Pi Poem
Pi Day Main Cabin Daily

Written by Wari
314 words

Do you wish you could memorize π?
No need to worry or fret or sigh
A simple method will set you right
So pay attention, prepare to write

The first step is to be ready to learn
Not just a passing interest, you must yearn
To memorize the digits, don’t despair
Just make sure you really care

Now repeat: three point one four one five nine
Two six five three five eight nine
Close your eyes and repeat again
Now take a break, if you can

Now that you’re back, DON’T LOOK AT THE LAST VERSE
Close your eyes again, think of the numbers
Think hard and see if you remember
The first thirteen digits of this number

If you falter, that’s totally fine
Find and look again at each line
Then look away and try once more
Don’t give up yet, you’re closer than before

Repeat this until you’ve got them down
Take a break, try again, don’t mope or frown
Now take a deep breath and repeat after me
Seven nine three two three eight four six two six four three

Pause and repeat, take a few days
Once you’re done, here’s the next phase
Thirty-eight, thirty-two, seven nine five oh two
Eighty-eight, forty-one, now you’re almost halfway through

Nine seven one six nine three nine nine
Three seven fifty-one, continue the line
Then, oh five eight, two oh nine
Seven four nine four four five nine

Two three oh, seven eight you’re doing great!
One six four oh six two eight
Have patience, you’re nearly done
Learning π is so much fun!

Six and two, oh eight nine nine
Eight six two eight oh three four
Eight two five three four two
Eleven seven oh six seven nine

Woah! That’s it! π to the hundredth place!
Put on a happy face!
Say: 3.1415926535897932384626433832795028841971693993751058209749445923078164062862089986280348253421170679 – Whoo!
Look at all that you’ve gone through!

ʚ A Pi day surprise ɞ
314 words
go back to my main post

It was Pi day. March fourteenth. This was a big day for Samantha Jones. She tightened the tie of her school uniform and prepared for success. She rehearsed all of the Pi digits she could possibly remember in front of the mirror, though she closed her eyes. She had memorized one hundred seven. She was the smallest bit nervous that she would accidentally forget the order, or instead of saying five three five, she would say three five three. But she knew in her heart that that wouldn't happen. She trusted her gut. She swung her backpack around her shoulders and hurried out of her house, closing the door behind her, and hopped into her dad's car.
She spent homeroom and first period waiting for second period, which was her math class. They seemed to go on for ages until finally the long awaited bell rang and Samantha walked excitedly to her next class. She was the second to sit down, and as kids were walking to their seats, her friends gave her high fives, already knowing that she would be entering the class Pi contest.

“Good morning everyone!” Her math teacher announced. “I'm sure you're all excited for our Pi contest. It will be starting now. All contestants please line up on that side of the room,” The teacher informed the contestants, pointing to the right side of the room. Samantha walked up to the line excitedly, and went first. She put down the digits of Pi she memorized, all one hundred seven. Everyone clapped for her when she was done, except the next kid in line, Maddie Greens the class clown. As Samantha sat down, she knew that Maddie had definitely joined the Pi contest as a joke. Surely. But sure enough, Maddie blew her mind, memorizing one hundred seventy eight digits of Pie, and messing up on the one hundred-seventieth digit.

SWC Daily for Pi Day!

“I love Pi Day,” Drystan declared through a mouthful of pie. “I don’t know what Pi or pie is, but they taste really good!”
“You can’t eat math, Master,” Kaz drawled as he took a bite of his own lemon pie. “Pi is math. Pie is food. At least, that’s what they told us.”
Eldira, accompanied by Brook, entered the conversation with a contemplating expression. “Who were those people, anyways? They looked nothing like anyone from this world, but spoke our language perfectly. Not to mention, they seemed to appear out of nowhere…”
“It’s not like they were there to attack us, El. We got free food! I’d agree with Drystan and say that’s plenty enough,” Brook replied before slinging an arm around Eldira’s shoulder. The latter shook her head and gave the former a short kiss on the cheek. “You’re impossible, you know that?”
“Well hey, that’s exactly what my master tells me! And Aeshi. And Everine. And Kaz. And sometimes Drystan too,” Brook pondered aloud with a playful grin.
“I can attest to that,” Althea agreed, sighing tiredly. “Say, speaking of Aeshi and Everine, where did those two go? I saw them walk away as I was getting my slice of cherry pie and they haven’t come back since.”
“Everine didn’t like the ham and cheese pie and went to cleanse her palette with water,” Kaz supplied immediately. “Aeshi soon followed.”
Drystan raised an eyebrow. “It can’t be that bad, can it? It kinda makes me want to try it-”
“FIRST!!” Brook yelled as she stuffed a bite of ham and cheese pie in her mouth, before instantly going green. “Oh, ewww…that is gross.”
Althea held up 10 fingers. “On a scale of 1 to 10, how gross is it? 1 being kinda meh and 10 being absolutely disgusting.”
Brook held a hand over her mouth as she gagged, “Ten. Definitely ten.”

314 words

Brook by @blue_sky34
Eldira by @Rey_venclaw
Everine by @Telianar
Althea by @cheeseloverwv
Aeshi by @Luna-Lovegood-LOL
Kaz by me and Luna
Drystan by .+*moi*+.

As Nayeli ran into the storage room, she wondered what awaited her. A toy? A water balloon? A twenty-foot dinosaur?
Nobody knew.
After all, Nayeli was the first one to ever go into there…
Nayeli’s first thought on the storage room was that it was dark. Very, very dark. Even though Nayeli preferred things to be a little bit on the dim side, this was above her standards. The lights did not work and she forgot to bring her flashlight into here so she could not do much about it.
Nayeli’s second thought was that it was, well, boring. I mean, even though she could not see too much in there, it was just so… bland. At least that was what Nayeli could feel. If anything, she was better off being able to only use her senses of touch, smell, taste, and hearing.
The third one, well she did not even have enough time to think of that one sense, a ninety-foot tall and 60-feet wide mosquito came running at her.
“Run”
That was Nayeli’s first thought as soon as it grabbed her by her arms. “WHY IS THIS THING GRABBING ME!!“ Nayeli asked in her mind, wondering if this is the universe’s revenge on her for even taking a step into this crowded dungeon-like room.
She then heard a flap of a wing and a cult-like call from every animal in the room and then a sudden breeze blowing onto every corner of her face.
Soon enough, she was flying into the sky with a dinosaur size mosquito holder her by her ears and arms.

3.14.22 Daily

“Don't you love Pi day, Roxie?” Samantha asks.
“I guess, after all since on pi day I'm able to eat some pi. It's just SO delicious.” Roxie remarks. “Plus, it's the only day you can get a 314 percent on a math test.” She adds.
Samantha nods. “I hope I'm one of the few to score that grade. I might have to snach it up, all for me.” She says with a grin.
Roxi rolls her eyes. “Sure Sam, dream all you'd like.” She teased.
Samantha got really ticked off at that. “You wait and see Roxie. Watch me score it big.” She added before running to math class.

