, including their parents, friends, teachers, etc. Their grades are mostly B+’s and A-’s but they’re very peppy so teachers naturally like them. Other strengths are that they’re very physical and are very good at sports. They can run faster than all the girls and most boys and are the best at dodgeball, volleyball, basketball, and tennis. Everyone wants her for their team which makes her very happy. (218 words)

Dislikes/Fears: Lani doesn’t hate much but they have some dislikes and fears. They have a minor case of trypophobia and have anxiety problems that they hide so she often finds themself having dark thoughts. However, they hates animal cruelty and is an active protester of environemtanlism. Lani hates the genre horror and along that, hates watching horror movies or gorey movies, which is a shame since they loves to explore and there’s always a definite chance of getting an injury. They has a little sibling and they definitely does not like their little sibling as they’re currently 6 years old. They also don’t like other people not being as fast as her (strangers really, she’s fine with friends not being able to catch up). (123 words)

Part 3 (485 words)

Your story will start in the Bonnemort Village, a place meant to deflect from its name which means ‘good death’ in French. In the Bonnemort village, three towers lay there, each one representing a need for their people. The Nourishing Tower provides just enough food for every member but not enough to create greed or gluttony. The Thirst Tower provides water in an infinite river that provides fresh, clean water that never goes dry no matter how dry the area around it is. The last tower is the Sanctuary Tower, which is a large thick tower much thicker than the other two and contains a room for every village person no matter their social and financial status. However, the three towers do not provide any of their resources to those they sense have evil intentions which makes the town a utopia. However, it is not protected against those with good intentions but has done evil things. This includes dystopian rulers who believe that they’re doing the best for the village but end up doing something terrible. The setting takes place in a rough 1950 setting with not much technology but more filled with three pillars of magic. The village was founded by 3 triplets. They were known as the Black, the White, and the Silver though their names have been lost to time ever since they replaced the names with the colors of the world. In their view, there were no colors but black, white, and silver. Everything in them was black and white, straightforward, easy to create a village that can see everyone’s needs in black and white. The Black one was said to be the serious one. Being the Black, they saw everything the most straightforward and thought about their survival. They thought that without food, everyone would perish, thus they created the Nourishing Tower. The White one was Black’s opposite, light and carefree but still serious. Opposite of the Nourishing Tower, the Silver created the Thirst Tower which would not only satisfy everyone’s thirsts, they reasoned, but would provide enough water for washing clothes and so on. The Silver one was the wisest and didn’t care only about survival. They wanted the village people not only to survive but thrive and so created the Sanctuary Tower to give a home to everyone in need but a room that was not only shelter, but a place where they could be themselves and have fun. And so, the three pillars were cast with a spell that allowed only those with good intentions to use them. The Black, the White, and the Silver ruled as one before the Silver disappeared suddenly. Without Silver, the Black and the White worried that they would be nothing without them. They fought over the power before the Silver returned and banished Black and White. Silver ruled for several years until they too, were banished after being corrupted with power.



Part 4: Premise (196 words)

Your character is alone wherever they are and everything is horrible. Everyone’s been taken away and the life they had previously will forever never be the same. It was just an ordinary night where the full moon was in the sky, glistening at all those who dared to send it a glance. With your character in bed, a sudden whispering wakes them up for them to hear screams of their family and everyone in the village being snatched from their beds. Everything has been destroyed because of the sudden night presences that stole everyone away from their home…except for them. Why them? Why did they take everyone but them? Is it because of their pathetic nature with no talents? Is it because of a secret golden necklace that they inherited from their grandmother? Is it because they believe this character is dangerous?This character will go on an adventure and will learn about their self worth and importance that they never do in a destiny that will affect everyone and everything in the universe. It’s up to you to write about how they will discover the great destiny that has been blessed (and cursed) upon them.

Part 5: Bringing It Together (1023 words)

