~ayo~

random crappy story i wrote aasgdjfd

547 words


Aster And The Stars

Millions of tiny stars filled the vast night sky, like little diamonds shining in the moon’s light. Aster had never seen any night like tonight, and she gazed in awe of the mysterious black void stretched in front and above her, but as she heard heavy footsteps thumping towards her and the campfire, she immediately turned away. She grabbed a stone from the rocky ground below and her spear and started to sharpen it for the next hunting session with her clanmates. See, she was part of the Bear Tribe, and her leaders and tribemates disapproved of the time she was wasting by always getting off track by looking at ‘that ordinary black thing’ above. “It’s called a sky!’ I told them. But they didn’t care. Not like I do.

The Bear Tribe believed that every clan member should always be alert. Not ‘wasting time’ doing ‘pointless stuff’. And never have fun, Aster thought to herself bitterly. But she knew that they were right. With the war with Robin Tribe, Shark Tribe, Claw Tribe - and their many allies - on the peak, they must be cautious. Everywhere.

A pair of glittering, stern eyes coming closer to her distracted Aster from her thoughts. She fumbled with her spear and started scraping the rock against the pointed metal, as if she was doing this the whole time. Suddenly, the eyes jumped to the edge of the campfire, just so that the face around it was lit up by the flames. “BOO!” shouted a familiar voice. Aster’s muscles tensed, but then relaxed as she heard the warm laughing of her older brother, Jay. Her blood boiled hot with embarrassment.
“Don’t scare me like that!” she huffed at her brother. Aster glared at Jay. His eyes were shining with amusement and suspicion, but mostly love. “Anyway,” she mumbled. “You distracted me from my work.”
“Oh, I see. You were very hard at work! I’m so sorry for distracting you from your very important task.” Jay said sarcastically. “You can’t fool me, Az. I know what you were doing.” He chuckled, but then, with a sterner voice, murmured, “You know Fallon won’t approve.”

Aster knew her older brother spoke the truth. Fallon, the frightening, ill-tempered leader of the Tribe and the leader of this hunt, would definitely be displeased.

“But what’s the problem?!” she lashed out. “I have the power over my actions, and I can do what I want to do! No one else can stop me!”

“You might have the power over your actions, but not your consequences,” Jay sighed. They both knew Fallon was powerful, and they both knew that he wouldn’t stop until he crushed his opponents and claimed victory in the war. He was someone to be feared, for sure.
They both stayed silent for a few heartbeats.
But a voice broke the silence.

“Heh. Well well well, what do we have here? A couple of Bear Tribe rascals?”

Jay and Aster both whipped around to see dozens of warriors, fully armed with armour and quivers packed with death-dealing arrows, surrounding them with their bows drawn. And aiming right at them.

Tension radiated from Aster and her brother. They both were thinking the same things.

1: Claw Tribe
2: Enemy
3: Invasion



thanks!

-Vi
#poetryftw
#reignofthemangoes

Word War:
(173 Words)

“What the heck Sofia” I exclaim. Yet again Sofia had gone off talking trash and had gotten us into another rotten situation.
“I didn't know it would go back to her!” Sofia exclaims clearly *. I groan,
"Of course, it went back to her Sofia! It always goes back to her.“
”Not always!“ I raise my eyebrows at her and she sighs.
”Look I'm sorry I shouldn't have repeated what you said.
“You did more than just repeat it!” I say starting to lose my patience. “Now she's gonna hate me!”
“I'm sure you can just explain-”
“No. I can't just explain anything! Thanks a lot, Sofia.”
“Listen I'm sorry, I already told you that I didn't know-” I turn to her and I can feel my face start to heat up.
“You never know! You just don't understand anybody!” I yell at her. Tears fill her eyes and she turns away. I instantly regret yelling at her.
“Sofia…”
“Forget it.” She says. Her voice sounds so hurt and I look down at

Word War with @GraceOBrien13

I had no idea what I was doing. My fingers flew rapidly across the keyboard, pounding out words. The words were too long. I kept making typos. In a panic, I tried to shorten them. In a panic, I continued to write. I kept making typos, why did I keep making typos? If only this wordcounting textbox thing had auto correct. Then I could keep on typing and the words would automatically be spelled correctly for me. Alas, the abilities of this website are limited. And my words are getting too long again. I sighed, then continued writing. My only thought was that I needed to keep pounding out more words. I was a word making machine, never stopping to think, just typing. You see, I was in a word war, and I had to win it. I had to hit the backspace key because I made a typo. That was upsetting. What else is there to ramble about? How I should have used the word type, instead of ramble, because it is shorter and takes less time to type. and the typos are back again. And I forgot to hit shift key at the beginning of the sentence. No time to go back and change it now, I just have to keep creating words. The words come out, but not fast enough. I must win. I must. Every word war this session, I have lost, so I need to win this one. In case Goose is reading this, I am not actually serious, if you win I do

Word count: 259

Word War (Main Cabin Daily 7/27)
251 words

against @pitau from non-fi, 3 minutes - won by 4

I’m taking a break from my weekly to do the daily, which is thankfully just a word war! I’m glad that I found someone with a wpm that’s around mine so I don’t have to go hunting for someone. I hope that I win this because if not I’ll have to do more word wars and I do not like word wars. My mom is talking to me right now so I am annoyed because I need to finish typing stuff but no she wants to talk to me. Okay she went away, great! Anyway Myth cabin is the best cabin. We’re doing amazing right now which is awesome. And I will earn even more points when I do the weekly, which is great. I’m pretty impressed that it hasn’t been three minutes yet but I guess that’s good because I get to write more. I have to do another Fifty Headed Hydra after this which sucks because I do not have a WPM of 100 and I can’t actually pull off a fifty headed hydra unlike some people so I will be failing. Okay now I’m really surprised at how long it’s been. I’d like to check but that would be a waste of time. I wonder what my wpm is right now in this chunk of text. I keep hitting the delete key which is probably bad but oh well. I should do typing lessons again, even though they kind of suck and my keyboard is not the best.

Word War:
(ignore the grammar mistakes lol)

The cat leaps over the fence and jumps into the stream. Normal cats do not like water but this cat is not a normal cat. It is a peculiar cat indeed, for this cat actually quite likes swimming to a certain degree. This cat likes swimming so much that its owner takes it the lake every week to swim! The cat loves this swimming time, as it allows the cat to splash and have fun in the water. Thus, the cat enjoys swimming to a certain extent and loves to splash around in the water. The cat makes a huge cannonball, splashing everything around it. It startles a few ducks on the water, who are just trying to enjoy a peaceful day but are disrupted by a cat, who actually likes water. The cat disturbs the peaceful calm of the water by startling everyone around the lake. The owner owns a house by the lake, so the cat can be seen fishing in the lake. Some people stop by to watch this peculiar cat swim, for it certainly is an odd feat. Imagine a cat liking water! Then they marvel at this cat because their own dogs don’t even like to swim. The cat is a strong swimmer too, stronger than most humans. This allows for smoothness in the water, and speed, lots and lots of speed. The cat streaks through the water like a graceful fish, as if it were a fish. Actually, the cat is trying to catch fish so it is not aiming for being a fish. The fish is its prey and the cat is trying to catch the fish in the lake. Since the cat started swimming in the lake, there have been less and less fish in the lake. Fishermen now have to compete with this cat for trout, as the cat can catch fish at a much faster rate than fishermen on a slow boat can. (IN truth, their fishing rods are quite slow compared to this cat).
+335 words

Word war with moonlit - 276 words

Miss moonlit,
I have a few complaints i would like to adress with you this fateful day.

I bright the pen down my wrist and begin writing the series of words, all of the resentment that i've ever wanted to release onto a single piece of parchment, dotted with faded ink. My mind whistles, and thinks hard, but I don't hestiate because if it's time to do it I should do it now.

I breathe once, and continue drafting the letter.

First of all, your tactics are horrible. Myth will never forvive you for them because they are very underhanded. You ahve encouraged the whole SWC using your host leader to war everyone while placing sanctions on mythology cabin. This is highly not advantagous for us. No campers should be left out of the Cabin wars experience even if they have a tremendous lead in points. Furthermore, a sacnction has nedver worked in the past. Last sessions like march 2020, birdi and I tried to place sanctions on alyelle's cabin whcih was a few sessions ago, because of timing issues, but that's another story. We wanted to have something to do, to limit the immense lead Berricake's cabin, Action, no, mystery had on the world. We were ulitmiately wanting to stop her because she was too good. And yes now I'm here to tell you please stop trying to stop us, because that will only hinder your own progress. We have found dozens of ways to write ouft of spite and won't stop because a foreign entity told us to. And yes maybe it's kind of rigged that myth has a lot of writing competition winners

Weekly #4
5047

PATHS TAKEN: 4-2, 1-5, 5-4, 3-3, 2-2, 102-1, 6-3, 82-3, 7-2, 9-2 | SABOTAGE RESULTS: 7- S;1- S;9- S;4- F, 5- F, 2- S;3- F, 8- S;6- S | ENDING: neutral
Certificate picture coming soon
(as soon as I can figure out how to add pictures in forum posts)

Disclaimer - the writing quality died somewhere before the halfway point, just after I did. I have no idea what happened, but this story went crazy. I did not plan to incorporate ghosts and weird worldbuilding, the weekly forced me to. It's evil /jk /lh

Beginning - 103
Music floods my brain as I slide the EarPods into my ears. My feet tap to the rhythm of the notes, and I feel a smile stretch on my face for the first time today.
I exhale, letting the tension leave my muscles and leaning back in my chair. My dreary room vanishes as the melody surrounds me, wrapping me in its warm embrace.
I’m melting away and I love it.
I find myself humming along to the music, singing even. Somewhere, I know I shouldn’t be, that I’m not the type to sing, but I can’t help it. It’s just so… captivating.

Boring rooms - 288
“Seri! Serenity!” I yelp as I feel the music yanked out of my brain and my i-pod out of my hand.
My mother stands over me, scowling.
“I’ve been calling you for hours!” she bursts out.
“No you haven’t,” I say absently, flicking through my phone. No new messages. Of course.
“Excuse me young lady?”
“You haven’t. You couldn’t have. I only got home an hour ago. You’ve been calling me for seconds.”
“Hours Seri! It’s actually been hours!”
“No.” I say. Despite my denial, I look at the clock. It’s eight pm.
“But-” I start.
“No buts!” she says, “What on earth is happening to you Serenity? You used to be such a sweet little girl-”
Ah, there it is. The lecture that my mother gives every time I do anything remotely like the teenager stereotype every parent dreads.
Hours, she said.
I have to force myself not to panic. I just lost track of time, that’s all there’s to it. It was an emotionally exhausting day, maybe I fell asleep? It doesn’t matter, nothing matters.
“Serenity, are you even listening right now?” I’m not listening. I’ve successfully tuned out her lecture, and I’m staring at my empty inbox.
“Yes.” I say, without looking up.
“What did I just say?” I roll my eyes, of course she doesn’t trust me. I put the phone away, and meet her eyes. Stormy grey, like mine, and full of disapproval.
“You were saying how important it is that I stop acting out and be a good kid, think about our family, and that my potential is going to waste, the usual,” I say. She sighs, so I know I’m right.
I’m not a genius, I’ve just been lectured a lot.

Dining room 193-
“Why were you calling me?” I say, interrupting her before she can go on another rant.
She smiles, “Mick’s home.”
And that’s all I need to spring out of my slouch, dropping everything I’m doing and flying down the stairs.
I see him standing there, still wearing the same trench coat and the same smile. His black hair is a mess around his face, and his eyes sparkle.
“Hey, Ser- ooof!”
I tackle him in a hug.
“Whoa! Easy, I’m covered in ghost spit-”
“Don’t care,” I hug him tighter. It’s been months since I’ve seen my brother. The last expedition he was on, where he was going… well, we were all scared he wouldn’t come back. Hunting ghosts and forcing them back into their graves isn’t an easy job. It’s been our family’s job for generations. Well, not mine. And I’m ok with that.
My mother makes a face. She doesn’t approve of Mick’s day job, and she certainly doesn’t approve of his long expeditions. But his return is enough for her to put a lid on the arguments. At last for now.
“Wait- since when do ghosts spit?”

Battleground 612-
The sense of happiness since Mick’s return keeps me happy throughout the night, chasing the nightmares away. But in the morning, all I want to do is borough under the covers and never leave.
“Serenity? It’s time to go! We’re late-” I yank the blanket over my head, “Come on Seri,” my mother whispers, surprisingly comfortingly, “Mick says he’ll drive you to school today.”
Not enough to get me out of my shell.
Here’s the truth, as childish as it may seem - I don’t want to go to school. I ignore my mother imploring me to wake up, and I tune out the world. I’m good at tuning out the world.
Eventually though, I have to wake up.
Because the person at the door is the one person I can’t ignore.
“Hey,” says Mick, sitting down on my bed, his weight causing it to creak.
“Mmmf,” I respond.
“Mom thinks you’re either plotting a revolution, or dying,” he says, “Which is it?”
“Dying,” I mumble.
“I get it, school sucks. When I was a kid, people thought I was nuts. Actually, they thought Dad was nuts, I was just the nutter’s son-”
“Stop calling him that.” I press my face into the pillow.
“It’s just that… back then, all I ever wanted was to belong. But now it doesn’t matter, now I get to chase ghosts all day everyday, sending them back to their graves, the way Dad did,”
I’m not entirely sure what to think about this whole ‘ghost hunting’ business. Dad… I don’t know what to think about him either. All I know is that everytime my brother leaves, there’s a chance he’ll never come back.
“That’s what I want,” I whisper, “To belong. In school-”
“Look, I get it. But you’re in what - your sophomore year?” I glance up in surprise, does he not know how old I am?
“Junior,” I correct.
“Even better! You’re almost done, and then-”
“And then what, Mick?” I demand, sitting up, “I’m no hunter. But I’m not normal either. What am I supposed to do?”
“Hey…” he reaches for my hand, “How about this - after school, I’ll take you to a grave-”
“But I can’t-” I think about Dad going on hunting trips. Always with Mick, never me.
“Don’t worry, I’ll keep it small and safe. You’ll get to see the things Dad always talked about up close and personal. And I’ll be there the whole time.”
I sigh. He knows where I cave, but he’ll have to do better, “No deal.”
“Aw, come on Ser.”
I stay silent, breathing in my pillowcase which smells a lot like my hair. That makes sense.
“Tell you what, I have to go back to hunting in a couple of days,” he says. I groan, I hate this part, I hate it when he leaves. “Hold it Ser, I’m not finished! I should be getting back in a few days. But if you go to school, if you try to stop driving Mom up the wall, I’ll stick around for the whole week, how does that sound?”
It sounds wonderful, it sounds like a miracle. It sounds, franky, impossible.
“Mom-”
“Doesn’t have to know about our little expedition.”
I sigh. I want to go, I really do, “Come on, Seri, all you have to do is get through one more day of school. You can handle that, right?”
I straighten up. My brother knows me too well. An offer, I might refuse, but a challenge? Never.
“You promise you’ll stay for two weeks. Not one day less,” I order.
“Jeez, okay! I promise,”
I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the nightmare that is school.
“Fine.” I say through gritted teeth, “Just for today.”

Bulletin -
Words - Forest, enchanted, mist, castle, mango, earth, word, lioness, pilot
Mick was right about one thing, school sucks.
“Hey ghost girl!”
“You seen your daddy yet, ghost girl?”
I close my eyes, trying to tune them out the way I normally do, with no avail.
I take my i-pod out of my pocket. Technically, it’s not allowed in school, like phones and most things that are any fun.
I press play, and the music fills my ears, drowning out the noise. Captivating me again. I close my eyes again, letting myself get lost.
For the second time in two days, I’m interrupted. This time by a painful poke to the stomach.
I open my eyes, and meet two acid-green ones. My supposed best friend Nina Hope is saying something to me.
I blink, feeling the cafeteria come into view. Nina mouths something at me, but I can’t hear her. Why can’t I hear her? Oh yeah, the music. I’ve been listening to it so long it’s practically a part of me.
She mouths another word and bites into a mango. Nina always brings interesting food for lunch. I smile and point to my earpods, then go back to listening. Nina nods, understanding. She’s the one who first introduced me to the Flare’s songs. We watched their pilot album together, and we’ve been obsessed with it ever since.
“It’s the Pluto playlist,” I tell her. I can barely even hear myself.
This particular song is strikingly different from the others. It’s light, and old-fashioned, the lyrics paint images of my head. They tell stories of a misty woods, a looming, powering castle. A brave lioness, taking pride in her pack. The castle filled with hunters, pouring out, searching through the woods. I can see the images in my head so clearly, it’s like the music is painting it onto the backs of my eyes. I run with the lions into the mist, away, away from the hunters. Being chased, flying through the woods, into the mist. It’s so impossibly captivating, that I-
“Serenity!”
I realise that I’m standing on the table. A thousand eyes peer at me, a thousand whispers flood the air. Nina tugs desperately at the cuff of my trousers, saying something. But I don’t want to get down, I want to run with the lions, to escape the hunters, to fight tooth and claw until-
Wait, what am I doing?
I yank the earpods out of my ears and scramble down. Heat rises to my cheeks, as I try to tune out the noise again.
I groan, letting my head flop down on the table.
I can’t wait for this day to end.