When they got to math class, the teacher was waiting patiently for them. “Settle down everyone.” He said to a group of students who were talking.
“Now, happy Pi day everyone!” He announced cheerfully. “Since it's Pi day, we must take our traditional Pi day test. You will be given 314 multiplication problems, and you have 31 minutes and 4 seconds to answer them. Get them all right and earn a 314 percent.” He said.

Roxie sighed to herself. She was determined to get a 314 percent. It would do wonders for her math average on her next report card. She glanced over at Samantha who looks determined.

The teacher started handing out the test. “Remember, don't start until I say so.” He quickly added. Once all the tests were handed out, he went back to the front of the class and started a timer. “Now….go!”

Everyone immediately flipped over their test. They started working as fast as possible. Everyone wanted the special 314 percent. Roxie was rapidly flying through the problems, but she assumed everyone else was too. She kept pushing herself to go even faster, determined to finish them all. A few problems gave her a hard time, but she worked through it.
—–
314 words

Short Story Writing for ELA class- Flowers for Algernon, 638 words
Warning for some slight psychological violence and implications of smoking. Miss Kinnian & Charlie Gordon are fictional characters belonging to Flowers for Algernon. This is the full short story along with the my reasons for inspiration. The story itself, minus the date, is 488 words.

HEADCANON: Ms. Kinnian is known up to the point we’ve read to be an unmarried woman that smokes in public sometimes. She is genuinely kind, and is shown with the desire to help Gordon any way she is able to. Even mental help works for her. As far as my headcanon for writing this short story goes, Kinnian carries a notebook around with her (labeled as a diary) and writes in it when she gets home. It contains all of her lies and deep secrets. I imagine Ms. Kinnian to be the type that puts on a brave face when she’s actually just scared of the future. She lies to herself in denial that the world would ever be “right” again. This specific entry is after Charlie changes into almost a completely different person, in which she highlights her hopes and crushed dreams for this particular circumstance.

May 18th, 1965

I’ve never cared for the insides of other’s minds. Always so greedy, sarcastic, rude above all. Whatever they said, thought, did, none of it would ever matter to me. I assumed those selfish, self centered ideals for a long time. I figured it was the only way out. Out of this hellish world we called life. Not much time ran after that before I started inhaling that dangerous, gaseous, gray air. From the day I live ‘til death, I made a secret promise to myself to never speak such words aloud. If the people I worked with or my students found out about my messed up mindset, I, as a person, teacher, and even civil servant, could not ever, not in forever, forgive my writings or twisted brain for thinking the things it truly should never have. How did I end up the way I did? I always prayed at my local Sunday church. I always did as my parents would dare ask of me. I always repeated the script society taught to me. When did I become such a psychological lunatic? Perhaps it began once I was a little girl. Maybe these thoughts clouded my brain only after highschool. Possibly I was self corrupted as a grown human being. I guess it occurred to me that even if I do everything right, even if I never break a single rule, I will not receive even a minute miracle. I won’t be blessed by the unseen heavens. I may not ever get the chance to go there. If such should be revealed to be accurate, then would I not then wreak a bludgeoning chaos on the ground beneath? Would I not ask myself to feed one’s own heart the lies of a true demon? I believe that my actions are just what others think of as sacrilegious or impure. I have the right to believe that. I have my own thoughts, liberties, loyalties, and ties to different aspects of the living world. I can say what I want to. People that think about more complicated things likely don’t have the same problems I do. People like Charlie will never have to face reality because their “reality” is one where the pythagorean theorem and heredity are both nothing but trivialities. I bet he laughs at the thought of someone like me struggling to- Never mind. I once dreamt that maybe one day, someone like me will have importance in my community. I now think that was just the hopes of a slave wishing for individual freedom. If I rose in the ranks, then I would no longer be forced to this life. I could go as I wished. I could leave this rotten city and move to some rural area. Now that I’m an adult, I don’t believe I can ever leave New York. I only wish I was anything like Charlie. Or better yet, comprised of tinier particles.

Ellie woke up grinning ear to ear. It had taken all of her will power as a 9-year old, NOT to talk about her birthday. If her parents had remembered, she bet they got her apple pie, which she LOVED. Now, she would finally know if her family remembered this whole time. She walked out of her room, after getting ready. She glanced from side to side of the door. Her younger brother Will, liked to pop out of the corner of her door and scare her. If Will didn’t do that, then there would almost definitely be no birthdayShe nervously walked out. No Will. She was ready to cry. This meant no birthday for her. Taking a deep breath, she walked out of the corridor. Nothing. No decorations, no family popping out to say ‘Happy Birthday!’. She sighed, and walked down, pouring herself cereal. Taking her first bite, she grew determined. She would not talk about her birthday till the end of the month. Her birthday was on June 21st. As she was finishing her breakfast, her mom came in. “El! Will’s down with fever.” she said. “Me and your father have to stay home till 4:00. I called Stacie’s mom, she said you can stay with them.” Well, she thought, No birthday. “Ok, Mom.” she said. She quickly packed her lunch and got on the bus.

Stacie grinned at her in her car. “Oh, also, Happy Birthday! I didn’t get the chance to wish you.” I sighed. “Well, at least you remember.” she muttered to her. Stacie didn’t say anything, only gave her a look that said, We’ll talk about this later. When we reached her house, we both went into her room. “Okay,” she said, jumping on her bed, “fill me in.” I told her everything. Will not popping up, her mom not remembering. Stacie looked at her sympathetically. “Hey it’s fine. Remember the time you forgot Will’s birthday cause we had a recital coming up? Well your parents are probably busy taking care of Will.” I sighed. “Hey , do you wanna play Monopoly?”
“Ok.” Stacie seemed to have a twinkle in her eye when we went downstairs.
“Hey, imma use the bathroom.” She ran into the dining room. I sat down on a chair there and waited. Suddenly, she came back in, holding a GINORMOUS PIE.I just sat there and stared. Suddenly my mom and dad and Will were there, and I sprang from my seat, staring. “PIE FIGHT!!!!” Stacie shouted, and that’s when she realized how many pies were there. Will grabbed a piece of pie and hurled it at Stacie, who ducked, grabbing some pie of her own. She threw one straight at my dad, and it splattered all over his glasses. While everyone was laughing, I threw two pieces of pie at Stacie and Will, who hadn’t gotten splattered yet. I grinned as everyone turned their attention to me. This was going to be fun.

