7/14 Main Cabin Daily
251 words

Starblade (human name Ashley) is a character in a story I wrote a long time ago. She technically died in the last story, but here is what her sleep schedule would be like.
She is a mom of six, a pair of twins, a daughter, and a set of triplets, so she doesn't get a ton of sleep. Especially due to the fact that each set of kids were born only four years after each other so it's a lot of little kids waking up in the night. But, she is a Nebularian (aka alien) and her alien abilities don't require her to get a lot of sleep, which is great for her mom duties. She is prone to be more grumpy if she doesn't get at least an hour of sleep, but it's not because she's tired. It's just because sleeping is nice and she enjoys the excuse to rest.
Katrina (human name Kate) is another character from the same series as Starblade. She is best friends with Starblade and is the queen of Nebular (as of the last book). She has a daughter named Raina who is best friends with Starblade’s middle child, Raven. Katrina has the same sleep tendencies as Starblade, and her royal duties plus her single child keep her about the same amount of busy as her bestie. She tends to be a lot goofier when she doesn't get a lot of sleep as she's not as serious as Starblade, and is always in high spirits.

Issue #1 Volume #1 (2440 total words) Monday, July 11


LOCAL BAKERY ROBBED IN BROAD DAYLIGHT
By Eleanor Fluppajammy (803 words)

At 2:52 P.M. Saturday morning, the local bakery Cupcakes & Rainbows was robbed. The bakery's security cameras saw the robber walk into the store in broad daylight, smash open the glass showcasing panel and start grabbing out the showcased baked goods.
“It was crazy,” reflected Amanda Bowman, the owner of Cupcakes & Rainbows. “I was like, do you want bread with glass shards in it? If so, help yourself. I don't want that anymore.” She gave a shaky laugh as she recounted the story.
“I mean, it was kind of scary how he just walked in, made a bee-line for the showcase and just cracked open the glass with the hammer he had in his hand. His face was so calm.”
Bowman did not engage with the thief as she ‘did not want to cause any further violence’ or to trigger the robber to create more destruction to her property.
Bowman had tried calling the police discreetly behind the counter but her hands were so shaking she put in the wrong number four times. When she finally managed to hit 911, the man had already left the wreckage behind with his glass speckled goods.
Bowman said, “I was just cowering behind the cashier counter as he smashed open the glass. He didn't even look in my direction; did not even acknowledge the fact that I was there. So I took his obliviousness to me as an opportunity to get my cell phone out of my apron and call the police. I was so shocked and scared that my hands were too shaky to be able to put in the right number. So there I was, hiding my phone underneath the counter should he look up, trying to punch in a simple three letter code to call for help. After the fourth try, I managed to call the police and knock ess oh ess discreetly underneath the counter. Unfortunately, the guy got away before the police could arrive. ”
When questioned, Bowman described the man to the police as lean and tall, about six foot five, with curly black hair that badly needed a comb and perhaps a haircut. Bowman, a retired hairdresser, articulated that the curly black mop was nothing less than a badly put on wig.
“I am one hundred percent sure that he had a wig on. I am not entirely sure what his real hair color is but by my guess I think I saw light brown at the roots.” Bowman said. She went on to say that he had dark brown eyes, thin arched brown eyebrows, and a stubble mustache.
Bowman described his skin as a ghostly pale tone and he had a mole underneath his nose. She estimated him to be about in his mid to early thirties. He was dressed in a plaid blue and white jacket with a skull T-shirt underneath, and he wore baggy dark jeans that flopped over the tops of his bright green running shoes.
Bowman said the robber had six black rings on his hands, three on his left index, middle, and fourth finger, and three on the same fingers on the other hand. He also had letter tattoos on all the fingers that didn't have rings on them. Bowman admitted she couldn't read what the tattoos said but she was pretty sure she saw a small skull tattoo on his left thumb.
“He did not have a scarf or a typical black robber ski mask on. He didn't even have any dark sunglasses on or gloves. Like I said, it was crazy- like I mean, him just walking in so calmly with no precautionary measures to hide his identity. I mean, other than the wig. But even then! Plus, he left his hammer behind, which presumably has his fingerprints on it since he was not wearing gloves or anything like that.
There are a lot of identification clues for the police and it will not be long before they find out his identity, given the circumstances and all the information he left behind.”
Bowman is confident the authorities will apprehend the thief and serve justice as needed.
“The police officers that came on scene were just so nice and polite. They didn't rush me- at least it didn't seem like they rushed me because they were so calm and understanding,” Bowman gushed about the local officers who came to her aid.
“I just feel extremely blessed to live in this amazing community. And I'm glad that my shop didn't get any other damages. Most of all, I'm grateful that no harm came to me or my dog.” Amanda Bowman smiled as she cuddled her Yorkie.

(If you have any information about the man previously described, (i.e. his whereabouts, license plate number, etc. ) please contact the Imaginary County Police immediately at 1-234-567-8900.)



MUSIC REVIEW OF THE MONTH
by LIA (807 words)

Surely by now, everybody has heard of Olivia Rodrigo. I mean, I have, and I live under a rock. (I only found out who Elon Musk was through my online classmates a few months ago, but let's not dwell on that.)
Olivia Rodrigo is of German, Irish, and Filipino descent. She was born February 20, 2003, in California. She participated in singing competitions when she was younger and started her acting career quite young.
Olivia, 19, has starred in Grace Stirs Up Success (2015) as Grace, Bizaardvark (2016-2019) as Paige Olvera, and High School Musical : The Musical : The Series (since 2019) as Nina ‘Nini’ Salazar-Roberts.
It was in January of 2021, shortly before season 2 of HSMTMTS was released, when Olivia dropped her single ‘drivers license.’ The heartbreak song blew up and stayed at Number One for US Billboard Hot 100 for a consecutive 8 weeks. Olivia's first single drove around the suburbs and broke all sorts of records. It rocketed her to world fame in no time. A few months after the hit that was ‘drivers license,’ Olivia dropped the highly anticipated new single ‘deja vu’ on April 1. She later went on to release her record-breaking debut album Sour on May 14, with other hits such as ‘good 4 u,’ ‘traitor,’ ‘jealousy, jealousy,’ ‘brutal,’ and more. Since the release of ‘drivers license’ and Sour, the global popstar has gone on to win 3 Grammys, 7 Billboard Music Awards, 4 MTV MAs, 4 iHeartRadio MAs, 2 People's Choice Awards, an AMA, a Juno Award, a Brit Award, and more. She launched her global Sour Tour, promoting Sour, on April 5, 2022 and until June 7, performed across North America and eastern Europe.
Anyway, that was her very cut down singer profile; now onto the music review. Today I'm going to be reviewing and rating her second single, ‘deja vu.’
Okay, so, first of all, this is me just being super nitpicky, but let's talk about the title. It looks very nice, very aesthetic and pleasing to look at, for me anyway. But it's technically supposed to be ‘déjà vu.’ Anyway.
The first verse is just utterly brilliant and aesthetic. And she somehow makes it sound relatable even though I've never been on a car ride to Malibu and I don't like strawberry ice cream. And the trading jackets part is just- it makes me feel emotional for reasons unknown. Also I personally love the vocals she uses when she sings ‘on (you).’ Like the little trill thingy she does is so cool.
For the pre-chorus, I am just blown away by how good of a songwriter and composer she is. Also she's got good lungs. You don't even want to know how many times I've tried to sing the pre-chorus and ended up running out of breath. The song gets a little faster here.
Same for the chorus- I can't hit the high notes but Olivia does it painlessly. I love how she sings in a slightly airy soprano for the first part of the song but then as it progresses, her voice becomes stronger and louder.
Regarding the second verse, Olivia sings a little sarcastic sounding verse where she compares her name to the girl that her ex is dating and says, honestly, that they ‘kinda do sound the same,’ and she compares their acting gigs and says that she ‘hates to think that I was just your type.’ And to be honest, even though I've never been in a relationship, it does sound pretty awful to be in a situation where you find out that you were just, essentially, a carbon ‘replacement’ and that your S.O didn't like you for, well, you. I would like to be liked for my uniqueness, thank you very much.
So, I don't know who Billy Joel is but Olivia is a genius for putting in that whispered ‘I love you,’ ‘in between the chorus and the verse.’ Heh. See what I did there? Anyway, I just thought that was very clever and I loved that added little ‘Easter egg.’ Moving on to the bridge:
Olivia's bridges are always a jam, at least for most of them. Deja vu's bridge is an angry, shouty vibe and I love it. It basically just features Olivia shouting past verses but it just hits different, you know? Overall, the song is exactly what Olivia says it is- a song that she wrote to express her frustration on how relationships are, essentially, ‘reused.’ And I, a person who's never been in a relationship, somehow understand that irritation. But I mean copying is annoying no matter its shape or form.

To conclude this review, deja vu is one of my favorite songs ever. 100/10. And, in my opinion, Olivia Rodrigo is a very talented storyteller with great vocals and an amazing personality.


ADVICE FROM YOUR FRIENDLY NEIGHBORHOOD WRITER
(615 words) (thanks to everyone whose questions I answered and I hope my advice is a little bit helpful)

I feel like everyone has a food that they particularly dislike/don't love. Everyone's taste buds are different and so it's totally fine for you to not like burgers. I'm not sure what you might not like about burgers, maybe the meat, the bread, or the ingredients. If you don't like burgers but would like to like burgers, then I would suggest just trying to eat a burger and customizing it to your preferences. I personally don't love burgers either, but I will eat them. I prefer to eat mine plain, with no ketchup or mustard or tomatoes. I might put lettuce on mine. I'm not sure if this was helpful but I gave if a shot.

Okay so uhh- WHAT??? THEY HATE GOATS AND MANGOES? Yes, you should definitely unfriend them, ‘be off with you’ and all that good stuff.
Just kidding. Here's my actual advice:
If everyone liked goats and mangoes then it would be pretty boring. We need some nay sayers to spice things up (where am I going with this…)- point is, I don't think you should unfriend them because of their dislikes/likes. I'm generalizing here, obviously if it was a much more serious dislike (i.e. one of your siblings- that might end up with you being in a toxic relationship with both your siblings and your friend) then maybe you shouldn't be friends.
I'm not trying to downplay the greatness of goats and mangoes but- unfriending someone just because they don't like goats and manoges is essentially like unfriending someone because they don't like chocolate ice cream but you do. But this decision is really up to you. Do you feel like you will grow by being friends with this person? Do you enjoy hanging out with them, despite your different tastes? Anyway, that's just my humble advice.

I think I struggle with this a lot. I was procrastinating on a lot of things. And then one day I decided to go exercise, like run around the house fifty times. I felt like exercising gave me a push to start doing other things and complete them. Just that one thing I forced myself into doing made doing other things a lot easier.
My other suggestion would be to make goals and deadlines for yourself. Give yourself rewards when you complete your goals. Checklists are helpful too, and fun. It's just so satisfying to see all those check marks or colored in boxes that signify everything you've accomplished. Or, try to find something that helps push you to stop procrastinating. Once you get the ball rolling, then it will be easier for you. It might not help but try it out and see if it helps!