Throne room - 633
Finally, finally, I’m on the bus. Finally, the school day is over and I can just go home in peace. Until tomorrow, of course.
“Hey Ser,” Josh McAvery says, leaning on the seat in front of me, “What was that in the lunchroom?”
Sometimes I wish Josh and I were in the same school. Then our conversations could be longer than fifteen minutes. Then again, I wouldn’t even be in school if I were friends with Josh, he would have got us expelled a long time ago.
I groan, “How do you know about it?”
He shrugs, “Everyone does,”
Great. Just great. In schools like ours, where everyone is a rule-following goody two shoes, something as simple as standing on a lunch table is a scandal. Now I wish I went to Josh’s school.
I silently decide to never listen to that song again.
“So why did you-”
“I don’t know, okay?” I’m so sick of saying this, “One minute I was listening to my beats, the next, I was up there and everyone was staring at me,”
“I was going to ask why you didn’t get detention,” Josh rolls his eyes, “But okay.”
I didn’t get detention, because Rendell’s doesn’t have a detention system. People just don’t break the rules.
I yawn, realising how tired I am. The social construct at Rendell high is a pain in the-
I rub my eyes, trying to get comfortable. A little nap won’t hurt, will it? It’ll spare me from Josh’s questions at least.
And then I’m falling, sinking, drifting into dreamland.
I never thought they were real before then, I never really believed that they were anything but a fantasy Dad concocted to keep me and Mick entertained. I don’t think Dad even believed it himself.
Until that day.
We went to the graveyard. Ghost-hunting was fun back then, a hobby. We would run through the graves, scanning for withered flowers, cracked gravestones or any other signs of unsatisfied spirits. It was a game, like hide-and-seek.
But that night, we weren’t the seekers.
The grave is filled with horrible, ghostly wails, the ground rumbles, white spirits dance through the mist. Their screams fuse together into a deep, heart-wrenching harmony, singing death, white death, red death.
Dad throws me over his shoulder and runs. I’m screaming too.
Mick’s tiny feet patter on the pavement.
The trees are dancing to the ghost’s melody now, the gate is swinging. The ghosts are swarming.
“Mick, take your sister and run,”
“But Dad-”
“I’ll be back soon okay? Just go.”
I start to cry. I am only seven, and I am terrified. I think I know what’s going to happen. So instead of saying any of the things I could have said, the cries of fear, I say;
“We’ll see you on the other side,”
We run, running becomes the only thing in the world. Then we're outside the graveyard, and still running. We made it and Dad isn’t there.
I turn around.
He’s gone.
“Serenity, wait!”
I’m running again, this time towards the gate. My little hands shake the bars. Was it shut before? I don’t know. He turns around, and says something. And it’s my name. I think it’s my name.
“Serenity!”
I cry, because he’ll never say anything again.
“Ser, are you planning on leaving the country?”
…Huh?
“Seriously Ser, you’re scaring me”
I jolt awake, blinking in the sudden burst of sunlight.
“What the-” I yawn, rubbing sleep from my eyes, “Where am I?”
Josh is standing over me, “Dude… we’re at my place, you gonna get off the bus?”
What?
I scramble up and peer out of my window. Sure enough, we’re at Westbrooks, an area which couldn’t be further from my neighbourhood.
Did I really fall asleep for that long?
Great. Just great.

Memory book - 277
It’s a long walk back home.
I’m a little reluctant to listen to the Flares again, so I have nothing to occupy my thoughts. My loud, painful, ugly thoughts. I really shouldn’t be listening to them though, Mom would kill me. Even Mick won’t approve.
Oh, screw it.
I pick another playlist and stuff the earbuds into my ears. Time turns fluid as I hum along with a new skip in my step, bouncing to the rhythm.
I bounce along the footpath, forward, forward, onto grass and
Wait- grass?
Westbrooks is maybe the least green place on earth, after the Sahara desert. A surge of warm memory crashes into me, splintering me into pieces.
Before Dad… you know, me and Mick would spend hours in the graveyard. We weren’t there for the ghosts, we were there for everything else. The peace, the quiet, the wild, endless day.
We used to steal flowers sometimes, creeping up on tiptoes so as not to disturb the spirits. Dandelions, daffodils, marigolds. Starbursts of red, blue, yellow, pink and white, and bright colours shone through the day. Petals thrown on each other, drones swarming their nectar.
I had a strange childhood. I spent most of it stealing flowers from graves, and the rest tagging along with Dad’s hunting trips. Or sulking because I couldn’t tag along.
Things were beautiful then, simple. Everything made sense. It didn’t matter whether I believed in ghosts or not, it was all for fun.
Then it ended.
Then he ended.
And all at once, the moment of joy is gone, replaced by bittersweet longing.
Nothing is simple anymore.
I sigh and resume trudging down the path home.

Broom closet - 142
“Where-were-you-what-took-you-so-long-I-was-this-close-to-calling-the-cops-I-swear-if-you-were-with-that-boy-you-have-a-phone-for-god’s-sake!” my mother said all in one breath.
The ramble went on, even after I explained the whole falling-asleep-on-the-bus story. I sat through endless tirades of punctuality, and homework, and keeping-your-mother-updated, and responsibility. Eventually, she let me return to my room. But not after saying; “And clean up your room! I swear, a snake could live under the pile of clothes you have,”
I groan, slamming the door shut. I just fell asleep, and was a little late, what’s the big deal?
To make matters worse, my mother is right. My room is a mess. My bed is a mess of sheets and pillows and stuffing, I can’t see the bottom of my desk, and there are probably several snakes hiding under the pile of clothes.
I sigh, proceeding to clean it up. I might as well do one nice thing today.

Urban Fantasy (it comes in a little later, this is just the premise) - 206
“Hey,” Mick says, waltzing into my room. I still jump every time I see him, it’s just been me and Mom for most of my life, yet - here he is.
“Hey yourself, tatler.” I go back to sorting out my mess of a room.
“Aw, come on - I had to tell Mom you were back.” he flops down on the bed, the one clean part of my room, “She was freaking out,”
“It’s like I’m living on a leash,” I grumble.
“I know something that’ll cheer you up,” he says, smiling.
“What?”
“We’re going hunting,”
I stare at him, “No,”
“What?” he blinks, “Why?”
Because of the memories of Dad’s death and the nostalgia of the graveyard, because I stood on the table at lunch, because my brain is going to a very strange place and I don’t want to dredge up more bad memories. Because I’m sick and tired of chasing after ghosts. Of Mick leaving to chase after ghosts.
“Just because,” I shrug.
“Come on, Seri, you’ll love it,”
I shrink back, “I really won’t.”
We go back and forth like this for a few minutes. Eventually, he gives up, I’m not going anywhere.
“Well I’m going,” he says.
“Go ahead.”
And he does.

Daily team - 400
Loneliness is something I’m painfully used to. I sigh, and mope, and I’m generally pretty annoyed at Mick, at myself and at the world.
I try to do homework and fail, as usual. I end up plugging my headphones into my ears, as usual. I sigh dramatically again. How much trouble has this music gotten me into today?
I’m so annoyed, I’m so scared.
The memories just won’t stop coming.
I sigh again. Is this teenage angst, or something bigger?
“Serenity! Time for dinner!”
Downstairs, my mother made falafel. My favourite. I realise when I see it on the plate that something terrible must have happened.
“Mom?” I ask, “Where’s Mick?”
She purses her lips, “He went on another one of those… trips. I swear, this will-”
“He’s not back?” I cut her off. It’s nine o'clock. Have I really been listening to the Flares and moping for… hours? And why isn’t Mick back yet? He said it was just a short trip.
“I don’t think he’s coming back, sweetie.” my mother says.
“Oh,” slowly, I sink down onto one of the dining table chairs. I feel sick. I should be used to this now, Mick coming and going like the wind.
But it still upsets me.
“Did he say where he went?” I ask, almost absently. I’m absolutely determined that I don’t cry, I don’t want to feel anything right now.
“I’m sorry,” Mom whispers.
“Okay,” I stand up, “I’m going to my room now,”
“Seri-”
“I’ll eat dinner later,”
“Seri!”
But I’m already gone, sprinting up the stairs, slamming my door shut. The tears come, hot and fast, pouring down my cheeks like a waterfall of hopeless rage.
Why did he go? Why did he leave again?
He’ll be back right? This is just one of his longer trips. He’ll be back tomorrow, rolling his eyes at how freaked out I am and telling me to, “Chill out, sis,” and he’ll be my aggravating brother all over again.
I really want him to come back.
But he’s not. Not for… weeks at least. Maybe even years. How on earth does anyone know at this point?
But he has to come back. We had a deal. All I had to do was go to school, he promised to stick around, he promised.
Mick…
I straighten up, wiping tears away from my eyes.
This time I’m not letting him go.

Interlude (this is completely extra, written to make it coherent) -
Tears still prick my eyes, and my fingers fumble as I reach for my phone. I don’t have to scroll to find Mick’s number, I have it memorised after years of failed calling attempts.
It rings.. It still rings…
It keeps ringing…
And then it stops. He cut the call. The same way he always does.
But I try again, and again. A few minutes later it doesn’t ring at all.
In desperation now, I stumble into Mick’s room. No one ever touches it during the days when he’s gone, so it’s a shrine to all his annoyingness. I’m scrambling, what did I come here for?
I open the closet, no clothes are missing. Wait- I think Dad’s fur coat used to hang here, where is it? Did Mick take it? Why? It’s about as warm as it gets here.
What if he’s planning on leaving the city? The country, even?
I start to panic, then my first conclusion dawns on me. All the clothes are still here. He didn’t pack to go away very long. I gasp with relief.
He has to come back. At least to get his stuff.
But then why didn’t he answer my phone, and what does he need the coat for?
Painful, gut wrenching possibilities blare through my brain, and I shiver.
I’m seven. The three of us are standing in the grave, me Mick and Dad. The ghosts whisper around me, about to emerge and I shiver. It’s terrifyingly cold. I clutch at Dad’s leg and bury my face in his fur coat.
What was that?
Oh, oh no.
It was cold that night in the graveyard. It was freezing and my breath misted in front of me, even though there was a forty degree heatwave that summer.
That’s where he’s gone.
The only cold place in town.
The place Dad died, trying to study the stupid ghosts.
He’s gone to the graveyard.

Rooftop -
The music blares in my ears, as I run. I’m listening to Flares again, I can’t help it. There’s something so captivating about their music, it’s almost magical. Maybe it is, after ghosts, graves and runaway brothers, magical music is no big deal.
My footsteps pound on the pavement in rhythm from the beat. I focus on the music, not the memories pounding through my skull as I run up the familiar path to the graveyard.
I’m shaking as I wrench the wrought-iron gate open, tremors rip through my skin.
I peer through the bars, but all I see is the cold, empty graveyard. No Mick. No ghosts. Maybe I’m wrong. Maybe he isn’t here after all.
Just open the gate. Why is this so hard?
I grit my teeth, and yank it open. It screams as it drags along the ground, a little ghostly wail.
I force myself to stop trembling as I enter the graveyard. One step after the other. Scanning the graves for ghosts. Nothing.
The blanket of silence is terrifying. Even the moon is quiet today, its pearly white light dimmed. That can’t be a good sign.
Come on, Ser, snap out of it!
“Mick-” the wind cuts me off, whipping my face. A familiar coldness wraps around me.
Then I see him, crouched beside a grave.
“Mick!” I stumble towards him. Conflicting emotions crowd my mind. Anger at his disappearance, relief that I’ve managed to find him, fear at his being here of all places.
“Seri?” he whirls around, eyes widening, “No, no, no, you’re not supposed to-”
And then I see the grave he’s sitting in front of.
Julius Crale
Father, husband, full of life.
Oh no. No. This is Dad’s grave.
“What are you doing?” I gasp.
“Seri, please. Just go.”
I see something sticking out of his coat pocket, a vial of bright green liquid. A memory itches at the back of my skull.
“Just go!” he’s yelling now. Is it my imagination, or do I hear the familiar ghostly wails again?
“Not until you tell me what’s going on,” I cross my arms and straighten up.
“Look, Ser- I’ll be back, I prom-”
“LIAR!” I’m yelling too now. “What. Are. You. Doing.”
He turns away. I feel the pieces clicking together in my head. This is what Dad was doing that night at the graveyard. He wasn't forcing restless spirits away from the world, he was… he was…
I stare at the green liquid. Green, the colour of life.
“No,” I whisper.
But it makes sense, it makes too much sense.
I stare at Mick, “You’re trying to bring Dad back from the dead.”
It’s not a question. And Mick doesn’t have to answer it.
“You can’t.” I say.
“What?” he says, whirling around to stare at me, “You don’t… want him to come back?”
“I- I,” I shake my head, deciding to focus on the simpler point, “You can’t because he’s a restful spirit. He wouldn’t want to-”
“Of course he would!” my brother’s face is tight with rage, “Of course he would want to come back to us,”
Slowly, I drop to my knees. Tears fill my eyes as I stare at the gravestone, so I force myself to look away. I always hated the fact that he was buried in the graveyard he died in. But if Mick-
“You can’t.” I say again, “Because it’s impossible,”
“But do you want him back?” he asks, softly, gently.
I’m scared, and I miss him, and of course I want him if we have a chance. I really, really miss him. But-
“Trying to raise the dead is how he died in the first place!” I burst out, “If he couldn’t do it, how can you?”
“What do you think I’ve been working on all these years?” he demands, “I’ve been preparing for this all these years, Ser.”
The news hits me, and it rocks me to the core. All this time, when I thought he was doing Dad’s job, making the dead stay… well… dead, he was trying to raise them back to the living.
“Then… you didn’t come back here just to see me, did you?”
“That’s what you’re thinking about?” he says, exasperated, “Didn’t you hear the part when I said I could bring Dad back?”
“You idiot!” I yell, suddenly, I’m on my feet again, “You’ll wake up every ghost in the graveyard! What if it doesn’t work? What if something happens to you?”
“Ser-”
“No!” my hands close into fists as my sides, “You can’t risk it Mick, I-” I swallow, “I can’t lose you too,”
“Serenity, please! You have to understand-”
“No, you’re not bringing him back. Sure, I still miss him, but I’m moving on, Mom’s moving on. Please, don’t.”
I see the hard set of his jaw, but his eyes are melting, “I’m sorry, Serenity.”
“Sorry for wha-”
He crashes into me, and I sprawl across the dirt, my chin smacking into the ground.
“Mick, NO!”
Before I can move, before I can do anything at all, he pours the vial on the ground.
Ending - 538
Then the ghosts come. Their wails echo off the stones, filling the silence with terrifying, horrible noise.
This is how he died. This is what it felt like to him.
“We have to go!” I yell
Mick still stares expectantly at Dad’s grave. I scramble to my feet, the ghosts are swarming now, forming a tight barrier.
It’s happening, it’s happening again.
I remember something Dad once told me, “Peaceful ghosts are like bees, they’ll leave you alone, if you leave them alone. But if you bother them, you’re going to get stung,”
I close my eyes, bracing myself. But the ghosts aren’t swarming me, I’m not the one that disturbed them.
They’re after Mick.
And suddenly, I’m running, but not fast enough. I hear him scream and I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest.
A cloud of white with hissing fangs collides into me, and I hit the ground. Who on earth came up with the misconception that ghosts couldn’t touch you? It’s actually the painful opposite.
I need to get them away from my brother.
Come on, Serenity! Think!
It feels like my brain is clogging, like all my thoughts are closing in and-
I need to clear my head.
Wait- that’s it, clear my head.
I’m not entirely sure what I’m doing, but I take out my i-pod. The memory of its hypnotic, captivating music swings into my mind. The ghosts are just people, or they were people, before they died.
I crank it up to full volume and press play.
All at once, every ghost in the graveyard stops, staring at me. The familiar lyrics blare through the graveyard. I’m a lioness again, running through the woods, hunters on my tail-
No, I’m Serenity Crale, and I’m going to save my family.
I grit my teeth, pull my hand back and throw the i-pod, as far away as I can. The ghosts stream after it.
“Move!” I yell, grabbing Mick’s arm.
“But Dad-” with a jolt, I realise that he has tears streaming down his cheeks.
“We have to go, Mick.”
I risk a glance over my shoulder. The ghosts are still hypnotised by the noise.
Finally, he gets to his feet and we run.
The gate seems like it’s getting further and further away, shrinking with each step I take. I’m seven years old again, running for my life in this very graveyard.
My hands finally collide with the iron bars of the gate, and I throw my weight
Only the feelings are different. I’m not afraid this time. I’m not alone. I may be furious at Mick, for trying to bring Dad back, for leaving without telling me, but-
-wait, where is Mick?
I turn around, scanning the graveyard, expecting to see him sprawled on the ground, or running a little slower than I am. But no.
He’s back at Dad’s grave, clutching the vial. He has another vial, of course he does. Mick Crale prepares for everything, doesn’t he?
And I’m screaming at him to come back, please come back, but he doesn’t. The green liquid drips on the ground, and everything shakes.
The ground splits open.
And standing there is… is…
No. It’s impossible.
“Dad?”

Amogus theme )))
Okay so I loved this weekly
Great way to end the session, tysm daily team <3

tw!

this story is based on among us, and it contains quite a few mentions of death/killing/murder! you've been warned asdfghjkl

Beginning
113 words

The red-tinted lights spill a dim glow onto my face, the high-pitched sirens screaming in tune with my thudding heart. It’s happening. It’s happening.
We thought we were safe. We thought we could make it out alive but obviously we can’t we’re just like all the others scrambling for a place to hide cowards running scared, scared-
“Beatrix!”
The shout interrupts my panic and I jolt to a halt, heart hammering, as two others screech to a stop in front of me.
The one with the dark blue suit throws her arms around me. “Trix, I’m so glad you’re okay! I heard a scream and I thought…” She lets her sentence trail off.