3.14.22 - daily 14

Daily for Contemporary:

Hi there, and welcome to Pieday. No, no, not Pi Day, Pieday. A holiday that's celebrated once every month or so. I can't keep count.
Or maybe it's just our town that celebrates it.
We're really dedicated to pie, even our town name, Pieberry Hill, obviously shows that.
There is a myth that tells us our ancestors made the first pie in the world. Now I don't believe that's true, but everyone else does.
Oh, I forgot to introduce myself! Right. My name is Celeste, and I'm a 12-year-old girl living in the town Pieberry Hill. I dislike pie, surprisingly, but I love cake. There's just a slight difference…
Pie's usually filled with fruits like raspberries and apples and pumpkins (which I believe is a fruit), cherries, berries, and more. Cake is usually made out of butter and flour and tons of sugar, but there isn't as much fruit in it except for the toppings. My mom tells me cake is “plastic” and I should eat Pie more. Even with that, I continue eating cake and cupcakes. (I don't eat too much though)
Pieday is celebrated on the first day of every month in my town, and we just eat pie all day. Because of my own distinct personality traits, I declared to my family with great nervousness while we were eating dinner that I would stay in the house and not go outside celebrate Pieday with everyone else.
I heard the gasps. I heard the yells. I heard my parents shouting at me that I was supposed to celebrate it, if I were to live in Pieberry Hill.
“That's sad, then,” I said, “Because I don't want to do it today.”
I stood up and walked away from the kitchen table, Mom yelling after me.
I knew I was breaking a rule, but I didn't care.
Until I found out more about Pieday…

(exactly 314 words)

Daily, March 14th
The date is March 14th, which means it's Pi Day! Write a narrative or descriptive with a minimum of 300 words about Pi Day or perhaps about pie. For instance, you could write about your character eating pie or about a world without pie, etc. Extra challenge: write your piece in exactly 314 words! This daily is worth 500 points for your cabin ^^

Ah yes, pi.

I remember my first encounter with pi, around three or four years ago now. Life was simple back then — you see, ‘pi’ was just a button on a calculator, or the number ‘3.14’ to me. Nothing more, nothing less. I remember laughing about how it was so silly to call a number — or whatever pi is — ‘pi’ in the first place. I didn't understand, all those years ago.

To be honest, I don't fully understand now.

But I definitely understand a whole lot more than I used to. I see pi with circles, sectors, spheres…I see pi everywhere I look and honestly? I'm fed up!

The only place I ever want — and ever need — to see pi is on my plate or in a store or something. Of course, by ‘pi’ I'm referring to ‘pie’, as in the food and not as in the number. In any case, my point stands.

Things have gone too far.

Everything is getting out of hand.

We must put an end to pi before it puts an end to us. Of course I'm talking about the mathematical pi and not the food, as I'm sure you could tell from my spelling. But what if, I don't know, you were skim reading this and didn't register my spelling in your mind? You'd have no way of knowing that I am, in no way — I repeat, in NO way — threatening to get rid of pie. The food, not the mathematical one. Just in case.

Anyway, young children are being exposed to a horrendous world that still contains the mathematical pi. Like, how do we even know its accurate when its such a long number?

Here's the answer: we don't.

That is why, my friends, as must swiftly put an end to all this pi nonsense, for once and for all…

Stand with me. End this.

Thank you.


314 words! (✿•π•)

Pi/Pie Writing - 3/14

I am not the biggest fan of pie. I don’t know what it is about it, but I just don’t like it. Maybe the flavours of the fillings, or the crust being too hard. The only thing I like about pie is the overlay thingy, the crust that is put over the filling. I really like the designs of those. The intricate designs and how they stay up in the heat in the oven, it amazes me! I think it’s sooo cool, but otherwise, pie is disgusting to my mind. One day, I might find a flavour of pie, but right now it’s just not my thing.

On the other hand, I think Pi, the person, is really cool. The pfp that she has right now is really pretty. I found her profile from a rant she posted a while back that was in a rant studio that I liked. I don’t really know Pi that much, but I want to get to know her more. She seems like such a nice and great person to hangout with. I also really like her art, especially her more recent pieces.

Now onto the final Pi that I know. Pi, the variation of numbers created by either Stephen Hawking or Albert Einstein. I’m not entirely sure which one but I’m leaning towards Stephen Hawking. If you asked me to recite the digits of Pi I would only be able to tell you a few: 3.1415926. I do want to relearn the digits of Pi, though, because when I was in 4th grade, I think, I knew a few more digits and I want to get back to where I was. Maybe even farther? I’m not entirely sure, but I think I’m going to learn more and more digits of Pi, if my memory allows that.

WEEKLY 2
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part one ~

“spectacular story” - collaboration with the lovely @sea-doodles <3
bolded text is sea, and italicized text is starr.

It was said that silence blanketed the abandoned lot, that all was still - frozen in time.

The air had not stirred in so long, nor had it grown stale. The gears were simply there, tight and unyielding. Snowflakes were caught in the light of the streetlamps, glistening. Nothing moved. Nothing had moved, since that day, so long ago.

Nobody mentioned that day, of course. It was not that they’d all forgotten, or that it was taboo to speak of it. Perhaps it was more like a hole, a gap stuffed with wishy-washy mysteries.

Why was time stopped in that specific spot? Why did clockwork freeze?

There were places, I knew, that the light did not reach. Things too dark for time to cross over; where the laws of science bended and fractured. In this tiny cosmos, a thousand universes - a black hole - was hidden. Something had been lost here. Maybe they had forgotten, but I never will. The pulse of my heart, a breath too sharp and too quick - and the rivers of grief, so strong and unrelenting, would always flood.

For scientists, what with all their technical expertise, could not solve such deep chasms that are embedded in our society. Neither can the most eloquent politicians, or the most ambitious businessmen. It would take much more than that.

Healing. A bridge, lowered to reconcile time and space.

I was merely an individual - one with no power, to say the least. I was foolish; I clung to hope like a lifeline when others had shredded their aspirations to pieces. There was no clear clue or key to solving this, either - but perhaps if I took a step forward…

… the darkness would open for me.

I dreamed of it. I felt it - the clock unwinding, and the sun dancing on the earth that had, for so long, only felt the cool winds of the night rustle its grasses. What would it be like, to make that undisturbed eternity tremble?

Her. Her breath, her scent, her warm smile - I remembered. The universe remembered. Where there was now only stillness, she had once stood. Where there was only the black expanse of space, our clasped hands had been a dam holding back the ocean.

When we were together, I knew she was my lifeline. My buoy, my anchor. She had such a heart for the world. Here was I, without her; here was the world, without her. What would it take for me to see her again?

I could only imagine how beautiful the world would be once the clocks began to thaw. How colorful. How joyful.
This imagination - this fantasy - was enough to shake me from any treacherous freefall into the soul of darkness. I sucked in an icy breath. The cold air sent jolts of electricity through me.

Come on!

I stretched out my arm, and my fingers grazed the borders of the forgotten space, where time's gears - more frail than we had ever thought - were tangled in the cobwebs of night. Phantoms, smiling genially, drifted among the streetlamps.

We had dreamed of so much. We had wanted everything. Always anchored to the shore, hoping, hoping - only hoping - to hold the stars in our fists. But dreams were like flowers; they only bloomed for a season. Didn't they?

The tips of my fingers were burning. I could feel, faintly, space turning. Cement, brick, stone - was that really all you needed to build a bridge? Where do you find the passion?

I knew the passion was there.
It lay hidden under decades of celestial cobwebs, stuck between seconds of space. I reached for it—
and was met with white-hot pain.
The flames licked at my fingers. But I was a step closer.
A step closer, two, three…
To piecing our bridge back together. To seeing your sweet smile. To dancing in the spring breeze. To unity - once again.