Heh. So I can completely relate to this. I was/am a very introverted and shy person and it's not really my thing to walk up to a stranger and start talking to them, much less become friends. I don't have a lot of friends but the ones I do have are very special and close to me, which I think is better than having a crowd of more distant friends. And the way shy, introverted me managed to make friends is being friendly. Saying just a simple ‘hi, how are you’ goes a long way. And I don't really think anybody thinks that somebody is lonely just because they want to be friends with them, so just start hanging out with the person you want to be friends with and eventually you might become friends. Usually friendships are like ‘do you want to be best friends?’ it's kind of something that just happens gradually. At least that's what it was for me. I hope this helps!

ADVERTISEMENTS
(215 words)

FREE STATIONERY ITEMS
Am getting rid of stationery items. All are in good condition. Drive by 111 Imaginary Street to pick-up.

IMAGINARY COUNTY FAIR
Come one, come all, to the Imaginary County Fair!
The Imaginary County Fair provides an opportunity for everyone to showcase their unique skills! Artists and (song) writers can submit their pieces to the Art Booth. Prizes will be listed in the official flyer. There will be livestock exhibitions and if you're interested, head over to the Livestock Tent. There will also be a Horse Tent where horse owners can show off their valiant steeds. Pony rides will be offered beside the Horse Tent. Rodeo tricks will be showcased in the Main Ring at 1:30, so check it out! There will be food stands set up by the people planning the fair but there will be booths open for community members to set up and sell some baked goods.
The Imaginer County Fair - August 1, 2022 - 6:30 am-11 pm
Entry ticket costs are 10 dollars for adults and 5 dollars for kids. Additional fees will be added depending on what activities you participate in.

MANGOES $20 A CARTON
Will sell wooden cartons of mangoes (10 lb) for $20 each. Pick up can be arranged by calling 111-222-3334. Ask for Allie.

7/15 Main Cabin Daily
710 words
edit: item was from ChessaTiu and was a sign with three cute penguins with the words merry christmas on the bottom

“No!” I screamed to the dead village. “No,” I whispered, tears running down my race. The salty liquid blurred my burning eyes as I stumbled through the smoke and charred posts. All the houses were all at least half burned to the ground, the only remainders being crumbled stone foundations with stubby black posts still crumbling. A few small fires flickered in some burnt homes.
I suddenly lost it. I grabbed a holey rag from the black earth and started beating at the fire, supposedly trying to punch it out. Instead, the dry rag caught on fire and for a moment, I stared at the blooming orange fire in my hands stupidly. Then the burning sensation made my hands instinctively throw the rag away from me. I studied my hands. Burned, blackened, bloody hands. Suddenly my gaze shifted from my hands to an object lying on the ground.
It was a sign. I stepped over to it and crouched above it. It was a little blackened, as was everything else in the village, and it was decorated with three festively dressed penguins. The words ‘Merry Christmas’ showed cheerfully at the bottom in black cursive lettering. My bottom lip trembled and my eyes started watering and my entire body started shivering.
I began tracing the words on the first penguin with my burnt index finger. I didn't even notice the pain when my burnt, bloody finger pressed against the smooth, synthetic wood. My index finger swooped down to finish the leg of the M. A shaky line down, a tiny dot above; i. A circle and a tail; a.
I stared at the name.
Mia.
For some reason, it didn't seem like my name. I had changed so much. I wasn't Mia. Not anymore. I wasn't the Mia that Christy and Ben had known. I guess it didn't really matter now. I was too late.
They were gone.
Just like the rest of my village.
Burned.
Just like the rest of the village.
I gazed at the three happy, smiling penguins. I couldn't save them. I was too slow. I was late and they were gone.
I couldn't protect them like I promised.
I gingerly picked up the sign from the ground, ignoring my burnt hands. I lightly touched the middle penguin and then the smallest penguin.
“I'm sorry,” I choked out.

I had missed Christy's last four birthdays. She would have been fourteen now. I had missed Ben's last four birthdays. He would have been seventeen now.
“But now they're gone,” I moaned, rocking back and forth on my heels, sounding like a crazy person. And maybe I was a crazy person. Maybe I was just slowly losing my mind. I wouldn't know. Nobody would know- because nobody was there.

I rocked on my heels and looked around the charred village. I had missed it so much. But my ambitions had called me and so I had left.
I had missed Christy and Ben and Mother. But my ambition had called me and so I had left. Mother would have been happy to know that my ambitions had gotten me nowhere. She had always been against me leaving. But now she was gone and I hadn't gotten to say goodbye. We hadn't been the closest. But she was my mother and I loved her. I had loved all of them.
So why had I left them? I asked myself. Before I could answer my question, I heard a noise and my head jerked up. I scanned the horizon. Suddenly a movement behind a crumbling stone wall caught my eye. And then a curly black haired boy appeared behind it. His blue eyes, painfully familiar, bored into mine. His face was smudged with soot and dirt, but I could see the freckles and the familiar nose.
“Mia?”
Ben looked so different from his thirteen year old self. The last time I had seen him was when his voice had just begun to crack and he had a growth spurt but was still shorter than me. Now his voice was deeper, a little different but the same, and he was much, much taller than me.
I raced across the ground between us, the sign clutched in my hands, and hugged him tight.

Be Home By 5:55
My guilty pleasure horse story
3000 words


Suddenly conscious of time, I checked my watch. Three forty-five. I concluded that I'd better pick up the pace if I wanted to get a decent forty-five minute ride in on the new horse. I added a final artistic stroke to the graphite portrait of Eden, and then stowed my pencil and square, portable-sized sketchbook into my bag. Eden, the one horse I could trust to be a reliable, still reference, sensed that I no longer needed her magnificent modeling. She stuck her black nose through the bars as was our custom when I finished drawing her, and I gave her a nose rub. After a few seconds she pulled back. She bobbed her proud, arched neck, tossed her curly black mane, and lumbered over to her water bucket. She plunged her black nose into the bucket, took a long drink, then lifted her head up and looked at me, like, ‘Why are you still here?’ Water dripped from her whiskers and she shook her head, splattering droplets everywhere.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” I laughed, shielding my face from the slobbery, wet drops.

My black rubber rain boots made muted clopping sounds as I strode down the cement aisle towards my tack locker. The neat row of bins lined the wall. Above the containers were panes of thick glass that peered into the large inside arena. As I did the combination to the lock on my tack box to put away my art bag and pull out my riding gear, I glanced inside the arena. A girl was doing canter circles on a small dark bay pony, her curly blonde ponytail flopping against her back with each stride. I couldn't clearly see her face as she was at the far side of the area, plus I think I needed glasses, but I knew that she was Esmé Hazelton. Esmé was the Hazeltons' six year old daughter; the Hazeltons being the owners and head riding instructors of Hazelton Stables.
I could also tell it was Esmé because of the pony she was riding. King was a small, long legged bay pony with a distinctly concave profile, which meant he had some Arabian blood in him. His long, silky black tail flagged behind him in true Arabian style, though his neck was a little too short and straight for him to be a purebred Arabian.
I flipped open the cover of my tack box and sniffed the air absently. I smelled popcorn. The kitchen was just opposite me, so probably someone had just made a bowl of popcorn. I stuffed my bag neatly into a corner and pulled out my black riding boots from the tidily arranged box. I slipped them on and zipped them up. As I was pulling out my helmet, I heard a cheerful, familiar voice.

“Hey!”

I glanced up in surprise.

“Emery?” I exclaimed. The girl standing in the entryway grinned. Her bouncy, curly, blonde hair contrasted with her dark skin and her blue eyes had a laughing twinkle to them. She was holding a stainless steel bowl half filled with fluffy, creamy, white popcorn. She popped one in her mouth as she approached me. She swallowed with exaggerated expressions, making me laugh, before she spoke.

“Yup, that's me. Emery in the flesh,” she replied, feigning superiority. We shared a hug and then she offered me the popcorn and I took a few buttery kernels as I said, “I thought you were in Florida?”

“I was,” the older girl nodded. “But now I'm back,” she smiled.

“Why did I think you weren't coming back until the twenty-first?”

“Because you're not a very bright person,” Emery joked. I pretended to ignore her.

“How did you do in your classes?”

“All blues, except for a red in dressage. I almost turned right instead of left- it
wasn't an awful mistake but it was enough to bump me down to second.”

“Well, you were always a little directionally challenged,” I teased, getting back at her for her previous snub.
We walked back down the aisle and I pulled my hair up into a ponytail and strapped on my gloves.

“Did you just get here?” I asked.

“No, I've been in the arena since two,” Emery laughed. “You didn't actually think Esmé would be allowed to ride King in there all by herself, did you?”

“Well, she is pretty good,” I replied. “And she's in there by herself right now, isn't she?”

“She's just cooling him down,” Emery answered, waving a fly away. “And yeah, she is a natural. But Mom doesn't want her riding on her own just yet.”

“I didn't see you in there,” I observed, pushing open the door to the tack room.

“I was sitting on the mounting block behind the standards and poles,” she explained. Oh yes. They had been there for so long that I hadn't even really noticed the cluster of colorful wooden jump parts in the middle of the arena.

“Your mom is teaching a class in the outdoor ring, right?” I asked, taking a bridle from its hook on the wall and looping it over my shoulder.

“Yup, a semi from three thirty to four thirty,” Emery answered. “Why?”

“She asked me to exercise Soph,” I replied, slinging a fleece girth onto my shoulder. “I was planning on riding outside if the ring wasn't being used. But I'll just have to ride her in the arena.”
As I spoke, I grabbed a white saddle pad from the rack of saddle pads and half pads and balanced it on my right arm. Then I took the saddle from the wall-mounted saddle rack labeled ‘Soph’ and hoisted it on top of the saddle pad.

“Soph doesn't need polos, right?” I glanced at Emery for guidance.

“I don't think so,” Emery replied.

“I might jump her- could you help me with the jumps? If you're not busy or anything,” I added.

“Sure thing; ‘I’ve got a blank space baby, and I'll write your name,'” Emery laughed. She was, at the very least, a Taylor Swift fanatic and rattled off lyrics whenever I slipped up and gave her the opportunity to do so. She grinned unapologetically at me and continued. “And I don't believe I've seen Soph in action yet.”

“Okay great, thanks! Let me just go tack her up.”

“Yup. I'm going to check up on Esmé while you're at it.”