Kieran is a strong man. A strict man. A man who was living in his house sipping a mug of coffee and feasting on a slice of fried toast, daydreaming about the numerous different debate questions that he could instigate. An ordinary day it was for him, one that he had planned weeks before for a change in his tedious work schedule. He loved things that have been planned and dedicated weeks before. Like the cake off the icing, this is my icing on the cake. Hmm, perhaps a better metaphor or smile may fit here better. Hmm, perhaps I will attend to finally finishing the last book of the Series: Codex Astronomical by Larris Janet with that soft French sound. Francais c’est mon weakness. It really does roll off the tongue like a cinnamon roll. Oh now that is a wonderful metaphor.
Kieran walked over to his mini-library, also known as his large bookcase of books shelved in alphabetical order. By last name of course. Now Janet, the middle of the alphabet a few letters away. How quaint. He knew he only had one last chapter to read before hsi completion of the book and he was very excited because the chapter was packed with action. The main character, the hero, a peasant boy who had been promoted to top General. Everyone else was minor in Kierean’s opinion. Jarrel, the young boy who had much too many responsibilities on his shoulders. Jarrell will be saved. Finding his spot at the dark purple bookmark he had left (he had received it as a present from one of his co-workers), he blanked. What?! He put his book to the light but it was the same. There were only a few large letters on it. ‘Want to see the world? Place your hand here?’ Kieran wrinkled his nose. What’s this? This is never in books. What is this new belief I see? But he shrugged. It must be there for a reason. He placed his hand on the book and instantly, his world was gone. He was gone. The room was silent, placid, while he was on a giant spaceship.
Where in- OH! He spotted him. Jarrel with his dark brown locks and his flawless skin and his general outfit with a grim expression was fighting against one of the Warriors. The Warriors sent by the Grand Emperor of the Seventh Dimension fight against Jarrel from the third Dimension (the dimension with the planet Earth.) It’s happening, it’s really happening! Wait a second, it’s my turn! I know where I am in the story. I’m Prince Warren, the man sent to help Jarrel on his quest to greatness! And this calls for… Kieran looked around and grabbed a sword from the ground that was left by a Warrior. It is a great joy that I have taken karate classes because of Jarrel.
Whipping his sword, he flings it above his head and kicks the Warrior in the stomach, using the butt of his sword to smack the head and the Warrior dropped to the ground, unconscious. Jarrel looks at him. Kieran expects Jarrel to have a grateful expression and he does…but he says the strangest thing. “Excellent job. I’m surprised, you must have been taking classes that I assigned you to, Parall.”
Parall? That wasn’t Prince Warren’s name. That was…Jink Parall’s name, the side character. Dumb and useless who is sure to die. NO! I cannot die! Not now! Not here! Not in this universe! I have much too many plans that I have to activate and not enough time! No! I am not going to be Jink Parall. I will assume the role of Prince Warren one way or another! But at that moment, a tall man with smooth black hair and glittering golden eyes walks in. “Wow Parall, you’ve done much better than in previous battles. You must have been practicing!”
I can’t assume his role now! But I can’t be in this situation. I will not be Parall! “Yes of course, I am taking classes and thank the Sky God for his helpfulness in this situation,” Kieran replied, knowing that he did not sound like Parall and his incorrect grammar and language. Perhaps he can turn his reputation around. It would be good for Parall…him.
Both of them looke dat him with a strange expression, now that he understood it. Warren laughed. “Well I think that iwa s mostly our skill. We don’t hvae to praise the Sky god every time you know.”
Warren has no belief?! Kieran thought in his head. How?! Worshipping the Sky God was his main role in the story! The spiritual wise man giving advice to all of the members of the crew! Jarrel doesn’t look surprised at all by Warren’s statement. “That is true. It s our skill that has brought us here and our skill that will save us for the rest of this quest. The Explorer will prevail!”
“The explorer will prevail!” Everyone of the crew screamed and Kieran gave out a weak ‘the Explorer will prevail’.
“Hey Parall, may I have a word with you?” Jarrel asked and Kieran gulped but he quickly made it look like he was coughing. “Yes of course General.”
Jarrel gave him another odd look. “Well, it’s just you seemed really happy during the battle and after you seemed a bit upset. Are you alright? You can always tell me what you feel you know, as your general I mean.”
This isn’t Jarrel. That was the first thought that emerged in Kieran’s brain. Jarrel was a strong man. He didn’t care about all of those fruitless people who believed in nothing and strived for nothing. He was supposed to be strong, steadfast, and everyone who read the series knew that. He did not worry about feelings and emotions. This wasn’t just about Jarrel but he knew that something that he’s known for a long time wasn’t right. Something he believed in for years was wrong. It was wrong and talking to him about his emotions was not Jarrel.
Everything about him I knew was wrong. And something shattered.