Feet on the tightrope. The universe - quite literally - at my fingertips. Warm memories, light laughter, the sensation of gentle fire. What could the darkness ever take from me, that I would not remember?
The first step. The wood beneath my feet.
The lights, and her; silhouetted against the night.

A single, echoing note -
and with a soft creak, the gears were shaken awake.


(384 words)
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parts two, three & four ~

https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=67#post-6114115
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part five ~

character #1 by @Sunclaw68 - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=11#post-6080690
character #2 by @enchantedd- - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=70#post-6116346
setting by @equestrian5810 - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=63#post-6110292
premise by @honeybreeze - https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=66#post-6112269

look away look awaYYY this piece of writing will wreck your evening, your whole life, and your dayy
(I'm sorry if I disgraced your character/setting/premise)

The sky is red. As bright and startling as the waves at Eventide, and as familiar as the rushing calm of the water that cannot be tamed. Clouds, the softest of yellows, morph into existence and are slowly blown away. Where the horizon meets the heavens, there is a line: enshrouded in mysteries and secrets. It’s blinding, but oddly warm. He stretches out his hand, trying to trace it –

A brush of air against his skin. Heartbeats, beating in time to his own.

Dreams – dreams – dreams … his eyes open in the light. Tiny wings are pressed against him. Breathing, fluttering in the air. Perched on his eyebrows and forehead. Pulling his hair. On his clothes.

“They’re back,” he whispers, hoarse.

- - -

“Are you sure?” Emery’s squint is inscrutable.

“Why wouldn’t I be telling the truth?”

She snorts. “Because I love taunting you, and besides, it would be funnier if you weren’t.”

He glares at her. Emery is leaning back comfortably on the high-backed chair, sipping – very slowly – at a cup of coffee. Her hair and clothes are, as always, decidedly mussed, in that careless, purposeful way she has. Emery is the living, walking definition of a contradiction. Alasdair met her almost a year ago now – and even though she’s human, he’s grown to respect her (as annoying as she usually is).

“And are you going to keep taunting? Tell me I’m just imagining the butterflies, and think up some horror story to scare the daylights out of my poor soul?”

“Well,” Emery grins. “I wasn’t, but I’m a little tempted now. But!” she snaps her fingers loudly. Alasdair hisses sharply as several heads turn in their direction. Ignoring him, she continues.

“A couple days ago, I was randomly browsing through the library when, (and this is going to sound strange, but I swear it’s just a coincidence) I came across – this!”

She reaches behind her for her bag and pulls out a huge, able-to-crack-skulls-and-much-more, book. It’s bound in a faded, rather ugly orange cloth, and is roughly the size (and weight, Alasdair imagines) of a baby dragon. Emery’s arms tremble and then, with a shattering thud, the book descends onto the table.

“What is this?” Alasdair, coughing and hopelessly trying to wave away the dust, chokes out.

“It’s a book. But wait, that’s not it! It’s a book about … curses!”

“Huh.” He eyes the monstrous thing, unimpressed.

“Magic.” Nothing. “Spells.” Blink. “Butterflies.”

He sits straight up.

Emery, looking satisfied, clears her throat. “There’s a section in here on a curse about butterflies. Someone, and I quote, threatened by the spirits of existence,” she wiggles her eyebrows, he pretends not to notice, “might have a condition that makes them hyperaware of an exotic sensation of seeing, hearing, and feeling small, winged creatures.” She huffs. “In layman’s terms, you’re hallucinating insects.”

“Very poetic,” says Alasdair dryly.

“But it’s interesting! And actually describes your butterflies pretty well.”

“Fair,” he admits grudgingly, glancing down at the book. “Who wrote this? If the author is still alive, maybe we could find them.”

Emery, frowning, turns to it. With some effort, she manages to scrape off enough dust to read the cover. “Wizard … Tuliprose.”

Alasdair startles. “I know him!”

Emery’s jaw drops. “Wh – What? Introduce us. Immediately.”

He shakes his head. “I don’t know him that well. I think he’s a distant cousin or something like that. But Tuliprose has always been an outcast, even among the outcasts.”

“Why?” she peers curiously at him. A coffee moustache perches, unnoticed, on her upper lip. “Is it because your high-class family is jealous of his name?”

“No.” Well, he doesn’t think so, anyway. “He lives in a hut on the outskirts of the village, where he’s known for his potions and innate ability to scare off squirrels.”

“Well, that doesn’t sound so bad. Maybe we can – ”

“People also say that he’s mad, his potions have a reputation for making the drinker go bald, and he hasn’t spoken out loud to anyone in over six centuries.”

“Right. Of course, keep the most important information for the last.”

“The point is, he won’t help us.”

“We don’t know that,” Emery argues. “Although,” she adds, conceding, “someone who scares off the beast squirrels of this area has to be pretty darn scary.”

“Exactly,” Alasdair agrees.

“But if we don’t ask the author of the book …” she flips through the pages quickly. He leans back, avoiding the onslaught of dust. “There’s another solution.”

Emery shoves the book in front of him, ignoring his protests. She jabs a finger at a place on the map. “Legend says that here, all curses can be cured.” The Last Place of Magic.

“Okay, but what kind of name is that?”

“I don’t know! The writer of this story must be getting lazy. Anyway – it’s not very far from here. We can probably get there by dusk if we leave now.”

“Now?”

“Al, look – ”

“I’ve told you, it’s Alasdair.”

“Alasdair – why would anyone ever miss out on a quest? Besides, you do sound pretty scared of these butterflies. Not that I blame you, but here’s a way to cure the curse! You have to take it."

He inhales, sharply. The butterflies aren’t here now. They never are, when he’s around Emery or anyone else – they’re a unique way of torture, driving him slowly insane. No one ever sees them.

“Okay,” he says, forcing himself to smile at Emery.

Grinning, she slams her coffee cup on the table, and the liquid just barely misses sloshing all over the book. “Let’s do this.”

-

The journey takes hours. Treks through long-forgotten villages, hikes across the dreariest hills imaginable, and frantic dashes along the banks of one too many rivers. (“That’s more mud than water!” Emery exclaimed, horrified, when Alasdair had tried to drink water from the river.) His feet are aching, and he’s shaking with exhaustion. Emery, of course, is as cheerful and bright-eyed as ever.

The butterflies come and go; colours drifting in his view, vivid and fleeting. Alasdair tries to point them out to Emery, but by the time she turns to look, they’ve already vanished – swallowed by the wind, or some other mysterious phenomenon.

“Alasdair …”

He turns. There it is, finally, the location on the map – an opening leading straight into the heart of the forest. Emery, eyes shining, beckons him forward. He follows her, though more warily, careful of every twig and branch. The trees seem to snag at his clothes and skin like wild things. Their murmurs, quiet as they are, don’t bother Emery, but Alasdair tenses.

Stay away! Do you really think you’re worthy of our magic?

He shakes his head, trying to brush the voices away. Of course he is. Didn’t he spend these past decades learning, sweating, and painfully fighting for all good things? Doesn’t he, more than anyone, deserve to be rewarded? Those darn butterflies.