We parted ways and I made a beeline for Soph's stall. Mom had demanded I be back by five fifty-five latest. That gave me- I glanced at the clock as I passed it- about one and a half hours for riding.
Several horses nickered and snorted as I swept past their stalls. A few of them were new, but as long as I had been at Hazelton, in the midst of the long rows of stalls, there had always been seven horses in a cluster, four on the left side of the aisle and three on the right. I had memorized all their names over the months. I always greeted them if and when I passed by.
“Hi Cedar, hi Blizzard, hi Lazy, hi Cisco, hi Posy, hi Zeus, hi Gemini,” I blurted in one breath, my head swiveling from left to right so I could see them. Many horses had come and gone from Hazelton; Cedar, Blizzard, Lazy, Cisco, Posy, Zeus, and Gemini had stayed. They were all retired show horses and were now used for lessons. Cedar had shown under the show name Cedar Grove, Blizzard had been Hazelton's Blizzard, Lazy was Pocketbook, Cisco was Caramel Cookie, Posy was Positively Amazing, Zeus was Just Zeus, (literally, just Zeus), and Gemini was Mini Gemini. They had all been top tier show horses/ponies and I knew that the Hazeltons had no intention of selling them anytime soon as they were worth their weight in gold as school horses. And horses weigh a lot.

I transferred the saddle and saddle pad onto the saddle rack, which was attached to the post beside the washing stall and crossties. I draped the girth over the seat of the saddle and hung the bridle on a hook a bit higher up. Then I got a colorful blue and green lead rope from the lead rope hook and headed off in the direction of Soph's stall.

Soph competed under the show name ‘So Sophisticated’ and it was perfect for her as she was practically the definition of ‘so sophisticated.’ She was fifteen and a half hands high, nothing specular but a modest height nonetheless, and she had long legs that made her gaits ground covering and smooth. Her neck was medium length, not racehorse length or stocky pony length, and it arched with the grace of a fountain. Her conformation was practically perfect, and she excelled in cross country and show jumping. The Hazeltons were planning on training her to be an all-purpose horse and train her in Western, but since she was only three and a half years old they decided to just focus on English for now. Though at the moment, it seemed pretty hopeless to try and train her in dressage. She was a really nice moving horse and she had beautiful gaits, but she was too high-spirited to trot around in circles and canter unbearably slowly. She prefered galloping away at full speed with the wind whipping her mane back and her tail streaming straight after her. That's why she was really good at cross country. She had learned to be more patient in show jumping in order to get the jumps. She loved jumping, and she rarely refused or ran out on a jump. Before, when she was the wannabe racehorse, she nicked countless poles because of her extremely fast approach and knocked over a few. When that had happened she hung her head and looked ashamed of herself. So she learned to listen to her rider and slow down when needed. She was a smart horse.

Soph was a beautiful bay mare with a glossy red coat and a silky black mane. Her soft blue eyes and the white star on her forehead contrasted against her darker coat and she was just very satisfying to look at. I had yet to draw her, but I mentally put her next on my list.
Her blue halter was hanging on the hook on the outside of her stall door, as well as her blankets, which were draped on a long black bar. I took her halter, lifted the latch, and pushed the sliding stall door open.

“Hi there,” I said softly, slipping into her stall. She turned to me and nickered.

“Hi,” I said again as she pushed her nose against me. I slipped her halter on and she lowered her head so it would be easier for me to put it on. I was pretty short, after all.
I clipped the lead rope onto the ring on her halter which was underneath her chin and pushed the door open wider so she wouldn't hit against it as she walked past.
Soph's hooves clopped on the barn's cement aisle and my riding boots clicked along beside her. I led her into the crossties, which are two strips of leather or rope with clips on the ends of them.
I clipped the cross ties onto the rings on the side of her halter and rummaged around in the grooming supplies bucket for a curry comb. I began brushing her practically already immaculate coat with the bendy plastic curry in circular motions to bring the dust to the surface. Then I armed myself with a hard brush, also known as a dandy brush, to flick off the dust the curry comb had brought up. Horses always seemed to be the dustiest near their rump, which was the hardest part for me to reach since I couldn't really see over their backs. So I had to stand on tiptoe to get the dust off. I ran a soft brush over her to make her coat glisten even more and to get the dust off her legs, then I picked out all four hooves. I put all my grooming tools away and placed the blue saddle pad on her back, a little bit too far forward to start with because it always ended up sliding back in the proper position when I put the saddle on. I hoisted the saddle onto her back and made sure everything was in the right place, and then I did up the girth. I checked the stirrups to make sure they were the right length for my short legs and ran them up a few holes. Then I rolled the stirrups back up so they wouldn't swing against Soph's sides and hit her as she walked.
I bridled her, double checked to make sure everything was fitted properly and in the right place, and then I flipped the reins over her head and led her into the arena.
Esmé had already untacked King and was jumping over some low cross rails with her older sister. They were laughing as they ran around chasing each other.
“Door!” I warned them. I opened the door to the arena, led Soph in, and then closed the door again. I swung the reins over Soph's head, ran the stirrups down, and tightened the girth. Then I led her to the mounting block.
Soph stood like a graceful statue while I mounted and then she stepped forward from the slightest nudge from my legs.
“She is crazy responsive-” I said, impressed by her fluid movement and her attention to the aids I was giving her. She bended beautifully in the corner and almost automatically. I walked her twice around on the right rein, then went across the diagonal to walk twice around on the left rein. After passing ‘A’ the other second lap around, I squeezed Soph's sides and shortened my reins simultaneously to ask her to trkt. She smoothly transitioned to the faster, bouncer gait and I began posting. I checked her outside shoulder to make sure I was rising on the correct beat.
“She's got a really nice, smooth trot,” I told Emory. I started doing big circles at the end of each side of the arena- sitting trot for the circle and posting trot down the long side. After a few serpentines, which she aced, I brought her down to a walk so she could get a breather.
“If her canter is anything like her trot, it's going to be like floating on a cloud,” I said to Emory, guiding Soph around the jumps at an impulsive walk. Then I pushed her towards the wall with my leg aids and reins and then nudged her into a trot. When I got near the corner of the ring, I sat to her trot in a sitting trot, and then squeezed her sides with my outside and inside leg. She broke into a smooth canter and I smiled happily. I went for a lap around and then asked her to collect. She responded by shortening her strides and pulling forward with her front legs rather than her back legs. I went for another lap on the right rein at a canter and then crossed the diagonal. I was sure she could do a flying lead change, but I did a simple change and brought her back to a trot in the middle. Then I turned her head to the left and asked her to canter again. After cantering three laps around in the left lead, and one collected cantered lap, I brought her down to a walk.
“Good girl,” I praised the bay mare, patting her glossy neck. She bobbed her head as she walked around on a loose rein. Emory and Esmé were already setting up the jumps.
“We'll start with this oxer and that combination,” Emory said, pointing to the three jumps, which were all on opposite quarter lines. I nodded and asked Soph to trot on the right rein. She stepped out energetically and I nudged her into a canter as we went through the corner. I looked at the upcoming jump, turned Soph in the corner, straightened her with my legs and reins, and sailed her over the jump away from home. I cantered on a straight line for about three strides and then leg yielded her over to the wall so I would have more room to turn into the combination which was on the other quarter line. She jumped the combination flawlessly and with no extra steps or a pole nick. I cantered her through the home corner and then brought her back down to a trot.
“Good girl!” I exclaimed, patting her. She snorted.
“Now you can do it the other way around,” Esmé piped up. I laughed and gathered up my reins. “Good idea,” I nodded.
I went through it on the left rein flawlessly, and then I did it backwards, doing the combination first and then the oxer. Then Esmé and Emory made up a course with more complicated jumps.
“I was thinking of just an oxer on the quarter line, away from home, go over a combination on the opposite quarter line, then go across the diagonal to that X and then back to the quarter line over towards home.” Emory pointed to each jump in turn as she explained the course.
“Easy peasy,” I said confidently. “We got this, Soph.”
And sure enough, she sailed over the jumps like a Pegasus and cantered consistently throughout the entire course. Of course, it was nothing more than I had expected of her. She was a great horse.
Esmé sneaked her a carrot behind Emory's back and I stifled a laugh.
I loved horses, and the equestrian community was just so awesome and loving. They were practically my second family.
Well, I hope you enjoyed my guilty pleasure horse story. And yes, I got home by exactly five fifty-four.

7/16 Main Cabin Daily
450 words

Greetings. I am Princess Amira and this is the story of how a short lesson changed my whole life
.
I had sixty minute long sessions with my tutor, Yuggink, but it was his under three minute session that impacted me the most, I think. Perhaps it was the shock- the significance of the short time that made his lesson stick with me for the rest of my life.

“This lesson will be less than three minutes,” he said, beginning the session. Then he showed me a holographic clip that was exactly two and a half minutes long and did not say anything the entire time.
The clip showed images of dirty, coughing people with children on their backs. They wore nothing but rags and were walking wearily towards some place. Some older children weren't wearing any shirts and I could see their ribs and their hollow, gaunt cheeks. Their limbs were mere sticks and their eyes bugged out hungrily. None of them were wearing shoes. I glanced, a little horrified, at Yuggink a couple times throughout the video, but he was just watching the video and not looking at me. So I continued watching the grim pictures and video clips displayed before me.
The people stopping at a shriveled river and cupping their hands to catch a few clearly dirty drops of water.
I thought about the two liters of water I had already drank. It was only 9 am in the morning, too. Not to mention that I only drink so much water to maintain a healthy body and clear skin. These people drank water for mere survival.
My skin crawled when the hologram showed the kids eating fat, juicy bugs. I don't mind bugs. I love all insects and animals. But seeing people eat them for food was a little gross. An insect's leg, hanging out of the side of a toddler's mouth, twitched a little before the toddler ate it whole.
I thought about the good, healthy food I had had for breakfast. Good tea from the Eastern Isles, avocado toast with scrambled eggs- all good things. And I have so much more to eat. These people were eating bugs just to survive. I had never thought about eating a bug just so I could live. But I guess if I was in that situation, I would be grateful enough for a bit of protein. The hologram ended abruptly but I had a pretty solid idea on what Yuggink had alluded to for this particular lesson.
Those people's hungry faces have stuck with me for my entire life, and I try to be kind to everyone I see and be generous and helpful to those in need.

7/17 Main Cabin Daily
might have gotten a little carried away heh - also perhaps this is a bit violent so - tw because mentions of child abuse (thats dark)
1017 words

I will destroy you.

I lie there on the ground, the rough stone digging into my back, hands under my head, and I know that it is a completely empty threat. If Ursa could have heard me, she would know that it was all bark and no bite, too. She knew I could do nothing.

Absolutely nothing.

Feeling useless and frustrated, I roll over onto my stomach and give the wall a death stare. My raw elbows scream in pain from being propped up against the hard ground, but I ignore it. I am good at ignoring pain. My childhood had been nothing short of pain, misery, and hatred. I had grown up in the local orphanage. I was known as a tough, stubborn child. I had run away at six and was taken in by a middle aged woman whose name was Vortex. She had stormy gray eyes like mine and she turned out to be some ninja lady. She taught me all the forms of martial arts that she knew and by the time I was thirteen, I could successfully beat her in three consecutive matches.
When the winter of my fourteenth birthday rolled around, Vortex's daughter came back home. She had been abroad doing ‘ninja stuff’ and had heard about me through her scanty communication with her mother. She was four years older than me and we grew close during spring and summer. Her name was Ursa. She was visibly impressed with my fighting skills and my natural abilities that she asked permission from Vortex to take me with her during her next trip. Vortex agreed. But little did she know.
Ursa had an ulterior motive.