Daily 3/17
Julieta is currently hanging out with Agustin, that guy who gave her a lot of homemade arepas, and Pepa’s going to look for Felix, that guy who I said that she would marry in the future but where does that leave me? In the timelines, I can’t see myself with anyone for some reason. Although I do see a lot of rats performing telenovelas. Hmm, maybe I should get a pet rat. Oh and I’ve got the perfect name for it, Ratatouille! Although then again, that makes it look like food. I do not want my rat to get eaten.
Mami’s trying to help Lorena Guzman with consulting about having a baby (she’s thinking about raising one, she’s currently thinking of names. I already told her that she’s going to end up naming him Mariano but no one ever listens to my visions. But I know it’s going to come true. Why can’t anyone trust me?)
My gift is just making prophecies so I guess I should probably just use it right? Honestly, I feel like there’s a lot of mixed feelings about my gift. One day, Mami’s like ‘What’s gonna happen in the future? Can you please have a vision?’ And then the next, when I tell the neighbors about something cool in their future, she’s like “you’re freaking them out! Keep your visions to yourself!” My gift is to give visions. Maybe it’s because all of my visions come true so there’s never any stopping them. It’s not the future that’s going to happen if you keep doing this course, it’s the future that whatever you do to make it come true (or make it not come true), it always happens. Maybe that’s what scares everyone about my gift though. But not my two sisters. They understand me, specifically Pepa. She always gets me.
Her gift is that she can control the weather with her mood. Not controlling the weather by itself but she has to use her mood. She always has to stay happy or else everyone’s gonna get wet and then Mami’s going to blame her. I love my Mami but I don’t think that she validates Pepa’s feelings enough. It definitely doesn’t help that she has anxiety. And my sister, Julieta. She always has to bake and bake and bake. Learning new dishes so that way whoever she’s helping doesn’t get bored. Constantly using her time to bake.
And then there’s me. My gift. I can see the future and maybe it helps and maybe it doesn’t. Lots of times there are happy prophecies, I swear! Like the time that I told Agustin that Julieta has a crush on him and he doesn’t run away from me. Or that time when I told another guy that he would get lots of cool presents. He wasn’t scared either! But, not all of my prophecies are happy and that’s a fact. But why can’t people understand it? But I want to help them and maybe, they’ll grow up and accept that this is my power. And maybe they can look past that and see the real me.
My gift wasn’t..helping the family. But I love my family. You know?

Daily 3/23

“Keep your lines out of my face.”
“Totally didn't eat that watermelon.”
“Really? I expected better.”
“Benches are so unstable.”
“I tripped once and then fell on a pile of ice cream.”
“Cheesy that's what it is.”
“It's not like the world's ending.”
“What in the world was that?”
“Keep your elbow up like this not like that.”
“You're doing it wrong.”
“I'm a swimmer.”
“No one's gonna care.”
“Hold up did you seriously just say that?”
“No whispering in the household.”
“Waaait why is that bench covered in sweat?”
“No I did not just say that, woah what happened to you?”
“I hate pencils so much.”
“What an exaggerated statement.”
“Uh hello you realize that papers can give papercuts right?”
“No time to get cheeky.”
“Time check, we have roughly 10 minutes, 12 seconds, and 52 milliseconds.”
“Oh my gosh HELP ME I'M DYING PLEASE OH DEAR HOLY LORD, I STILL WANT TO HAVE GENERATION OF CHILDREN! I'M TOO YOUNG TO DIEEEEEE!”
“No no, that's not how you do it.”
“Try to act more like your sister will ya?”
“AAAAAAAAAAAAH!”
“Wait no, that's not the right combination.”
“We're all gonna die!!!”
“Did you seriously just say you were born in 1902?”
“It's not like I scream it!”
“Guys look behind you!”
“Geez so dramatic.”
“NO!!! YOU STUPID IDIOT JUST SHUT UP!”
“Interesting dialect.”
“Hm drills would be incredibly helpful in this situation.”
“Bah, what a load of trash. Let the professionals help you detain this situation.”
“Good term good term except not so helpful in this situation.”