Prompt from opposite ranked cabin
“Would you die for me?” “Again?” (@Firetender)
275 words

“Hey, I was worried about you too.” I pull away. “Are you guys okay?”
Rika nods. Fox, the one in the maroon-red suit, just looks down awkwardly.
“Well, sort of,” Rika amended. “You know how I said this ship was haunted? It is.”
“What happened?” I beckon them to come with me. I don’t even know where we’re going, but somewhere is better than nowhere. Unless there’s a murder lurking, waiting for you. Then staying in the corridor is probably a better option. Except if there’s a murder in the corridor as well.
“It's a long story.” Rika, again, interrupts my overthinking.
“I have time.”
Fox trails behind us. He looks way too pale.
“Is he okay?” I ask, keeping my voice quiet. Rika always knows what’s happening with Fox. I guess that’s what comes with having a sibling. I wouldn’t know. My sister died when I was three.
“He got a bit of a scare.” Rika responded. “See, we may or may not have seen a ghost.”
“A ghost?” I’m sceptical.
“I- It was the ghost of- you know.” Her voice trembles.
I do know. The ghost of the imposter’s first victim. Apparently he had talked to Fox a bit. I didn’t even know his name.
“What did he say?”
Fox butts in from behind us. “He was scared. Said he didn’t want to leave in case he had done something wrong. In case he was punished for it in the afterlife.”
“And you said?” I asked.
“I asked him if he would die for me. He said ‘again?’”
The realisation sinks in. “So whoever the killer is… was after you.”
He nods, silent.

Chosen One prompt
250 words

“Wow,” Rika says, a breathless laugh escaping from her throat. “You’re the chosen one, Fox.”
Her joke did nothing to cheer him up. “I- what do we do, then?”
“We find the murderer!” Rika declares. “What else?”
“Of course you always have to go around fixing everything” Fox mutters. “I’d rather stay alive, thank you.”
I found myself nodding. “It’s too dangerous.”
“Come on, guys!” Rika looked at us, hopeful. “This is wrong! We have to save the ship!”
“I know you’re a hero, Rika, but we’re not.” I say, staying where I am. “First priority is getting to somewhere safe. Then we can look at evidence or try to find the others, but we need to put ourselves first.”
“Wow, Trix.” Rika bites her lip and looks at the ground. I can hear the hurt in her tone. “I thought you would help.”
“I will help!” I grab her hand. She yanks it away.
“If you’re not coming then I’m going on my own.”
I sigh. “Rika-”
“No! People have died, this isn’t a game! We could be next, o-or our friends- we need to find the killer. Don’t you see? We need to!”
I look at Fox. He just shrugs.
“Okay, then. But no dying trying to be a hero. I can’t lose you.”
A quiet, whispered word. “I know.”
I guess we really are the chosen ones, huh?
Going off to save our friends.
Except I don’t feel brave. I feel as scared as I’ve always been.

Elements of fantasy, fairy tales or mythology
508 words

We walk in silence. Tension coats the air, snaking underneath our boots that hit the floor in a dull, thumping rhythm. On and on. On and on.
I don’t know how long we’ve been walking for. Hours, days, months. This is all there is and all there is is this.
Until we trip over a dead body.
Rika recoils; I freeze still. It’s Clove. Clover. Her green-suited limbs are splayed in awkward positions, spread beneath her like a fallen star. Heat flushes my body, followed by a wave of cold, ice trickling down my spine. Rika’s about to call for help and I am too, but then Fox grabs us from behind, covering our mouths. My first thought is that’s it's Fox; he's the killer; he killed them; he’ll kill us; I struggle free but he hangs on -
Dimly, his hissed words register in my panicking brain, and I fall limp.
“Be quiet. Whoever killed her will be the closest and we’ll have led them straight to us.”
What was I thinking? Of course it’s not him. I was stupid. We need to get away from here.
I pick a direction at random and we keep walking, making our steps as quiet as possible. I regret leaving the body back there - but what were we going to do with it? Take it with us?
I stumble over something; Fox curses as the noise echoes through the corridor. But soon I don’t care about the noise, when I see what it is that I tripped over, and the world begins to go dark at the edges.
A mushroom.
I don’t know why it scared me so much but it’s just… wrong. Wrong wrong wrong wrong wrong. It shouldn’t be here. Why is it here?
I sway, grabbing onto Rika’s shoulder to steady myself. Everything’s spinning.
“She’s having another panic attack? Really? Now?” There’s no sympathy in Fox’s tone.
“She’s not having a panic attack!” Rika snaps back. “She just needs a minute. Let her.”
I blink to clear my vision, clutch at my chest to slow my pounding heart. I take deep breaths before I speak.
“What is that doing here?”
“What?” Fox and Rita look puzzled.
“That!” I say, gesturing at the floor-
Except it’s gone. The mushroom. It’s gone.
“W-where did it go?” A sense of doom sweeps over me. This is creeping me out.
“Oh,” Rika’s voice is breathless. “I see it.”
I raise my eyes. The apprehension in the pit of my stomach intensifies. It multiplied.
There’s a ring of them now. Mushrooms. A perfect circle, growing up out of the cold lifeless metal.
“A fairy ring,” Fox murmurs. “I guess they’re real after all. You step in that and you’re dead meat. They’ll take your soul and make it theirs.”
I shiver.
“Who’s they?”
“Fairies, I guess.”
We stand in silence, staring, staring, staring.
“We should go,” Rika breaks my daze.
We turn around. We go.
But I can still feel a prickling on the back of my neck.
Almost like someone’s watching me.

Revenge
439 words

We walk for another ten minutes or so. Maybe longer, maybe shorter. I can’t keep track of time in this place. Anyway, I didn’t see a single other mushroom. The fear was actually beginning to ease off - that is, until Rika suddenly stops around the corner.
“G-guys?” She stutters. “Maybe you should see this.”
“See what?” I peer over her shoulder - and gasp.
The entire corridor in front of us is covered in vines, leaves, trees and mushrooms. Twisting their way up to the ceiling, pushing cracks into the walls, covering equipment in a big green thorny mass. Plants are everywhere, covering everything, the corridor crisscrossed with a maze of vines as thick as my entire body. There’s no way we’re getting past it.
Fox voices the thought in everyone’s head. “So… what do we do?”
“No idea.” I respond. Rika stays silent, carefully reaching out a finger to touch one of the mushrooms.
And suddenly the vines beneath it surge up, swaying and roiling like a stormy ocean, before grabbing her with hundreds of tendrils and dragging her into the green, green, green of the corridor. Fox stumbles back at the same time as I reach out, Rika’s screams muffled by the huge plants.
“Rika!” I shout, not caring who hears me anymore. “Give her back! Bring her back!”
She’s sinking under the vines faster now. Soon she won’t be able to breathe. I have to save her I have to I have to-
“And why should we?” The voice is flowing, hissing, so familiar yet so unnatural at the same time. It takes me a minute to realise it isn’t one voice, but many, a chorus of whispers.
“Because I’ll burn all your vines down if you don’t!” Fox threatens, taking a lighter out of his pocket and brandishing it at the greenery. “What use is a leaf spirit - fairy - whatever you are - if you don’t have your plants?”
“We can always make more.” The spirits mock.
“But why do you need her?” I ask. “She never hurt you!”
“Her species hurt me.” The voices are dark, angry. “This is revenge. We will make you all pay.”
“Revenge for what?” I’m desperate now.
“For building a ship of metal and death on my soil. For running away from me when you humans can never live without nature. For being so arrogant, so ungrateful. Killing your own species. All of that.”
“W-we’ll help you!” I grab Fox’s lighter and throw it to the ground. “We’ll find the killer and we’ll land the ship and destroy it!”
“But why should I believe you?”
The vine’s grip on Rika tightens.

Breaking the fourth wall
365 words

“You seen us killing anyone?” Fox calls out. “We’re trustworthy, see? We can help each other. Just hand her over.”
“You were the one who was about to burn me. No, I don’t think I will.”
I stifle a scream as Rika gets dragged completely under. Please - you have to help us!
Yes, you! You think I didn’t know that you’ve been following us around the entire time? Don’t just stand there, DO SOMETHING! Can’t you see that she’s going to die???
Well, I don’t know what to do either! If you haven’t noticed, me and Fox have actually been trying. What have you been doing, huh? What have you done to help our friend?
“Trix!” Fox grabs my arm. “Calm down, okay? We can come up with a plan.”
“How?” I laugh, hysterically. “The spirit wants us all dead because you TRIED TO SET IT ON FIRE!”
“We still can! Where the hell did you put my lighter?” It’s obvious that he’s just as panicked as I am.
“You’re not thinking straight!”
“Well, do you have any better ideas?”
I scream with frustration.
We have to do something, we have to think of something, anything-
I brace myself and run head-on into the vines. Thorns scratch and leaves flutter and big thick green rope binds itself around my hands except its not rope its the vines and I yell and thrash but they’re too strong far too strong I can’t get out help me you have to try help me -
“BEATRIX!” Fox grabs my hand and pulls me up, you holding onto him and him holding onto me, and the vines fall away from my feet and spit me and Rika out onto the cold, cold floor.
As we gasp for breath, the spirit speaks one more time.
“Very brave of you, human. Maybe your species isn’t as bad as I thought. Stay out of my way and I won’t hurt you.”
And then the vines go limp and begin to brown at the edges and we run out of there, blindly choosing paths around corners until we find ourselves in a large room - the cafeteria, I realise - and slump to the floor, defeated.

Zai’s Very Amazing Lasagne Booth
119 words

We sit there for a while. Again, not entirely sure how long. Again, thinking we were safe.
Just like we did before this all started. Just like we did before that plant tried to eat us.
And then the singing started. A haunting, lilting lullaby.

You think you’re safe, but are you really?
As you wander our ship dark and dreary
Rooms and corridors dim and eerie
I’ll be waiting when you weary

When the night begins getting late
Isn’t everything just great
Whatever happens must be fate
I’ll be there, and I will wait

I am waiting I am watching
I am thinking I am plotting
I am looking I am knocking
I am waiting I am watching

Setting - Messy/Clean
91 words

It’s unnerving. What’s even more unnerving is that all the chairs and tables, stacked haphazardly all over the place, begin to very slowly float. They glide into their proper places, landing quietly again. Except not their proper places. A circle. All around us. Surrounding us, hemming us in.
And then we hear the footsteps. It’s the killer. Without a doubt, it’s the killer.
I find myself wondering who it is. Who it was that betrayed their friends.
A figure slips out of the shadows. I can’t see the colour. Not yet.

Magic Realism
450 words

The lights flicker. On and off. On and off.
They must be manipulating the light, I realise. I’m not very good at Illusions myself, but others are really quite gifted.
I’m oddly calm. It’s strange. I thought I would be full-out panicking by now. I’m not. I guess I’ve just come to terms with the fact I’m about to die.
And then the killer speaks. Giggling between their words, their speech has a horribly sweet tone. It makes me feel sick.
“Hello,” They snicker. “Someone to play with. I haven’t seen someone else in a long, long time. Hehe.”
“Get away from me.” Someone steps forward, and I find that it’s Fox. He’s braver than I thought, he really is.
“But why would you want to leave when the game’s just begun? Hehe. Hehe.” The killer - it’s a she, I think - is still in shadow, but I can see how short she is. She looks like a child.
What happened to her to turn her like this?
A SMASH echoes out of nowhere, and four people suddenly fall from the ceiling; I jump and stumble backwards as Rika runs towards them as if to attack but no she’s hugging them - she’s hugging them? The killer gives a shout and runs, outnumbered by far too many. I can’t see the direction they go because I am falling to my knees, relief washing over me. We’re safe we’re safe we’re safe we’re finally safe.
“How did you do that?” I can hear the awe in Rika’s voice from across the cafeteria. I stand, and Fox and I make our way over to Rika and our saviours.
“Yeah. How?” Fox asks. His usual sarcasm is long gone. I kind of miss the old Fox, but then again, I sort of don’t. Just like I sort-of-not-sort-of miss the old me.
“Illusions.” The kid with the coral-coloured suit smiles. “They’re underrated, you know.”
Ellis. Her name’s Ellis. Rika’s friend - I remember her now.
The others step out from behind her; there are four of them. Avery, Ellis’s older sister, wearing a white suit that nearly matches her incredibly light-coloured hair. She’s still a couple of years younger than me and Rika, I think. Younger than Fox, too - maybe about eleven? The other two I don’t know. The black-suited one introduces themself as Emerson, and they look about Fox’s age - a young teenager. They look related to the one in the cyan suit. He (the cyan guy) says his name is Finley, and he’s older than me and Rika. Sixteen, maybe? He’s smirking, with a tall, lean build and his hands in his pockets. I think I’ve seen him around somewhere, but I could be wrong.

Character who was thought to be dead is actually alive
257 words

“Thank you,” I say. “For rescuing us. We would’ve been dead for sure.”
“Did you see who it was?” Ellis asked.
“It was too dark for us,” Avery interjects.
“No,” I say. “I was hoping you guys saw.”
Emerson shakes their head.
“Where should we go now?” Fox asked, standing next to Finley. I didn’t know they knew each other.
“I don’t know,” Emerson says. “But maybe we should stay here. It’s easy to defend. Big, so we can see anyone coming.”
“Well, me and Fox and Beatrix are trying to find who the killer is. So, we’ll have to leave you guys then.” Rika says, with her trademark straightforward-ness.
“Not necessarily,” Emerson says. They’re not the eldest here, but they definitely seem the smartest. Then again, Finley hasn’t spoken much, so I don’t know.
“Staying here makes us an irresistible target,” they continue. “The killer knows they can’t beat us, BUT if we stay here for long enough for them to have picked off everyone else, they’ll come for us next. For sure.”
“Waiting for them to pick off the others?” I ask. “The entire point was to save people-”
“Yeah,” Fox interrupts. “But would you rather save people you don’t know or your friends?”
“Besides,” says Avery. “We don’t even know who the killer is. I think we should stay here. To protect Ellis.”
“Yeah,” Finley backs her up. “We don’t have a clue who it could be.”
A voice suddenly speaks, low and quiet.
“I do.”
We turn around and there is Clove. Alive.

Nostalgia
285 words

I stand, frozen. Shocked.
“But we saw you!” Rika bursts out. “Y-you were dead!”
“The killer thought so too.” Clove winces. “I was close to it. Dying, I mean. But I’m mostly fine now. So can I join your alliance?”
“Of course!” Emerson says, and Finley nods.
“Who is it?” Ellis asks, quietly. “The killer. Who is it?”
Clove doesn’t seem to hear her. “You know, if this happened a few months ago I’d be going after them and swearing revenge upon my life. But… I’m sick of it. Of the violence. Sometimes I miss what this place used to be like.”
A burst of nostalgia shoots through me.
“Me too.” I whisper. “Me too.”
I remember the easy humour I used to have. I would joke around with Rika for hours on end. I left my sensible self behind when we left our home planet, and it was great. We were all so carefree, so happy. I wish it had stayed. I wish I wish I wish.
But we’ve grown up.
Murders started and we were running scared but now we’re so caught up in this plot, risking our lives for our friends, trying to find the killer. I’m not like Rika. I’m not determined, a hero. I just want this all to be over.
I look up. Ellis is burying her head in Avery’s shoulder, Avery’s eyes are wet. Rika looks determined, like I thought - but regretful, too. Fox bites his lip and looks at the ground. I think it’s nostalgia and regret in his eyes, too. Emerson just looks resigned. Even Finley’s lost his casual stance, standing stiff with fists clenched.
Something happened to us. We’re not how we used to be.

Ending
602 words

Is that what happened with the killer? Maybe we left her out, or something. Maybe she was jealous.
Anyway. Whoever murdered our friends can’t be redeemed. We need to capture her, throw her out of the ship, never to be seen again.
I feel a twinge of guilt.
Does she really deserve that?
Emerson’s voice cuts me out of my thoughts. “Clove? Who was it?” Their voice croaks, and they try to clear their throat.
Clove wipes her eyes. “You ever seen that kid who kept standing in the corner doing nothing? That one. Rose-coloured suit.”
“Solana.” Finley speaks up.
Emerson nods.
“Wondered what her deal was,” Fox says.
“We need to take her down,” Rika says.
“I can’t believe she betrayed us,” says Avery.
“I thought she was my friend,” says Ellis.
I say nothing.
My neck prickles.
And the lilting, syrupy sweet voice comes again.
“You said my name.”
Solana slips out of the shadows.
Rika leans forward, aggression in her eyes. Emerson steps forward to join her. Fox doesn’t make a move but I can see him preparing himself, fists up, ready. Clove looks around, awkwardly, before doing the same. Me and Finley both freeze, unsure. And Avery and Ellis lean away, refusing to meet Solana’s eyes but refusing to join the conflict against her.
“I know you want to kill me.” The killer whispers. “I know it makes sense.”
“Of course it makes sense! You killed our friends!” Emerson glares at her.
“I’m just saying,” The little girl murmurs. “You killing me would make you no better than I am.”
“But we’d kill you for a good reason,” Fox says, his voice harsh, cold.
Solana looks him straight in the eye.“But do you think that maybe I had a good reason too?”
There’s nothing we can say to that.
“We’re all evil in some way. Not just me. And you know it.” Solana sits, gracefully, at one of the chairs. Like she doesn’t have a care in the world.
“So I give myself up. Go on, do it. Kill me.”
“What?” Finley looks confused. “Why would you-”
“You’re not brave enough.” She grinned smugly. “You won’t.”
“Oh, I won’t, will I?” Someone springs forward, and to my surprise, it’s Avery.
“You hurt me and you hurt my sister and you killed my friend.” She spits out the words. “You deserve what you’ll get, you’re a murder, you-”
“Avery!”
She looks down. Ellis has grabbed onto her arm, holding on tight.
“Avery, this isn't you! Look what she’s done to you!”
“Ellis, I’m trying to do what’s right for you.”
Avery pulls her arm away, but Ellis grips her suit instead.
“Killing people isn’t right! Don’t you see what this place has done to us?”
“I.. I agree.” Finley steps up. “We’ve all changed. Look at each other, and what we were prepared to do. We’re different. I don’t know if that makes sense or not.”
“It does.” Fox says. “We’ve all taken sides. Why did we do that? Why can’t we just be us anymore?”
“I.. don’t know.” The voice is mine.
“It doesn’t matter!” Ellis speaks up. “What matters is we need to go back home.”
Home. I’ve missed it, I really have.