I should have spotted the signs. Her sugarcoating everything she said to me. The little smile she gave when Vortex allowed me to go with her. My ignorant, unguarded mind had interpreted it as a happy smile- a smile that meant she was happy that I got to go with her and bond over the trip. It did not even cross my mind that it was a smirk. A smirk because she had gotten exactly that she wanted. My street smarts hadn't been able to keep up with Ursa's years of training. She had melted the walls I had been building up for years in just a couple months. And then she had struck.
She had begun demanding me to tell her what Vortex had given me. I had stupidly begun listing off my fingers the hundreds of martial art forms that the kind lady had taught me when Ursa slapped me across the face. She screamed at me that I was a stupid girl but that I knew exactly what she was talking about.

“Not the martial arts,” she had seethed. “The other thing. What did she give you?” In that instance I knew what she was talking about, but I smoothly and skillfully feigned ignorance. Ursa threw a major fit, screaming about her boss, her job, and how stupid I was, before dragging me down ten flights of stairs (I counted) and throwing me into a cold stone cell.

“You'll stay here until your mind warms up and your memory starts working again,” she had snarled before leaving me. After that, she visited me every day to question me and to give me a shamefully small meal. Every time I ate the food and said that I did not know what she was talking about. Then she would hit me or kick me or shove me to the hard ground. Some days she was just so mad at me that she would silently leave the cell with her eyes burning and her ears smouldering with anger.


Rattling sounds coming from the general direction of the cell door notifies me of the fact that Ursa is here. At this point I do not acknowledge the fact that she even enters my cell. I nonchalantly go back to my original position- arms folded underneath my head and my back against the ground. I stare at the ceiling listlessly with the irritated rattling sound telling me that Ursa is having trouble with the lock. Then a final aggressive jangle and the door bursts open. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see Ursa looming above me in her usual monstrous state. I continue staring at the ceiling unblinkingly and do not look at her directly.

“Get up,” she says sharply. I do not move. “I said get up!” This time she leans down and grabs me up by the shoulders. Her face is inches from mine and her brown eyes gleam with an odd sort of triumph.

“Boss says you're useless to us now. Says he didn't believe it at first, but now he thinks you're as stupid and worthless as I know you are. And he says that you're taking up too much space. We can't afford to keep you. So say goodbye to your dust friends and then off you go.”

“I never had any real friends.” My face is stone solid and my voice is as cold as ice. Ursa tilts her head and pouts mockingly.

“Aw, so sad.” Her voice changes from mockingly sympathetic to harsh and cruel. “I guess that's what you get for being a sniveling, naive little street rat.” Her mouth twisted into a crooked line that I assumed she meant to be a smile- of sorts.

“So, what do you say?” she grins, moving one hand to her belt. “Any,” she puts her dagger blade against my throat, “any last words?”
Looking into her poopy brown eyes and her detestable face makes my blood boil. I know I'm not supposed to hate people, but maybe Ursa is an exception?

“Last words here, Terra,” Ursa says, getting impatient. "I don't have all day. I really don't want your last words to be ‘I never had any real friends’ because that's just too pathetic. But if you take any longer- well, let's just say I don't care about you that much.“
I open my mouth and say:

”I will destroy you."

7/18 Word Wars
85 words lol I was tired - no prompt - 2 minutes - Starthorn - lost

The water was blue Tuesday water was green the water was purple the water was pink. I looked at the sky and the sky was all those colors. I was very confused or maybe that was just me. The water was pretty but confusing, i did not know what to think. Was i imagining it or was the watery hundred different colors. It still managed to look pretty even with all the different colors. It is confusing, difficult to describe. perhaps I just imagined it

7/18 Main Cabin Daily
1043 words #overachiever
Story: The Elves and the Shoemaker SWCified Elves and the Shoemaker, AKA the Elves and the SWC Adventure Camper


Lia was running out of ink and paper. That was never good. Especially when the dailies were worth a lot of points. If only she hadn't used up so many of her stationary items to doodle and write random words in calligraphy and block letters. She supposed that that was her own fault. SWC campers were only allowed a certain amount of paper and ink per daily. You got a minimum of two sheets of paper and one fully filled pen per daily that you did. How much stationary you got also depended on how many points the daily was worth that day. For example, a nine hundred point daily would earn you more stationary than if it was a five hundred point daily- as well as earning those points for your cabin.
Depending on how much stationary you saved from the last daily, you could essentially hoard the stationary as a cumulative stash. Also dependent on you: if your daily was exceptionally well written, you might be able to earn extra writing items.
Lia was hoping to write an exceptionally good daily. She needed that extra paper. She mentally slapped herself into promising not to doodle around with her next batch of stationary. Then she strained her eyes to read the daily once more. All she could see was the seemingly bolded phrase ‘900 points.’
Could she do it?
She glanced at the pen in her hand and at the little ink that was left in it. Maybe, she thought, mentally estimating the amount of ink that was left, maybe I could do it. If I wrote carefully and didn't make any mistakes. She painstakingly wrote out a tiny, extremely cut down outline of what she wanted her daily to look like and then stopped. It was almost eleven at night and she needed some rest for her body and her eyes. Also, her hand was cramping. But, no. She squinted at her paper with heavy eyes. She could keep writing. Just a little longer-
The miniscule words on the page swam around, blurred, and then Lia finally gave into sleep and laid her head down on her desk. Just for a little while.

When Lia awoke, she rubbed her blurry eyes and blinked. Then she looked at her paper and blinked again. Underneath her small brainstorming box were lines and lines of small, neat letters. Lia's other last paper was underneath it and was filled, back and front, with black words.
Lia quickly read over the entire thing. It was a story based on her outline. She counted each word. It was exactly seven hundred words. Right smack dab on the dot, the minimum word count: seven hundred words.
Lia joyfully ran over to the Main Cabin, papers in hand. The Main Cabin looked something like a post office slash library.
In the front middle there was the sliding window where you got your stationary from a leader or a host sitting behind the window, depending on who had that job on that day. Above the window was a gigantic, tall sign that had the last-updated cabin rankings on it, as well as the respective cabins' points. On either side of the ranking board were wider, shorter signs. On the right, there was a that huge sign that proclaimed the day's daily, as well as an intimidatingly large countdown signifying how much time was left to complete the daily. On the left was a countdown for the weekly, but no description. Instead there was a large arrow pointing to a smaller building where you could find out what you were supposed to do for the weekly.
Then, on either side of the window, were fifteen slots with the fifteen cabin names on them. The slots were where the campers of each cabin could send in their dailies and/or weeklies to have them checked over by the leaders or hosts on duty and be awarded
with the stationary and points due.

Lia inserted her daily papers into an envelope that she got from the rack beside the window and slipped it into the daily slot specifically labeled Adventure. Then she waited. Around her, a few other campers from different cabins were inserting their dailies or weeklies. In five minutes there was a buzzing sound and a speaker said, “Lia, from Adventure? Your points from your daily have been added, please come get your stationary!”
Lia skipped over to the window. There she was awarded with five sheets of paper and two fully filled pens. Apparently her daily had been exceptionally well written. Lia started strategizing for her next daily. With five sheets of paper and two pens, she would be able to write a better, more quality filled daily. But she would have to see what the daily was first.

The daily changed and required eight hundred words. Lia got out her papers and looked out one of the Adventure cabin windows. She could see the glowing signs from the Main Cabin, as well as the lights from the other cabins. She glanced at the clock. It was ten . SWC promoted sleep over writing and so the hosts had recently set in place a bedtime, which was ten thirty at the latest. Lia had maybe sort of snuck out past curfew to try and finish her daily yesterday, which she had procrastinated on.

Lia could write a short outline in less than thirty minutes, before bedtime. She could do that. She glanced out the window at the daily sign and then started writing her outline.
It was not a moment too soon when she finished, for as soon as she put down the last letter, Soki, the Adventure Cabin leader, shouted, “Lights out in two!” Lia left her things on her desk and went to crawl into her bunk bed along with the other Adventure campers.
As Lia lay there on her bottom bunk, she thought about the mysteriously written daily.
Who had done it?
Just before she fell asleep, she thought she might have heard a soft pattering of feet. But she might have just imagined it. She forgot all about it- that is, until she woke up and found her daily all written up, just according to her outline.

7/19 Main Cabin Daily
460 words


“Where is it?”

“I don't know.”

“I know you know where it is.” Silence. Sternness turns to desperation and pleading. “Natalie, please! You need to tell me where it is or else- or-”

“-or else everyone in the world will die?” Natalie's voice is cool and her face is blank. “I know. I know that, Lauren.” Natalie's voice sends chills down the older girl's spine.

“And you want that to happen?” Lauren demands, pushing her emotions down. Feelings had no place during an interrogation. Natalie's mouth stays closed and her blue eyes stare straight through Lauren.

“Natalie!” Lauren explodes, exasperated and tried beyond her patience. “Where is it?”

“Can't tell, won't tell, shan't talk,” Natalie singsongs, still staring blankly into space but now with a dangerous glint in her eyes.

“Natalie-” Lauren stares at her little sister helplessly. “What happened to you?” she half whispers, and half not expecting a reply. There is silence.
Then Natalie suddenly lifts her head up and Lauren is struck by how pale her eyes are. Natalie's huge, fathomless eyes blink slowly. Then she shrugs carelessly.

“I grew up,” she replies. Her eyes now have a half-closed look to them and her brows and lips are set in a smug line.

“Well, guess what,” Lauren snaps, “I grew up too. But I didn't turn out to be a bratty thief.”

For a split second Natalie's careless, grown-up mask cracks. Her eyes soften with hurt and she looks like a wounded animal. Her bottom lip quivers. But only for a split second. It's a ‘blink and you’ll miss it' moment. She hastily pulls herself together and her mask slides back on. She sets her mouth in a grim line and her eyes harden.

“I am more than you will ever be, sister,” she snarls. “And you are getting nothing out of me, so don't waste your time. Don't bother trying to guilt me with the,” Natalie's voice changes to a mocking falsetto, “'oh but you could be a hero,' ‘everyone’s gonna die-' I don't care about that, Lauren!” Her voice grows louder. “I don't care, I don't care about anyone! No one. Not even you. Do you hear me, sister? I don't care about anyone here. So I don't care if everyone dies. And that's your weakness, Lauren. You care about people. They make you weak. They make you predictable.”

Lauren stands there with tears in her eyes. Natalie smirks and scoffs, “See, you even care about me, a person who doesn't care about you. Give it up, Lauren. You'll never be able to turn me into a goody two shoes like you and you know it. You look pathetic right now. You are weak, sister.”