The path is a winding one, twisting through the forest in a bizarre fashion. There’s something different about the air here; it’s fresher, almost clearer. The wind, rushing through the trees, sounds like a low, dwarvish music.

At the end of the path waits a tall – for lack of a better word, for it is so much more – tree, larger than all the rest of its brethren. They draw short, eyes widening. A canopy, stretching across a gigantic clearing. The trunk is wide enough for no less than thirty people to lie down across. And the bark – a pale, pale grey, like the sky marking the first signs of a storm.

“Whoa,” Emery breathes.

(1264 words)

“Lend me a hand won't you?” I heard Ollie on the ladder above me groan as he carried the heavy box of files. He leaned back towards me, almost falling on his way. His light brown eyes looked annoyed at me.

“Sure!” I said, a hint of mischief in my own two eyes. His shoulders relaxed and he turned back to shelves, his knuckles ghastly white with effort of holding the heavy boxes. Inside lay the files and information of all world that had been crossed by present and past travelers. These things were serious, and even one being destroyed could mean a whole universe needed to be re-explored. I reached down to my left and opened a portal. A zombiefied cabin from an old session was in the black swirling hole. I reached my hand in and grabbed something. I smiled and reached it up to Ollie.

“Thanks Frog, AAAAA!”

The boxes clattered to the floor along with a petrified Ollie. He scooted backwards in a frantic manner, pointing a hand at whatever was in my own. He looked at my own hand, to the oozing zombie hand I had handed him before. He did ask for a hand, and I was far to lazy to help, so what bad could a dead one do? Ollie found himself and stood up, glaring at me. I could still see him shaking. Holding back a snort I asked.

“I did what you asked of me! Why are you so scared?”

"Scared?! There's a dead hand in front of me, are you kidding? That was not funny Frog!“ He looked annoyed and I almost felt bad. Whoops, I lied! I felt great! Anything that scares my best friend is a treat.

”Chill Ollie, let's pick up these boxes so we don't open another vortex.“

”You can say that again!"

swc weekly
part four: premise
words: 171

inspired by @enchantedd-'s premise

When your main character enters their room (or another familiar location that other people aside from them rarely go inside of), they see a book that they've never seen before lying on the ground. Inside the book is a long script with characters that they know. In fact, it’s a little too similar. Every thought they've had, every action they've taken, everything they’ve said- it’s all in the book. When they examine the book’s cover, they realize it has their name on it. Not knowing what to do with it, they hide the book somewhere for later. The next day, the book is gone. Eventually, more strange things start to happen. The sun winks out for a moment, a lighting rig falls from the sky just in front of them, and if they get somewhere earlier than normal they can see people that they have never seen before inside, arranging the items in the room. After watching things like the above happen, they soon realize that they are inside a movie/play…

there was some random writing here but it's GONE now
i didn't like it anyways sooo


ivy banner

ʚ setting ɞ
413 words
back to full weekly

Moonlight Beach
It was just midnight on the coast of Moonlight Beach. Soft sand of a deep purple color filled the shore and the moonlight shone like liquid silver on the dark yet calm blue ocean waves. Moonlight Beach was a calming place. Moonlight Beach's salt was good for soothing and calming, and was commonly used for skin scrubs, lotions and face masks. Its salt was rare in trade and expensive; mostly because few could find Moonlight Beach to even collect the salt. The sky was always a shade of purple here, and the nights never ended. The calm swishing of the dark blue waves went on and on for eternity. But, take caution of how long you stay in Moonlight Beach. Whatever or whoever stayed in Moonlight Beach for too long, which was four hours, stayed forever. You couldn't feel the change at all, but time went by twice as fast here, so what felt like four hours was really eight hours back in the normal world on the other side of the waterfall. The only entrance and the only exit to Moonlight Beach was a waterfall inside of a cave of stone. It led out to another cave identical to it somewhere in Greece, its location and existence practically hidden from public knowledge. Inside the cave was a deep pool, and the waterfall was small, running from the top of the short cave into the pool of water. No one knew how deep the cave pool really was, and the only way to get across was to swim without looking down or behind you until you were on the other side. It was only a few feet to swim, but for some people it was the scariest moment of their lives. No one knew how long Moonlight Beach had existed, so it was possible that something from ancient ages of dinosaurs could have crawled in and stayed for over four hours. No one knew what creatures were waiting in the bottom of that water, or perhaps near the surface even, creatures that had been trapped for eternity whose meals were long overdue. There wasn't any stars here, nor a moon. It didn't make any sense how the non existing moonlight still reflected in the water, but no one really noticed, and when they did it gave them a headache thinking about it. Moonlight Beach really was a beautiful sight, but it was insanely dangerous, even more than what those who entered knew of.

Weekly Character
Name: Jo Kinnly
Age: 12
Species: Human

Personality and Traits (204): Jo is a happy, bouncy, and fun person who isn’t afraid to laugh. They have a tendency to make jokes at their own expense and are self-deprecating. Despite being a jokester, Jo is a surprisingly good listener. They’ve convinced many people to open up. They’re very invested in making a change. They don’t really mind what but want to make a lasting impact at this stage in life however they can. They work well in groups, providing the drive and creativity to projects. Jo often looks for validation from others. They can seem confident on the outside but don’t really believe in their abilities. They’re very flexible and will try to make any situation work. They don’t like conflict and will try to intervene and stop confrontation before it happens, which can sometimes lead to harmful outcomes. Jo is one of those people who others admire for their ability to be themselves when Jo really is just trying to make a difference. The fewer people Jo dislikes, and more importantly, the fewer people dislike Jo, the faster they can achieve their goals. They try to make as many friends as possible, based on the philosophy that the more friends you have the fewer enemies.

Wants, Hopes, and Strengths (205): All Jo really wants to make an impact. To change something. They want people to remember them. They want to have a legacy. Most importantly, they want to do something worth remembering. They dislike slackers and people with no drive because they can’t see the point in doing something just to get it over with. They are really good at connecting with others, as well as staying focused and on-task. They love science, as well as drama, but are horrible at drawing, painting, or other types of 2D art. They love working with their hands, so excel at things like sculpting or wood carving. They love the outdoors, especially working out in the field. They enjoy subdued clothing, usually black, but have the largest, most colorful earrings you have ever seen. Every single day, they will come to school with some humongous hoops earrings, or dangly block earrings, along with a silver bracelet that they are rumored to never take off. In reality, they only take it off to shower or do dirty work, but otherwise, keep it on. If you put Jo in a room full of strangers, not only would they make friends, but they would have learned everyone’s name within an hour.

Dislikes and Fears (126): Jo hates when people make fun of their name. The most memorable of the very few times they broke their no-confrontations rule was when a kid invented a song about how stupid their name was. They marched up to the kid, whose name was Matt, and punched him in the face. Right in the middle of the playground. After that, Matt mostly steered clear of Jo. Jo is terrified of not being good enough. They have all these expectations placed on them. They’re expected to be happy and bouncy all the time, and if they let the act slip, people get extremely worried. Jo doesn’t want to put that much stress on them. It’s better to just bottle up their emotions and not worry anyone else.

