Weekly 3:


1. Music inspiration:1071 words

“Otherside” by Lena Raine: 489 words
I stand beside the stone cliffs that surrounded the world, finally reaching my dreams of being the first one to see what lay beyond this barrier. Every step gets me closer to this new discovery Ever since we have found a hidden entrance, disguised by vines and foliage growing over it like curtains I reach them. I close my eyes. I push through them. I open my eyes.
A forest. An unimaginable one. It had trees that came all the way into the sky, butterflies and birds the size of ten elephants. The forest was every colour there can possibly be, shades of bright and dark. It seemed this is all everyday, but yet so unseen and hidden from the rest of the world. I stared at it in wonder. Suddenly, a bird the size of twenty buildings flew towards me. It was beautiful and graceful, with feathers of every colour that shone like a rainbow. It hopped down the the ledge I was standing on and leaned towards me. I thought it wanted me to ride on me. I came closer cautiously, unsure if it would hurt me. Then I touched it's feathers; it was so soft like down. I climbed on. Then the bird took off. My heart lurched. We were up into the air! We flew through the canopy in the forest, weaving in and out of the trees. I tried not to look down at the ground far below me. Then, the forest seemed to become smaller and smaller, more hilly, until we flew above waterfalls. They looked so smooth, so big, so alive. The birds where now shades of blue, grey and white, and the fish were so big you could see them from above. The waters then weaved through mountains as high as the stone cliffs separating this world from mine. They were tall and spindly, and flowers of every colour imaginable bloomed from the mountains where there was supposed to be forests. The birds now looked more like the bird I was riding on. and instead of just flying by, they all stared at me. Not in a creepy way I would've thought. My bird was whistling and dancing now, so joyful when it saw it's friends. We flew into an opening in one of the caves.
The caves were so big it seemed like the mountain was hollow. It was spacious and bright with stalagmites and stalactites and mushrooms that glowed a bright light. Lava bubbled in the shape of pools and lakes.
How could I've known?
We flew into it, and I wondered if it had an other side. This cave was starting to give me creeps. This place was not for humans.
How should've I known?
The cave was getting smaller until there was just a corner with a small pool in it. My breath now came in short gasps of fear.
Then the bird dropped me.
Into the pool.


“Comforting memories” by Kumi Tanioka: 582 words
This, this was it. I can't go back. I am lost forever. There is no way home. I let myself be dragged all the way down to the bottom, where I should stay.
I give up.
This is my fate.
In these peaceful, still waters.
Something glowing approached me. It wasn't big, like all the other things I saw before my fate. It was small and shining, like a glowing heart within the murky darkness. It came towards me and I noticed it was a squid-like creature. I held out my hands and it stood right there. looking up at me. I looked down to see what was below me. The water seemed bottomless. I looked back at the squid-creature. it seemed so bright, so magical like. Something speaks to me as I look at it. A voice so soft like a gentle, whispering song.
“Please don't go.”
I have to. That is my only fate.
“You can still find your way home. There is always a way home. But sometimes it is hidden and difficult to find, and you assume you never be home. But there is always a way. You can't give up on hope.”
Really? I look up; the surface was hidden from me. Yet there was still a way. I tried to swim further up. Yet I was being pulled closer. I didn't know what to do then. I stayed silent, waiting.
The heart of the lake was glowing like the small squid-creature in the darkness. It shone a misty turquoise surrounded by darker, silent tones. It was alive with the warm glow of squid-creatures dancing a quiet, serene dance. I don't know why I was led here. My mind was blank from anything from how I could breathe underwater or that the water was cold. I just focused on getting home.
“it'll be easier if you swim up here. The water surrounding this area is thick and would drag you down. This is where the only life you would find here. Be grateful, for a companion and support by your side will help you on your journey.”
Who is saying all of this?
But I swim up, up and up, trying to see the surface. It is so far away. I keep trying, hoping, pleading for just one way.
A different fate.
I break free from the water and I gasp. I was still in the cave, still in the lonely corner, but it was different. The water reflected gemstones of every size and colour imaginable that decorated the once sullen walls. The corner was now shining, and so bright , so magical. The reflection of the gems on the water rippled until it was the shape of a rainbow. But every single one was unique and all together looked like hope.
Instead of the corner being the end of the cave, there was a small opening that carried on in a pathways speckled with gems. I ermerged from the lake and entered it, keeping my footsteps giddy but quiet just in case.
Why was I just about to give up?
I was going home. This had to be the way.
And it was.
The end of the path was a curtain of foliage and vines. Behind those was a village, and a good mile from that was a house, in the house where cries of surprise, relief and happiness. And questions of the events of an almost failed expedition.
And, followed by that, was this story.



2. Further Inspiration:824 words
I have taken inspiration from an old story I roughly made a while ago. It is about a girl with royal blood and a magic amulet that sets her on an adventure that changes everything.

On some nights, Mister Chiron would tell me a story about my parents and their life. He'd tell me that they ruled the Last Kingdom of Magonica with wisdom and just, and that they loved me very much. He told me that a few years after they married he found a baby in a gold-painted wick basket on his porch. The letter beside the baby had said: “Please take care of our little princess. From, the King and Queen of Magicona,” Mister Chiron said that a heart-like shaped necklace made out of blue and purple gemstones and a silver chain was stuck on it.
And that's the very necklace I wear now.
I woke up at a growling noise and three sets of sharp fangs.
“Good morning, Ruffs!” I say to the three-headed hellhound facing me.
“Ruff ruff!” They reply.
I get out of bed and pull on my short, brown dress and tighten it with the blue and purple belt Mister Chiron gave me on my ninth birthday. I rush into the kitchen where Mister Chiron is frying eggs and bread.
“Good morning, Mister Chiron!” I said.
“Good morning, Limuna!” He replied. “Come and sit down at the table. No wait, go fetch Ruffs' leftover boar for their breakfast. You know how they like their breakfast on time.”
“Okay!” I said, and I pulled on my tall black and whit boots to go into the pantry carved into the wall.
Mister Chiron said that, like all other centaurs, we live in a cave. I actually thought it was a hobbit-hole because I read a book where the main character home was like ours. But it turned out that caves are bigger and more spacious, so I still like to call this a centaur-hole instead of a hobbit-hole. As we live in a cave you'll probably think it is dark and gloomy. But it isn't On the outside, the big mouth is covered in rambles and vines that surround it almost like a maze. But there is a big timber door you could go through that is held together by an arch of wild, untamed roses. On the inside, it is warm and smelling of warm cooking and not-actually-vicious dog. The walls are still stone but they are decorated with colourful paintings and tapestries. The kitchen goes off into four pathways that lead to the pantry Mister Chiron's bedroom, the bathroom, and my bedroom. I love our centaur-hole.
I go off to the the one path way that is separate to the others which leads to the pantry. The pantry is nice and cool, with shelves holding up meats, vegetables, breads, eggs, and lots more food. On the end of one shelf I spot the mostly-eaten boar meat and slide it off the shelf. I then turn around to leave we I notice the door is closed. I'm sure I left the door open. I try to open it. It's locked. I frown. How did that happen?
But then came the voice.
“You must know now.”
“Know what?” I ask out loud.
“Shh, be quiet. Haven't Mister Chiron told you? It's time you learn what happened to us now.”
“But I'm busy!” I think in my head.
“That is not an excuse. This is more important. Clasp the amulet in your hands and close your eyes.”
“Why?” I ask.
“Just do it.”
“Okay.” I hold up the amulet and it shines in the morning light. I then hold it tightly in my hands and squeeze my eyes shut.
Suddenly a strange sensation whirls around and around me, like I am whirlpooling into a drain. I feel Ruff's warm, hairy body brush against my legs. Well, at least Ruff's here with me. A shiver runs down my spine as it always does when an adventure is rising like how the dark night goes down and the rosy dawn rises.
The spinning finally stops and I open my eyes to found myself in a place that is anything but our pantry. I was at the mouth of a cave just like ours minus the brambles. Children from small toddlers to young teens play, carve things, or running about. A boy with light brown curls and a plain toga come over to me.
“Hello there, Are you a newcomer?” he asks.
“I don't know.” I answer simply, eyeing the panther skin draped over his left shoulder.
“Logic can't say anything.” But as th boy said that, a centaur emerged from the mouth of the cave. He had a grey beard and the horse-part of him was tawny. Unobservant people would say Mister Chiron and this Chiron looked the same, but they don't.
“Who are you talking to, Jason?” said Chiron. “ He spotted me and his expression changed. ”Wait, is your name Limuna?“
”Yes?“ I answered, unsure about Chiron's strange question.
”Come with me. I'll try to explain all that I know about the centaurs and Magicona."