“You are not my sister,” Lauren whispers, shaking her head.

Writing Exercept for the 7/20 Main Cabin Daily
This is an old, short piece that I updated and added to, 500+ words and 320 of them were words written in July/words that i wrote today :>



Sweet dreams to all the people of the earth
May no nightmares haunt your sleep tonight
May your sleep be restful and of regenerating worth…

I bolt up in bed, drenched in sweat, having just been rudely awakened by a callous, hoarse cackle.
My breath comes in short, choked gasps. I try to calm my nerves by obsessively using both hands to rake my hair back, which has been glued to my damp forehead with sweat.

It's okay it's okay it's just a dream- just a stupid lullaby- it can't hurt you, can't hurt you- can it? no no no it can't- worry, stop worrying-
I bite down hard on my lip to stop the flood of familiar thoughts that usually come after my nightmares. I absently shift my tongue over the raw part of my lip. I taste blood. Tears prick the corners of my eyes-

stupid stupid- weak- you're weak, stop crying- why are you crying?

“Stop it!" I cry out in despair. My fingers, which have still been repeatedly brushing my hair back, stop in place and clench onto my scalp with a painful grip. I stare fearfully into the complete darkness.

I hardly even notice that I had spoken out loud- and right now, I honestly could care less.

My blankets are twisted around my legs. I untangle myself and stumble through the dark bedroom to the bathroom. I switch the light on and close my eyes for a second to let them adjust to the abrupt contrast in lighting. I open my eyes and am face to face with the mirror. As usual, I look like a crazy mad woman with my under-eyes dark from lack of sleep, and my hair now a rake-ish mess thanks to my nervous, twitchy habits. Lovely. I find myself aggressively washing my face with ice cold water from the tap, trying to wake myself up. Salty tears mix in with the cool water running down my face.

Wake up wake up wake up- I can hear the desperate side of my mind begging daybreak to arrive.

Please just be morning already! It's easier to bear in the light. Please, please…
I take a deep breath and try to calm my scrambled mind.

I love the sunrises. The beautiful colors breaking through the darkness, painting the sky with bright strokes of pink and orange and yellow. I love it when the sun peeps up over the horizon, a warm, cheery ball of fire that touches everything that reaches out to it. The sun's presence tells me that I've survived another night and that I will have rest for a few more hours.

I hate the sunsets. They mean that the sun is leaving me, abandoning me to the shadowy arms of darkness. As the sun is pulled behind the horizon by invisible strings, the sky mourns with blood red stripes and the yellow and pink follows after it reluctantly.

And the night. That horrid darkness- those voices that- you're not supposed to be thinking terrifying, sad thoughts! Think happy thoughts.

What make you happy. What makes me happy, what makes me happy…?

7/20 Main Cabin Daily
Critiqued See's Writing (SSingh2008)
776 words that are ‘mine’

SSingh2008 wrote:

Her lips were pursed, her eye’s red no words could come out of her mouth as she gasped for breath, glancing at her brother lying there covered in blood, not breathing. She couldn’t do anything not even save him and now not even shed tears for him.

Lia the Critic wrote:

The opening sentences provide an invitation to keep reading. The readers will want to keep following along with the story because they will want to know how the brother came to be lying in blood. However, there are a lot of grammatical mistakes. Plural words are not made with an apostrophe and an ‘s.’ For example, the plural of fox would not be fox's. An apostrophe + s typically means a possessive word, like ‘Susan’s bag.' It can also mean a contraction for a noun/pronoun with the verb is, like ‘She’s alive.' It is grammatically incorrect to pluralize a word with an apostrophe and an ‘s.’ In your case, the plural of ‘eye’ would be ‘eyes.’

There is also a lack of a needed period in between ‘red’ and ‘no.’ There should be a period after the red and then a space, and then capitalize the ‘n’ in no. For the second sentence, it's bridging on a run-on sentence (if it is not bridging, then it's already a run-on sentence.) The second sentence is very long and it's quite a mouthful to say. Even with the commas, the sentence doesn't roll off the tongue very easily. You could chop it up into two separate sentences by splitting it in the middle and adding a period after ‘her brother.’ Then to make the sentence after it harmonious, you could add ‘He was’ to connect it to your original sentence. Another detail I would suggest changing would be to change the comma before ‘not breathing’ to the conjunction ‘and,’ in order to avoid clumps of comma and to add diversity in your use of punctuation. This really depends on your personal style though.

When you come to the last sentence of these opening sentences, there is another run-on sentence. For this one, depending on your choice, you could either add a comma or a period after ‘anything.’ Personally, I feel like a comma would help it flow along and not feel too short or choppy. However, short sentences offer emotional punches as you can utilize its shortness by making it a blunt, emotion-packed sentence. The shortness helps it sink in, and a good choice of words can really hit home. For sentences that you want your readers to really think on, it would be a great choice to make it short and sweet. Longer sentences are harder to remember and so they won't stick as well. Anyway, as I said, it is a choice of style.

Now, this next part is me just being super nitpicky, but I don't feel like it sounds right when you use the same word multiple times in a short amount of words. Using something too many times just takes the meaning out of it and doesn't make it feel as significant. In your case, the word ‘even’ is used twice in the phrases ‘not even save him,’ and ‘and now not even shed tears for him.’ You could use synonymous words instead of repeating the word twice. Or, you could just completely omit one of them completely. Personally, I would get rid of the one in ‘not even save him,’ because I just feel like there is more guilt to be had in not being able to shed tears for the dead than opposed to not being able to save them. As death is an inevitable thing and there isn't really much to avoid it in the long run, I think that a better choice of words could be had. I'm really not sure how to explain what I mean but yeah.

Therefore, the edited beginning sentences:

Her lips were pursed, her eyes red. No words could come out of her mouth as she gasped for breath, glancing at her brother. He was lying there covered in blood and not breathing. She couldn't do anything. She hadn't saved him. And now, she couldn't even shed tears for him.

As I wrote way too much for three sentences, I think I'll just briefly go over the rest of the story. It is a pretty vague story, which can be good in some cases, but I feel like you could expand a little more on how the brother died and why the main character killed the old men, along with herself. You could explain how she was impacted and driven to do that. I really liked the sentence ‘Questions were asked but no answer was given,’ because it just sounds really good and it just adds to the mysteriousness of the character.

Overall it's a really interesting story, albeit dark and morbid, but there are a lot of grammatical errors to watch out for.

Fantasy Weekly
4385/2300 total words


Part 1: High Fantasy and Worldbuilding
1770 total words

Brainstorming 20/20 points
291/x words

• Small city
• Futuristic setting
• All people are separated into groups/ranks depending on their magic powers
• Birthmarks signify their powers
• Everyone is friendly and considers everyone to be family
• A utopia place where there is no violence, at least from the inhabitants.
• Children are always respectful of their elders and call everyone (unrelated to them) ‘Uncle,’ if they are talking to an older gentleman, ‘Aunt(ie),’ regarding an older woman, ‘sister,’ if talking about a female peer, and ‘brother,’ if regarding a male peer.
• Very artistic place
• Everyone specializes in a type of art form
• Everyone has magical abilities
• Small village
• Democracy is the official government but is not needed
• Florist is the lowest ranking art form despite the village being a flowery utopia
• Mangoes are the official fruit of the village and offering one is a sign of reconciliation, peace, and friendship
• If a person with painting as an art talent eats a strawberry during the day, they will not be able to sleep for 24 hours
• Families are allowed a maximum of four children
• Every family has a house and each room is specially designed according to the particular person's art talent.
• A child is guaranteed to get their parents' magical ability if its parents have the same powers. Thusly, to avoid a monopower society, all couples are required to have different powers
• Art talents are randomly gifted. It is next to impossible to not be born with a magical power but not rare for a person to not have an art talent. Art talentless people usually become assistants to people who have similar powers to them but have art talents
• If the people do not get at least a second of sunshine every day, they will fade away.


Connections Using Bolded Items (15/10)
497/200 words

The utopian paradise that is the hidden village Faewick is a small, bright place. Everyone is good and kind in the village and the democratic rulership is not responsible for the complete and utter lack of violence in its society.
Faewick is a magical, artistic place and everyone there has magical powers. Almost everyone has an art talent that they excel in, like painting, origami, culinary skills, carpentry, floristry, and more. Some people are art talentless but are still respected members of the community. But because of their lack of art abilities, they typically become assistants to those of whom have the same powers as them but who also have an art talent. In short, everyone might not have an art talent but everyone has a magical ability. As everyone is polite and kind, all art abilities are viewed as equal and very important.
It was scientifically proven by a former Faewick citizen, one Dr. Flaos, that people with the same powers got along better and tended to be more in sync. (Of course, everyone is externally polite, but of course everyone has their own inner thoughts and opinions that might not exactly match up to others'. Despite this fantastic revelation, couples wishing to have children may not, underline that not, have the same magical abilities. They may have the same art talent but never, never the same magic powers. And that, my friends, is because a child is 99.99% guaranteed to have the same powers as that of their parents if their parents so happened to have the same magical abilities. And so, to avoid a lyevieadl mik vietua, which is Old Faewickian for ‘a mono power society,’ (a society where everyone has the exact same power), those rules were set in place. As well as the Same Powers rule, there is also the law that a maximum of only four children is allowed. Each family has a house that is built upon to accommodate the newer generations. Each room is personalized according to the inhabitants' magical powers and art abilities. When a woman is married, she moves from her family's house to her spouse's family's house and two white rings are hung above her door to show that she is not originally of the house.
Faewick follows a very natural aesthetic and centers around flowers and nature and vegetation. Mangoes are the official fruit of the fairy-like village and gifting one to another person is a sign of friendship, reconciliation, and peace.
As previously mentioned (several times), everyone in the village is kind and peaceful. There is no violence from the inhabitants and there hasn't been in centuries. Children are brought up with good virtues and are polite and respectful to everyone. The Faewickians are essentially one big happy family.
However, one thing marrs the bright, joyful village. Death. If a Faewickian, child or senior, has not been exposed that day to at least a single drop of sunshine, they will die at midnight.

Narrative
982/400 words

“I don't want to.”

Nifis was being extremely stubborn today. I sighed and crossed my arms, hoping to look like Mother. I straightened up to my full height and stared into my sister's unamused eyes.

I opened my mouth and said sternly, “Nifis Alexandra-” this tactic usually worked- “do you want me to get Mother?”

Nifis pouted. “No.”

“Then you need to come with me and go outside,” I coaxed, still with my stern facade. My younger sister's five year old face scrunched up in disgust, but she slid off the bed anyway and followed me out of her dim room.

As we headed down the long corridors of our mansion, I was thinking.
How would you explain to a five year old that she would die if she didn't get any sunlight? In order not to scar them for life, you'd have to beat around the bush. I sighed inwardly. Our one weakness was a grim one.

Nifis' sunny nature was restored as she skipped down the halls. I was trying to look like a mature older sister by walking sedately. Luckily my legs were long enough to keep up with her skips.