Betrayed.
welcome to my entry for the writing competition! hope you enjoy <3

TW: MENTIONS OF BLOOD, DEATH, AND VIOLENCE


A man squats to meet my eye level before gently speaking to me. “Where are your parents, Robin?”
I shrug. “Outside, I think. They said they would only be a little while.”
He stands back up, seemingly satisfied with my response, and touches something in his ear. “They’re outside. Don’t let them get out of your sight!” He declares, almost shouting the order.
He then turns to me again, and his face softens. “Thank you for your cooperation.”

—

The man from earlier raises his gun, aiming first at my mother, then at my father.
“No!”
He fires.
My ears ring from the impact of the blast, muffling the pain of my sobs.
Tears trickling down my cheeks, I lay upon my parents’ bodies, apologizing to them until they can’t hear me anymore.

A suffocating pain pierces my chest. My vision blurs, my sobbing intensifies. I stumble, my knees planted into the muddy ground. I’m not strong enough to get up again.

The guard looks as stoic and lifeless as my dead parents as he walks away.
A cruel, abrasive man, undeserving of his powers.
He will pay.

“How could you?!” I say, mostly to myself.
He stops him dead in his tracks.
“Do you have any idea of what you just did to me?!” I shout at him, not caring that everyone can hear.
My eyes shine with a hungry light. “Because you will now.”

The scream of my victim gives my morbid spirit life as I tear at his heart.
I then sit down, sweating profusely, rethinking the past few moments.
And then I cry.

I jolt upright, panting heavily.
It was just a dream… I say, trying to convince myself. Just a dream…
I sigh, blowing a strand of my messy, raven black hair out of my face.
Even ten years later, I still think about it; the night where everything went wrong. For a while, I was held in custody for my crimes until my leader took pity on me and let me live. But that didn’t stop him from adding many more guards outside my room.
I could say that that’s the only difference now, but you and I both know that’s not true. Now I wouldn’t even think of escaping, not with my parents to remind me of what would happen if I failed.
So now, I’ve come to learn that, whether I like it or not, freedom is not a choice; only a punishment. And fighting for it only gets you killed.
I shove on my wrinkled uniform, pull my hair up into a ponytail, and gaze at myself in the reflection of a mirror.
Staring back at me is a pale, sickly girl with golden brown skin and bright blue eyes full of hunger and hatred, ready to kill on command and sacrifice everything no matter the cost. A puppet who can’t tell who's holding the strings.
The door slowly opening awakes my morbid spirit. I whip around, knife in hand, and throw it without a second of hesitation. It lands right above the person’s head who’s horrifically gaping at me from inside the doorway.
“Jeez, Robin, it’s just me!” He says, too afraid to move. It’s one of my colleagues, Peter.
“I know, I just…” I sigh, not knowing what to say as I pull out the knife from its brief hold in the wooden door.
Just like I said: I am a puppet.
S
l
o
w
l
y
Losing
touch
with
reality.
“Come on, Lord Lucifer wants to see you.”

My boots clatter against the spotless tile floor as I walk down the hallway, my eyes sealed on the ground. I’ve been here long enough to know that it’s not smart to look up at the condescending stares of my peers.
A memory surfaces as I remember the day when I was brought in for trial.
Disapproving stares.
“She’s just a kid.”
“She deserves to be punished!”
Whispers. Murmurs. Booming laughter.
My ears start ringing, blocking out the chaos. I glance towards the crowd, receiving looks before the culprits turn away, trying hard to suppress giggles.
“She’s such an idiot.”
Boos as I walk onstage.
I blink, my heart pounding still pounding from the flashbacks as I fade back into reality.
The door is in front of me; my guards at my side. I turn towards Peter, confused.
He rolls his eyes. “What are you waiting for? Open it!”
So I bring my hand to the doorknob and twist.

I hesitantly walk inside, shutting the door behind me.
This room never ceases to amaze me. Though it’s not hard with the sunlight peeking through the open windows, making the crystal chandeliers sparkle. The room is also lavishly furnished, the floor perfectly clean, and my master’s throne lined with silk.
Upon there, he sits; bored, his legs crossed and strumming his fingers against the armrests impatiently.
He gives a slight smile at my entry. “I’ve been waiting for you.”
I bow. “Sorry, my lord. I was… distracted.”
“I see…”
I feel my cheeks flush, and, too embarrassed to reply, I abruptly change the subject. “I was told you had another mission for me, my lord.”
He nods his head. “That is correct, Robin. Though, if done well, it will be your last.”
My ears perk up as I try to contain my excitement. “And why is that, my lord?”
He sighs. “I feel I’ve been…” He pauses, searching for the right words. “…overworking you.”
“So,” he says, his eyes staring directly into mine, as if trying to read them. “to put it simply, how would you like to take a break… forever?”
It takes nearly all of my energy to stop myself from grinning. “I would love to, my lord.”
“Excellent,” he says, moving to stand. “Then let’s get started, shall we?”

SORRY FOR THE BAD ENDING AA BY THEN MY BRAIN WAS DEAD AND DIDNT KNOW HOW TO CONTINUE IT SORRYYY </3 ALSO TY FOR @CRU-MBLE FOR HELPING ME

sorry i lost my writing thread, so i'll make a new one :')
dailies:
- march 15: Gizela woke up, sleepy as usual. She looked at her DIY calendar on the colorful wall - it’s Pi Day! Gizela never liked maths, but Pi Day was one of the best days for her. In her family tradition, a special pie will be baked on this special day and believed to bring good luck to them all. As she thought of the delicious, sweet pie, Gizela rushed downstairs to see what was prepared. But to her surprise, no pie? Her family never missed this day, and any other situations wouldn’t make sense. Flinging the kitchen door, she ran to her mother, panicking, “Mum, today is Pi Day. Did you put the pie somewhere?” Her mother dropped the spoon and was numb with shock, “So you’re telling me it’s NOT on the table? That’s exactly where I left it, like the years before.” Gizela shook her head slowly. They both stared at each other in shock until their father walked in. “Darling, have you seen the cake? Don’t tell me you forgot to bake it!” he asked sternly, a little worried. “No! I did! But now the cake is gone! Where could it have gone?” her mother shouted, almost crying, “We all know this isn’t just some ‘pie’, this will determine our luck!” Everyone thought for a while, then their father pointed out, “Maybe it was Gizela who ate the pie! Your mother didn’t notice when it was gone, so maybe you ate it just recently when she was in the kitchen!” “Wait, no! Listen, maybe mum STILL forgot to bake the cake, or messed up the cake, or wanted us to have bad luck, or-” Before Gizela could complete her sentence, they heard a small “meow”. “Oh hi Miel- wait, what’s on your whiskers?” the mother asked curiously. “Is that- PIE??” they all shouted, a bit furious. Gizela examined Miel’s teeth - there IS pie.