-

Valley Between Worlds

The sun is setting in the valley. The trees sway in the breeze, beautifully, gently dancing in sync to the rhythm of nature. A few dark strands of my hair drift to the same sync from my perch upon a cliff.

As I look out over the landscape, I doubt for a moment that this is reality. The nature is so detailed, so faultless, and it’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. I don’t know how the Earth itself, with all its complexities and fluctuations, could ever have been able to bring this beautiful scene to life, but I figure that I should appreciate the feeling while it lasts. I stand up, and then I realize my feet are bare, the texture of the grassy rocks below me tickling my soles as I step forward onto the edge of the cliff.

I have an urge to step off into the air above the forest. The idea doesn’t feel dangerous at all. It just feels right. So I leap off and twirl into the mountainside, and rather than being flung down below to my demise, I find myself floating in the wind like a feather.

I take a quick glance at the perfect sky, stars and galaxies of all colors glittering as they quietly wink in and out, almost teasing me, and I can tell I’m dreaming. I suppose now I’m lucid dreaming.

I laugh at myself. What a childlike tendency, the desire to fly. But it’s more unpredictable and wonderful than I ever could have imagined. The wind gently tosses me from cloud to cloud. I embrace the freedom, spreading my arms as if to give a hug to the empty air, because the feeling of being lifted of all responsibilities and obligations is something I’ve never felt before.

My daytime fantasies and desires float in the fog around me as the wind weaves me through the peaks, through valleys and over the everlasting woods. I’m filled with joy as I reach out to experience each one, almost believing in their hopeful truths and awkward proceedings. I’m becoming someone new, someone who isn’t afraid to chase these intricate dreams that I find myself fluttering between in this imaginary world of fulfilled ambition.

The feeling of being so energized, so complete, spreads through my body. I’ve successfully escaped reality, my waking days that are filled with all of my regrets and wishes. I slowly realize that I have never even thought to take a step in the direction of my dreams. I thought I had to resign myself to a world where I was surrounded by broken promises to myself. But in the sky above the forest, I am not surrounded by longing but only by the magenta clouds and bright orange sunset, and just beyond the horizon I can glimpse the real possibilities waiting for me on the other side.

As I return my focus to myself gliding swiftly through the mountainous scenery, I notice the variety of trees and exotic birds around me, a special fragrance wafting off of the dewy leaves, and wonder if I could ever return to this place. Perhaps this is the only time I will ever experience it. Or perhaps I have visited these woods thousands of times before in my lifetime, only never being able to remember them when I must inevitably come back to reality each morning.

Somewhere in the midst of all these hopes and wonderings, I realize that brewing in my chest is a raw feeling of sorrow over the falsities of this dream. No matter how deeply I wish that this was real, I know that at some point I will come back to myself, and everything will be as it was before this moment. I’m not sure that I could ever find the courage or the circumstance that these aspirations require at their core.

I sigh and inhale the fresh cool air, slowing down to hover between the colorful clouds. The glowing golden sun peeks out from the horizon, perfectly framed between the silhouettes of two mountains that are so surreal they look painted.

A fleeting glimpse of a shadow of a bird flying in front of the sun reminds me that I’m not alone. The bird’s sleek wings and pointed beak are artistically inclined, and I think about how it must have learned the art of flight at a very early age. Whereas I am only an amateur. There must be a thing or two I can learn from birds. I have already learnt so much from this forest.

I reach my arms to the quickly darkening night, greeting the dusk as it comes.

I’ve feared the darkness for as long as I can remember. Not because it represented the unknown, but because it felt to me like a blanket over progress, stifling the productivity and satisfaction of the daytime. I recognize that right now, rather than isolation or fear, I instead feel a core awareness of a simultaneous connection to the land and the sky. I don’t have anything to worry about. I have achieved all there is to achieve. I have found meaning. I have fulfilled meaning. I take a deep breath in.

The sun dips below the horizon, and my vision goes black.

After what feels like an eternity, the lingering music of birdsong fades to a tune that I know well. A repetitive ‘ding-da-ding-ding’ that I dread each and every day.

Slowly, regretfully, I open my eyes to the blank white ceiling. My head is supported by a white fluffy pillow, and the blanket is a threaded mix of off-whites and goldens. After a few moments, I turn my head to the side. My dimly backlit digital clock reads 7:30 AM and is still emitting that tiresome chiming melody. I lean over and turn the sound off, proceeding to switch the lights on.

I pause in my search for the lights as I recall an image from a dream I must have had. Purple clouds. I grasp in the murky darkness of thoughts for the rest of it, but it manages to escape me. I sigh. I can’t waste any more time wondering over what my subconscious wants to tell me. There is work to be done.

In my physical fumbling in the dark beside my bed, however, I do have an aim, and eventually my fingers manage to find the light switch. Bright white light floods the room. Another image comes back to me, this time that of a golden sunset. I ignore it and muster the energy to get out of the bed. As my feet hit the white carpeted floor, I feel a strange sensation, reminding me of the brush of moss against my toes. I stumble for a few moments, letting my eyes adjust to the light. Exhaustion floods my body. I don’t know when exactly I fell asleep last night but I can’t have gotten nearly enough.

A bout of freshness from the cold air in my room compels me to properly wake up. I think about everything I have to do today. I also think about the things I want to do today, but that I’ll never have time for. Regret enters my heart, and I sigh once again. The atmosphere of broken promises and disregarded hopes is heavier than it has been in a while.

Another odd snippet of a dream – this time more of a daydream, really – comes back to me. Beneath the wisps of violet fog in my clouded mind there lies a fantasy of mine where I recklessly audition for that nationwide competition that the recent news has been all over. I stand still for a moment, trying to remember what else the dream entailed, but it seems like this is the only thing I can remember. I smile to myself, letting my mind entertain the fantasy for a few moments.

But it is still just that – a fantasy. That is all it is. And depending on the decisions I choose to make each day, that could be all that this ambition ever will be.

But perhaps – just maybe – there is still hope for this dream. Perhaps if I choose a new route today, there’s no telling where the paths may branch out tomorrow.

daily for march 20 - exactly 500 words :0
i continued in second person :] this was really fun !

—
You smile back at Daisy, and look around the campsite again. You can see other campers fluttering about, chatting or doing small tasks. Thinking about the first impressions that the camp leaders have made, your smile turns into a grin as you think that this will be a pretty fun camp session.

You walk over to Daisy and sit by the fireside, getting yourself comfortable on a nearby log. The other campers slowly started to move near the big campfire, which was still somehow burning brightly. Some campers sat on logs while others remained standing. Daisy quietly talked with the other camp leaders for a bit, but once everybody was gathered around the campfire, she turned to everybody and grinned. The next part went by in a flash, it seems, starting with Daisy giving a surprisingly motivating speech about SWC, then some people bringing out some delicious food, and ending with you making a ton of new friends. You’re both surprised and happy with how chaotic yet friendly everybody is. But really, it’s what you can expect in a campsite full of SWC’ers. It looks like you’ve really found your people!

You’re walking to your own cabin now. Unlike your usual small wood-plank building, it’s what seems like a mini skyscraper. You stop in awe for a moment, trying to take in how you’ll be staying here for the next month. After your cabin-mate gestures to you, you start to slowly walk again to the entrance to this mini skyscraper. It looks really modern on the outside, but once you step inside, it’s surprisingly cozy. There’s fairy lights similar to the ones around the campsite, and a nice fire in the center of a living space filled with big lounging chairs and a long table. Topped with a huge chandelier on the high ceiling, this building looked like something out of a dream. There’s a small flight of stairs that lead up to the top floor, and you start to climb up them with your cabin-mates. There’s a hallway in front of you, with a few rooms on each side. It seems like you can choose your room (since they all seem relatively the same; same size and amount of furniture) so you pick the room at the very end of the hallway with a big window, looking out across the entire campsite. It was pretty dark outside, but you can still see the campfire with a few people still chatting around it. Once you turn around and jump into the big bed that had come with the room, you realize how tired you are from what had just happened. Sure, you may have just met the most awesome camp leaders, and you made a bunch of amazing new friends, but gosh was it all exhausting! As you close your eyes, you smile to yourself, thinking about all the big adventures ahead of you. And then you drift off into sleep, dreaming about late nights writing fun stories with friends.