“Is Auntie Terri still asleep?” she piped as we strode past our oldest aunt's bedroom door.

“Yes, but she knows she needs to get her sunlight and she'll get it later,” I assured her. I eyed the stairs, which were at the far end of the hall. Only two hundred more steps. I knew the house like the back of my hand. And I must say that that is pretty impressive, given that my family is one of the biggest in our village, and thus we have one of the biggest houses. Nifis and I reached the stairs in exactly two hundred steps. Opposite the staircase we were on was another staircase that led to another hall. And below were more corridors and more rooms. All in all, I believed there were approximately two hundred people living there, unless Aunt Lillian had had her baby or some person had forgotten to get their sunlight. If a person had died, everyone would know by noon.

Nifis and I finally reached one of the back doors, which led to the courtyard. I swung it open and golden morning sunlight splashed onto our faces.

“Okay, great,” Nifis said happily. “Now I can go back inside.” She prepared to leave, but I grabbed her wrist.

“No way,” I protested. “You should get more sunlight.” Nifis was about to complain when I added slyly, “And Mother said yesterday that we may pick the mangoes.”

My little sister hopped like a bunny beside me as we made a beeline for the mango orchard.

“I like the shade,” Nifis stated, crouching under the large tree happily. She played with the shadows in her hand absently.

I looked at the shadows and the smoky black birthmark behind her left ear. I felt sad for her. Nini had been gifted with the magical power of umbrakinesis, which is the power to manipulate and create shadows. Umbrakinesis wielders had a history of dying young because of their natural dislike to the sunlight. Nini was young enough for Mother to boss her around, and I just hoped she would understand early the consequences of not getting sunlight.

I utilized my magical power of telekinesis to pick a ripe mango from the stem. I offered it to Nifis and she gobbled it up like a little turkey.

“Thank you,” she grinned. Then she said innocently, “I heard Cousin Rosa say you had a crush on Cole Green.”

“That's random,” I replied uncomfortably, taking a bite out of a mango and trying to look unsuspicious.

“Do you?” Nini asked.

“Nini!” I exclaimed. This time the blood rushed up to my forehead and I probably looked like a beet.

“So you do,” the mischievous Nifis smiled wisely.

“Even if I did, it's really not any of your business,” I retorted.

The courtyard gate opened, interrupting what other embarrassing thing Nifis was going to say about me.

A young man, around his early twenties, walked in.

“Hello, brother,” I said, walking forward and using the formal way of greeting an unrelated peer.

“Hello, sisters,” he replied cordially, bending his head and touching it with his hand as a polite gesture. He smiled at Nifis in a friendly way before turning to me. “I'm looking for one Nova Sierra?”

“Oh, Nova. She's my older sister. She's in the flower room, I think,” I said.

“Thank you. I'll see you around.” The man walked away, towards the house. Only after he left did I realize that I hadn't given him directions to the flower room. I shrugged. He seemed to know where he was going, anyway.

“That's Nova's boyfriend,” Nifis chimed in, devouring her mango without a care in the world.

“What? How do you know? I've never seen him before.”

“His name is Granite something. He's been here a few times, but you just haven't bumped into him yet. He's nice. But I can't help but call him ‘Gran’ in my head. He looks nothing like Granny though.”

“Nova's boyfriend? How come I haven't heard Mother or the aunts talk about him then? Is this a secret relationship-” Suddenly I realized something. His birthmark- a tiny spot on his right fourth finger, first knuckle. I had seen it when he touched his head as a man usually does when he is in the presence of a lady. That meant he had the power to generate and manipulate earth, which happened to be the same power that Nova had. She couldn't possibly be in a relationship with this Granite! She knew that was forbidden. Nova was such a rule keeper and she made it her life's mission to make sure I stayed in the lines too. So surely not. But I couldn't help but wonder…


Part 2: Magical Realism
1144/800 total words

How is the magic in the world used in the character’s everyday lives? What are the different abilities?
99 words

Most magic wielders in Faewick have kinetic abilities, like telekinesis (manipulate things with the mind), aerokinesis (manipulate air), botanokinesis (manipulate plants), edafoskinesis (manipulate soil), and more. Some other rare types of magic are abilities like illusion magic (which is also sort of manipulating the mind). Faewickians use them daily to speed up ordinary tasks such as gardening, housekeeping, and for other activities. They don't even think that much about utilizing their gifts as it is as natural for them to use their powers as it is natural for us to use our hands and feet in our everyday lives.

What are the laws of your world, specifically about magic? Punishments?
114 words

The Same Powers rule, which was explained previously, is the law that is probably the strictest. It states that no couple may wed if they have the same magical abilities, like earth and earth powers or water and water powers. The rule was set in place shortly after the first generations of Faewickians found out that a child was one hundred percent guaranteed to have the parents' power should the parents have the same magical abilities. Therefore, as a preemptive caution against a monopower society where everyone would have the same power, the Same Powers rule was put in place. The punishment is unknown, but people who break the Same Powers law are scarce.

What is an important symbol of your world?
124 words

Mangoes, despite being a commonly grown fruit in Faewick, are the official fruit of the village. They are a symbol of peace, friendship, and reconciliation. They are also good to eat and everyone loves to eat them. Unlike other villages, where the official fruits are viewed as sacred and untouchable, Faewickians indulge in the delicious fruit. They respect it though, and there is no fear that mangoes will die off as there are numerous gardeners who keep the mango count in check. An old Faewick legend says that the founder of the village was saved from starvation by a single mango tree he found in the middle of a hidden clearing. He built Faewick around the mango tree and it still stands there today.

How common is magic, and are all characters aware they possess it?
82 words

Magic is extremely common as everyone is gifted with magical powers. As stated before, Faewickians may be born without an art talent, but they will always have a magical power. Older citizens, usually tweens and up, are aware they possess it, but they view it as a common thing and don't think too much of it. Toddlers and babies are obviously not as aware, but they do have more ‘muted’ powers, shall we say, and their powers manifest as they grow older.

What are the limitations of your world’s magic?
101 words

The limitations are that powers are ‘dampened’ depending on how much sunlight they get. For example, a person who got two hours of sunlight would get more durability and strength regarding their power than, say, a person who got a second or sunlight. So the sunlight basically recharges everyone's powers and gives the ability more stamina and power. However, there is such a thing as over charging. Eight hours is the tentative maximum time for how much sunlight a person could get in a day. Nine hours would essentially make the person spontaneously combust. Thankfully, that hasn't happened in a while.

How is magic viewed in your world (ie. as a boring normal, as a fascinating element of their life, or as a curse on society etc.)?
113 words

I would say leaning more to a boring normal, though not quite boring. They are deeply grateful for their gifts but I would venture to say that they might take it for granted sometimes. They don't think too much about it, as previously stated, so it's more of just a normal thing that they have. It would be viewed as a curse of the village should a person ever lose their power, though that has not happened yet. They obviously know that people may have different powers than them, so that is a bit of an awareness that they have regarding their powers, but other than that, it is just a normal thing.

How is the education system in your world? What do your characters learn (or hypothetically would learn)?
189 words

Faewickians have an accelerated mind which makes them more attentive and absorbent to knowledge. In short, they are quick learners. Typically, the older generations teach the younger generations the basic school stuff. Essentially, all Faewickians are homeschooled. They read lots of books and are taught about the Same Powers rule and how the mango is the official fruit. They learn math, science, and all the other standard school subjects, but they learn it much quicker and it comes almost naturally to them. They also learn all the (known) powers and what they do. And, obviously, the sunlight situation. There is generally a natural urge to get sunlight, but rare cases, like umbrakinesis wielders such as Nifis, are not as eager and willing to get their daily dose of sunshine. The family members teaching the kids tend to sugarcoat this a lot and instead of bluntly saying that they'll die if they don't get sunshine, they say ‘You will take a really long nap and you won’t ever be able to wake up.' All Faewickian children hate naps, so this tactic usually does the trick of getting them outside everyday.

Does magic affect the government of your world? If so, how?
98 words

It was mentioned that the government was a democratic one, but there are leaders set in place. Generally speaking, the panel of leaders tend to all have different powers so as to represent and relate to the different groups of people. So I would say that's sort of an affectation, but not a huge one. I think I also said that since the people were so peaceful and cooperative with each other, the government wasn't really necessary. Obviously the laws help keep them in line but generally they all are respectfully attuned to each other and the society.

What is the origin of your magic?
104 words

The mango tree that the founder of Faewick ate from was none other than a magic mango tree. The mango tree granted powers to those who ate from it. The magical power effect came gradually to Peter Faewick (for that was his name) and it came so subtly that he didn't even realize he had been powerless before. Or maybe he didn't realize that he had powers- it goes either way and nobody really knows. Point is, it wasn't like an AHA moment when he realized he had powers- it just felt so natural to him and so he just went on with life.

Describe the popular infrastructure in your world.
120 words

Faewick is an independently sourced village and they have everything they need thanks to their abilities. They have a plant based diet and don't obtain animals. The magical aura of the place helps bind everything together into a seamless, working village. Nobody really has a (paying) job. They all just work together to help run the village and supply food and everyone. Faewick is somewhat old fashioned and so there is no such thing as phones- or technology for that matter. No electricity is used and everyone makes their own necessary items (i.e. clothes, shoes, dishes), with the help of their respective artistic abilities. Factories are non-existent as everyone has their own workstations at home and everything is handmade.


Part 3: Fantasy Subgenres
1471/900 total words

Hidden Worlds
723 words

If you had told me five minutes ago that a boy would walk out of my garden dressed in a suit, I would have laughed you right out of the twenty-first century.

Hi. My name is Kiara Hawthorne and I am sixteen years old. This is the story of how I met some guy who had somehow appeared in my garden because he had opened a portal from his world and stumbled into mine- but I'm getting ahead of myself. It was a crisp autumn day- a picture perfect one, I would say. The sky was a lovely, saturated blue and there wasn't a cloud in sight. The leaves were deliciously pigmented and the ground was starting to be a colorful, natural mosaic floor. I was gazing out my second story bedroom window, hoping to look like some modern Rapunzel, and just enjoying the beautiful air. My bedroom was facing to the back, so I could see the pastures, dotted with our horses, and our large, hedged garden. The black and white stable crouched low and long beside the pastures.

Suddenly I felt an odd sensation in my chest. I can't really describe it but I felt like I was being gently pulled by a magnet. Almost mechanically, I put on my black ankle riding boots and slipped out the back door. The day was not too hot and not too cold, so I could get away with wearing a thin, baggy light blue sweater and black leggings. My sleeves almost covered the tips of my fingers as I swung my arms to the rhythm of my footsteps. My boots crunched on a large patch of dry leaves and it made the most satisfying crackling sound. I found myself heading for the gardens.
I walked through the opening in the hedge and took a look at the perfectly manicured garden. Nothing was out of place. The fountain gurgled happily as I strode past it. Beyond the fountain was four entrances which led to the maze of hedges, and I had gotten lost in there countless times as a child. As I was contemplating which route to take, a boy stumbled out of the far right entrance. I nearly had a heart attack when I saw him. I would have fallen over and hit my head on the stone floor if I hadn't caught myself, thanks to the balance I had built up due to years of horse riding.
The boy looked about my age, maybe a year older. He looked slightly confused and his low hanging, dark brows furrowed when he saw me. I don't know why he was frowning at me. He was wearing a tuxedo, for goodness sake.