I watch as Finley and Rika take Solana away to somewhere she can be safe, as well as secure to make sure she doesn’t kill anyone again. And then we all sit down in the dark cafeteria and talk about what we’ll do when we get back home.
And maybe, just maybe, things could go back to the way they used to be.

aaaa I don't like the ending but oh well-

Weekly #4 (3438 Words)

Beginning (105 Words)

I kick the neighbor's bush as I make my way down the sidewalk. My arms are crossed and my teeth are clenched. One of my neighbors whom I'd never bothered to get to know waves at me. I just glare at her and continue on my way home. As I'm walking up my driveway I resist the urge to kick something since kicking my dad's car probably wasn't a good idea. I let myself in and slam the door behind me. I hear my mom shout something from her room, but I completely ignore her. I kick off my shoes and head to my room.

Battleground: Battlegrounds (391 Words)

“In these 200 words, a character reveals one of their main motives is revenge.”

I lay down on my bed and stare at the bug on my ceiling. I have so much rage inside of me and no way to let it all out. I ball up my fists and punch the air. It doesn't satisfy me so I sit up and punch my pillow. I pick my pillow up and scream into it. Why did this have to be happening to me? Just an hour earlier I'd been hanging out with my friends not a care in the world. I'd had normal problems just like any normal teenager, homework, crushes, annoying teachers. My friend Eric had invited me to his place for dinner and I'd agreed to come, I mean what kind of kid turns down an offer to hang out at his best friend's house?
We'd been chilling in his room, watching tv and teasing his sister while eating the snacks his mother had brought up to us. Suddenly, Eric had turned to me after pausing the movie. He gestured for his sister to get out and after he'd left he looked at me and opened his mouth to say something. Before actually saying anything he seemed to change his mind.
He then pulled out his phone and pulled up a text from his girlfriend. I'd never liked her and both of them knew that. I was almost positive that she was using him, but Eric didn't believe me so that was that. He then shows me texts from her, texts about me. Texts saying that if he wanted to keep her he was going to have to stop hanging out with me.
She had forced Eric to choose between the two of us and he'd chosen to leave me. After everything we'd been through, after everything we'd done for each other he just decided to throw it all away for some girl he'd been dating for less than a month! Some girl that was probably only dating him because she knew that he would do anything for her. I hated both of them. I regretted being friends with Eric. I regretted all the things we'd done together. I regretted every minute I'd spent with him and I was going to get revenge on the girl that stole my best friend from me if it was the last thing I ever did.

Sabotage: “In order to fix the lights take a 15 minute nap or just relax and do nothing for 15 minutes.”

Minigame: Failed

Throne Room: Ghost Shrine (413 Words)

Flashback:

I try not to think about what had happened and turn back over to bury my face in my pillow. I remember all the time me and Eric had spent with each other. While every moment Is or was precious to me one in particular stands out. Last summer me and Eric had gone bike riding. Our parents had driven us to a trail and then gone out to do whatever parents enjoyed doing with each other in their free time. Me and Eric had gotten onto our bikes and started off on the trail. It was one of those trails that was steep on your way to the end, but your way back was down a hill making all of your efforts worth it. We'd visited this trail before, but we'd never made it to the end. We'd always given up exhausted halfway, called it quits, and made our way back, but this time me and Eric had been determined to make it to the end and back.
We'd started off strong, pedaling as hard as we could and taking as little amount of breaks as possible so that we could finish off faster and reserve the small amount of water we'd brought for when things really started to get tough. We'd almost made it to the top when I'd run over a rock in the path and fallen off my bike. Eric had immediately gotten off of his bike to make sure that I was okay. He'd helped me up and asked me if I was alright. I'd told him that my leg really hurt and he examined it. He asked me if I could walk. I tried and immediately lost my balance. He caught me and told me that we should both get home. I'd told him that he should at least finish the trail, but he shook his head and helped me slowly limp down the trail.
After he'd called my parents and got them to take me home to rest he walked back up the trail to get both of our bikes. He'd done so much for me that day and he'd done it because he cared about me. Then when the school year started he'd been asked out by some girl and he'd started to not care about me as much. She became his everything when it used to be me that he cared for. I used to be his everything and he used to be mine.

Sabotage: "In order to put out the roof fire, stop working on this weekly and eat something or drink water in small sips for at least 5 minutes.

Minigame: Succeeded

Dinging Hall: Dystopian, Sci-Fi, and Thriller (245 Words)

“ For 5 minutes incorporate features of Dystopain, Sci-Fi, or Thriller into your writing.”

I wish I could go back in time and fix everything, make sure she and Eric never got together in the first place. Make sure that Eric knew that I was the one for him and that no one could ever get between us. I'd make sure he knew that nothing would ever pull us apart. I get up and head to my bookshelf. I'm a bit of a science nerd and I have quite the collection of books relating to things like time machines and space and such. I know I'd never actually mess with a time machine, but I pull a book off the shelf about time machines just for fun. I read about the dangers of traveling back in time. About how doing one small thing could change the entire world you live in. About how going back in time is dangerous and illegal because taking the chance of traveling back in time was dangerous and a bad idea no matter what. The only time someone has ever traveled back in time was when the time machine was being tested. After that, it had been locked away to make sure that it was never used again. There had been a lot of people debating if they should destroy it or not, but it had mostly been decided that destroying such a crazy unbelievable invention was not a good idea, especially because of the money they would have to pay to the inventor.

Sabotage: “Than at least three people in swc for everything they do.”

Minigame: Succeeded

Theater: Rec Room (408 Words)

“Write at least 200 words where your character is magically transported to another world!”

I decide to go outside to try and clear my head. I climb up my favorite tree and lean back on my branch to look at the sky. The sky is covered in clouds and it looks as if it's about to rain, but I ignore my instincts telling me that it's not the best idea to be outside right now and continue to sit on the branch. Suddenly I hear thunder as it starts to pour. I start to get up, ready to climb down from my tree and get back inside, but before I can so much as start to climb down the sky flashes and I see a strike of lightning which almost looks as if it's going to hit me. Oh cr-p a think as I realize that it is indeed about to strike the tree that I'm still on. Before I can even move the lightning hits the tree.
Strangely I don't feel anything. I can't feel the tree that I was sitting on and I can't even feel the pain that I would think I would feel after being struck by freaking lightning. Is this what death feels like? All of a sudden I start to gain my senses back. I can feel the ground underneath me. When I open my eyes I realize I'm definitely not at home anymore. I slowly start to get up and look around. The more I look around the more I notice how ff everything is here. I'm in a field of grass, but the grass doesn't really seem like grass. It's almost as if the ground is hollow. I can see the sky and the clouds, but it doesn't look like their nearly as high up as they should be. I strangest part is that everything is completely silent, even my own feet down make a sound as I walk on the strange grass.
As I continue to walk I notice that it doesn't seem like I'm getting anywhere. It's like the field goes on forever. Suddenly I see a hole in the ground. I look down into it. I can't seem to see an end to it, but I'm tired of this never-ending field so I take a deep breath in and walk right into it. My body does that fake fall thing and I wake up realizing the whole thing was just a dream. Sadly the whole situation with Eric wasn't.

Sabotage: “Stop working on this weekly and allow yourself to just listen to music, or look at pictures of landscaped or scenery for at least ten minutes without doing anything else.”

Minigame: Succeeded

Bulletin Board Room: Rankings (212 Words)

“Ask one of the campers in the cabin opposite you in the rankings in the mc description (fantasy.) You must write for 10 minutes using this prompt.”

Prompt: You are roaming around and find yourself in the woods, and there you find a secret… (tysm twi!)

I wake up early to take a walk in the woods. Taking a nice walk in the morning has always been calming to me so after everything that's been happening I decided to take a walk and clear my mind. As I'm walking I try and avoid thinking about Eric. I try and focus on the sounds of the woods. I breathe in the scent of the wilderness. I've always been a morning person. I enjoy being awake when the sun rises and the birds start chirping. Lately, I've been having some issues sleeping, probably because of everything that's been going on. As I continue to walk through the forest I try to pay more attention to my surroundings. I spot some vines that I'd never noticed before. I brush them to the side and gasp. There's an area of grass in the middle of some trees. I see some parchment and a stack of books on a tree trunk. I remember when my cousin used to live with us and she would always be in the forest. She'd told me that she had found a “hidden place” that she's always run off to. He'd always thought that she was exaggerating about it, but it looked as if it had been true.

Sabotage: “Come up with five reasons why you appreciate a scratch team member, then send it to them.”

Minigame: Failed

Workshops: Fanfic: Character Consistency (334 Words)

“Incorporate a character from your character's favorite fandom into your story, and write at least 300 words.”

A day passes and I still can't stop thinking about Eric. I've tried a countless number of things trying to forget about him, but no matter what I do things still seem to flop. I'm really starting to think that the world is just out to get me at this point. I decide to go visit the mall and maybe check out some stores. Maybe buying myself something or at least finding something to put on my wishlist and save up for would put me in a better mood. I entire the mall and head to the escalator. For some reason standing on one of them has always been thrilling to me ever since I was a child. No matter how many times I've been on one it just never seems to get old. When I get to the top I look around for a shop to look around in. I start to head to a book shop and find myself walking straight into somebody. When I look up, about to apologize my eyes widen. Right in front of me was Joe Keery the actor of my favorite character Steve in Stranger Things! I immediately apologize to him.
“Oh my gosh I- I'm so sorry I- I- I wasn't paying attention I'm so sorry it won't happen again.” I wanted to slap myself for being so stupid with my apology, but that would have just made the whole situation worse.
“No you're fine don't worry about it,” he said about to walk off. Remembering that I'd literally just run into my favorite actor and character of all time I reach into my bag. I luckily have a pen and paper and chase after him.
“Actually um, do you think… Would you mind giving me your autograph?” I breathed.
“Yeah, sure thing.” He said signing the paper.
“Thank you so much.”
“Yeah, no problem.” I hug the paper to my chest. I cannot believe that just happened. Maybe this was just the distraction I needed.

Sabotage: In order to contain the gas leak, stop working on this weekly and do something else creative for fifteen minutes."

Minigame: Failed (ahh not on my own flag :sob: )

Boom Boom Broom Closet: (omg the name slay) Aviary (118 Words)

“Write for five minutes, where a flock of birds appear and have some significance in the setting.”

I leave the mall deicing that I definitely got the distraction that I needed. I sit down on a bench outside of the mall and look up at the sky. I see a flock of birds circling the sky, chasing each other, probably having fun. I bet they're all friends hanging out together. I bet they're like a family, their own friend group. I never really had one of those, a friend group I mean. It was always just me and Eric. We would do things with each other. We didn't need anyone else. He looked out for me and I would look out for him. Maybe that was what I needed. Some new friends, a fresh start. Wasn't that how it usually went anyways? You grew apart from some of your old friends and made new friends. Maybe if I had made other friends instead of just thinking me and Eric would be best friends forever I wouldn't be in this situation. I wouldn't feel so alone, so lost.I look back at the birds and smile. Maybe it was time I hung out with some new people.

Sabotage: “Stop working on this weekly and write a list of ten awesome things about a person who has impacted you significantly.”

Minigame: Failed

Daily Team Room: Zai (262 Words)

“For the next 15 minutes, you must make a new line for every 8-10 words you write.”

At school the next day I completely ignore Eric.
During lunch, I decide to sit with some people in my Spanish
class and I honestly have a really great time hanging out
with other people. All my life I had been hanging out
with just Eric and it wasn't until now that I realized
how fun it was to be able to hang out with a group of
people. You could listen to multiple people talk and chat and
you could just simply add something when you found that
you related to the topic that was being discussed.
I end up hanging out with them for the rest of the week
and one of them even invited me to their house after
school! I do still quite miss Eric, but I'm starting to realize
that when people change you have to change with them.
Whenever I see Eric in the halls he's either by himself or
with his girlfriend. It's honestly his loss. If he wanted to choose her
over me he can struggle to have any real friends on his own.
I find myself starting to get over the whole situation with
Eric. I'm distracted enough hanging out with my new friends that
I don't find myself thinking about him as often and I'm
having enough fun with my new friends that I'm not bored
wishing that I could hang out with Eric. Sure I do miss
him and there are certain things in him that I'll
probably never find again in a friend, but I'm slowly learning to let go.

Sabotage: “Stop working on this daily and write a list of at least 5 achievements you're proud of.”

Minigame: Succeeded

Photo: Memory Book: Photography Room (272 Words)

“Your character feels a sudden burst of nostalgia.”

I arrive at the sleepover with some of my new friends I'd been hanging out with for the past week. I knock on the door and I'm immediately let in and welcomed to the sleepover. I suddenly realize that this is the first sleepover I've attended without Eric. The nostalgia hits me, all the all-nighters we'd pulled, the jokes we'd tell, the spooky stories. I remembered all of the pranks we'd pulled on Eric's sister, all the snacks we'd shared, all the movies we'd watched The truth, I really did miss him.
I had been trying not to think about him and it had been a little bit easier with my new friend around, but all the same, things wouldn't be the same without him. I thoughts about Eric's dad and his mom. I thoughts about how kind they'd always been to me. How they'd always treated me like family. I wondered if they treated Eric's new girlfriend the same way. I wondered if Eric missed me the same way that I missed him. I wondered if Eric felt as if his life would never be the same now that I wasn't in it, now that we were no longer best friends.
I think of all the promises we'd made. The promises that we'd be together forever by each other's sides. We'd broken all of those promises. The promises we'd kept for years and we'd broken them all in one night. I shake my head. Now was not the time to be thinking about Eric. Tonight was about my new friends. It was time to prove that I could live without him.

Sabotage: “Stop working on this weekly and find a book or online article to read for 10 minutes.”

Minigame: Succeeded

Rooftop: Mango Trees (137 Words)

I'd just got home from me and my new friend's sleepover when I heard my cellphone ring. I looked at the number and gasped. It was my grandfather's old number. I wondered how someone had gotten a hold of his number after he'd died. Maybe it was his wife (though she didn't seem to have a whole lot of interaction with people after her husband had died. I accepted the call and nearly dropped the phone when I heard my grandfather's voice.
“Grandpa!? How- Is this really you?”
“Yes grandson, it's really me.”
“But, I- I thought you were dead. I thought you were stranded at sea and drowned.”
“The rest of my crew did, but I managed to survive.” I can't believe it he's alive… He's alive!“
”Mom! Dad! You'll never believe who's on the phone!"

“Leave your story unresolved with a cliffhanger.” (541 Words)

asflkhd sorry if the ending seems like I put no effort into it lol I was watching iron man while writing this lmao

The next day at school I was hanging out with my friends from class during lunch. I glance over at Eric and his girlfriend's usual table, but I don't see Eric. I don't pay much attention to it and just assume that he's still in his previous class. His girlfriend glances at me and I scowl at her before turning back to my friends. I hadn't told them about the whole Eric situation and I didn't need them asking why I kept looking over at some girl. Lunch goes on and Eric still doesn't show up.
“Hey, what's up,” my friend Aiden asks tapping my shoulder.
“Huh?”
“I said what's up.”
“Oh nothing, just thinking.”
“About what?”
“Nothing.”
“If you say so,” he said shrugging. He then turns his back to me and joins the current conversation. The bell rings signaling the end of lunch and there is still no sign of Eric. I try and tell myself I shouldn't be thinking about him, but something just doesn't feel the same without him. I follow my friends on our way to our next period. We all have a free period together and we were planning on playing dungeons and dragons. I'd never played before, but they promised they'd teach me how to play and that I could team up with one of them for my first game. I keep an eye out for Eric. Maybe he just had an appointment or went home sick.
“So what do you know about dungeons and dragons?” Aiden asks me.
“Um, pretty much nothing to be honest. They play it in Stranger Things one scene right?”
“I wouldn't know I've never seen it.”
“Never seen Stranger Things?”
“Yeah, don't judge.”
“Oh I'm judging.” Stranger Things was me and Eric's favorite Netflix series. We used to watch it all the time whenever we were at each other's houses. I try and clear my head. Why was I still thinking about him? He'd left me for some stupid girl without a second thought.
“Bro you sure your alright?”
“Huh.”
“It's just you keep spacing out.”
“Oh yeah sorry, like I said I'm just thinking.”
“About a girl.”
“Yes and no.”
“I have no idea what you're implying.”
“Look it doesn't matter, I shouldn't be thinking about it anyways.”
“Come on man, tell us.”
“I- you know what fine.”
“We're listening.”
“My best friend of years, well my whole life left me for some stupid girl that I'm pretty sure is just using him anyways.”
“What makes you think that?”
“She bullied both of us when we were younger and all of the sudden she just decided she's in love with him.”
“That sucks man, but why does it bother you so much? Obviously, you just dodged a bullet.”
“I dunno I guess I'm just-”
“Just what?”
“I'm just- just- I'm just jealous-” I blurt out. There's an awkward moment of silence.
“I'm sorry man.”
“Yeah.”
“Yeah.” Before anyone can say anything else can say anything Eric enters the room.
“I- Eric what are you doing here? Did you hear any of-”
“No I- Why does it matter?”
“It doesn't Why are you here.”
“Look I'm sorry you were right about her. I'm asking for your forgiveness.”

Adventure Cache

Word Count: 309

Logan sat alone on a roof, staring at the sky. It was here, in the stillness of the night, under the sky, that he felt closest to his mother, who he’d lost when he was only three. It was nice to feel even slightly less alone.
It wasn’t that he wasn’t used to being alone, he was. But for the past year, the past glorious year, he’d had Tim by his side.
Tim.
Even the name felt like a punch to the gut. It had been weeks since Tim had revealed himself as a traitor, consequently forcing Logan to flee the city, and as much as he told himself he was, he still hadn’t gotten over it. Yeah, Tim was a willing thief. Yeah, he wasn’t always the nicest. But he was the first person who’d ever treated him like an equal. Like a brother, practically.
To realize that none of that had been real…
Logan shivered, wishing yet again he had a jacket.
The late November wind never felt so cold.