3/19, 505/500 words: Go to your cabin and look at the top of the description. See that introduction story? Your task is to continue it! Write 500 words that continue on from the introduction of your cabin for 600 points, and a bonus 200 points if you share proof of your writing!

once upon a midnight dreary, while you ventured weak and weary
through many a quaint and curious ruin of forgotten lore
while you measured, merely mapping, suddenly there came a tapping
as of something gently rapping, rapping at the forest floor
“tis some little mouse,” you muttered, “rapping at the forest floor—
only this and nothing more.”

discover the secrets of the island,
before it discovers you.

I hesitantly take a step forward, eyeing the leaves rustling along with the wind, the trees’ branches swaying.
Suddenly I hear a branch snap in half, and I whip around, trying to find the culprit of the noise.
Only wind faces me, eerily whistling and only showing how lonely I really am here.
Unless…
“Hello?” I spin around, alert and cautious. “Is anyone there?”
No response. Not like I had expected anything different.
I then sigh, hunch my shoulders, and continue forward, less alert but still pretty vigilant.
By now, I have pretty much lost hope of finding any human or extraterrestrial activity in this barren forest. The only problem is that I can’t leave until I find a way out. And, since I am not exactly the brainiac type, I am trying to find, and have been searching for days, in fact, someone or even something else to help me out.
I haven’t even found any bones yet. Normally, that might be disturbing to some people, well, naturally, but that also dims my spirits that some people have actually found this dump before me. And what will I do if that’s true?
So, I am (still!) looking for someone to help me out, maybe someone who’s dedicated their life to building a raft to escape on, and I will just happen to stumble upon them. Or maybe I will eventually find someone who found a secret map revealing the whereabouts of the exit.
Whatever the case, I will not stop until I actually find someone, no matter how long it takes for my brain to rot and for everything except my arrogant brain to tell me that this idea is stupid.
But oh, well.
I have come to learn that you always have to stay optimistic, even when life is pretty rough and everyone else tells you it’s hopeless.
Leaves crinkling underneath my boot, I continue my impossible search for human life, venturing forward and never once thinking about changing directions. Okay, maybe once, but that’s all!
I stifle a yawn, waving my torch around— did I mention that I have a torch? Well, I did now —to light up dark areas, half asleep and deeply wanting myself to stop and rest.
I ignore my pained thoughts and movements as I encounter a pile of leaves hanging from several trees like a veil, as though trying to hide something.
I, curious, use my hand that’s not currently occupied to hold half of it open.
The sight makes my mouth drop open in shock.
Multicolored flowers line the floor, all in different shapes and sizes, making it look like a never ending rainbow of beauty.
But that’s not the best part; there are actually humans, all of them staring at me and looking as surprised as I am.
There must be thousands, no, millions, of people crowded all in this one center.
So much that it seems too good to be true. But it is! And it is all situated right in front of me.

swc daily - march 20
words: 508
original: in italic
The portal begins to glow with a brilliant blue light as it whirs to life. As you step through it, you envision walking into a new world to the break of dawn and starting afresh, grateful for having received another chance at life.
Little do you know that your hopes and dreams are about to be bitterly crushed.
The once friendly and caring soldiers finally reveal their true colors, morphing into a group of two-faced dictators, drilling their subjects down to their weary bones. You have no freedom. Everything around you is painted the same monotone colors over and over, and you experience no change in scenery.
The rules are simple. Abide by the rules laid down for you, or face the savage wrath of the agents. Break the rules, you die.
Is that the new world and fresh start you were hoping for? Is that the new beginning you had been envisaging? Is that the treatment you had been yearning for?
Your ending is yours to choose. Would you abide by the cruel rules and risk your sanity, or would you risk your life to break out?
Both of your choices come with risks, but both will be impossible to turn your back on once you start down the path that comes with your decision.
If you choose to abide by the rules and report people who approach you attempting to convince you to join their escape group, you will no longer be trusted by the people who plot in secret and will instead be avoided whenever they want an extra person in their group of those who seek an escape from the facility. Even if you change your mind and approach them, they will reject you and ignore your pleas. If the leaders catch wind of your treachery, well, it’s over for you and neither the benefits of following the rules nor the benefits of escaping will apply to you.
If you choose to escape but then switch sides by reporting the people in your group, you will be k-lled along with your former group because you joined them, even if it was only for the beginning of the time you were at the facility, and that will be that. You will be unable to continue any further along your path, nor would you be able to see the freedom that those who stayed true to their decision found.
If you bow your head to the greater power of the leaders and abide by the rules, you won’t be in danger, but nothing comes without a price. The harsh regulations are proof of that, and perhaps the greatest danger would be that of your sanity.
If, lured by the sweet scent of freedom, you plan to escape, your abilities to keep secrets, sneak around, and get lucky will be tested during the entire process. But if you persevere, you will be able to smell that fragrant scent for the rest of your life.
Would the reward of being free from the leaders be worth the price of risking your life repeatedly and suffering the stress that comes with the burden of being responsible for not just your life, but also the lives of the others in your group?
Or would you prefer to evade that stress and instead occupy yourself gaining as much of the artificial power the stones you are rewarded in for your back-breaking labor imbue you with as possible? Would becoming powerful negate your injuries both mental and physical?
Your choice is your choice, and nobody can force you to do anything that you don’t want to do. Oh, wait, the leaders can force you to do the drills and tasks.
Nothing comes without risks, so no matter what you do, your only choice now is what you want to risk. Your life or your sanity? Which one is worth more? Hurry up and quickly make your decision so you’ll save yourself from the pain that comes with being torn between two options indecisively.
Welcome to the Fantasy Facility- your new life. Enjoy your stay, work hard, and make sure your heart and mind are both at peace with your decision.

Writing Comp Entry
The Unknown - 107 words

Walking on a lake of thorns
Forgetting their name, and when they were born

Washed up and sad
Drinking in plaid


Mermaid hair and sandy toes
All their friends, alone and froze

Walking miles and swimming oceans
Making enemies and stirring potions

Alone in the world and dying of thirst
About ready to burst

Catching fish and cutting trees
Milking cows and running through weeds

Forgetting the elements and flying through birds
All alone, not in a heard

Sad and tired
Happy when rewired

Dark moons and high suns
Walking on fire and happy when runs

Walking on a lake of thorns
Purple hair and yellow horns

MC DAILIES
20.3.22
562 words

once upon a midnight dreary, while you ventured weak and weary through many a quaint and curious ruin of forgotten lore while you measured, merely mapping, suddenly there came a tapping as of something gently rapping, rapping at the forest floor “tis some little mouse,” you muttered, “rapping at the forest floor— only this and nothing more.”

In the dreary night you walk with your eyes pealed trying not to forget a single marking on your way as for the reason that you may get lost and never come back. You mark the trees with a pencil-a arrow sign on each one as you tremble with excitement to find the secrets of the island. You are all set with your backpack containing an axe, a torch, rope, an emergency flare, crowbar, earplugs, sword and a protein bar to boost your energy but it only lasts for 24 hours.

The sun slowly begins to shine as you rub your eyes to be able to see as you were surrounded by darkness for a long time. But with the sun comes fog, it surrounds you as you decided to take a break. You sit down under a tree placing your backpack on the side, muttering “Why did this fog have to come now and not later”. You pick up a stick lying around, drawing a map on the ground, trying to remember the path you followed.

You fall asleep due to the exhaustion and hunger. When sounds like stomping come to your ear, you jolt up awake as you look around to find the source of the sound. Nevertheless, you find no clue until you suddenly trip and fall. On the ground you hear stomping noises again, understanding it was caused by the ants marching underground.

The fog as disappeared by now as you get you backpack to continue on your journey. Your boots make crunching sounds as you walk on the grass covered in water with the sun shinning in front of you. You start marking the trees again but as you turn around to take a look at them, they have disappeared leaving no traces. Its as if they were never marked at all, the path behind you also starts to fade into thin air. You tremble trying to run in the opposite direction but you’re paralyzed, unable to move you concentrate on your breathing with it you can move again.

You begin walking as fast as you possibly can, forgetting to mark the trees when you bump into something huge. You think it’s a huge rock, rubbing your head. However, after opening you eyes you see a huge plant like the size of an elephant-teeth like that of a shark and its entire stem as well as leaves covered in tiny-ting thorns, drooling as if it hasn’t eaten anything for years.

You take a step back trying to not be noticed by it but it knowns that you’re there as it moves its head towards you snapping its teeth. You quiver taking out your torch and facing it towards it, luckily it doesn’t like light and shrinks in size. You sigh with relief, taking out a jar from your backpack and placing it in the jar for later studies.

You now know the dangers that are present on the island, taking out you compass to find the way north. Except the compass goes haywire because of the magnetic fields produced by the island. Now you just have your supplies and a protein bar to keep you alive for a month and no more. Your choices now end or save your life if you fail to get off the island on a month or you succeed in doing so.