“Who are you?” I demanded instantly. Before he could open his mouth, I added fiercely, “And what are you doing in my garden?”

“What are you talking about?” The boy had a slight accent that I couldn't quite place. “This is my garden,” he said arrogantly. I snorted and he looked a little scandalized.

“I think you might have hit your head. I am Kiara Hawthorne and this is my family's garden.”

The boy looked around for a second. “It looks similar to my garden. But something is missing. It feels… different.”

“So this isn't your garden, then? How did you get here?” I asked, extremely puzzled and a little frazzled.

“I was walking in my garden,” the boy explained slowly, as if he was trying to figure it out in his mind as he talked, “and then I walked through my twin trees and I saw a flower that hadn't been there before. I've been wandering in here for a few minutes.”

“Twin trees? You mean the two mango trees by the rose bushes?” I persisted.

“Uh, maybe,” he replied, looking slightly confused by the terminology. I led him through the winding maze to the mango tree and the rose bushes. “These two trees, right?” I pointed to them.

“Yes,” he answered, looking relieved.

“And so you came through here-” I gestured towards the gap which separated the two trees. I stared at the imposing hedge behind them. “Interesting.”

“I believe this is a portal,” he said bluntly, in his odd accent. Then without a word he walked in between the two trees and melted into thin air- right before my eyes.


Dystopian Fantasy
385 words

I grimaced as Zepp grasped the dampener with the tweezer-like tool he had in his hands.
“Stop moving,” he muttered, his brow furrowed with concentration. The tiny chip that was a power dampener was inserted into the skin just below my hairline. It was on the left side of my head and I felt a sharp pain. I tried not to scrunch up my face but it was hard. Zepp was squeezing the skin up so he could focus on the small chip. Suddenly there was a disgusting sounding squelch, the sensation of ripping, and then Zepp was grinning in front of me with the bloody chip pinched in between his tool.
“Don't touch it,” he told me, and quickly treated the wound and bandaged it. Then he sat back.
“How do you feel?” he asked.
“Like a piece of my head just got ripped off,” I said bitterly, gingerly touching the bandage. Zepp chuckled softly and replied, “Yup, that's the feeling.” He gently moved my hand away from the bandage. “Don't touch it- you'll just irritate it.”
I made a face at him but it hurt to scrunch up the skin on my forehead. So I obeyed and we sat there in silence, each dwelling in our own thoughts. I still couldn't believe it. Just an hour before, we had been sitting in these exact chairs as Zepp revealed the truth. The government, the despicable Council, had put power dampeners on us as soon as we were born. They knew that they would have been overthrown otherwise, as we had supernatural powers. We had all been born oblivious. Those old enough to know the truth had been executed. And so we had all been living generation after generation underneath the cruel orders of the Council.
I had always known that there was something wrong with our government, but I had always known that I was too weak to do anything about it. Until now. Zepp, my best friend, had been doing some digging with his mysterious batch of friends and they had uncovered the truth. They had all removed their chips and had trained with their powers, plotting a revolution. And now I had mine removed. I wondered what kind of power I would get, and how I would utilize it against the Council.


Science Fantasy
363 words

“Ugh, time travel is so last week,” Diamond told her best friend, Ace. “It's superpowers that are all the rage now.” She stopped abruptly to fluff up her short blonde hair and peer at herself in the reflection of a holographic store window. She straightened up and continued walking as if there had never been a pause. “So yeah.” She smiled conceitedly. “I've convinced Dad to book me an appointment.” She paused and waited for some kind of reaction from her friend, but Ace continued walking nonchalantly and briefly glancing at shops as they passed.
Diamond's expression was a mix of disgust, confusion, and anger. Then she swept her nose up and continued on with her bragging. “Some doctor scientist named Zach Hawthorne- his last name is so old school- anyway, he discovered the super power formula. And once it's injected into your body, BAM- you've got super powers. I heard from the media that super speed is the only item on the menu so far, but I'll take it, even though it is pretty lame.” She sneaked another look at Ace to see if she was jealous or anything. Nothing. She didn't even appear to be listening.
“Dad says I can take a friend with me if I want to,” Diamond attempted, hoping to nudge her friend back into her groveling state. They passed a three eyed girl with blue skin and a human with modified features. And then Ace spoke.
“No, thanks,” she replied. “I've already gone.”
“What?” Diamond shrieked. Ace, of all people! She was always late to the party and Diamond had made it her personal mission to keep her friend updated on all the latest trends. And now- this? Ace had somehow managed to get ahead of her always on-trend friend and Diamond couldn't take it.
“You went without me? Why didn't you tell me?” she demanded.
“Yes, I did. And I just told you,” Ace replied placidly. “And I've been using it for this entire walk. I guess you just didn't notice.”
Diamond was suddenly aware of the shopping bag that Ace was holding.
“You went to Alesvi? That's five blocks away!”
“Super speed,” Ace said simply.

7/24 Main Cabin Daily
146 words (cheesy poem lol)

Crisp blue sky, spreading out like paint,
Saturated clouds, fluffy and soft
Use your eyes and enjoy the view
Enjoy it while it's there.

Crunch, crackle, shickle,
go the leaves
Cracking crisply
Under your feet
Use your ears and listen to the sounds
They're delicious-
Or haven't you heard?

Smell the earth, and some clean cut grass
Inhale the smell of the clean crisp air
Breathe in, breathe out, the aroma of the
Flowers, spreading to the sun
Smelling is important,
Don't take it for granted,
But sniff away, sniff away!

Feel the textures, rough and smooth,
Gliding under your fingertips;
The sharpness of the blades of grass,
The silkiness of the flower petals
Feel the cup burn cold against your skin,
Feel the cloth swish just above your feet.

Use your senses and enjoy each day
And remember that you might not have them tomorrow

7/25 Main Cabin Daily
Non-fi and Co. Law Firm intro
196 words

You push through the revolving glass doors and get hit in the face with a blast of cool air. The interior is bright and airy with wood accents. Everything smells and looks sophisticated. You shiver, but not from the cold.
You notice the receptionist desk ahead and spot a person tapping away at a desktop computer. On the front of the desk are the big, bold words: NON-FI AND COMPANY LAW FIRM.
You step forward and approach the receptionist.
“Hello!” the receptionist says. “You're one of the new interns, right?”
You nod, too nervous to speak. But then you force yourself to reply, “Yes, I am.”
The receptionist nods and then clicks a few things on the computer. “Go right up to this level,” the receptionist says, handing you a slip of paper, “and get acquainted.” You turn towards the elevator when you hear the words, “And I hear the batch of interns this year is a pretty competitive bunch. So make sure you've got what it takes to keep up.”
You tell yourself determinedly that you're going to climb your way to the top. Then you step into the elevator.

SusWC Weekly
3930 total words


INTRO: Start with approx. 100 words
143/100 words

Rowan slipped on her favorite gray sweater and headed outside. The cool breeze swept her ginger hair back behind her freckled ears. Standing behind a large oak tree was a girl clad in black pants, black combat boots, and black turtleneck. Her outfit was completed with a black utility belt and a sleek, trimmed down vest with many pockets on the front. The girl's chin length hair brushed against her face as she turned to face Rowan. Her thick, silky black hair framed her oblong face and her pale olive skin accentuated her bright gray eyes. The two girls, with no visible signal, began walking in silence.

“How are you doing?” the black haired girl asked, her voice slightly deep but her words crisp and clear. She almost sounded like she was singing as she spoke- she was very calming to listen to.


DINING HALL: Table 4: Mystery Theme
129 words

It was a few moments before Rowan spoke.
“I mean, I guess I'm fine. I just feel stressed, you know?” she articulated carefully. “If I don't find out who did it, Alex is going to jail. And I think I've almost got them. But I- I don't know.” Rowan lapsed into silence and the two girls continue walking along the quiet street. The street lights were dim and the town was asleep. The sky was a dusky gray, sleepily getting up from its short slumber.
Rowan suddenly felt like there was somebody watching her. She discreetly surveyed her surroundings. The black haired girl, Rowan's best friend, was calmly walking along, but Rowan could sense her added wariness and knew that her friend also knew that they were being watched.


THRONE ROOMS: Honarary Throne Room: Chekhov's gun principle
498/ 300 words

The girls walked under an arch and entered the park. It was eerily quiet and only a few birds were chirping. It was quite cool, so Rowan wrapped her sweater more tightly around her. The metal zipper was cold and hard against her fingers as she zipped her sweater all the way up.

“Layla, you said four fifteen, right?” Rowan asked quietly, feeling the need to whisper in the quiet park. Her friend nodded silently and casually adjusted her utility belt.
Rowan felt an odd, sick feeling in her stomach, like something was very, very wrong. She checked her watch. It was four fourteen. Rowan calmed her nerves. Layla's secret correspondence wasn't late. Not yet. They still had time to show up.

Suddenly Rowan spotted something a few yards ahead. She motioned to Layla and they both jogged up. Rowan felt her blood drain when she saw what was lying on the ground. It was a body. A man clad in black, just like Layla, and his eyes were cold. There was still a little flush in his pale cheeks, but Rowan's stomach twisted when she saw the dark red stain on his shirt. Layla crouched down and checked for a pulse, but she shook her head. He was gone.

Layla was just about to get up when Rowan sensed something. “Get out of the way!” she screamed, breaking the silence of the morning. Layla instinctively dodged to the side and a small dagger whizzed through the space where Layla had just been crouching.
Rowan spotted a dark, fast approaching figure out of the corner of her eye and whipped off her sweater with lightning speed. She lashed out with it and she heard a grunt of pain as the hard zipper made contact with an eye. Feeling eternally grateful to her grandmother for the multi-purpose sweater, Rowan took the opportunity to roundhouse kick her attacker's head and add a simultaneous, well-placed punch to the gut. She heard the sickening crunch of a bone and then the impact of a body thumping onto the wood chipped ground of the park.

Rowan caught her breath as she stood over the still body, trying to keep up with the events. It had all happened so fast and she hadn't gotten a good look at the person yet. Layla hadn't even been able to jump in- Rowan had taken the person down so quickly, thanks to her training. The person in question was all in black, but no body protection. No vest or even heavy duty clothes. The footwear was black running shoes.
Rowan leaned down and ripped off the ski mask from the person's face. It was a young boy, probably two years younger than Rowan. He was out cold. Layla examined the boy. Suddenly she nudged Rowan and pointed to the symbol printed underneath the shirt collar. It was a blood red scorpion. Layla stripped off his gloves and revealed the scorpion ring on his right hand.