A young boy sat alone on a roof, staring at the sky. It was late at night, and as the lights of the city slowly shut off, the deep blue-black sky filled with more and more stars.
The city was always a bustling place, but at this hour, things were slowing to a crawl as people rushed home for the night. Up on the roof, everything was quiet and still.
The building the boy was at happened to be slightly taller than the rest, casting the other buildings in shadow from the moon shining above it.
Lining the streets below were rows of small trees, which were all but bare at this point, though they were all surrounded by piles of leaves, in bright crimsons and golds.
The boy shivered.
The late November wind was cold.

Vc555 wrote:

Aster And The Stars

Millions of tiny stars filled the vast night sky, like little diamonds shining in the moon’s light. Aster had never seen any night like tonight, and she gazed in awe of the mysterious black void stretched in front and above her, but as she heard heavy footsteps thumping towards her and the campfire, she immediately turned away. She grabbed a stone from the rocky ground below and her spear and started to sharpen it for the next hunting session with her clanmates. See, she was part of the Bear Tribe, and her leaders and tribemates disapproved of the time she was wasting by always getting off track by looking at ‘that ordinary black thing’ above. “It’s called a sky!’ I told them. But they didn’t care. Not like I do.

The Bear Tribe believed that every clan member should always be alert. Not ‘wasting time’ doing ‘pointless stuff’. And never have fun, Aster thought to herself bitterly. But she knew that they were right. With the war with Robin Tribe, Shark Tribe, Claw Tribe - and their many allies - on the peak, they must be cautious. Everywhere.

A pair of glittering, stern eyes coming closer to her distracted Aster from her thoughts. She fumbled with her spear and started scraping the rock against the pointed metal, as if she was doing this the whole time. Suddenly, the eyes jumped to the edge of the campfire, just so that the face around it was lit up by the flames. “BOO!” shouted a familiar voice. Aster’s muscles tensed, but then relaxed as she heard the warm laughing of her older brother, Jay. Her blood boiled hot with embarrassment.
“Don’t scare me like that!” she huffed at her brother. Aster glared at Jay. His eyes were shining with amusement and suspicion, but mostly love. “Anyway,” she mumbled. “You distracted me from my work.”
“Oh, I see. You were very hard at work! I’m so sorry for distracting you from your very important task.” Jay said sarcastically. “You can’t fool me, Az. I know what you were doing.” He chuckled, but then, with a sterner voice, murmured, “You know Fallon won’t approve.”

Aster knew her older brother spoke the truth. Fallon, the frightening, ill-tempered leader of the Tribe and the leader of this hunt, would definitely be displeased.

“But what’s the problem?!” she lashed out. “I have the power over my actions, and I can do what I want to do! No one else can stop me!”

“You might have the power over your actions, but not your consequences,” Jay sighed. They both knew Fallon was powerful, and they both knew that he wouldn’t stop until he crushed his opponents and claimed victory in the war. He was someone to be feared, for sure.
They both stayed silent for a few heartbeats.
But a voice broke the silence.

“Heh. Well well well, what do we have here? A couple of Bear Tribe rascals?”

Jay and Aster both whipped around to see dozens of warriors, fully armed with armour and quivers packed with death-dealing arrows, surrounding them with their bows drawn. And aiming right at them.

Tension radiated from Aster and her brother. They both were thinking the same things.

1: Claw Tribe
2: Enemy
3: Invasion

I actually really like this! It's not bad like you say ;D

There was a new library in town and I was absolutely ecstatic to see it. I woke up at 5 am, getting ready to go to the library, which opened at 6:30, and I got ready, wore my new dress, and sat on my cycle. Exactly five minutes before 6:30, I started cycling.
The experience was fabulous. The air, so fresh and cold, whipped against my face, and I felt fresh and hopeful. When I reached the library, I was awestruck by its appearance. It was so beautiful! Made of polished white marble, it had a sign called “Town library”, Yes, lame, but awfully appealing too. The door was made of wood, and as I entered inside it, I got lost in it soon enough.
I found myself among a lot of books, and when I picked one of them, I was immediately transported. There, I heard a hysterical cry.
“IMCOMINGGGGG” I was horrified, and what horrified me more was the fact that it was me shouting. “Oh, who are you?” said the other me, also totally dumbstruck by the resemblance.
“I'm you. I mean, you're me. “ I said shaking my head. “I mean, nothing.”
“No, no I got it! Everyone here looks the same,” she said
And then I saw me as a lawyer, a doctor, a nurse, a kid stumbling among a field of flowers, and a baby version of me. And, of course, this crazy me that stood in front of me, braces shining just like mine, and the same blue eyes and shiny teeth.
The lawyer came and examined me closely. “Well, well. Who do we have here?” She had brimmed golden glasses and searching eyes. She was fabulous. Just fabulous.

Weekly #4

Beginning - First 100 words

A silver flash whirled through the forest.
Silverwing ran as fast as she could, her scales reflecting the moonlight. She didn’t know why she was running. She didn’t even know how. The only thought in her mind was to get away from her home. She had to get away now.
She stopped at a pool of water, panting. She saw her reflection, dirty and grubby, her wings smudged with mud. She glanced at the moon.
It was full. The moon was full and so big Silverwing felt as if she could reach out and touch it.
Should I go back?
I should.
I have to.
I can’t leave her there.
Even if this was all for nothing.
She turned around and, reluctantly, returned to the only place she could call home.

In-Cabin Duel (basically a word war):

Ignore the grammar/spelling mistakes lol.

Mozart was perhaps the greatest classical pianist to ever roam the earth. And yes, today I will be talking about Mozart for what will possibly be the fifth time this session. But I just love Mozart, so shall we continue? First of all, Mozart is the king of all classical music. Yes, this is a highly subjective topic but I know what I believe. Mozart was a god of all classical music and he was just so talented at what he did. He was awesome at composing music and writing music and probably at performing music. I wish photographs came out during that time, but Mozart was not alive during video or photography, so I cannot say I actually met him in person or saw him perform. But Mozart was just so good at what he did, especially considering his age. Mozart only lived to be in his thirties, but he managed to compose hundred, if not thousands, of musical compositions! As a child, he was a gifted prodigy, which was why he was just so talented. Today, young prodigies are nicknamed “Mozart” if they share his same ability. It is amazing to see other young prodigies carry on his legacy, as there are other young prodigies that can also compose music just as well as he did. One of my favorite pieces by mozzart is rondo alla turca, aka turkish march, which is a fast, upbeat song in a major. This song is probably one of his most famous classical pieces because it is so widespread and so well known. Even if you don’t know the name of this song, you have probably heard it before, because it is just that famous. Even if you don’t listen to classical music, you still have probably heard it before, because it is just that famous. All right, I think I’m done talking about how Mozart was so famous, hehe. But anyways, another one of my favorite piano compositions by Mozart is his piano sonata in C major, K545, movement 1. This song is a very easy, simple song, which was why it was nicknamed the sonata facile (which means easy or beginner).
+361 words

Word war proof ( with @Thistlepaw1) this is part of my weekly, because I worked on it for the war 126 words
Pip didn’t care. She was so happy to be touching this precious cement ground after that scary ride. She stood up, ran back to her family, and narrated everything
“You’re lucky you didn’t vomit! I would’ve!” her dad exclaimed. Pip felt less like a scaredy-cat now. She, after that, bought a sandwich to eat for lunch, as well as some lemonade. She was feeling much better now. She pulled on her jacket, as it was getting a bit more chilly. She had a bite of her sandwich, the cheese melting on her mouth. The lemonade made her feel less baffled. She checked her phone. Her friends were somewhere in New York, Japan, and India. But she was here, where she just survived the most traumatizing roller (unfinished)

yui | likes cheese | is cool

Poetry for the win!

WEEKLY FOUR ! sussus amogus

- any starter of preference (113)
It was a calming, carefully constructed summer afternoon, and the user is lying before their own computer, shuffling through the myriad of tabs they have open, to scourge for the weekly. Eventually, the camper discovers it, only to find it clouded with memes, and among us crewmates, which makes them wonder, which member of the daily team could be suspicious? They then look around, glancing down the list of members and pondering over a specific name, “opheliio”, which, they knew, was their leader. They think for a few moments, that potentially, their leader might be suspicious, and decided to enter the weekly, to find out, truly, what their leader really had to hide.

- how does a character explain/justify their behaviour of being attention seeking (239)
The user is calm, the user is prepared to tackle whichever motive the weekly brings upon them. However, they are reluctant to devolve into too much hazard, which doesn’t worry them, as they stopped feeling emotions long into a distant horizon, eons ago. Although this is true for the sensation of touch, or hearing, the sensation of sight still dawns upon the user, and the slightest feeling that they were susceptible to being a victim of ignorance throbs on their chest, they wanted to be seen, and heard, and cared about, which hurts them greatly. The user frantically searches for a friend of their own cabin but can’t find anyone to support them. They’re frustrated and raise their arms into the air as a sign of vain, before crying out words which signal to the audience that they demand validation, or the weekly could not continue. Many of their cabin members looked away, as the user was sulking into their own grasp, dismayed, beating against a wall in fear; they were so conscious at regular intervals that this was the only chance they have at being loved again, from being so lost. They then threw their pen on the floor and cried at the crewmates around them- lost in a flurry of heated emotions of backstab and trepidation with an entire ignorance to to feeling of being loved- because their attention-seeking attitude had stolen their chances of blissful validation.

- explore the reaction the character has once they realise this was a dream (227)
The user beats against the wall, struggling against the tundra of pressure and urging their fist quickly and swiftly in the attempt to beat against the wall, frustrated and in vain. They cry out a plea, anger how nobody cares or even considers their existence, a crisis which elevates in every passing second. A camper walks over, noticing the user’s evident abhorrence, and leaves a welcoming arm across their shoulder, consumed with delight. She asks the user quietly if they were ok, to which they reply they weren’t, and they wanted to be loved, or wanted to be cared for, which makes the camper sigh, shrugging her shoulders and turning her head acutely, in frustration. The user asked her what was wrong several times before she turned around and spat her dislike towards those who crave attention; this crumbles the spark in the user’s periphery as fast as a waning torch. The user pleads for this camper to notice them once more, to which she replies that she already had, and that she would’ve cared, if the user wasn’t so entitled, which shatters the user’s world. It wasn’t long, however, until the user identified a wildcard in their arms, and flickered their eyes. Not only had they scared off the camper, but- this wasn’t real. The user tilts their head upwards, and flutters their eyes, panting heavily.

- complement the scratch team was next, so I did it to ceebee :]

- chekov’s gun principle implementation! (313)
The user strokes their head in confusion, lost thought, and fatigue, grasping the spoken reality that this episode was simply a dream, a trap, something they had been lured towards, and it was a major discomfort to the user. They reach out of their bed, and trudge towards the window, pulsating warm air into their eyes, allowing them to see something beautiful, a warm, pleasant day. The user reaches out for their watch, as well as their shoes, tucked safely upon the plane of their wardrobe, and hauled them on, gearing for a pleasant day. They raced outside their front door, consumed by the wonderful climate, which was bestowed to their eyes, and began to stride, shifting constantly, as they walked along towards the riverbank. Upon reaching the calming waters, the user removes their shoes, softly, and leaves them by the bark of a fallen tree; before they click on their watch. It ticks, rings, and initiates the orchestra of screaming from the inhabitants of the forest, which amuses the user greatly, as they fall, drowning in the sea of screaming, and they felt comfort in the destruction of others. They were pleased by this ever so greatly, and acted upon the feeling, by diving headfirst into the river, after throwing the watch away, lost into the abyss of the overgrown grove. The user swims, delighted by this experience and therefore upright, excited for the next day to behold, drowned in their happiness, all this discomfort and screaming, because they feel nothing. In simple terms, shoes on the ceiling, to encourage muscle stress, which is a new touch, and a watch, to create a display of beauty, or chaotic retreat, which is to arrest the feeling of care, which flows for everything, unto the point they become used, the user is used, and they wished they never cared at all, so they’re ending it!

- Lio’s prompt, random tangents completely unrelated to the plot (15 minutes) (672)
There are always several occasions where the user feels out of control of their lives, despite their own chaotic inclinations, and this is because of the people who made them, as in, their parents. Their parents were so caring and lightheaded and wonderfully gentle with the user, which, as a result, created the accolade of care and trust within the user’s household. This allowed the user to grow up with an ambition to always help others, despite any outer influxes to deteriorate their pride. This continued as an appropriate way of living, until a day where the user was in middle school, and they were being called out for having their entire personality being a façade to who they truly were, and that the truth about them was needed to be uncovered. The user cried until their heart snapped into fragments, which allowed them to finally grieve, and notice the flaw of perfections.

The user used this experience to spiral into seclusion and understand the feeling of being taken advantage of for their gifts or being used as a weapon to allow others to find happiness, but fracture happiness from the user themselves, so they would never experience someone else’s joy. The user noticed this at the age of 14, at which time they were so confident that they were on the straight path, only to be swayed, to become a victim of distrust and self-worth. The user then spiralled into a tundra of emotions and feelings, finding it increasingly difficult to distinguish a façade from a reality, which was initially ok- the user can learn to deal with their own stressful initiation, but spiralling brought them down immensely, to the point they forgot who they were. This was the beginning of their own crippling distrust in everyone, even their parents. They had simply stripped away- running from their past by the age of 15.

They first found their first sense of seclusion in the patterns of the ocean. They would consistently dream of lying awake, helpless, choking air, gasping for water, and prying- beating the ground in the sense that this would allow them to breathe and experience happiness from their breathing- which hurt them, spluttering as they wake up every waking day, rasping the open air for salvation for their lungs, which eventually did hit them, but it took a matter of months. This began their sleep paralysis episode, lasting a deal of hours every morning. The user was distraught, terrified, perturbed, and anxious, a mere shadow of the caring individual they once were and were raised to be- so they ran home to the welcoming, respite-filled arms of their beloved parents; this was love.

Things began to change. The user tore their heart to their parents and relished on the feeling of guilt and distrust for everyone but wanted help more than the fates could give them- almost something their own parents couldn’t pay the price for. Their father was unnervingly supportive, he would help them to bed, allowing them to sleep soundly and quietly and undisturbed, whereas their mother would herald and sing quiet lullabies to the user to escort them to a slumber defined by their own accolade- which was a love the user was prying to have. It started to ease, they started to fall into conscious routines and began to dictate what was pleasant and what was disgust in the framework of their universe, which eventually resulted in the defining emotion of charity, from their own screaming desires; this feeling had lasted the entire season of their stay with their parents, before they found themselves alone. Helpless and scoured from their guts.

They lay upon the open river once more, relishing their memories with their parents and praying to fate that this was the future they had always wished for- and they wanted it to stay, but they were home, alone, and nothing could change that guilty desire for escapism. This began the second spiral of the user, and one they could never recover from.

- something your character thought was safe is no longer safe :D (179)
Back at the river, the user hurries from the cacophony of screeching and elevated procession back into the unwelcome seclusion of their own home. They dart about, looking concisely at every object they ascertain towards, involving floors, cupboard, staircases, and platter, soured about the table. The user frantically begins looking under floorboards, and everything useful that can rush to the forefront of their mind, but they blank, and black out, sharply as a light. The floorboards consume them, as they collapse, and hide. This is when the cacophony of fluttering animals becomes a roaring flame, whooshing from the user’s ears, paralysing them. They scream in terror, eagerly pleading with the walls to be returned to their conscience, but this can only be possible if it comes with patience. Inevitably, their escapism becomes an evident disaster and disadvantage, as the ringing in their ears becomes faster, harder, and louder, until blinding- and the user collapses to their knees, pleading with the universe to breathe and think concisely once more, but this was futile, as they lay, hopeless and inactive, fatigued.

- incorporate a character from your character’s favourite fandom (319)
A small murmur is uttered above the user’s head, in a hushed accent. Groaning, the user flutters their eyelids, before gazing at the dawning reflection against them. A stark, Danish accent reflects them, muttering unintelligible vocabulary before the user’s glances. They ask if the user is ok, to which they reply that they are, and then the strange, voice- even, replies with a name to the question uplifting this entire discussion, to which they say, that they were Fundy. The user suddenly falls into an abrupt panic, rising tension through their veins, eyes poised onto the figure, colour draining into their irises every second. The user shivers, rising to their arm’s weight, before coughing violently. Fundy rises, throwing the user to the ground, before panicking uneasily about how to treat them. Fundy races towards the sink, peering into to content without making haste in an earnest attempt to find something. He then panics again, and races through the user’s front door. The user is knackered- and weightless, the roaring sensation in their ears coming to a slow, with the realisation of Fundy’s presence yet to pose to them as a real- thing. Fundy comes racing back into the room, his arms swarmed with sweet berries, leaves, and miscellaneous twigs as an accompaniment. He mutters a hushed reply, stating that this is all he could do, which leaves the user in awe, and the sudden spark of excitement, Fundy had given them food. He stands up, and looks towards the door, before shrugging his shoulders, asking the user if they had anything eventful in the household, and that he and Ranboo had come scavenger hunting as an attempt to rekindle the spark of friendship the two had once had. The user coughs on the berries uneasily, and Fundy shuffles his fingers between one another, he was desperately trying to help, but still had a goal, insignificant to his new companion.