Daily 3/19

From what you can see, there are three ninjas in front of you. One of them has a dark green suit with a tree collar outline with her hair being dark green with a purple streak in the middle of it. Another has a brighter pink suit with dark blue blue gloves and boots with blonde-ish reddish hair. They had a pink clip in their hair and there was a blue bandana tied around their forehead. The third one had a dark purple suit with dark purple shoulder blades and dark purple gloves with red ribbons tied around them. Her hair was in a dark brown ponytail with a purple glass clip keeping her hair tied up.
“Now, I’m aware you signed up to be part of the Annual Literature Competition for this month?”
You have but you definitely didn’t remember being sorted into a monastery with a whole bunch of butt-kicking ninjas.
“And you are very confused why you’re supposed to go to a monastery and you have to work with a bunch of ninjas, am I correct?” The bright pink one adds. You frown and they know you’re correct. They smirk. “For the record, you can call me Butter.”
“And me Birdi,” says the green one. “So the Literature Competition isn’t just about writing. You were sorted into one of the fifteen cabins in which you will all be competing for the trophy. And you have been sorted into the Mystery Monastery.”
The dark purple ninja steps up. “And you can call me Vi. Here in the Mystery Monastery, we want all of our ninjas in training to be healthy, cared for, and above all mentally healthy. But here’s the thing. If you’re here and you have available time, that means that you don’t slack. Our cabin is going to win this session and we can’t do it without our ninas. This competition only lasts for a month and we need to gain as much as points as we can to beat everyone else.”
“But, there’s something much more important than just those points. Something even more at stake,” Birdi cut in. “In our Monastery, we were founded by someone, whose name has been lost in time, and they owned a special jewelry called the Jade Amulet. This Amulet has been passed down from sensei to sensei until it has been passed on to Sensei Vi and her two samurais, me and Butter. It is our job to protect the amulet from any sort of outside threats.”
“Unfortunately, there are 14 other cabins who are always ready to sabotage us at any end. It could be one of our nemesises, one of our neutrals, or maybe…even an ally who is ready to backstab us. Any one of them could have stolen the jewel and we need to get it back.”
“No one could solve this mystery but now, we have you. And all of your other fellow ninjas in training to aid you. We’re hoping that this group is different. That you can restore the honor to our monastery.”
“During this month, we will plan raids to the other cabins to see if they could have robbed us of the Amulet. But in order to have enough materials to send search parties, we need to earn a currency called shirogane.”
Flash. Something hurtles behind your ear and you look behind you to see a ninja star behind you. “Though that is not the currency, it is made out of the same material. Pure steel.”
“With this steel that we acquire, we can earn back our amulet,” Butter saids.
“But we need your help. So are you with us? Or are you out?”

Hi guyyyss!

So, this is my Writing Comp entry! It's not finished, but I'm lazy and want to post it now. I have 1.2k words, so I probably will need to cut down on that.

Uhm I want to call it “Euphoria,” but I don't know.

Euphoria (for now):

There are two voices, constantly at war with each other, inside my head.

One of the voices tells me to be like every other Wolf. It’s the one that tells me not to go there, not to say that, not to act in that manner, not to like that, not to eat whatever that it is. It is the voice that tells me to keep doing Rugby, and convinces me that I like it. It tells me to fit in, to be normal, and it usually sounds an awful lot like Dad.

The other voice tries to tell me to be what I would like to be, not like any other Wolf. That voice is scary, and dangerous, and unpredictable, and more often than not I try to kill it swiftly. It sounds like no other Wolf I have ever met, and nobody needs that.

These voices rarely ever agree. They are almost always arguing.

I, for the record, always take the side of the Reasonable Voice.

***

I dislike dancing.

My Reasonable Voice tells me that I’m just not good at it—that I’ll embarrass myself in front of the ladies. My Unreasonable Voice says something different, but agrees that I am not a dancer.

Mr. Michaels, my teacher, IS a dancer. So when, right at the beginning of school, he stood up with a smile to tell us that he had an announcement, my ears practically flattened against my head.

Instead of a dance, however, he said, “Class, I would like to introduce to you Middleton’s newest student!”

He clicked a button on his chair, and a secret panel in the wall opened up, revealing a Wolf about my size.

His fur was grey and white, and it stuck up in certain places. He was wearing a nervous smile, and he was wringing his paws so violently that I was sure half of his fur was gone by now.

“My newest invention,” Mr. Michaels muttered, sounding rather pleased with himself. “Welcome, Jamie! C’mon, guys! Let’s give him a proper
Middleton welcome!”

There was a polite smattering of applause, along with a traditional howl that most of the boys held for an uncomfortably long time. I didn’t.

Then, as everybody was done howling, Jamie gave a small wave, looked directly at me, and smiled. In that moment, both of my Voices agreed that all of the fur on my body stood straight up, as though I had been struck by lightning.

It stayed that way, even after Mr. Michaels declared that there was going to be a big dance. I didn’t even groan.

For once, my Reasonable Voice has absolutely nothing to say.

***

That evening, after rugby practice, me and Mom and Dad were eating dinner.

Some days, I wish I wasn’t an only child. All the attention makes it hard to live, sometimes. And the expectations . . .

Dad just wants to help you grow, my Reasonable Voice spoke for the first time since school. And it was right. Dad just had very . . . particular ideas of growing. Which was fine. It was good that he cared.

But still . . .

Dad set down his fork and knife, and cleared his throat.

Oh gods.

“So,” he said with a sly smile, “what’s this about a dance?”

I honestly had forgotten about it. I shrugged, “It’s a dance.”

“So? Who do you want to take?”

“Well . . .”

“C’mon! There has to be a girl in school who would love to go with you! You just have to be a man! Ask her!”

I flinched. “I don’t think there’ll be anybody left. Most people have a girlfriend, anyways.”

“Do you?”

“Um . . .”

Dad waved his paws to clear the issue. “I’m sure you’ll find a great lady. You’re a rugby star! They should be falling at you feet!”

I scratched my neck. “I’ll try.”

Dad nodded. “Now, I hear you’ve got a new classmate. What’s he like?”

I broke out in a cold sweat, but I managed to mumble, “Not really been around him. Only the first day, you know. Kinda shy.”

WHY did it feel like I was keeping some horrible secret?

Dad cleared his plate, and handed it to me. “I’m going to go to the den,” he pecked Mom on the cheek.

And the Unreasonable Voice inside of me blared.


Do you see yourself there? Doing that? With a mate?

Of course, said my other Voice. I have to.

Right?

***

The next day, the entire school was in an uproar. I guess the dance had been a bigger thing than I had though.

And, unfortunately, Dad was right. Quite a few girls wanted to go with me. Girls that were rather pretty.

I spent most of the day hiding.

At lunch, I sat with a few girls who have already been asked out. They were babbling over who was left.

“That one boy is pretty nice,” one said. “What’s his name? The new one?”

“Jamie,” I said, only because we were in the same class.

The girl looked wistfully out the window. “He’s pretty handsome . . . in a shy sort of way.”

My Unreasonable Voice was trying very hard, with all its might, to agree.

***

In the end, I picked a girl named Andrea Brown. She didn’t like to dance; I don’t like to dance.

Perfect match.

Maybe we’ll get married someday, and have lots of pups.

My bathroom was littered with fur after that, and I was bald where I had torn it out nervously.

***

Dad bought me a tuxedo for the dance. He said that it would charm my date.

“It also shows DOMINANCE!” He said excitedly. “You have to assert that you’re the ALPHA! Nobody will get in between you and your lady.” And he fixed my tail, which had been tucked uncomfortably inside my pants.

I looked in the mirror, tried to slick down my fur in a manly way, and gave my best hotshot smile.

My reflection looked miserable.

I walked to Andrea’s house, hating how much it felt like going up to the guillotine.

***

I knocked on Andrea’s door. Her father answered and, never speaking, led me to the den. His paw was on my shoulder the entire time, and I was nervously sweating.

Andrea was sitting on the sofa, her back to me. Her father finally spoke, saying “I’ll let you two get ready.”

There was a long, awkward silence, in which Andrea studied me carefully. Finally, she said, “You don’t like me.”

“No,” I admitted.

She nodded. “That’s okay. I don’t like you, either.”

This felt a lot like I was being denied. My rugby teammates told me how horrible that felt.

This, however, felt . . . freeing.

Andrea ran her hand over her head. “We can still go as friends, right?”

Friends?

We were friends?

“I’d love that . . . to be friends.” I stuck out my paw, and she shook it. I felt none of the thrill of physically TOUCHING a girl that most people have described to me.