March 15th Daily
330 words
“That's the last straw!”
I was fed up with school. I had been fed up with school for a long time, actually, but I had been collecting straws in my pocket for a while. One straw for every time I felt like I just wanted to explode. By month two, one-fifth of my pocket was full. By month four, one-half. And now, five months into the school year, my pocket was coming dangerously close to being full of straws.

I was rolling on a one-month streak of not making any additions to my straw collection. Then, it just so happened to be that my least favorite teacher, in my least favorite class, assigned me to a group with my least favorite classmates to make my least favorite type of project on my least favorite topic. It felt like my teacher had tailored this to me specifically, and even though I knew that wasn’t the case, I couldn’t help feeling betrayed, livid, and absolutely maddened at life, the universe, and everything.

The moment I got together with my horrible group and they started talking of things that had nothing to do with the topic whatsoever, I realized with a sickening feeling in my chest that my emotions were bubbling up inside of me. I tried to keep it in, and I managed it for a total of two minutes, trying to keep my cool and get us back on track.

It didn’t work. Eventually, I burst and I pulled a fistful of straws out of my pocket. “That’s the last straw!” I yelled, pointing my straws at my teacher and my table group. And they all disappeared. In their place was a single straw. Evidence of the truly horrible predicament I was in. I picked up the straw with murderous eyes and I marched out the room to the office, preparing to show them the straws I had accumulated over the month and then request to drop out of the school once and for all.

My weekly!!
Part one: my collab story with @Unicorn_book! My parts are in bold, I wrote a total of 336 words!
I raced down the path, daring a single glance behind me. It was still behind me, its frigid breath close enough to cool my sweating back. Scanning the road ahead, I took the left fork, heading towards the forest.

I was really picking up my pace now. Running for my life. That was strange, because walking home yesterday was just perfectly fine. School, homework, snack, reading. All in it's perfect order, right in it's slot. But today- today nothing else mattered. I just couldn't fall into these hands. The same hands of those rumored in those seemingly harmless bedtime stories…

, the same hands that my parents warned me each day to stay away from. I was jerked back into my current situation when I tripped over a branch, momentarily stumbling, losing a stack of books from my backpack, somehow getting my feet back under myself, standing back up. There was no time to mourn the loss of those books now–even as I heard the unmistakable sound of the monster's hind legs crushing their pages. My legs were tiring quickly, and I needed to come up with some other plan. Fast.

Perhaps to hide? Hoping for the best, I dashed next to a bush, and crouched down low, letting the thick branches of the bush engulf me. I had just lost it. With a jolt, I glanced down to see a fresh wound seeping with blood. The bush was one of roses, and know I was tangled in its branches. Who knew such a sweet smelling bush could be so vicious with it's thorns?

But it was too late to get out now. I could only crouch there, trembling, hoping the rumors weren't true. Part of the story was always the claim that the monster could sense your bl00d. As I stared down at the red blooming across my already sweat-soaked shirt, I gulped. I could hear the beast now, the huff of its breath, the quiet footsteps, the crackle as the pine needles and twigs froze beneath its step. I clumsily rubbed my shirt against my side, trying to get the metallic stench off of me.

Crouching low, I took deep breaths in and out as I hid, hoping the beast would not notice my shadow. Still exhausted from the chase, I began to pant, my long flannels caught in the thorns of the rosebush. Trying to pull my pant leg away, it ripped- and loud. To top that off, my sneaker accidently crunched on a twig. Blood roaring in my ears, I braced myself for the sharp claws of the beast. There was no way I would escape now.

It was getting closer now, its wide nostrils lowered to the forest floor, snuffling closer and closer to me. Lifting up its nose, it let out a long bellow, the mournful noise echoing throughout the trees. I winced. If the creature had any friends nearby, they would surely have awakened at the sound of its cry. With a gulp, I cowered deeper into the bush, ignoring when the thorns press even deeper into my side. I put my head in my hands, hot tears dripping down my face. It was the strangest thought, but the image of my math class going on without me, my empty seat ignored, only made me sob harder.


Part two: My character! I wrote 521 words.
Character:
Name: Willow
Age: 6 months
Species: Fox

Personality and traits: Willow always seems to her friends to be pretty aloof and distant. She finds it hard to focus on things she is doing or whatever she is learning. Because of this, she doesn't have many friends, but the connections she does have are very strong. She is really kind when you get to know her, but she definitely doesn't seem that way at first glance. She is very patient and is willing to wait a long time to fulfill her dreams. She's thoughtful and quite smart, but only when she wants to be. She loves nature, but she also likes to keep her paws clean. She's dreamy and has a big imagination, she likes to think through all the possible paths in her life before choosing one, or even to think through all the possible answers to a question, which makes her very slow to talk to. She chooses her words carefully. She enjoys nighttime and looking up at the moon, she takes every chance she gets to leave her crowded den and sleep outside. She is pretty closed-minded and loves sticking to the same exact routine every day. She is neutral and doesn't like to pick sides in arguments.

Wants, hopes, and strengths: She is looking forward to the day when she can move out of her family's den, which is filled with younger siblings. She is a strong thinker, she has a good imagination, and she is very smart. However, her parents worry that she won't do well in the outside world because she is constantly lost in thought. She, however, thinks that she will be able to make it. She hopes to someday meet up with a group of like-minded foxes and make some new friends. She feels pretty lonely in her current life, despite her large family, and she thinks that it would be nice to have some connections outside of her family. Her greatest want in life, though, is to find a partner. Whether a best friend or a romantic partner, she just wants someone who will always be there for her, appreciate her, fully understand her personality, and not force her to be present when she doesn't feel up to it. She wants stability and to be able to stick to her routine, and because she dislikes change, she hopes that everything (besides the noise and annoyances) will stay the same once she leaves her family.

Dislikes and fears: She doesn't like being around loud, annoying foxes. She hates constant noise and much prefers the peace and quiet of the forest at night. She dislikes being dirty and will constantly wipe her paws on leaves in an attempt to get them clean. She hates the rain and being wet. She is scared of any type of thunderstorm or strong wind, and storms are the only times she will willingly be inside. She dislikes having to make difficult choices; she can be kept awake for hours by particularly complicated issues. She doesn't love being around others in general, in specific large groups of other foxes.