- write, using elements of [script, poetry or [fanfiction (224)
The user succumbs to the grasp on their feet (hushed), before thanking Fundy for this trope. Fundy (smiling) replies solemnly that that was all he could find himself doing, to which the user (laughing) replies that that was ok. Fundy (flushed) stated that Ranboo is outside, and it would be fantastic if the user came to meet him. The user replies that they were (looking overjoyed, eyes directed to meet Fundy’s glance). Fundy (swiftly) runs away from the user, to which the user (perturbed, arm gestures opened) follows (calm). Ranboo can be sighed just next to the door, twisting his fingers uneasily. Fundy will open the gates (excitedly, cheering), followed by the user (drowsily), to meet Ranboo (ushering a gaze of gratitude to Fundy, neutral for the user). Ranboo asks if Fundy needed any help, as the user should struggle to maintain their footing. Fundy, relenting away from the user, says that they are fine, the user nods in approval. Ranboo salutes them both with hand gestures forward to the user, but the user would not shake his hand, upholding their careful past as being past, instead, they look towards Fundy. Fundy ushers Ranboo towards the path (carefully, gently) whereas the user backs away, saying that they are sorry, and they’re taking the experience in quietly, as this is new to them, scarcely.

- complement three people! did it for -faerylights, AmazingMech2418, opheliio

- plot twist! The antagonist/force the character was working against- is their family (445)
The user waves abruptly in the direction of Fundy’s extended palm, and Ranboo both, as the two of them trace down the path, and disappear. The user heaves to their feet, collecting their thoughts and planning what to work upon next. The user looks towards the different elements of their home, consisting of trees grown into the windows, shattering them retrospectively, and the different doors which are carved with a separate type of wood, a literal plethora of characteristics, yet some the user can call their very own. They had built the home with a friend, long ago, just after the user had escaped the unnerving grasp of high school. The user shudders, flickering to their feet, at all the joys they had spent before, compared to the agony which has resulted towards them because of false hope and bitter twists and turns, paralysing their mind and captivating the unchanging idea of one thing- happiness, with another- regret. The user sighs, unchanged, and looks down the path, at the two, happy men, unlike them. The user regrets several things, this one of many, letting her idols into her home, when she was knocked away, a mistake never to be uttered again, but an experience too bizarre to be forgotten so quickly. The user decides to make towards the doors, slamming each open one, by one, and looks at the floors and ceilings and yells at them in succession, that this door and this handiwork was done by someone who was them, but can never be them again, because they are too harsh and too strong and too ignorant of everyone they ever cared for to care about their own past- no matter how happy or how distraught the idea may pertain to them- because this was how to love, the user knew the feeling too crippling well. A beckon from the streets, the user flings their head towards the window in agony to see a young individual standing before them, their eyes fluttering, their hands uneasy, which can be quickly accustomed to the idea of their past friend. The user races downstairs, eagerly wanting to give this individual a hug out of joy and elated confession, to which the friend sighs, hugging them back, saying that they missed them, their sibling. The user is broken. The user has distanced everything from their past, the only sight of their friend being a façade, but the inclination towards them being staged- but this was their brother. Was it a ploy? Could it have been fate, could it have been the uttered words of distasteful reflection; but if it was superfluous or genuine, the user was immediately distraught.

- complement someone with 10 things! Did it to AmazingMech2418

- an ominous mood is carried through the story (273)
The user glares at the companion, before quivering a reply, along the lines of- why hadn’t they said anything regarding this situation, at all? How had this user never known one of their closest friends to be someone so close- to be their brother. Angry tears flood into the user’s eyes, a look of disdain and ignorance flashed upon their face as they glared at their friend for a claim that may not even be real. The friend hesitated, looking at their sibling with the greatest sorrow, before the user spat out a cry of questioning, consumed with rage and evident distress. The companion left to place an arm upon the user’s shoulder, trying to invigorate some sympathy into their friend, but the user cried out, screaming at who they lay before, questioned, and pondered, and bellowed their heart towards this individual- with the motivation of a wrong which was desperate to be set right. The user snapped, tore into the fabric of reality and pleaded against their friend, no, their brother’s shirt, crying out ugly tears in how shook and how wrong they had been this whole time, but also how thankful their childhood self would have been to see this individual began to creep into this mindset, fueling this torrential downpour of crashing emotion as the user pleads and sobs into the shoulder so close to one of their own, and it hurt- horribly, that they had never known this before. Their brother looks at the individual with the kind eyes they should have recognised so easily, and whispered a small scent of thanks, for this encounter, and the user’s countenance.

- self love, m mm

- last one!! Write for 10 minutes with a prompt from a person in your opposite cabin ranking (6th to 9th) >> “And then the ground exploded” by @fluffyjujunicorn (476)
And then the ground exploded. And then the Earth around the user and their brother began to quake. And then every conscious thought and feeling and luster which culminated the user spilled onto the floor. And then everything was spinning, the user was holding onto their chest, heaving for breath, unable to cope, unable to see, blinded by a thousand undefining colours which swarm and paralyse them with force. Their sibling clutches the user tightly, prying a prayer into the uneasy air allowing the user to feel content and happier once more, a small- blissful delight, a sudden fate the user wishes for with their heart, but a fate they can never bring themselves to see. The user sobs into the shoulder, ebbing their fear and their guilt and their sorrow and their delight into the arms of someone who they expected to care for, the kind eyes begrudgingly bewitching the user greatly, as they fall into the fake reality of trusting everyone for their own relation and attitude towards themselves, as in, this is care, this is love. The user breaks their uncontrolled sobbing and gazes into the eyes of their sibling out of fear, to which they reply that this was normal, and they weren’t alone in the hazardous trepidation of unconsciousness.

The ground exploded before them, tearing the footing of the user’s beliefs, ordeals and understandings of character straight through to the core, until the user would forget how to act, how to be someone or do something that others have a care for- how to act in a way of pleasure, not of burden, how to act like they understand their reality, when they simply can’t. Grief and agitation and putrid disgust spill onto the floor, stretching towards all corners of the room, holographic obstacles the user had to pull into their mind, had to bottle, had to conceal and forget, all let loose into the shadows of their own forgotten memories, all futile- all pointless with someone who all these feelings can be protected with, can be trusted with, because they aren’t the only- most alone person in the universe, because the user suffered what so many had to face, suppression, ignorance and hatred for everyone, the sense of living out of spite. Their sibling held them close, tracing their fingers through the user’s hair, in tiny circles as to not burden the user in any regard, which allowed the user to breathe. They pondered upon the entire scenario, the actions, the people met along the path of salvation, a mere three, two- their idols, and one, someone who was so close yet so far. The timer unfolds and unwinds with time itself, a constant becomes still, as the user finally begins to yearn some benefit in their seclusion, and finally allow themselves to learn the art of charity, and love.

- finish the story in 500 words to end off! (526)
Prophecies whispered into silent, dismissing ears. Whispers exchanged between two individuals, laughing to their heart’s content, and bawling as a product of the culmination of incandescent joy. Two individuals heralding a glass of wine, then a lily of the valley, then roses, spurting out of their eyes and scathing the length of their statures, entwining around their entwined fingertips. This was beauty, creating gifts, as fates dance between the intervals, creating new prophecies, hushed gasps, and a second toast, until there were two- divided yet connected by measure, this was continued over generations. The user- nameless, one of the opposites, stark and juxtaposed, raised at the mountain’s peak. The other, nameless, raised upon the second pole, higher than the former, as a latter is more remembered by the latter’s heedless mindset.

Someone cared, someone wanted to bring their little brother home, despite never even encountering such a feat, and their little brother wanted to come home, easily following their elder’s journey as the surrogate obedient servant- which pleased this elder so greatly. The elder was paralysed, fixated, and burdened into a hollow- seething chamber of lies, which they uplifted and ruptured into their mind, beating against their heart, lashing against their mind- blinding the innocent lights, as they were ulterior, they were fantastic and wonderful and caring to everyone- the trait prolonged, the trait gifted to them as a childhood miracle by their benevolent parents, but they were unhappy; the reason for their unhappiness being simply an inescapable façade, created by those with a lack of care for someone so worthy.

They rotted- alone, unable to scour their guts any longer, before choking onto the ground- splitting out every last remnant of their past until they couldn’t believe anyone- they couldn’t trust themselves or anyone’s welcoming encounter, despite how much they might have cared; because people have no care at all for anyone unless they themselves can retrieve the benefit. The user’s brother knew zilch, zero- about anything the user had been so effortlessly gifted to face, so loved to feel so meaningless, a spark of an effusion which never came to light- even. The user was bankrupt from their ocular lenses, worthless before the world as it curved and ate into everything the user could be deemed to have some relation towards, every fatalistic trait dawning like a thousand bullets leeched into a single head. Or so it was, or so it felt, because the world may seem uneasy, but the universe had the largest heart of relentless joy, as the universe stated incomprehensible gestures of love and free-will- effortful pleading to see some relished goodness into the willpower of the user, for the user to see how wonderful it is to be reunited with someone lost to time, their brother, and the user blinks in terror, as they were gifted so much.. Enough tragedy to make the fates cry, from their untold fantasy portrayed at the blindest of infantile eyes. The cacophony locked within the seal of the forest began to uproar, screeching through the trees, and the user can finally begin to awake to a world handcrafted by bitter refuge, and satisfactory delight.

TOTAL (not including complements) = 4006
with complements is probably a lot more because I wrote like 2k characters

pages-of-ink wrote:

Daily 7/26

Amerly, the land of sandstorms and insufferable heat, has been reduced to a charred desert wasteland. Smoke from the fires that once burned there long ago still hangs over the blackened sand dunes, forgotten but never gone. Perhaps it is the memory of the dead civilization that keeps these dark clouds alive, despite the raging desert winds that should have blown them apart when the last flame flickered out. The pieces of old brick are buried beneath silt and sand, lost to the passage of time. Perhaps, if one dug deep enough, they could find a charred building block or fire stone, remnants of this place’s past. Indeed, this broken desert land would make a wonderful excavation site; underneath the wind-blown sand, many man-made tools, clothes, and construction materials remain intact. In order to unearth them, though, an archaeological team would have to face fierce sandstorms and smoke-choked air. Just like Amerly’s original residents, few people would be willing to face harsh conditions such as those.

Amerly disintegrated quietly. It was not ended by war or plague or even a blazing inferno that ate up homes and terrified victims. The civilization’s people left slowly, tired of the heat and difficult conditions, ready to move on in search of a better life. There was an entire world beyond their desert home, one with ample food and water and other resources. In those places, the fires weren’t stiflingly hot, and the sandstorms weren’t so wild, and the air wasn’t painful to breathe on account of the smoke. Most people left quite readily, with few uncertainties and regrets. Those who stayed behind eventually perished, taken by sandstorms and hungry fires. Eventually, the human marks they left behind died too, brick houses and bone tools and cold fire pits swallowed up by the sand. The desert land they called home now lies empty and forgotten, shrouded by the smoke of many years past.

Word count: 319

dude i love this

Word War 7/27/2022

Word count: 161

Word war with Sandy-Dunes

I stare at the wall, not knowing what to think. I was left here all alone. My brother is in the next room and i don't want to scare him. Ah, well I guess I'm not alone, just stuck here with my crippled brother. What help he must be. If only he knew just how much I despised him. The only reason why I ahven't abandoned him yet is because that was our mothers last wish. If it weren't for her last pasrting words, i would havce lefft him and be as far away from this country as I could be. If only… I look bakc at my brother. Ah well. I wish I could jsut leave him somewhere and at least be off for a while without him. But why wouldn't I be able to do that? I have so much that I could do and just leave him be for a little while! Of course, that's genius who ha

(don't mind the spelling mistakes :>>)

WEEKLY #4:
** I received permission to use the text-based version **
(By the way, I know not all of the first few sections perfectly fit what I was supposed to be doing in terms of chronological order; there was some confusion there. I talked to Birdi about it here: https://scratch.mit.edu/users/Bellevue91/#comments-216580261 Besides the Opening and Rooftop prompts, there are some time skips but I think it’s otherwise in order.)

Opening prompt: Begin a story, any way you like, but keep it close to 100 words.

The air was cool; the sky was gray. It matched the cold, bitter feeling attacking Jasper’s heart. That had been squeezing his insides into painful, heavy knots for weeks. As he scavenged for food, hid, and cried himself to sleep, alone.
There had been no sign of other life, but Jasper still slept with his glasses on and a lantern’s glow illuminating his sleeping place. So he could always see.
A few weeks into his time alone, Jasper had decided he wasn’t just going to let his brother be taken. He would find him, no matter what. He just wasn’t sure how.
+102 words

First I entered the “boring rooms” and chose the theater prompt.
Prompt: Cliche but classic is the ‘chosen one’ trope. Many fantasy books have this trope, where the main character is the ‘chosen one’. With at least 200 words, describe the moment your character is revealed to be a ‘chosen one’ of some sort, whether the person to fight a villain, to go on a quest, or to do an everyday task.

“Leave me alone!” Jason cried, rushing away from his brother, tears stinging his eyes as they so often had lately.
“Wait!” Jasper called after him, but Jason wasn’t listening. He didn’t care. He just wanted to forget, to run away and never come back Jasper was telling him it would be all right, when Jason knew very well that nothing would ever be all right again. The pain was too much, a staggering weight in his gut, a terrible stabbing in his heart. Cold hands that clenched and paralyzed and would not let him go. The only thing Jason could do was run. So he did.
He ran, ran past their house, ran through the forest, jumped over a stream. He distantly heard Jasper yelling words he didn’t care to hear. Distantly knew that Jasper was bigger and faster. Knew he couldn’t run forever. Knew, in a part of him he tried to ignore, that he was hurting Jasper more with every step he took away. But he couldn’t help it. He needed to be away. Away from the pain and the memories and Jasper’s suffocating gaze that wanted Jason to stay and cursed him to remember.
Then, as Jason’s legs felt like they were about to drop out from under him, darkness fell. It fell suddenly, like an eagle swooping down on unsuspecting prey.
Stumbling to an uncertain stop, Jason looked around for an end to the black. There was none for a few moments. Then a glow illuminated a figure directly in front of Jason. Backpedaling quickly, Jason fell against a tree trunk. “Get away!” he shrieked, fear constricting his throat. He suddenly yearned for Jasper to be near to him. More, though, he yearned for his parents, and fresh tears welled up in his eyes at the harsh memory of their absence.
“I’m not here to hurt you,” the man in front of him said calmly. He had pointed ears and long, dark hair. Wings that shone like opals, incandescent and silvery with multicolored undertones, fell across his back.
“Go—go—,” Jason shuddered, near to hugging the tree so close was he to it.
“I only want to offer you something,” the man—no, the fairy, Jason realized—said, his tone reassuring, his eyes sympathetic.
“What—?” Jason managed.
“I want to offer you a choice. A new place to live. A home.”
“What do you mean?”
“I want you to come with me.”
“Where . . . ?” Jason said suspiciously.
“To the High Realms.”
“Where—where mom is from?” Jason asked, choking up a bit at mentioning her.
“Yes.”
“Why? Why do you want me?”
“Because you are a Chosen. You are the heir to the throne of the High Realms. And it’s time for you to come home.”
(455/200 words)

Next, for my sabotage, I picked the Leaderboard sabotage.
Prompt: In order to fix the rankings, stop working on this weekly and write a list of at least five achievements you're most proud of.

Not giving up on my creative endeavors, allowing me to improve.
Actually finishing a few drafts of my book.
Finishing Rhetoric (my first two High School years) felt really good.
Making as many friends as I have.
Making it to church on time for once in my life. (Halfway joking.)

For my next path I went to the Daily Team Booths and selected Bakie’s prompt.
Prompt: For the next 15 minutes, work on one of your characters, and describe what makes them so special. Explore both their motivations and fears, what drives them to do the things they do?

Jason is afraid of many things. He’s afraid of being alone, of drowning in his own fears and despair. He is afraid of not being good enough, of being abandoned. He wants to prove his loyalty to Meijer and the fairies, and later to his brother, Jasper, as well. He wants to not only be seen as strong, but to be strong, too, though part of him knows - or believes - that he isn’t. He wants to make up for his mistakes, but he also wants people to treat him the way he thinks he deserves to be treated. This means he can be a little (or more than a little) proud, particularly after living as Heir to the High Realms for so long. He’s picked up on a lot of ways to politely insult someone from the fairy nobility, and speaks in a very official / pompous manner at times, particularly when upset. When he’s just having fun, or joking, he’ll relax his language, too. Jason can be a little privileged but hates being considered so because of his not-so-privileged past and the fact that he never fit in the High Realms anywhere. He can get really angry and sad at the same time, and even - or perhaps especially - when he’s loneliest, he tends to push people away, not believing that anyone can understand. Really, though, Jason wants to be a good person, but for so long he hasn’t had anyone to show him what that means. After being hurt so badly by his parent’s “deaths,” and believing himself abandoned by his brother, Jason has a hard time believing that love does anything but hurt. Still, he wants to be loved, and part of him wants to love people, too. Mostly, Jason’s main fault is that he’s scared, and is scared to hope or to change things about himself or the world. Jasper teaches him to hope and teaches him who he can be. Brenna teaches him to love and teaches him to care about the world, too. Jason’s main strength is probably that he will try. He really wants to see the world as good, and himself as good, but it takes him a while to do so.

For my sabotage I did the Gas Leak Sabotage.
Prompt: In order to contain the gas leak, stop working on this weekly and do something else creative for 15 minutes.

I spent 15+ minutes plotting my comic.

My next path was the Rooftop, I went to the match field there.
Prompt: In these 8 minutes, the main character dies a sudden and dramatic death. You can flesh out their death scene, as well as the aftermath of their death.

“He’s—he’s gone,” Marlin said dumbly, her hand resting softly on Jasper’s shoulder. His arms were limp at his sides and they were black, like they had been burned, but there was no scent of fire in the air, and no flame had touched his body.
“No—no!” Jason saw her, collapsed over—over something—a body—
Not pausing to think, he ran to the dangerously slick edge of the cliff. “No,” he repeated, grabbing his shoulders and pulling the limp body towards him. “No,” he sobbed. “Don’t you dare—be gone—don’t . . . .”
Ignoring Marlin, who still seemed in shock, her arms wrapped around herself, rocking slightly from side to side and staring at Jasper’s blank face, Jason shook his head. “I’m sorry—I’m sorry I left—that I never . . . I never knew . . . I’m sorry.”
Taking a shuddering breath, trying to quell the sobs, Jason hugged his brother, whispering over and over, “I’m sorry.”