My Unreasonable Voice was going a lot of very painful places with that.

***

Frost covered the walkways, and the way to the school was covered in white, glittery snow.

Our footsteps crunched in the snow, and both Andrea and I were silent.

And, all that time, I kept thinking about one particular person.

My Reasonable Voice was trying very hard to shut that down.

My Unreasonable Voice, on the other hand, was going somewhere I couldn’t—wouldn’t—follow.

***

Uhm so pretty much after that after this Jamie goes to the Apple Bob and totally embarrasses Main Character. After that, Jamie saves MC from a fire that is caused by a candle falling over, and it burns down the school. Outside, MC and Jamie are hugging, until MC realizes what that looks like, and he runs away. Jamie follows MC, and they have a little talk about . . . Erm . . . romance. Jamie kisses MC, and the story is ended.

Crown of Thorns (Fanfiction Comp entry: a retelling of the classic Snow White (excerpt)

Prologue

Thank you to @LilCutePusheen for helping me edit. <3

The dawn rose behind the clouds, towering, a swirling mess of red and orange streaking the sky, a bright color lighting up a woman’s face in majestic dark blue robes the color of the evening. Below her, wintry snow dazzled in the red light, tinting their white color a light red, creating a beautiful garden. Though the season was winter, there were long rose vines entwining the castle with large, bountiful blossoms. Their sheer persistence and the breakthrough of their stems melted the snow around it.
The woman was beautiful but it was not to last. Though her skin was flawless, her eyes a deep black, and her dark brown hair shimmering in the golden light, hints of gray were poking out of her scalp, weaving themselves inside and between the dark brown hairs. She knew it would never last and she was fine with that. Because of this, the dawn and dusk were her favorite times of the day. The sun, a glorious ball of flames, rising up in all of its full glory, surveying the entire world and basking in everyone's praise before falling under the cover of night and its stars and comets, letting the stars take their turn. But yet again, it is time for the sun to shed its light and over and over, an endless cycle of the sun shining and the moon glimmering, a cycle that lets both of them have their time.
Atop the woman’s head, was an object meant to last forever. It was not something ephemeral like the life of a blossom nor was it repetitive, intermittent, coming up again and disappearing the next before repeating the cycle. Though there are those who have tried, wielding axes and sledgehammers onto the item, no cracks have emerged in its shiny surface. This object, to most, would be known as a crown. Others have called it a diadem, some a tiara for pretty little girls frolicking in their spoiled silk robes, but this crown could never have been placed in the hands of an immature child. It was much ahead of them, ahead of everything else and it provided wisdom for all.
The crown was a simple thing, but there was something that encircled the thorns jutting out of its sides. The crown was not just an ordinary crown made out of the cliche gold, silver, not even bronze, it was made out of the stems and thorns of roses. The black vines encircling her head into the shape of a tiara with small rose petals acting as the towers of the crown and in the middle, was the most beautiful flower in the whole world. Its petals a shiny ruby red and twisted into a bloom admired and envied by all who saw it. The crown was beautiful, yes it was a fact not an opinion, but it should not be considered an accessory. No mere accessory would be able to match its greatness…and its magic.
There are those who have tried to wear the crown and they all have fallen from its power. Collapsing onto the ground, they tried to jam it onto their heads and reclaim the throne but sensing their wickedness, the crown used a bit of magic on its own, circling the person’s head, plunging into their spirit and causing them to fall down…down…down…onto the floor as the rose flower closed in on its petals and waited for its rightful ruler.
Just like the crown circles a person’s head, rumors stick to the crown like flies attached to the waste bin. Not just rumors, but myths and legends. There are those who say that the founder of the kingdom was a mighty sorcerer who enchanted the beautiful rose bushes to twine themselves into an immortal crown to reassure themself that their descendant would leave the kingdom to a bountiful reign. Some say that the crown has always been there, waiting in the castle’s treasury, having all previous rulers believe that it was an object of no importance until one put it on its head and fell into cascades of golden and silver coins. Others say that it was made from one rose of every previous generation until one ruler cut their finger and a drop of royal blood touched the synthesis, creating the magical crown that set them on a path to royalty. Though the royal bloodline has long been lost due to the magic of the crown.
But to the present, the queen watched the sun rise into the sky slowly and slowly and slowly until she knew that it was on its rightful course. “Oh, the flowers are looking quite pretty today.” She breathed out a deep sigh and went to touch one of the roses that had grown all the way to her balcony. She touched the soft red petals and skidded a finger over the stem…
“Ouch!” She lifted her finger up to her face and a single drop of blood squeezed out, slowly dripping over her finger and falling off the balcony. Falling, falling, falling…until the drop of blood hit the snow. The contrast of the red and white was mesmerizing. The pain was nothing and it could wait until the beauty of the red faded and melted.
So beautiful. The woman thought and raised her head, taking in the scene. The special roses with the black thorns breaking through the piles of snowflakes with that red splotch still having a dent in the wintry world of it all.
So beautiful…like a child. Wait. From the snow, she raised her head up high and looked at the sky. By now, part of the sky was colored with all of the warmest shades and the other part was condensed in cooler darker tones and yet the Scarlet Star was still present and viewable. Here’s my chance. I want a child with hair the color of black thorns, soul as pure as freshly fallen snow, and heart as red as the petals of thorns and drops of blood. Bring this child to me.


╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗╔═*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*═╗

She never specified the color of her eyes. Those big large eyes, not the color of thorns but the color of midnight. There are those who like to describe the night as threatening. Human nature requires those to be afraid of things they cannot see, experience, or understand. The night is just that. There are two perspectives to see the night.
Humans see the night as a shadowy presence, blanketing everything with its dark cover, blinding all those to anything that lives in its wake, waiting to threaten them with…they don’t know. It is unknown and that is what they are afraid of most of all. The bright…obvious sun cannot shed its light and it would be compulsory to stare at the stars. But humans do not take the time to appreciate the stars. In their opinion, the stars are much too small, much too far away to be significant. They can only depend on the moon for it is present, they can see it, it is visible and it is especially obvious. There are so many stars and they’re tiny, miniscule. But the moon cannot follow them everywhere and so, humans are scared of the dark.
But there are those (the animal and the occasional human) who can see past that dark cover that they cannot see. They don’t take out that auxiliary light to see everything. It is not compulsory to see everything. There are those who say not to wait for the sun to rise but to appreciate the stars. In the now. The night is a heavenly thing. There are a few animals who rise. They survive in the night, they thrive in the night and there are those who cower before it and some who would love to eat it. Rather than being afraid, the animal is cautious and so are the humans who take the time to really see the night.
And that's what her eyes were. Some may say that there is no color in her eyes, what a dull outlook on life, they might say. But there is life in those eyes all the same. At this point, her hair ceased to exist with at least a few black hairs sprouting out but somehow, the woman knew that her child would grow to be a beautiful child inside and out. The child was luminous.
The Queen thought She would grow to be a lovely princess one day.

dailyyyyyyyay also coolio 752 words

“However, we do need to figure out how to get out of here.” But Sai spoke up.
“Don't worry, as your head of security, I will make sure that we are all safe here during our time on this planet. My team, we will be scoping out the area for any possible nearby dangers that could be a threat.” A small group of people wearing black security uniforms all nodded and picked themselves up. Hop was ready to speak next.
“Similarly, we will be working alongside security to use the terrain around us to get some sparks going, to hopefully send out flares for supplies from our generous and helpful friends at Scratch Writing Camp. We also have to work on, and maybe with Waterfall and Logistics, the trajectory of our flares to give us a better chance of reaching someone. And of course, in addition to that, our science and engineering team will be working on not only making some successful flares but other gadjets to help get us out of here and moving.” She looked at each of her groups members in the eye, all with serious down to Earth, Planet Sci-fi, or whichever planet they are on looks. Soon after, Waterfall jumped on her turn to speak for her crew and workers.
“As the Head Logistics Officer, my wonderfully capable team and I will be working on getting more connections virtually. Because of our dilemma, I have come to the conclusion that we will still be participatin in Scratch Writing Camp - Virtually.” A small and soft gasp went through the crowd. Waterfall continued. “As of now, I have figured out that we can communicate and keep track of all of our points, words and such through a website called Scratch. Now, we will create what scratch calls ‘studios’ to organize the different cabins. Discussion forums will be used for posting writing, long weekly explanations, some chats like the leader chat, and more for other uses. I will have to see everyone to see to it that we all have created scratch accounts. I already have mine, and I believe Soki, Hop, and Sai have already made theirs since they were on board earlier. Come in pretty much anytime, but I warn you, we will be pretty busy. Of course, there will be plenty of time we can squeeze in for help with creating scratch accounts. Then, in more of your free time, well, if you have any, you can spend time updating your profile, maybe sharing a project, and more importantly, getting all of the studios and links you need. I will be commenting on scratch with the links, plus sending them to everyone via your communication pads. Got all of that?” People nodded and murmered yes, even if it was a lot to take in. “Good. Now, of course, like I said, the Logistics department will be busy with other things. We are going to be calculating our resources and how much we have, and how much it will last. And, how we can survive, although it depends on how many sparks and flares we make, and then how much supplies we get if - and that is an if - the flares reach anybody who can send us help. Eventually, it may be possible to escape this planet.” At that, there were many cheers. “But we're going to have to keep working hard with what we have, and of course, keep writing for camp.” The crew was feeling a bit more light hearted now. Then, Soki stepped in front and cleared her throat. Everyone looked to her, waiting for what she had to say.
“It is going to be especially hard, and nobody said camp was easy in the first place. But. I do believe we can still work our way to the top at camp, and more importantly, survive here while we are at it. A hard feat for even the stone hearted, but our crew should be able to do it. Now, my section is at the control part of things, also considering there isn't much navigating and piloting to do anymore. We have to set up everything on scratch like Waterfall mentioned. Alright, chop chop, we have a lot of work to do. Everyone meet with the top officer in your branch, we have both a lot of crew duties to do, and stories to write!” Soki clapped her hands twice, and the magic of the sci-fi spacewreck, march 2022 session of Scratch Writing Camp began.