Part three: My setting! I wrote 413 words.
Midnight Grove. A rugged civilization hugging the edge of The Grove, a massive forest. The accommodations are small, but the hearts and minds of the people who live there are even smaller. Many ‘green spaces’ are only dusty fields, barren of all the life that made them special. Many people dwell in cabins made of brick or stone. Due to not having much advanced technology (more on that later), they don't have enough control over fire to feel safe building out of wood. The few small paths that run throughout the city are perfectly straight—even they have no time for messing around. Even the animals from the forest are two terrified of the townspeople and their rifles to find shelter within the city walls.
Built out of sturdy cobblestone bricks, ten-foot-tall moss-covered battlements surround Midnight Grove, letting no one in, and, more importantly, no one out. To be a part of the town, you must be descended from the very people who founded it. Because of this, the townspeople are very separate from the modern world and are behind the times and technology. You can write about this setting in any time period you wish, just remember that the characters inside will not follow any customs typical to that era.
One of the special traditions followed inside of the city is staying up late (typically until midnight) and waking up in the earlier afternoon, especially on once-a-month holidays that align with full moons, when they have small celebrations. However, even during these holidays, interactions between townspeople are very limited. Many people who live inside are very gruff, not talking much to others outside their families. Though the town is small, social interaction is limited. People are distrustful of each other, even though the families of the area have known each other for generations.
The Grove, the forest next to the city, is crammed with trees dripping with ripe stone fruits. However, the townspeople are forbidden from entering the Grove, for reasons the leaders refuse to divulge. Some say that monsters dwell within…
The town leaders are all descended from the founder of Midnight Grove, sometimes they are good candidates, but other times not so much. They are the only ones entrusted with the secret of The Grove. The secret (and rumors about it) are spread only by word of mouth, so to make sure a leader doesn't suddenly die without passing it on, two children are told the secret at a time.



Part four: My premise! Only 151 words.
Your main character is outside taking a walk when suddenly a small rabbit hops out behind her. Its coat is an unnatural shade of blue, and it almost looks like it is glowing. Your character spins to see the animal hopping away, heading into a small area (like a tree tunnel in a forest, an alleyway in a city, an underground tunnel in a giant plain/field, etc.). It jumps onto the shoulder of a person dressed in all black, and they walk away. Your character follows it inside, into a masssive open clearing, much larger than you would have expected from the entrance. The person sits down, crossing their legs and settling with the rabbit sitting calmly atop their head. They begin to chant an otherworldly song, and the rabbit glows brighter and brighter, until finally, it explodes. After the blue dust fades, the only thing left behind is a…


Part five: My story! I wrote 1013 words, and I'm really proud of it!!
Here are the parts I used:
Character by @Figurative_Wings : https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=61#post-6106957
Setting by @Wishingdeer : https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/post/6104756/
Premise by @i_like_kotlc : https://scratch.mit.edu/discuss/topic/582424/?page=60#post-6106234

Tap. Tap. Tap.
I roll over in bed, wishing that this room was large enough for me to fully stretch out my tired wings.
Tap. Tap. Tap.
Cracking open one eye, I yawn, wondering what in the world could be going on outside.
Tap. Taptaptap.
I sigh. Doesn't Oddity have rules against waking people up in the middle of the night. Especially after such a long day of flying.
Taptaptaptaptaptaptap.
Shoving the sheets off of my freezing body, I stand up, annoyed. I step over to the window.
“Come to the window, Tally. Come on!”
My sleep-muddled brain draws the worst possible conclusion.
Someone's trying to kiII me.
I grab a wooden chair, hurling it at the window. The only response is a massive THUMP and a quiet taptaptaptap continuing in the background.
How did that person know my name? Who were they? Why are they here? My mind builds up evil persona after evil persona, scanning my memories for anyone who would want to mvrd3r me at 3 a.m.
“Tally!” it sounds again, and I quickly stand up.
It's time for me to face it. Whoever it might be, whoever is lurking back there, I'm sure they still have some good inside of them.
Right?
I tiptoe to the window, taking a deep breath and clutching my broken chair leg even tighter before shoving the window open.
With a gasp, I stare down at the person waiting for me.
“Hey, Tal!” a girl chirps, smiling up at me.
My mouth falls open. “Wh-wha-” Two massive ram horns sprout from her head, the gargantuan spirals almost as large as her entire body.
“I'm Ari,” she says with a grin.
“I-I'm Tally-” I say, then realize she must already know. “But, I guess you already figured that out.”
The girl stands up with a huff, dusting off some lingering dirt from her skirt.
I crane my head to the side, checking if my flower bed made it through. The peonies are a bit crushed. Great. Even more hard work for me.
“Of course I know,” she replies. “I've been watching you.”
“You-you have?” I gulp.
“Mhm! There aren't many hybrids in Oddity, and from what I could tell, you don't even know about the festival.”
“The- The festival?” I furrow my eyebrows, confused.
“Yeah!” Ari drops her voice to a lower tone as she begins to tell me a tale. “They say that once every twelve months, all non-humans who live in the city come together on one special night. It is the one day that we can truly be ourselves, that we can meet each other.”
I nod slowly. “Did you say ALL non-humans? Meaning, it's not just me- I mean, not just us?”
“Of course not!” Ari says eagerly. “There's Isala, Wisteria, Minko… lots of people! You just have to stick around long enough to meet them.”
“Okay…” I reply, still a bit suspicious. “Can I come with you to this festival?”
“Why do you think I'm here?” she laughs, the sound a strange but endearing mix of a bleat and a wind chime.
Overcome by a rush of adrenaline, I launch myself out the window, for a moment forgetting I have wings.
“Ow…” I groan, stuck halfway out.
Ari laughs again, reaching one slender (surprising, compared to those massive horns) hand out to help me through.
I tumble the rest of the way, a bit embarrassed that this is my first impression on the girl.
At least the fall cleared the last remnants of sleepiness from my brain.
Standing up on shaky legs, I unfurl my wings, letting the light cerulean scales shine in the moonlight. Ari looks a bit impressed by the sheer scale of them, and I mask a smile as I notice her gaping mouth.
She grabs my hand, trotting along down the gravel path.
“Aren't they going to hear us?” I wince as our feet crunch especially loud against the rocks.
“No one's paying attention. Not to us, at least.”
I shrug, happy to ignore any rumors the people inside their houses may be spreading about us. Just for tonight. In this cool night air, it feels like I can finally be free. Before I can even think about it, my wings spread. Catching in the breeze, they pull me upwards. Ari yelps, and I hurriedly look down. I had forgotten that I was still holding on to her.
“Are you okay?!” my eyes widen as I quickly bring us back to the solid ground.
“I-I'm fine!” her wide eyes telling a different story as she pushes a strand of auburn hair behind her horn.
“I'm so sorry,” I say, making a point to fold my wings and push my hands deep into my pockets. That can't happen again. I can't scare her like that—not when I've finally found someone like me.
“Really, it's fine,” she takes a deep breath and slowly exhales, taking another step forwards.
We walk in silence for a few minutes, all of my conversation topics exhausted. I look around at the houses surrounding me, encroaching on the sidewalk. Their colorful walls never fail to cheer me up, and each home seems to have a unique character.
A faint breath of music drifts through the city, and Ari speeds up at the sound, her feet thumping heavily against the path, which had turned from gravel to cobbled stone to dirt, as a smile breaks out on her face.
I can't help but smile too as I race after her, the cheerful fiddle music getting louder by the moment.
Finally, panting, we arrive in a clearing in the middle of the forest. I gasp as I look around. Somehow, inexplicably, I am surrounded by people like me.
The excitement, the nervous anxiety, the happiness of this night seems never to stop as Ari walks me around, introducing me to her friends, pointing out everyone's powers and adaptions and every single thing that makes them special.
It is in this moment that I realize that I'm not alone. That I never will be again.