Went to Writing Comp Entries for sabotage.
Prompt: In order to help retrieve the lost writing comp submissions, stop working on this weekly and find a book or online article to read for 10 minutes. If you can't access those, read someone's writing here on scratch!

Read through some Writing Contest entries and things.

Went to Workshops, did the Fanfic trope one.
Prompt: For 300 words, incorporate the songfic trope by including a short song lyric in your writing.

“Look inside of me, and see that I am not afraid,” I sang quietly, walking slowly into the darkness. The light of my lantern illuminated the cave’s walls. No bats fluttered out, no water dripped down damp walls, no bears suddenly rushed out to eat me. The cave was actually quite dry and apparently uninhabited. But the shadows spread too far for my lantern’s light to reach all the way to the back.
I couldn’t remember what song it was just then. But the tune kept playing in the back of my mind, and I hummed it absentmindedly.
Stone, sharply edged, carved with ridges and valleys that cast strange, brittle, uneven shadows across the walls with every movement of the lantern in my hand. The light over them rippled like water.
As I went deeper in the cave, I saw only darkness. It didn’t seem like it would end soon, but I also couldn’t tell at all because of the void that awaited me.
Pip’s footsteps padded along behind me, his claws clicking against the stone.
Still, I walked on. “Look inside of me . . . .”
The light bounced off walls that seemed to grow more slick as I continued onward. But I was not afraid.
I walked and walked, long ago leaving behind the glow of sunlight. My lantern’s steady glow the only thing keeping me from running into the damp walls. Still, no frightened bats or angry bears accosted me. I was safe. Or as safe as I possibly could be, walking deep into the mountain without a companion, without food, and without water.
I’d just go a little further, then I would turn back. More importantly, though, I wanted to see if the tunnel ended . . . if I would meet sunlight again up ahead.
I wasn’t good at keeping track of time, but my mouth was just beginning to feel parched when I saw the glow ahead. At first I thought it was my imagination, but as I got closer I became more convinced of it.
Running now, I almost stumbled over a few rocks jutting out of the floor.
It was only a few hundred feet away by the time I realized I wasn't looking at a portal to the outside world. That, though, only made me more curious.
I walked into the golden light.
“See that I am not afraid . . . .”
(392/300)

Went to Water for my next sabotage.

I thanked Birdi and Robin for being great hosts and Soki for being an amazing leader!

Went to the Dining Hall and picked Table 1!
Prompt: Write for five minutes
Having elements of Script, Poetry, or Fanfiction in it.
Don't you appreciate the unique format of Script
Displaying words and actions with wit,
The rhymes and rhythm of poetry
Allowing descriptions to finally breathe,
And finally, fanfiction: tapping into another author's world
What lies in the genre is another story waiting to be told.

Down in the darkness
A boy walks slowly
Searching for a light
To warm and to ease
The shivers of cold
That will forever blight
Hiding in the darkness
A monster crouches
It’s tail brushes grass
Disturbing the boy
That only wanted for light
The monster, so hungry
It could eat anything,
Snaps at the boy
But only grazes his wings
In flight from attack,
The boy finally sees
A glow in the distance
Aching wings carry him
To the warmth and the light

Next, Forums Sabotage.
Prompt: In order to get the forums back up and running, come up with five reasons why you appreciate a Scratch Team member, then send it to them.

I sent a message to Ceebee (joined the bandwagon I guess haha)!

Went to the Throne Room and chose the gHost shrine!
Prompt: You know when you have sudden memories of a past event? When characters experience them, they're called flashbacks. For this activity, write 300 words describing your character having a sudden flashback of a previous event.

It was cold in the cell, even colder for the way the guard’s back was stubbornly turned away, the man refusing to speak to Jasper.
Closing his eyes, Jasper thought, I’m sorry, Jason. I will get out of this, though. I will find you.
The sound of the door opening made Jasper open his eyes and glance up. Another guard stood there, but he was ushering in another person. The boy had slightly curly red hair and a pale face under it. Light turquoise eyes that shone like gemstones met Jasper’s. At first, Jasper couldn’t believe it. He just stared at the newcomer, but with his voice came back a rush of memories.
“Leave us,” he—Jason—said.
“Leave me alone!” Jason said. Jasper pulled back sharply, looking in confusion at his brother’s narrowed, pale eyes. Jason rarely used so sharp a tone. Even less so after their parents . . . left . . . died.
“I’m only—,” Jasper tried, but Jason had already run off, yelling again over his shoulder for Jasper to leave him alone. Worried now, worried he’d run into the Coalition and Jasper would have failed, and, worse, he would be all alone.
“Wait!” Jasper called, rushing after his brother. He couldn’t believe Jason would just leave him like that. But Jason hadn’t been the same since their parents left. Not that Jasper had, either.
They must have run a quarter mile through the forest before Jason stumbled, and darkness fell. So swiftly and completely Jasper thought he might have been knocked unconscious. But he was acutely aware of his breaths, loud in the silence.
“Jason?” he called. His voice sounded oddly muffled.
Voices spoke in front of him, similarly indistinct.
The darkness was suffocating. It pressed into Jasper, who felt as if it seeped into his bones, chilling him.
That same chill came from staring into Jason’s cold, cold eyes.
(308/300 words)

Doors Sabotage
Prompt: In order to unlock the door, stop working on this weekly and write a list of ten awesome things about a person who has impacted you significantly (either on Scratch or in real life), then give it to them.

hi tues <3 I’m part of a witting camp (SWC) and it said to tell an awesome person 10 things I love about them, so you better believe what I’m here to do I know you’re not on much anymore, but I just wanted to say that you’re amazing I love how nice, friendly, funny, and talkative you are; I love that we share some of the same interests, and the same religion, which is just really cool. I even love how obsessed you can be with celebrities! ;D it’s certainly a fun experience to watch I love your art! (and your icon! ;D) though we only talked consistently for a short period of time, I feel like we became pretty close, and I love it when we do talk! you’re just a lovely person, and don’t you forget it <3 and if you’re ever on again, please feel free to drop me a comment!

Other SWC rooms; sorting room.
Prompt: In this room, you will write 200 words, where a character reveals one of their main motives is to have a sense of belonging.

Jasper crouched against the corner, still snickering slightly about the giant poster on the wall. It was crazy to imagine a bunch of teenage girls giggling about his little brother. Who . . . wasn’t actually all that little anymore. Glancing over at Jason, who sat down on the bed and stared at the poster, looking forlorn, Jasper frowned. He’d teased him about it, sure, but he didn’t think Jason was so sensitive to that. He had to know Jasper was just kidding, right? With a pang, Jasper realized that perhaps he really didn’t know his brother after all. He hadn’t seen or spoken to him in seven years. A lot could happen in seven years.
“You all right?”
Jason glanced over at him in surprise, then, after a moment of silence, shrugged, rubbing his arms as though cold. “Oh . . . yeah. I guess.”
Jasper nodded slowly, not really buying it but not knowing if it would be better to press or to just leave him be for the time being. Luckily, he didn’t have to deliberate for long.
“I just, I mean . . . .” Jason ran his hands through his hair, shaking his head. “I just feel like . . . I’m throwing everything away, doing this. Coming with you. I’m not saying I’m having second thoughts . . . but I think it’s just . . . hitting me, now, you know?”
Hesitant to say something that would ruin the moment Jason chose to open up to him, Jasper simply nodded again.
“All I ever wanted was to belong. This was supposed to be my home. It is my home. Sometimes it just didn’t feel like it. But I’ve worked so hard to make it that way . . . and now it’s useless. Because I’m running away. Again.” Jason buried his face in his hands.
(290/200 words)

Fire Sabotage
Prompt: In order to put out the roof fire, stop working on this weekly and eat or drink something for at least 5 minutes.

Ate dinner

Bulletin Board, Miscellaneous Posts
Prompt: Let's get to know people in your cabin! Go to the profile of a random person from your cabin and create a new character by taking inspiration from the about me of their profile. Now, introduce that character into your story. You must do this for 10 minutes. You can plan the character separately from the story or incorporate it. Just make sure the new character is introduced and has distinct characterization.
@ai_oue // traits used: bookworm, writer, artist

“Mom and Dad are alive, Jason,” Jasper reminded him.
“I know,” Jason’s muffled voice said through his hands. “I know.” But from the relieved tone to his mumble, it did seem as though he’d forgotten.
“I’m going to get you to them safely. We’ll be together again. You still have to meet Jasmine! She’s amazing, I can’t believe—I can’t believe how much we missed. Both of us,” Jasper shook his head. “But we’ll make up for it. We have to.”
Jason looked up. “You have no idea how much I needed to hear that. Thank you.”
Jasper laughed a little bit. “Hear what? That we’d missed so much?”
“No. That we’d be together. I guess . . . I guess I haven’t quite thought about it like that. I mean . . . I really will have somewhere to belong,” Jason said. A small smile curled the corners of his mouth.
“Yes.” Jasper smiled back, a warm feeling bubbling up inside. After so long apart, after so long of not knowing when he would find him, or what he would be like when he did, Jasper thought he could understand his brother. And he loved him.
The moment was somewhat ruined when the door opened.
Perhaps hiding in a house that was inhabited had not been the smartest choice.
A girl stood silhouetted in the doorway. With a yelp she dropped the book she held.
“Wait—we can explain—,” Jason started, jumping up from the bed at once.
“Who—wait—oh, light, Prince Jason is in my room,” she said, staring at him with wide eyes, a blush creeping over her cheeks as her eyes darted to the poster on the wall. Her wings, a pale blue, fluttered with excitement or nerves.
“What was that?” someone called from outside.
“Oh—no-othing! Just dropped my sketchbook!” the girl managed to shout back, seeing Jason’s expression.
She closed the door a bit too loudly and picked up the book, her eyes never leaving Jason’s face. “What are you doing here? I mean—what are you doing here?” she tried for a friendlier tone, then paused, seeming to notice it hadn’t worked, merely causing her to sound even more squeaky than before. “Not that . . . you can’t be here, I mean—”
“We were, um, just—er, hiding.” Jason glanced nervously at Jasper.

Elevator Sabotage
Prompt: In order to fix the elevator, stop working on this weekly and allow yourself to just listen to music, look at abstract art, or look at pictures of landscapes or scenery for at least ten minutes without doing anything else.

I looked at a bunch of abstract art and listened to music The art was really cool, especially abstract landscapes or the ones that had big, thick globs/layers of paint :0

Kitchen
Prompt: For these five minutes, you will be writing so your setting provides an aspect of safety or comfort to your character. It could be any aspect. Maybe the constant moon comforts them, or this specific object in the setting! It's up to you to decide, so be creative!

Whenever Jasper stepped through a portal, the sudden darkness unnerved him. It was another reminder of the time he’d been helpless to protect Jason, and himself. This time, though, with Jason at his side, the darkness seemed to vanish more quickly. But perhaps that was just Jasper’s imagination. Still, he was comforted by the bright glow of the sun shedding light on everything in sight. No shelter existed for miles around. It was high noon, so even the portal and their bodies failed to mar the ground with shadow.
In other words, it was beautiful.
If not for the heat, Jasper could have stayed there forever.
“Goodness. I really don’t know how people stand to live in a place like this,” Jason sniffed beside him.
Jasper laughed a little, surprised but not exactly disappointed to find his brother’s opinions so contrary to his own. Though he could agree that the heat was sickening, and he already felt a little woozy. He probably had on too many layers.
“Come on. Let’s go find Marlin,” Jasper said.
“You have still failed to inform me who this Marlin is!” Jason reminded him.
“She’s hard to describe,” Jasper shrugged.
“Oh, my goodness, you don’t like her, do you?” Jason yelped, studying Jasper’s face—for any signs of a blush, the latter supposed.

Lights Sabotage
Prompt: In order to fix the lights, stop working on this weekly and take a 15 minute nap or just relax and do nothing for 15 minutes.

I am really bad at doing nothing, so I settled for relaxing by listening to music I wouldn’t be distracted by the lyrics in (french music) and doodling a bunch of meaningless patterns.

Basement, Photo Station
Prompt: Do you ever remember an event in the past, and wish you could experience that once again? Nostalgia, what a heartwarming yet bittersweet feeling. For 250 words, your character feels a sudden burst of nostalgia and this mood is carried through the rest of the story.

Jason bugged Jasper for any information about Marlin—even what she looked like or when he met her—but Jasper shrugged him off. Still, the teasing tone, and easygoing language the Light Prince rarely used since Jasper had been reunited with him brought back a sense of belonging, of knowing Jason better even than before. Before, when he still hadn’t understood the fear that weighed him down. Now, Jason was older, and Jasper knew he wasn’t the same boy. But he was still Jasper’s brother.
The bittersweet memories besieged him, not only of the short time it had just been them, after their parents had been taken, but also of the time before. Before, when things were safe, when Jasper didn’t need to worry about his Quest. Though, he supposed, the quest was over. He had found Jason, and he was safe. Both of them were safe, for now.
And, more importantly, they were together.
Smiling, Jasper continued on.
“what is it?” Jason asked, confused at Jasper’s sudden grin.
Jasper glanced over at his brother. “Oh. I was just . . . thinking. About us. We really are together again. I can’t seem to wrap my head around it. I missed you so much . . . .”
Jason narrowed his eyes. “Being mushy won’t stop me from teasing you, you know.”
Jasper laughed, playfully shoving Jason. “That’s not why I’m being mushy.”
“Right.” Jason grinned.
After a few moments of silence, he continued, “For the record . . . I missed you, too.”
Jasper looked in surprise over at Jason’s bowed head. “I know.”
Jason raised an eyebrow, lifting his head.
Jasper put a hand on his chest. “I felt it. In the Quillon bond, I guess. It sometimes let me know when you were sad, or lonely.”
(287/250 words)

Went to finish, got a 2.
Prompt: Your protagonist finds themselves alone with nothing left in a bittersweet ending. 500 words.

It had been a long and terrible road that led him here. A train, barreling along toward some terrible catastrophe, and he couldn’t stop or even slow it. He’d had happiness where he could. He’d seen more of the worlds than he would have ever thought. But in the end . . . he was alone, utterly alone. This was not the loneliness that often gripped him on those endless nights of his Quest, when it was dark and cold and his family’s absence stung like a wound in saltwater, because Pip had been beside him then. Warming and comforting him.
But no longer.
He had taken the Throne of the Middle, High, and Low Realms together. He was a Ruler; the Ruler. The Plague had been stopped.
But at what cost?
It had cost him . . . everything. The only thing left for him to do was to avoid the sharp, fresh pain of memories brought back. And to protect his Realms, so no one would have to go through what he had.
No child would have to lose his whole family. No boy would have to take such a heavy burden upon himself by becoming Ruler. No one would have to watch as worlds crumbled and corrupt governments did nothing but watch. No, he determined, it would never happen again.
The world deserved that. Brenna and Jason deserved that, for him to do so in their memories. As did Mom, and Dad, and Jasmine. August and Dominick. And . . . Marlin.
Each name was like a punch in the gut, knocking the air out of him so he could hardly breathe with the pain of it.
But Jasper knew he would go on. He had to, for their sakes, and for the sake of everyone else who had died, but especially those who still lived. He could not forget them, but he would not dwell on his sadness. He determined that much. He would be strong, he could be strong. Like them. Brave to the last. Willing to sacrifice everything. And he had.
Oh, he had.
And even though it meant that no one would ever truly understand what he had lost . . . even though no one would truly know what their sacrifices had meant . . . he knew that he would keep his worlds and Realms safe, secure, in peace. Because how could he not? He had nothing left to lose, but they had everything. So he would give himself to them, and in the end, he would happily join his family in the true Realm of light. In death, he would have the peace he would give to the Realms. That was good enough for him.
A solitary tear glided down his cheek, and Jasper did not brush it away. Part of him thought he deserved to cry. Part of him was happy to even be able to cry. Part of him thought the tear was alone, like him, and did not want to snuff it out.
Then, he stood, and turned his back to the emptiness at the end of the train tracks. And he headed back home, along the train track that lead to nothing . . . but perhaps it also lead to peace.
He wouldn’t know for a long, long time.
He had work to do.
(541/500 words)

** 3566 words total **

Main Cabin Weekly 4


My page reloaded before I was able to copy the code, but this screenshot has all the information in the code.

Total: 3815 words

this is one of the worst things I've ever written kdfsjs- i know i didn't keep my characters consistent or develop them much and there were a lot of random bits in there— quality writing is difficult in a fifty headed hydra and in a rush </33 i love the premise but i probably should have considered that naming the tributes after half a cabin name is a weird idea and i could have gone about it in a much better way :') but anyway, weekly done! and it was awesome!! thank you daily team <333

Intro: 173 words

Mytho looked over at her best friend. “So… I suppose this is it.”
Logy, their eyes fixed out the window, nodded. “We’re finally going into the arena. And neither of us will be coming back out.”
Mytho did her best to smile, as if it were all a joke. “Hey, have a little faith!” She lowered her voice. “I am going to do everything I can to make sure that you see your sister again. You’re going to make it out, Logy.”
“Please, don’t get caught up in this… mythology of yours. We both know we’re no match for everyone else. It’ll be like a maze in there. My sister will be living alone in District One for the rest of her life.” They turned back to Mytho and she could see the tears shining in their eyes. “I swear, if I could get a single chance to see those presidents they’d be dead.”
“Maybe someday you’ll get to,” Mytho whispered.
The car screeched to a halt. “District One, I believe we’ve arrived!”