Daily 3/27 (601 words)
It was time for cabin wars to start and everything was in position. I was seated at my computer when the clock would turn at 5 pm and it would be ready to write. As third place in the leaderboard, there would be several who would want to take us down, specifically myth, our horrible enemy. We knew that there would be wars coming for us and we were ready.
And the clock went to 5 pm.
“IT’S CABIN WARS!” I screamed in the main cabin but then I saw something very peculiar. A comment started singing ‘we don’t talk about cabin wars’. I knew I had to take this opportunity. I knew that this chance wouldn’t come again for several months and I had to do this now.
“We don’t talk about Cabin Wars No No…” someone started off. I had to do this. And a giant chain erupted. Everyone was adding lyrics and I was competing against others to comment faster than the others. Naturally, I won…most of the time but others I was unsuccessful. But I relished in my victories and the main cabin was flooded. Usually there was inactivity during these times but no, inactivity was not during cabin wars. The main cabin was filled with comments of active encanto lovers singing their favorite song but a scratch writing camp parody
But alas, I couldn’t do this forever. Once the song ended, I hurried to my cabin and found out that we had to write 4000 words in the next 5 hours and we could receive 100 more points if we all wrote in 2nd person. I was unsure whether everyone was going to write in 2nd person but I was determined to complete this. I quickly wrote roughly 300 words in 2nd person but then I had to leave. When I came back, I found out that Birdi was completing her weekly and not in 2nd person. That would leave me completely up to ranting! So quickly, I wrote my hands off trying to rant 3500 words as quickly as I could. My hands were getting tired and I was running out of rant topics but after several minutes I finally did it! My hands were completely dead and I definitely never wanted to type again. I had written a total of roughly 3300 words for the cabin war and wrote 84% of the war. This happened often during all of my previous sessions.
But then I realized that our shield was down. I silently cursed and checked the cabin, grudgingly updating our shield status to ‘down’. I bit my lip, hoping that there wouldn’t be a bad war. I reloaded and saw there was a war…but it was from someone I never would have expected in a million years. “LUKATIE?! HOW?! WHY!!???!?” I quickly went to the main cabin and checked all of the other cabins. Sure enough, Lukatie had warred several other cabins and was even keeping a list of when all of the cabins’ shield times went down. Not only did they betray us, but they also gave us the worst war. The four person war. Fanfiction itself called it ‘the great betrayal’ and I understood how that worked. It was so similar to Non-Fi last session. They betrayed everyone no matter what ally status they had and it drove everyone crazy. I faintly remember that contemporary and non-fi were neutrals last session but they betrayed everyone, including their allies. I shrugged it off. What I had to focus on was writing 1000 words yet again. Sigh.
Time to kill my fingers again.

Daily 3/28

Silvia is often found running away from anyone she finds suspicious. She can't help it…it's like she's been programmed. But when she's not in the marketplace thriving for survival, she is found in the forest where the tallest most beautiful trees grow with their canopy shower of green and tinted gold with their thin but firm trunks. The forest though she didn't know the name of it, was called the Lost Grove where it was said that anyone came in wouldn't come out. This was due to the myths surrounding a girl said to come from the forest after they saw glimpses of her. Of course, the girl was Silvia and the forest wasn't lost nor scary at all. In there, it was covered in butterflies, mainly because of her. Butterflies flock to her and she loves them and they love her. The butterflies are more beautiful than anything you've ever seen with the prettiest colors with the waviest and softest patterns and color palettes that would make your eyes water with its beauty. All of those butterflies fled to Silvia in trouble and so did the largest butterfly guardian that watched over the place. The Lost Grove was beautiful with shimmering pools and copious amounts of twirly vines with lots of wildlife hopping around at every corner. Silvia was isolated but she wasn't alone in her little animal haven. This place was where she could be herself. The Grove attended to her knees. She could often be found dreaming about the village even though something inside herself told her it was dangerous up on the highest canpy of the tallest tree. She would always climb down the vines and swim in the multiple rivers. There, she could have lots of fun, often being found dancing with the butterflies. In her time, Silvia has become graceful and curious because of the Lost Grove. Though the Grove may feel like home to her, something tells her that it's not the only thing she should be seeing during her life. The Grove has been both protector and imprisoner where she has spent all of her life there, at least all of the life she remembered…did the Grove have something to do with it? Who knows. Perhaps it may have contributed in some way. But in her eyes, the beautiful forest (she liked to call it ‘her forest’) was perfect just the way it was. (402 words)

╔∘ ★ ∘═══════════════
⠀⠀. INTRODUCTION⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀
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Ayoo! I’m Mei, a middle schooler and a non-fic camper this session! I’ll be claiming
this post for sharing my Word counts, dailies, weeklies, word wars and the Writing
Competition. Feel free to read and crituiqe! Non-fic for the win!