Devourer


My name has been deciphered into countless, infinite, incalculable languages by the un-unique individual who fears the power and status I hold. But their deceptive illusions of what I am are lies, mere assumptions and fibs because there is the fact that they are afraid of Me. They like to pin the blame on Me, as easily as you can throw the tail onto that stupid donkey, because there is no one else to blame even if every second wasted is entirely their fault and not the fact that I exist.
There is always too much of Me or there is always too little. It is such an abject situation I am to have those who both live in awe of Me but detest Me nearly for My existence. The fact that I exist to several of those fickle creatures is enough for them to ruin their bodies, destroy the world, face destruction after destruction so that way they can have infinite, overflowing, abounding quantities of Me.
If only they would reflect inside their oblivious, ignorant, dull-witted closed minds and witness how their self destruction is entirely their own fault. Within every action of theirs, there is a bit of Me waiting to be explored but it is always wasted. Feast your eyes upon those who have overloaded, overflooded, overflowing amounts of Me in which they could easily seize and exert into their lazy lifestyles, overlooking those tiny grades that can accumulate into those same amounts once more that they wasted away like flowers after days of no water nor sun to keep them alive. It is the same in essence. Those simple flowers, in which I am able to grow and caress, fondling them as they grow up as they rise gracefully into their best possible self. Humans like to overlook those soft, tender, satiny corners of their roots and their spines and they only see the jagged parts, the parts that pose a threat to their existence. Though the small cactus may have seemingly indomitable spicules that prick their enemies in order to survive, there are those who cannot survive without the little verdure in which they share their home with.
In fact, they execute the very same felony onto Me. According to the definitions of the human mind, a crime is defined as ‘an action or omission that constitutes an offense that may be prosecuted by the state and is punishable by law.’ But there are several shrouded, veiled, direful crimes that would not be categorized as ‘punishable by law’. Humans are uncompassionate, selfish, and weak and they don’t see past their inflated, elephantine, copious egos. To them, I may not exist as a living entity but I have been a victim of crimes for years and years of torment. Even if My distress is never espied, it is always there. It is always there.
In the subconscious of the human mind, everyone knows three things about Me. Two that they confirm and acknowledge from the depth of their soul and one that they are too righteous to admit:
One. They are always running out of Me to complete their lifespan until they fall to the hands of death’s gentle hands. They are always struggling to get little splinters of Me. Though indeed, they can find several of them stuck in their fingers every day, every minute, every second. Couldn’t they type just a bit faster? Couldn’t they walk a little quicker? Couldn’t they spend this time working on that last English assignment instead of reading?
Two. I have the ability to Devour. According to the years of research they have concluded of their short time of contemporary sustainment, “matter” as they like to describe it in a certain language, can only be changed, neither created nor destroyed. Well there are humans who beg to differ that lives can be destroyed, countries can be annihilated, peace can be breached, metals can rust and corrode into tiny shreds of ash, relationships can be pieced together and broken apart after years of Me passing by.
Three…I have the ability to Grow and Create. I give birth to small, inexperienced, immature infant children whose eyes glow with the ability to be curious and to learn knowledge, a right that I don’t own Myself. And it is because of Me that they grow. Inch by inch, they obtain after days, years, and decades of age and as their height grows so does everything else. They learn facts after facts about how they think life works from their parents, friends, relatives, Mentors, and even from within can they learn the true secrets of the universe. They grow consciousness and it is because of Me can they possibly truly see. I will admit. Some of them never will learn. Some are stubborn, selfish, uncompassionate to those passing by in their current life of a century or less. They don’t blink a passing eye to the suffering, tortured, the ones in misery in which they can ‘lend a helping hand’. They are the ones who both utilize Me to their fullest potential in which they believe they can achieve when by using Me to their needs, I only become less of use and karma returns like a boomerang when their self-absorbed nature ends up turning them loose. Whether it’s visible or not, it does. It always does.
What is the phrase that humans like to describe it? Ah yes. They like to take Me for granted. They only see the worst side of Me, in which they only see it as a disease, a rotting, corrosive, never-ending disease…death. I devour and I destroy and I tear down everything I touch.
But without Me, they have to say that there would be no Order. It would be Chaos. That is the true Devourer of the universe in which anything it touches will descend into violence and battles for self-worth. No identification of the events taking place, down the world will plunge into a different type of place in which we are already heading. There is more than one reason for the world to possibly create a dimension in which Chaos is only remaining. A world without Me is just one of them, and there would be definite aftershocks following.
Imagine a world where small infants stay as themselves forever. They gain no consciousness, no ability to share ideas, in no way will they be able to communicate with anyone around them, who are pleading for single words, single sentences, single phrases in which they never know the answer. Men frozen in pain as they wait for something, someone, somehow being able to close their eyes for the final time. Seeds blown in the wind are planted in the ground but there is nothing, not a color, not a sign that there has ever been something under the surface. The same moment, the same signal, the same event happening again with no possibility of being rid of it in which it is not the time that is frozen, non-existent but they are frozen as well.
But this is not the time for a pity party nor a guilty bomb. Because there is a message in which I have for you.
You are running out of Time.

March 18th (Daily)
go to megapost

You open your eyes and find yourself standing in the middle of an empty street. The moon is high in the night sky, glowing down upon you. All you can hear is the soft breeze whispering to you as its cold fingers brush your body. You shudder slightly in the chilly air, a sense of foreboding creeping up to you. Something's wrong. You look behind you. A one-storied house is facing you, with a mailbox standing in the front. You walk towards it, your footsteps seeming to echo against the cracked concrete. Before you reach it, a thought hits you and you turn around again. Looking around the street, you realized what was wrong with the street. Every single house… was exactly the same. The ominous sight causes fear to flood into you and you dart towards the mailbox, fumbling around until you pull out a white envelope, sealed with a blood-red stamp. You shakily open it and read the letter inside.

Welcome to horror avenue. Enjoy your stay.

This felt weird, for you were trying to pass the avenue to go to another area, not joining this cabin for SWC this session. But then, thinking again if joining this avenue means not needing to walk large distances to your actual cabin, you decided to stay in the avenue. Soon, you don't know what happened, but everything went black.

You open your eyes and find yourself in a mansion. You got off the sofa where you were resting on and decided to explore the area, since starting today, you will be staying here. While exploring, you hear voices from a distant area, “Hello, stranger. Welcome to the Horror Avenue, this will be your resting place until we let you go.” Startled, you turn around in all directions trying to find who was the one who said the sentence. After a while, you gave up and saw three silhouettes standing in front of you. Shocked, you backed away, knowing these people are powerful and can harm you. Without your control, your legs carried you as you run away from them, but more dangers lie ahead. “You really think you can escape us?” the middle of the silhouettes, who seemed like a leader swooped down on you, holding you in her grasp. You tried calling for help, but these girls are way too strong for you. Soon you were gagged up and once again, knocked out.