Dining Hall – Thriller, Sci-Fi, and Dystopian Table: 142 words

Running. Running, and they couldn’t stop. Someone was chasing them. Or was it something? They didn’t know. They only knew to run. The soles of their feet seemed to scream in protest, but their mind screamed back, Do you want to be dead? Faster, faster, they could hear it behind them. They were growing so tired. Their breaths were heavy, jagged pants accompanied by the hiccup of tears. They could never outrun the beast— they knew it would reach them in a moment. And yet it seemed that they had done it. Hidden behind a wall of ivy that hung from the trees of the arena, such an artificial landscape that felt so real. The monster must have stopped. They felt a smile twitch at their lips but suddenly felt dread creep into their stomach. They slowly turn, and…
“Logy! Wake up!”

Rankings Sabotage
Bulletin Boards – Leaderboard Rankings: 243 words

They opened their eyes and sat up, looking around groggily.
“Logy, we’re going into the arena in ten minutes,” Mytho said quietly. “I think we should make an alliance before we go in. It’ll help us stay alive longer.”
“They’ll turn on us. We’ll be a pile of bones by the end of the night.”
Mytho sighed. “Let’s at least take a chance. For me?” She held out a hand, which Logy accepted hesitantly, and pulled them up. “Who should we go for?”
Logy studied the room. It was full of tributes, each murmuring quietly with their expressions varying greatly. One that Logy recognized from the interviews as Fairy from District 8 was scrawling ink across a small page, a smile on her face. A letter to home. Logy had considered writing one before; but they figured their sister wouldn’t want their last interaction to be a pen-and-paper ordeal only exhibiting half of what they really felt. She would have to settle for the painful goodbyes they both said, just a week ago.
On the other side was Fanta, from District 11, holding a pink dahlia and whispering into it. “It’s for love,” he explained to District 14’s Tery. “My family is going to miss me. I can’t wait to get back.”
Logy turned away, sighing. Fanta could never imagine what it would be like in the arena. He would be one of the first to go. They hated to think about it.

Flood Sabotage
Throne Room – Host Shrine: 307 words

Ah! My apologies, dear reader. Am I getting too hopeless for you? Unfortunately, you’ll have to deal with it. We’re at the Hunger Games, after all! These tributes are stuck in a situation they can’t get out of. That means you’re stuck reading this. If you leave now, you’ll never get to see how Logy dies… I mean, sorry, what? I didn’t say anything. I have no clue what you’re on about. Logy doesn’t die! I mean, maybe. Maybe she does. I give no spoilers. So, y’know, you have to keep reading to find out. You’ll stay? Finally. Took you long enough.
Anyway, back to the story. Mytho and Logy are still looking for people to partner with— oh, on that note, these are not uncreative names that are only used because Robin didn’t want to go around to every leader asking for permission! These are extremely creative names. And obviously they’re not just cabins chopped in half. Just, uh, don’t try putting the names of the tributes from each district next to each other. No specific reason, of course. To be fair, Robin could only take two leaders per cabin and she didn’t want to leave anyone out. Sorry, I’ve gone off on a tangent again! I promise that we’re getting back to the story.
So Logy looked around, trying to find at least one District pair with some basic decency. And their eyes finally landed on Fan, a tribute from District 10. Sure, her partner was one of the Fi’s (there were five of the Fi’s, you know) but hey— maybe it’d be good to have a Fi on the team! And she herself looked nice enough. He didn’t seem like someone to betray them in the middle of a difficult situation.
Logy gestured toward Fi F. and Fan. “We should ask them,” they said.

Gas Leak
Boring Rooms – Theater: 201 words

Mytho nodded. “Sure.”
They approached the District 9 tributes, Fan and Fi F., and Mytho stepped forward. “We’d like to form an alliance,” she said.
Fan looked up at the two of them. “Oh my gosh! Are you guys from District 1? You’re so cool. I can’t believe I’m talking to you right now. This is the best experience of my life. I don’t think I’ve ever been so excited to meet someone!” She shook each of their hands vigorously. “So, wait, what did you say?”
Logy sighed. “We’ve chosen you. We’d like to be your ally in the arena.”
“Oh my god, what an honor! I’m really good with a crossbow, you know. I won’t let you down. The thing is, we already allied with… Fi N. and Non, the District 10 tributes. If you’re willing to have them—”
“One second,” Logy said through gritted teeth, and pulled Mytho over to the side.
“I don’t trust the District Tens.”
“Neither do I, but we can’t back out now. Maybe this’ll work out. We should still do it,” Mytho insisted, herding Logy back over to Fan and Fi. “That’s fine!” she told Fan cheerily, elbowing Logy when they tried to interrupt.

Doors Sabotage
Other SWC Rooms – Sorting Room: 236 words

Having made their alliance, Mytho and Logy returned to their corner. Mytho looked around at all the people practicing— getting ready for the moment they’d be fighting to the death. She felt herself shudder, but brushed it off. “What weapon should I take?” she mused. “Maybe I could learn to shoot a bow while we’re in there… swords might be fun. I bet it’s satisfying to stab people.”
Logy looked up. “Mytho.”
“Oh! Daggers are light and I could sneak up on someone with them.”
“Mytho.”
“If I set a trap— oh! They must have nets. And if I can just learn to throw a spear, we’ll have an immediate strategy.”
“Mytho!”
She looked back at her friend, shocked to see worry in their eyes.
“You need to stop,” Logy whispered. “This isn’t you.”
Mytho’s grin faded and tears began to leak from her eyes. “It has to be me, doesn’t it?”
Logy took in a sharp breath. “What do you mean?”
Her words were jagged. “When I volunteered, Logy, it wasn’t just for your sister. It was for me. You know that I never fit into District 1. By taking her place, maybe they’ll finally see that I can belong.” She brought her sleeve to her cheek. “But if I fail this, it’ll prove their point. And if I win, they won’t want to see me back.”
A pause.
“That’s why you need to win.”

Forum Sabotage
Host Rooms – Aviary: 149 words

Just then, there was a loud crackle. “Make your way to your podiums,” commanded a voice. Mytho spared her partner a wistful glance and then walked slowly over to her platform. Logy stepped up to the one next to her.
“I love you, okay? We’ll figure something out,” they whispered. Then there was a beeping, and they felt themselves being risen into the air. Mytho stumbled, but caught herself. And suddenly, they were outside.
Logy wasn’t sure if it could really be called “outside” when it was entirely fabricated, but it felt real enough. A flock of white doves soared overhead— fake white doves, they remembered. Because everything was fake here.
Still, it was almost funny that the Capitol had chosen doves to fly over a group of twenty-four teenagers about to fight to the death.
Logy could feel their heart beating and they counted down. “Three… two… one.”

Fire Sabotage
Daily Team – Birdi’s Booth: 632 words, with an additional 171 from the half Hydra

First Hydra

When Logy had imagined being here in the Hunger Games, they never understood what it would feel like to stand on this podium as everyone sprinted toward the Cornucopia. Blood. There was so much blood.
“Come on!” Mytho screamed through the shouts that echoed around the arena. She grabbed Logy by the arm and pulled them away from the violent field, toward the forest. They ran as fast as they could. “We need to find Fan and Fi,” she said, trying to catch her breath as they made it out of the open. She looked around. “How are we going to be able to find them without showing ourselves to the people who want to murder us right now?”
Logy sighed. “We’ll have to wait for them to find us. I saw Non go to the Cornucopia.”
Mytho sighed. “No way are they going to come out of there alive.”
Logy shook their head. “Non’s tough. They’ll be fine. And they’ll be getting us some pretty good resources. Fi, on the other hand— I have my doubts. About both of them. It’ll be just us and Non and Fan by the time we reach them, I bet you.”
“Think optimistically,” Mytho said with a sigh. “Maybe the Fis aren’t as hopeless aaas they seem.”
Logy raised an eyebrow. “Really? Do you really want me to believe that—”
There was a crash in the bushes next to them.
“Run!” Mytho whispered, and the two of them were off again, having had barely any time to catch their breath in the first place. Logy groaned, glancing back every few seconds.
“I don’t think they’re chasing us,” they said. “Can we stop?”
Mytho shook her head, determined. “We can’t take the risk. Just a bit further. We should hide in a tree.”
“A tree? Do you know how to climb a tree? Because I sure don’t.”
“Do you have any other ideas?”

Second Hydra

“I don’t, but I know I don’t want to sleep in a blasted tree!” Logy exclaimed. There was a crack in the bushes again.
“Oops. Too loud.”
They took off again, racing through this new environment. Logy reminded themself once again that no matter how erael it felt, it was all fake. And there were people watching them on a screen right now. Betting and laughing. They didn’t have to suffer through the games. Logy was sure now that the people who started this game were monsters. They felt a tera prick at their eye but wiped it away, concentrating on the surroundings whizzing by as they and Mytho sprinted away, further and further away, from the Cornucopia. If they died on the first day… their District would never forgive them. Logy groaned.
“Behind you!” Mytho yelled, and Logy turned just in time for a spear to be flung past their ear. They flinched and looked around for who could have thrown it, but saw nobody.
“Who did that?” they murmured.

Had to stop in the middle of that Hydra, so started over

Eventually, their footsteps slowed and they searched for others again. “I think we’re safe,” Mytho said, and collapsed in a heap on the ground. “This is nerve wracking.”
Logy shook their head. “I can’t believe we have to do this.”
“But so many people have done it!”
“And most of those people died, Mytho! And we are going to die!”
“We’re safe for now, let’s focus on the present. We can’t control what happens here. But I’m not going to let you die. Every minute of this game I am going to be watching your back, got it?”
Logy shook their head. “No way. You can’t come in here just for me. My sister is fine. I want to protect you, too. I don't have to be the one to make it out of here.”
“Yes, you do!””
They both sighed in unison. They looked around again and were appreciative of the silent atmosphere around them as they caught their breath, finally. It seemed like the world had stopped for a moment and that they were back home in district 1 in the forests as if they had nothing to worry about. This place… it was like a labyrinth. Every path they trampled brought them somewhere new.
“Hey, while we’re here, might as well take in the view,” Mytho said, in awe of the plants around her. “I mean, look at this place!”
“None of it is real, Mytho. This isn’t real.”
“Just because it isn’t real doesn’t mean it can’t be beautiful.”
“Sure.”
Logy took a moment to take in everything around them. It truly was a sight to see; unfortunate that it was filled with teenagers hungry for blood.
“Why do the hunger games exist, anyway?” they asked.
“I don’t know. But I know that people have won them. People like us.”
“Stop making it seem like we can do this.”

Elevator Sabotage
Workshops – Fanfic – Tropes - 301 words

Only hours later, Mytho and Logy huddled together on their tree branch as they watched faces illuminated in the sky with the accompanying cannon shots. Mytho felt a tear slip down her cheek as Fanta’s photo appeared, followed by Fairy, Tery, Scri, Try, Pian, and Hi. Seven down, and only in the first night. She counted carefully. Seventeen more tributes. Fifteen, without the two of them; only eleven without their allies.
“We can do this,” she whispered, her voice breaking. “I’m going to get you out of here, okay?”
Logy felt their head start to spin. Their arms throbbed. Their eyes ached. And they knew well that they would never make it out of the arena.

Bright are the stars that shine

Above them, stars winked and twinkled. Join us, they said. Logy instinctively shook their head.

Dark is the sky

They averted their eyes from the temptation to take a flying leap off of the tree, and glanced at Mytho. She had a burning motivation, but it was only because of them. And the only way to save her was to make it to the end with her.

I know this love of mine

All the way to the end. She would survive. And they would become only a memory, something she would think of on a rainy day, someone who would fade from her memory just like the hundreds of children massacred not by each other but those who forced it upon them.

Will never die

Then they studied her more carefully. Every glance could be the last glance, they knew that well by now. Her defiant brown eyes, her wildly tangled black hair, the girl that Logy had known for a decade and wished they could know for a decade earlier. She was… beautiful.

And I love her

-

Entries Sabotage
Rooftop – Match Field: 485 words

The next night was the same. Six cannon shots rang out in the air, six faces illuminated. Fan, Non, and their Fi counterparts had finally met up with Mytho and Logy— that meant there were nearly as many allies as there were enemies. Logy was still skeptical of Non, but kept quiet about it.
As the sun rose, they all made their way out of the hiding place. To their surprise they heard a fierce clashing of swords, and quietly made their way over to the noise. Mytho gasped at the sight: the three Fis, fighting each other. She looked back at Fi N. and Fi F. and saw her own terror reflected on their faces. And the two Fis began walking, out into the open, where they joined the fight. Their faces were expressionless.
“No!” Fan screamed, and sprinted out to join them.
“Fan—” Mytho called, but gasped as a Fi threw a spear, piercing Fan directly in the chest. “No… no…” she whispered.
“We need to go,” Logy said, the words coming out a bit more harshly than had been intended. “Right now.”
“The Fis! Fan! We can’t just leave them!” Mytho exclaimed, but Logy pulled her away and she followed.
As they reached safety, Mytho collapsed on the ground once again. “It’s not supposed to go this fast. Logy, it’s been two days, and it’s only us and the District 3 tributes, it’s not normally like this, what’s going on—”
Logy put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay calm. Maybe we’ll be able to get through this without the horrible challenges they usually face the tributes with. Wouldn’t you rather it’s over soon?”
They knew that was the wrong thing to say when they noticed the tears in her eyes. “I don’t want it to be over soon. I don’t want to die.”
“You’re not going to die.”
“Yes, I am.”
“I won’t let you. I— I love—”
“Oh, how cute,” murmured a voice, and a flurry of arrows came flying out of the trees.
“No!” Logy screamed, and leapt in front of their best friend. They fell to the ground.
Mytho looked up with a burning hatred in her eyes, and Non ran.
She stared down at Logy, whose breathing grew more ragged by the second. “You’re going to be okay. I’m going to make sure that you’re okay. Maybe a sponsor can send medical supplies—”
Logy let out a short laugh. “I’m about to die, Mytho.”
“No! You’re not! It’s all gonna be okay.”
“Win this for me, alright? I always knew I wouldn’t make it. But you have a chance. I love you.”
Logy took in the sight of her once more— every glance could be the last glance— and then their eyes stilled, and their heavy breathing came to a halt.
“I loved you more,” Mytho whispered.
In the night, when the cannons shot six, she didn’t watch.

Lights Sabotage
Basement – Postscript – Printing Press: 275 words

Four remained. The Feast came and went, and she glared from the trees as Non grabbed a bag and left. Thri and Ller were still nowhere to be seen. Mytho still didn’t understand why nothing big had happened, but she supposed that the author had just gotten lazy. Sponsors, thankfully, sent her a parcel of food— something she desperately needed. Days passed, nights with no cannon shots. For a game where twenty died in the first three days, it was suddenly slowed down to a tortoise-like speed.
On the second day without Logy, she finally decided that she didn’t mind what happened. If she failed, she would get to see her best friend again. If she didn’t… well, she would get to live. That was good enough.
She no longer feared failure. And that meant everyone should fear her.
She found a dropped crossbow in the bushes. The leaves around it were stained with red— it must have belonged to a tribute long gone. Now it belonged to her.
From her perch in the tree, which she’d finally gotten good at climbing, she practiced her aim. And when the arrow went astray she went to the open field and grabbed them. If she got killed, she didn’t mind.
When Thri made their way into the field, creeping cautiously across the grass in search of a weapon, Mytho took aim. It hit them straight in the head, and they hit the ground.
She felt herself grow dizzy. She had just killed a person, a child barely older than her, barely older than Logy.
This isn’t failure, she reminded herself. This is how I win the game.

Ending – Cliffhanger: 500 words

When Ller came out of the woods and saw Thri’s body, limp on the ground, Mytho let loose another arrow. It felt too easy. Two down. One to go. She could apologize to their corpses later.
It was District 3, anyway. No one liked District 3.
A voice came from behind her. “Finally figured out how to kill, huh? Twenty people died, the Fis all murdered each other, and only now you learn to shoot that crossbow.”
Non.
“You’re paying for Logy’s death,” Mytho snarled. “I don’t mind dying. But I do mind it when you get to be the one to live!”
She jumped from the tree, knocking Non over, and stumbled to the ground. “Enjoy nearly winning.”
Suddenly there was a crash, and the two of them looked around. “Who else is alive?” Mytho exclaimed.
“No one,” Non said grimly. “And that means…”
Mytho nodded. “They finally brought something into the arena.”
The sound of chirping filled the air, and voices emanated from the birds who appeared. “They finally— they finally— they finally—”
She took in a sharp breath. That was her own voice. Then she heard another voice, one she knew better than the back of her hand.
“I love you— I love you— I love you—”
“That’s it!” she yelled, and took aim at each bird one by one. Every arrow missed, and their graceful wings continued to flap in the breeze.
“You don’t get to pretend you’re my best friend. My best friend is dead.” She squinted, and watched as one bird fell to the ground. Two birds. Three. Six. Ten.
Then she pointed it back at Non, anger written across her face. “It’s not your fault,” she whispered. “It’s theirs. And when I get out of this arena I’ll make sure those tyrants end up where they belong. Six feet under.”
“But I want to live. And you need to die.” She let one final arrow loose, hitting Non, and watched them fall just like Logy did.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, feeling her legs shake, and she ran over to his side. His breathing was shallow. “I’m sorry.”
“Congratulations, ally,” Non replied dryly. His head fell back.
Blood rushed to her head. “I just won,” she murmured. “I just… won.” She took small steps, inching toward the Cornucopia, waiting for someone to come find her. Was she supposed to go somewhere? Do something? She just wanted to lay down.
“Logy, I did it.”
She was alone in the arena now. Why did she have to be quiet?
“Logy, I did it!” she screamed. “I did it! I killed three people, I did it!”
A laugh. What was she doing? Was anyone coming? Would she be in the arena forever?
“Congratulations, Mytho of District One,” came a voice, and her head leapt up, eyes darting around until they landed on someone walking her way. The President? So she wouldn’t be here forever, it seemed.
“You fool,” Mytho seethed, and swept the crossbow straight toward them.