╔∘ ★ ∘═══════════════.
⠀⠀. Word count ⠀⠀⠀
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Word count: 6670 words, goal: 10k

╔∘ ★ ∘═══════════════
⠀⠀. Dailies ⠀⠀
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> March 1
▸ March 2: https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6082042/
▸ March 3:
https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6085157/
▸ March 4
▸ March 5
▸ March 6
▸ March 7
▸ March 8 https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6098835/
▸ March 9
▸ March 10
▸ March 11
▸ March 12
▸ March 13
▸ March 14
▸ March 15
▸ March 16
▸ March 17
▸ March 18
▸ March 19
▸ March 20
▸ March 21
▸ March 22
▸ March 23
▸ March 24
▸ March 25
▸ March 26
▸ March 27
▸ March 28
▸ March 29
▸ March 30
▸ March 31


╔∘ ★ ∘═══════════════
⠀⠀. Weekilies⠀
═══════════════∘ ★ ∘╝

> Week 1:
> Week 2:
> Week 3:
> Week 4:
> Week 5:

╔∘ ★ ∘═══════════════
⠀⠀. Word wars
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Won:
Lost:

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⠀⠀. Writing comp
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Empty




╔∘ ★ ∘═══════════════
⠀⠀. In-cabin writing
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Empty

╔∘ ★ ∘═══════════════
⠀⠀. Other
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Empty


Thank you! ( how to make a hyperlink?)

Damson's Writing Thread March 2022
Hello! I'm Damson and I'm a camper in Horror Avenue for this session of Scratch Writing Camp. Horror is going to win! Points is the points I earn for Horror. They do not include the number of points for each word.

Log + Word Count
Word Total: 12618
Ruby Total: 60
Points Total: 7700
~ 01.03.22
+2 rubies for Daily 1
+74 words for a short rant
+794 words for a fantasy-dystopian story
+1 ruby for getting eight hours of sleep
Total: 868 words, 3 rubies, 0 points
~ 02.03.22
+311 words, +2 rubies, +500 points for Daily 2
+338 words for the in-cabin daily
+502 words for writing out my dreams
Total: 1151 words, 2 rubies, 500 points
~ 03.03.22
+437 words, +2 rubies, +700 points for Daily 3
+331 words for Part 1 of the Weekly
+1 ruby for getting 8 hours of sleep
Total: 768 words, 3 rubies, 700 points
~ 04.03.22
+2 rubies, +300 points for Daily 4
+309 words for some homework
+510 words for Part 2 of the Weekly
+1 ruby for getting 8+ hours of sleep
Total: 819 words, 3 rubies, 300 points
~ 05.03.22
~ 06.03.22
+701 words for Part 3 of the weekly!
+833 words, +8 rubies, +4000 points for Part 4 of the weekly!
Total: 1534 words, 8 rubies, 4000 points
~ 07.03.22
+1015 words for a Hunger Games Fan-Fic
Total: 1015 words, 0 rubies, 0 points
~ 08.03.22
+1 ruby for getting 8+ hours of sleep
+409 words, +2 rubies, +900 points for Daily 8
Total: 409 words, 3 rubies, 900 points
~ 09.03.22
+1 ruby for 8+ hours of sleep
+2 rubies, +300 points for the daily!
+365 words for writing about an event that isn't going to happen
+456 for continuing the hunger games fanfic!
+386 words for some instructions
Total: 1207 words, 3 rubies, 300 points
~ 10.03.22
+369 words for a formal email
+389 for a story!
Total: 758 words, 0 rubies, 0 points
~ 11.03.22
+1133 words for a new Hunger Games fan-fic, because the old one was dreadful!
Total: 1133 words, 0 rubies, 0 points
~ 12.03.22
+181 words for a few sentences expressing my love of cabin wars
+184 words for ranting about the worst genre, which is poetry
+191 words for some poetry I forced myself to write
+1 ruby for 8+ hours of sleep
Total: 556 words, 1 rubies, 0 points
~ 13.03.22
+2 rubies for role-playing for the daily (I forgot to count the words)
Total: 0 words, 2 rubies, 0 points
~ 14.03.22
+331 words, +2 rubies, +500 points for the daily
+551 words for writing part of a collaborative story (my words only)
Total: 882 words, 2 rubies, 500 points
~ 15.03.22
+304 words, +2 rubies, +500 points for the daily!
Total: 304 words, 2 rubies, 500 points
~ 16.03.22
+106 words for continuing the collaborative story and finishing it (my words only)
+25 rubies for entering the collab in the writing competition!
+1 ruby for 8+ hours of sleep last night
Total: 106 words, 26 rubies, 0 points
~ 17.03.22
+505 words for continuing a hunger games fan-fiction!
Total: 505 words, 0 rubies, 0 points
~ 18.03.22
+603 words for yet more of it!
+2 rubies for 8+ hours of sleep
Total: 603 words, 2 rubies, 0 points

Dailies
Daily 1
Daily 2 - 311 words
Daily 3 - 437 words
Daily 4
Daily 8 - 409 words
Daily 14 - 331 words
Daily 15 - 304 words
Daily X - XXX words

Weeklies

Weekly 1 - 2375 words
Weekly 2 - XXXX words