At the moment you woke up, you saw many people already residing in this mansion, introducing themselves. You decided to hang out with them even though you don't really want to, but a voice boomed out just before you can even talk to somebody. “Attention campers! We've already sorted all of you into your perspective areas, the basement, the dungeon and the lounge. The person who owns that area will be in charge of you. If you woke up in the area where your leader owns, that leader will be yours until we let you go. You may ask among yourselves, how will we let you go? When you reached our expectations, we will let you be free, else you will remain here for your lifetime. But beware, don't even think of slacking, for there will always be someone watching.” the announcement ended and everyone started chattering with each other, confused and scared. You decided to get out of here by working hard, for the first time in your life.

Being scared, you helped out in the avenue. Sorting out mail, giving out food to cabin mates and stuff. Soon you were almost meeting with your leader's expectations. You were glad, for most of your friends had left and freed, and time is running out… You knew you cannot be stuck in the avenue forever, because there's so much things to do outside the avenue. Family, friends, relatives… you mustn't let them down when they realized they cannot see you ever again. Without realizing, you completed your last task and the exit is open for you. You tried to leave, there's only a couple of minutes left before time runs out. But then, when you reached the exit, you forgot to say goodbye to your leaders. As fast as lightning, you ran back to the avenue and found your leaders after a long time, “Goodbye, thanks for letting me stay with you. I wish we can meet again.” You were about to leave when the leaders stopped you, “Wait! You have less than a minute to leave, why did you came back? You could have escape.” The leader of the avenue said. You stood still in silence, the exit is probably sealed now and time has ran out. You realized there's no way out now. But the leaders said, “You are the only one who was kind enough to say goodbye. The others left without a word. Because of that, we will let you go.” Suddenly, you were at the exit of the avenue which was still open, you've escaped.

665 words

play sound [coding is life] until done

Word War Proof
72 words.

“you look so pretty!” exclaimed Joyce's mother, watching her get ready for the slumber party. Joyce thanked her and looked at the time, realising that she must leave right now unless she wants to be late for the party. She hurriedly picked up her backpack, checking if she had packed everything that would be needed- clothes, snacks to eat at midnight, cards, and of course, a gift that she had made for the host.

Daily 20:621 words

A blinding light seeps in the room, followed by murmuring and your own investigation. Three glowing figures stand outside, waiting. "This is Calypso's Island, a sanctuary and hideout of three cabins where you'll race to win over your cabin mates,” says the first. As you take a glance around, you spot palm trees and hear the sound of lapping waves. “Despite the beauty of this place, we haven’t come for a vacation,” another goddess says, redirecting your gaze. “As for introductions, I'm Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy.” Finally, the third speaks up. “And I'm Iduna, the Norse goddess of spring.” The first goddess nods at the two, as if impatient. “Yes, of course. My name’s Diana. Together, we come in peace as our counterparts—Elle, Clem, and Cami—insist.” Grudgingly, Athena adds, “But alone, we are at war with each other for the purpose of a competition.” “You and the other campers will be split among us and directed to a corner of the island.” Iduna’s voice fades out, and you shield your face from a sudden spray of sand. When you look up, pieces of drifting gold dust fall to the ground. Laying at your feet are an arrangement of the particles, spelling out three words.

Welcome to Mythology

Continuation:
“Oh, jolly good, then,” I said, reading those magical sand-words. I set of at a good pace into the heart of the island, finally starting my adventure. It felt really good to be here, and I knew I was going to have lots and lots of fun. I love mythology, ever since I was a little kitten.
Honestly, I get to write stories about cool kids like Heracles and Freyja. What would be better than that?
This is all too good.
And mind you, the island itself is beautiful! It is lush, green and humid. There is a little town nearby where all the campers live. Well, not all of them. All the houses are full. I think I was late. Anyways, I walked along a marble-paved path when I reached a fork. There was a sign pointing towards the directions. Straight ahead went all the way across the Island to a secret place where Diana hid. To the left went to an underground bunker-armory where Athena worked. To the right there was an ornate library where Iduna was.
Really, I think everyone left and already got sorted into their groups and found their house in the village.
Oh, I really was late!
And I do like libraries.
Maybe Iduna needs one more camper to get all three groups nice and even with the same amount of campers within the groups?
And with that, I went to off the the path on the right.
A little bit later, I found myself in a writing room in the library. I think this is where I work. Oh, nice! Already some people are writing away on scrolls and typewriters. I look around quickly and sit down at a a table filled with paper and ink.
“Ah,” I said. “This is a bit messy. I ought to tidy it!”
And that's what I did! At least, I think I did. I swept all the scrolls and paper to one side and the ink, pens and pencils to another. Then I put a typewriter on the far end so I have space to write. Then I got a piece of paper and wrote “Coolgirl100-'s desk” with a smiley face and taped it on the side of the table. Now everybody knows I write on this table! How clever is that!? Then, I took out one of my scrolls, dipped a pen in ink, and wrote:
Theseus and the Minotaur
Then I started writing. I tried to get every detail in and empasise every emotional part. I think I did an okay job. It wasn't brilliant, but maybe that's just my opinion.
Next, I decided to look for a house to stay in when all the houses in the village are taken up. It had a lot of exploring in, and the Island doesn't seem like the type of island that had random houses in the forests. But I was wrong, and that was because I'm not good at guessing the types of islands.I was just wandering in the forest, looking for a house of course, when I came across a babbling brook. And there! There was a house. It looked a bit run-down, and a bit dull. But it was still a house! So for the next few moments, I cleaned up the house a bit, just to get rid of the cobwebs and dust. In the few days that followed after I planted flowers and plants when I wasn't writing to make it a little bit alive again.Then, by day six, I had a good house! Wonderful. It is day twenty now, and I'm writing this at my still-clean desk, before working on my weekly. Everything is all good and well on Calypso's Island!

Main Cabin Daily 3/20
Topic: Continue your cabin's story
Words: 550
Redirect to main page

Cabin's Story:
A blinding light seeps in the room, followed by murmuring and your own investigation. Three glowing figures stand outside, waiting. "This is Calypso's Island, a sanctuary and hideout of three cabins where you'll race to win over your cabin mates,” says the first. As you take a glance around, you spot palm trees and hear the sound of lapping waves. “Despite the beauty of this place, we haven’t come for a vacation,” another goddess says, redirecting your gaze. “As for introductions, I'm Athena, the Greek goddess of wisdom and battle strategy.” Finally, the third speaks up. “And I'm Iduna, the Norse goddess of spring.” The first goddess nods at the two, as if impatient. “Yes, of course. My name’s Diana. Together, we come in peace as our counterparts—Elle, Clem, and Cami—insist.” Grudgingly, Athena adds, “But alone, we are at war with each other for the purpose of a competition.” “You and the other campers will be split among us and directed to a corner of the island.” Iduna’s voice fades out, and you shield your face from a sudden spray of sand. When you look up, pieces of drifting gold dust fall to the ground. Laying at your feet are an arrangement of the particles, spelling out three words. Welcome to Mythology.



My story:
The ground below you begins to glow with a blueish light and runes begin to form. What sounds like a mini earthquake begins to rumble, pulsing at your feet. You hold your ground and look up, but the godesses have already dissapeared.
Three stones rise up from the earth, and you reconize them as the signs for Denarii, Drachma and Red Gold.
You stare at them in wonder, before the Dracma stone flies twords you. Your arm extends with curiousity and excitement, touching the smooth surface. It shines brighter than before, engulfing you in light. Then, you’re no longer in that cave with the dim torch lighting. You’re on what looks like an abandoned beach. In the distance you see that cave with the stones.
Below you is a sign that reads “Athena’s Bunker” in ancient greek. Your mind seems to have picked up greek, as well as come tales about the greek gods and godesses.
Next to the sign is a manhole cover. You yank it open with all of the strenght in your body. There’s a ladder leading deep underground. You cautiously clamber down, checking above and below you every so often.
Your expectations were set to visualizing a cramped, underground bunker. But the ceiling is almost impossibly twice your size, and decorated with weapons and armor along the walls. The walls are white collums, the floor matching. They help the underground no seem so dark and drab.
Torches in cages are on the walls, almost eerie in their lighting, save for the bright white color.
The stone is still in your hand, a bracelet now. The front is still the same symbol, but only traces of that blue light are left. You feel the ridges on the back and turn it over, and your name is there, in greek style letters. You smile, deciding to wander the hallways.
Not too far in is a giant room with carpets and a chandelier, a tea table, sofas and a huge fireplace- Not to mention a person sitting on one of the sofas.
You enter the room and the person turns their head. “I’m Clem,” she says. “I’m the counterpart of Athena, and will be functioning and supervising this legion.”
“I’m ” you say. “Nice to meet you.”
Clem dips her head to you as you admire the greek stylizing. Everything is white, or white with gold accent borders.
There’s a pedastol behind Clem. It holds golden glowing weapons, which you can only assume are her weapons, or, the weapons of Athena.
In the back is a winding staircase. You’re shocked that it can even go any higher! Atop the staircase are rows of beds. You find one with your name on it and slip into the toga resting there.
There’s a dagger on your bedside table. For, emergencies.
A single window is above you, giving a look into the outside world. It’s not very large, barely the size of your hand.
You open your bedside drawer. There’s a book about war strategy, and another on myths. After all, Athena is the godess of war. You head downstairs to the main room and plop down on one of the sofas.
“Are you ready for one of the hardest fights of your life?” Clem asks from across the room.
“I’m ready.”

20th Daily
Cabin intro continuation woo!
For Sci-Fi.
532 words

(the cabin desc intro, not included in word count)
As your eyes flutter open, the first thing you are aware of is the cold, hard ground beneath you. You can breathe again – Thank goodness! But what happened?
Weakly, you sit up. The other members of the ship's crew are beginning to stir as well. Suddenly you remember: You're on your way from Earth to the SWC-32022 system, Planet Sci-Fi to be specific. But your ship's engine malfunctioned and you crashed. Now you and everyone else are stranded aboard the Starship Victory with no way of reaching your destination.
The Captain, a teen girl in a dark purple suit, stands up. She is flanked by the three other Commanding Officers, each wearing a suit of red, yellow, or blue. “Attention everyone! Our ship has crashed, but we're all alive and well!”
Weak cheers erupt at that.
❝However, we do need to figure out how to get out of here.❞

(my continuation)
“And how’s that?” you ask, looking to the leaders for an answer.
“The problem is… we don’t really know.” The Captain replies to you, twisting her hair.
“Ah,” you say, folding your arms across your chest. “That might be a problem.”

“No need to fear!” One of the Commanding Officers, Hop, practically jumps out from behind Soki, the Captain. He grins at you and the rest of the crew. “The situation can’t be that bad. Let’s start off by exploring the crash site, there might be some resources!”

Sai emerges from behind Soki, carrying a few suits from the back in her hands. She looks at Hop for a moment, rolling her eyes as she turns away. “Don’t be silly Hop. We literally have no idea where we are. For all we know there could be a poisonous gas on the other side of that space ship door.”

“Always the kill joy,” Hop mutters under his breath lightheartedly. Sai shakes her head with a scoff, clearly having heard him.

“She’s right, though,” Waterfall pipes up, having been quiet for a while. “Have we got enough suits for everyone? We don’t know what’s out there.”

“Yup, there’s more in the back,” Soki responds, seeming to decide in her head that we should probably get a move on now. “Come on everyone. Put on some protective gear just in case; me and the officers will go see what’s out there while you stay here, but there still could be danger coming in when we open the door.”

“Are you kidding me?” you say, raising your eyebrows. “If you think you guys are going out there alone, you must be crazy.”

“Well, I guess I’m crazy then,” Soki replies, shrugging. “I’m not having you all get hurt.”

“Well, I’m definitely coming, whether you like it or not. Plus, some of you leaders should stay back to take care of everything here.” You look around the place, with several broken parts of the ship sizzling away on the ground. “God knows the crew’s gonna need some guidance to clean this thing up.”

Soki looks reluctant to agree with you, but then Sai begins to speak. “I’ll stay,” she says determinedly. “If we want to get this thing back in the sky, the cleanup’s gonna have to start now.”

Soki purses her lips. “Okay. Waterfall, you can stay back too. You can check all the crew for injuries, and Sai, you can help the uninjured members to sort out the mess, got it?” The leaders all nod.
“Hop, go put on a suit. You’re coming outside with me. Now, I hope I can trust you to be responsible,” she says pointedly, while Hop tries to look as innocent as possible.

“Here,” she says with in a tired tone, handing you a heavy protective suit that nearly falls out of your hands. “Go put this on, seeing as you’re so eager. We could use some help out there anyway, and you’re a valuable part of the crew, you know.” She pauses, trying not to let things get awkward. “Thank you.”

You nod, taking the suit with a small smile and nod. Who knows what the future will bring.

Word War (Lost)

Time seems to slow down as you dive deep into the ocean exploring fo the second time, the lost city of Atlantis which does not really seem to be lost anymore. Your diver costume seems to put so much weight on you that you nearly pass out but the oxygen tank keeps you alive. The mystic city of Atlantis comes to your sign and your jaw drops. Even though you had already seen it the beauty of this city is one of the most amazing wonders. You ponder about how in the world this huge and well-built city submerged in the deep oceans. Building, which might have touched to the sky once, lay crumbled as if nothing had come close to them in a thousand years. It's believed that this city might still contain human life that had learned to survive by breathing the oxygen which was mixed with water like fish do but seeing these ruins you are pretty sure that it isn't possible.

♔ 20th of March ♔
532 words

As midnight falls around the forest, a wisp-like, silvery mist weaves through the rustling treetops. The world between worlds remains at a impasse, a standstill of estrangement; its own version of peace.

At the farthest edge of the woods, the warrior keeps a keen watch on the forest as their battalion rests. Their paranoia doesn't let a single detail of the night pass their guard- until they hear a resounding shatter ring across the land.

In the distant thicket, the walls of the fortress erupt in panic as the protector races to the center of its clearing. As she comes to a halt, she stares aghast at the mahogany pedestal that once held the crown passed down for generations- a sole golden fragment remaining in its place.

Deep in the center of the forest, shouts of laughter and cheer emerge from the campfire as the adventurer regales the crowd with wild tales of old. But the jubilation is broken as one of her followers informs her of the night's events. Leaping from the hearth, the adventurer makes her way to the entry of the campsite- only to stagger back at the sight that beheld her.

Three separate factions, three separate locations, once united and now all experiencing the same enigma. Twin doors, covered in glowing runes and markings of indecipherable comprehension, unbeknownst of what laid on the other side. Their sacred crests stolen, a mark of holy betrayal that could only possibly be pinned on one of their former siblings.

And so, the age-old rivalry is resparked, and the competition begins.

Yet it seems there is more at stake now, than the event that led to the initial demise of a united village. Into three they split, and into three they stayed, all because of their leader's untimely death. Sorrow struck, then anger, then separation. But it never escalated into anything more. Always did it stay a rivalry between the three factions and their three leaders, caused by blinding grief. Until now.

The cracks had already been there, but the destruction of their precious talismans split their fragile, tenuous relationships with each other. Many years had passed, of course, but the spirit of blame between the three remained, continued on through Chief after Chief, Commander after Commander. The three that witnessed the breaking of the talismans were simply the latest in a long line.

Then, the talismans broke, and the doors appeared, and they turned on each other. Tensions had built through the generations. This was all the leaders needed.

War broke out.

The factions raged at each other, screaming shouts and throwing insults.
“You warriors did this, didn't you?” they yelled.
“Us? Isn't it clearly the protectors' fault?” the Warriors retorted.
“No, it's not!” the protectors protested.

No longer were two members of opposite groups able to hold a civil conversation. Each would all eventually trail to the mystery of the talismans, which would lead to arguing over who had caused it.
And still the chasm grew.
The warriors began sharpening their weapons and touching up their armour. The protectors trapped their fortress, daring any intruder without prior knowledge of how to avoid them to come in. The adventurers created spread spies all over the forest they knew like the backs of their own hands, each spy armed and ready, crouching in wait from the treetops.

And while all this went on, the three factions continued to race to repair their talismans. They combed the forest, travelled through dimensions. Slowly, and little by little, their talisman shards were collected and fixed.

Months spent searching, looking, loosing hope every time they counted how many were still missing, gaining anger and spite every time they glanced at another faction's shard count.

Months spent preparing, planning, managing, doing everything to slow the other groups down no matter what, throwing thinly veiled threats and raising weapons in distrust and hate.

The leaves of a golden laurel crown, a pieces of a compass, the parts of a warrior's helmet. Efforts bore fruit, and the fruit was cherished, yet dampened by their situation. Working together, each faction repaired their talisman, but their eyes never stopped darting around, searching for sabotage attempts that never existed.

Paranoid. Cautious. Broken. There was only one forest, and none of the three would dare move too far from the original resting place of the leader of old. There wouldn't be enough room for all of them.

The day the talismans were fixed, each adventurer, each warrior, each protector rejoiced.
That same day, an adventurer attacked a warrior.

The leaders watched on. The adventurer, the protector, the warrior - so, so much like the first three in their line that it was heartbreaking.

The talismans may have been fixed, but the once-village will never be.