BORING ROOMS: Lounge: Dream
239/ 200 words

Rowan Hawthorne jolted awake, her breath coming in gasps and her clothes drenched in sweat. Her ginger hair stuck to her forehead as she sat up. Golden sunlight was streaming through her windows and onto her sage green blanket. Outside, the large oak tree by her window was dressed in brilliant red, yellow, and orange leaves. Rowan rubbed her hair off her forehead and turned groggily towards her alarm clock. It was nine fifteen. For a second she freaked out- she had overslept- but then she remembered that it was a Saturday. She had nothing planned. She laid back down to fall asleep again, but her eyes wouldn't close. Her green eyes gazed at the ceiling.
Then she remembered her dream.
Rowan figured it was some kind of trauma relief dream- a dream where she fixed everything and everything was back to normal. She smiled at the thought of her dreaming that Layla was a ninja vigilante. But she still felt guilty. Alex, her brother, had been in jail and had passed away in his cell. Despite the fact that he was dead, Rowan had vowed to avenge his death. She was trying to figure out who had framed him, but with no avail. Rowan pushed the thought out of her mind.
The fight was somewhat believable- she'd taken self defense courses in the past, but not that she had actually hit someone square in the eye with the zipper before. And then the image of the blood red scorpion burned against her eyelids as she blinked. It was strangely familiar…


BULLETIN BOARD: Miscellaneous Posts: Cabinmate Inspiration
496 words / 10 minutes

Rowan got out of bed and made herself breakfast. Everything was going wrong. First, she burned herself with hot water from the tap because she wasn't paying attention- then she accidentally burned her toast in the toaster because she put it to the highest heat level- and then she couldn't find the air freshener to clear out the burnt smell.
Rowan, in an understanbly irritated mood, finally opened the windows to let the cool, fresh air clean out her first floor apartment. She made herself tea and had a salad for a late breakfast. After she cleaned up the small kitchen, she changed into outdoor clothes and put on her gray sweater. She slipped on her running shoes, closed the windows and locked the door, and then headed out in the direction of the park.
The town was less eery, due to the amount of commotion going on, as was usual for early mornings, and Rowan exchanged a few friendly greetings with some other morning walkers.
Rowan reached the park fairly quickly, as she was walking quite briskly, and she wasn't surprised to see that there were a few kids playing on the playground with their supervising parents.

“Hi!”

Rowan mentally jumped out of her skin, but her expression was just mildly surprised as she turned towards the voice. A girl about Rowan's age, twenty-twoish, was standing behind her. She was very pretty with long, silky black hair that looked like a flowy sheet of rain at night. Her hair had lilac highlights in it and the sun glinted off the silky strands. The girl had bright blue eyes and freckles and a huge smile.

“Sorry if I scared you,” the girl apologized in a voice that sounded like Layla's in the sense that it sounded like she was singing. Unlike Layla, she had a higher voice.

“I'm Raina,” the girl introduced herself. “I'm new in this neighborhood- moved two days ago. I decided to socialize today,” she laughed.

“I'm Rowan,” Rowan replied. “And I'm pretty new here too- I've only been here for three months.”

“Nice,” Raina grinned. “I moved here because I just wanted to take a break from my career. I think I'll really like it here.”

“I think you will. If you don't mind me asking, what do you do?” Rowan asked.

“I'm a singer,” Raina explained. “I haven't blown up yet but I'm moving a day at a time. Writing is my side job and I used to write articles for my local newspaper.”

“That's cool,” Rowan replied. She was about to ask more but a phone started ringing and Raina pulled a lavender-cased phone out of her back pocket. She checked the homescreen and said, “Ah, sorry. I've got to take this. I'll see you around?”

“Yeah, I'm sure we'll bump into each other sooner or later,” Rowan said. “See you!”

Raina gave a little wave with her hand and then turned away with her phone pressed against her ear.


BATTLEGROUNDS: Judge Room: Attention Motive
248/ 200 words

Rowan combed the park discreetly, looking for any indication that the dream she had had might actually have happened. Nothing so far.

“I'm here, Ro,” said Layla's familiar voice. She crouched down beside Rowan, squatting just about the wood chips that coated the park ground.

“You look like an idiot sitting here,” Layla commented after a while.

“You're doing the same thing,” Rowan retorted, scanning the ground.

“Well I don't think you're going to find anything by just staring at the dirt.”

“Glad I have you for reality checks,” Rowan said, only half sarcastically.

“Eh. Don't think I'm too superior,” Layla sighed heavily. She swished a few chips in between her long fingers.

Rowan tilted her head in question.

“I'm just trying to make a career,” Layla blurted out. “I'm working hard. Harder than some of my other colleagues. I just need to get noticed by my boss. Unfortunately she's being bribed by rich peoples' parents and poor peasants like me are slaving in the muck.” Layla sat in silence after her outburst. Then she turned to meet Rowan's eyes.

“What do you think? Am I some pathetic little attention seeker?”

“No,” Rowan replied carefully. “I don't think you're really seeking attention, actually. It's like you said. You just want to make a career, and you have to do impressive things in order to get noticed. I don't think that's wrong, per-sé.”

Layla made an odd, agreeing sound in the back of her throat and shrugged her shoulders.


Rooftop: Mango Trees: Assumed Deceased Character Is Alive
(Heh so there was a bit of a mistake that happened on my end due to me not being able to consistently save my codes- anyway I just accidently used two prompts from the same room, Rooftop, and since I made both prompts integral plot points in the story, I couldn't really take out one or the other) 233 words / 8 minutes


Layla went back with Rowan to her apartment to hang out and have lunch. Rowan stuck the key in the door lock. Her heart felt like it was being squeezed. The door was already unlocked. She was a hundred percent sure that she had locked it. She glanced at Layla. Her friend gave a slight nod. Rowan turned the door knob and the door swung open.
Rowan's heart did a somersault and she thought she might faint. In plain sight, hands on the shoe bench's armrests and half sitting, was Alex. Rowan slammed the door behind her, sprinted forward, and slapped the now-standing figure across the face.

“Ow!” Alex cried out, cupping his red cheek.

“It is you,” Rowan gasped.

“Yeah and you're still as mean as ever,” Alex complained, wincing in pain.

“Oh, sorry. I just had to make sure.” Rowan hugged her older brother in a death grip.

“Hi,” Alex greeted Layla as he spotted her over Rowan's shoulder.

“I thought you were dead?” Layla raised an eyebrow.

“Escaped. The police, naturally, wouldn't admit that a prisoner had escaped their fancy security, so they just said that I'd died,” Alex explained, untangling himself from his sister's embrace.

“They said you died a month ago,” Layla said.

“I've been trying to find my way back ever since. And I had to keep a low profile too,” Alex replied. Layla shrugged, momentarily satisfied.


MEMORY BOOK: Data Room: Ominous Mood
250/ 250 words

Rowan made lunch for the three of them in a flurry of excitement and happiness. They sat down to eat. Layla kept sneaking discreet, inconspicuous glances at Alex. She felt like something was off, but she didn't want to ruin Rowan's happy mood. It was rare that her friend was in such a sunny attitude. But Layla decided to keep an eye on Alex. She felt guilty, for some reason, but she told herself that she just wanted to look out for her friend.
Alex and Rowan were chatting happily over their lunch and Layla only threw in a comment here and there. She hoped her silence would be taken as just stepping back and not wanting to intrude in a personal reunion. But really, she just wanted to examine Rowan's brother. It was strange. His quip about the police sounded accurate enough, but he had been gone for a month since he'd escaped. There was something about him that didn't add up.
Loosen up, Layla, she told herself. He said that he had to keep a low profile. And the jail is pretty far away, especially considering he probably traveled mostly on foot. But why hadn't he called? To keep a low profile, she reminded herself.
“Layla. Layla.”
She broke out of her thoughts as Rowan's hand waved in front of her eyes. She blinked.
“Alex was asking how your brother was doing,” Rowan explained, a queer expression in her eyes.
“Oh, yeah. Zach's doing better,” Layla replied hastily.


WORKSHOPS: Fanfic: Character Voice
427/ 300 words

I found Alex's entire presence to be extremely suspicious, but I decided not to engage unless I was positively sure. Rowan was floating around in a happy bubble, and I could hardly blame her. After her brother had been put in jail for something that we all knew he didn't do, Rowan had lapsed into some sort of depressive, reclusive mood. And I'm not so heartless as to crush her soul by giving her the half-baked idea that something was off about her brother. It could be him. The remark he made about the police was believable. Being off the grid for a month because he had to keep a low profile was sort of believable. But something just didn't add up, so I casually investigated. Rowan wanted to play a game, so we decided on General Knowledge. I had half let down my guard and was laughing over something with Rowan when I noticed that Alex was writing with his right hand. Alex was left handed. I played it off coolly and pretended nothing was wrong, but my heart was pounding. If it wasn't Alex, then who was it?
I told myself to be thorough before I exposed him, but it turned out that I didn't even need to confront him. We had just ended the game- and I had won, by the way- when Alex cleared his throat and said, “I've got to tell you guys something.”
I braced myself and watched Rowan out of the corner of my eye.
“I'm not Alex.”
Rowan's face blanked and her eyes watered.
My face darkened and my mood blackened. I pounced on him.
“You heartless jerk!” I yelled, pinning him against the ground. “Who are you and why did you-” I stopped abruptly when I realized that Alex-not-Alex was laughing and not cowering like he should be.
“I'm kidding, Layla. Chill. I noticed you being suspicious of me, so I decided to play with you. I'm surprised your thorough self didn't check my handwriting,” Alex chuckled. I whipped his sheet of paper off the table and examined it. The handwriting looked like a left handed person had tried to write with his left hand. The ominous cloud lifted and my chest felt lighter, because I knew now that it was actually Alex, but I was still mad. I ripped the sheet in two.
“What kind of a sick joke was that?” I spat, and slapped him across the face before getting up and sitting beside Rowan, whose face was still a little pale. She was laughing now.


Second Floor Rooms: Kitchen: Comfortable Setting
101 words/ 5 minutes

Layla had left a few hours ago. Alex and Rowan had gotten ready for bed and had set up the spare room for him. Rowan gave Alex a goodnight hug and then headed to her room. It was a full moon, and the night was beautiful. Rowan snuggled under her sage green covers, feeling peaceful and at rest. She knew she would get a good night's sleep that night. She felt safe with her older brother just a few rooms away from her. Her room was snug and secure, and so she peacefully fell asleep with the moonlight shining on her.


DAILY TEAM ROOM: Lio: Character history rambling
296 words/ 15 minutes (lol my inconsistent wpm )

Rowan Hawthorne is the youngest child of Mr and Mrs Hawthorne, who are deceased. Her ginger hair and green eyes contrast with that of her older brother's dark hair and dark blue eyes. She is very close with her brother and is a very active person. She loves running and all types of sports. She is a very independent person and moved out at nineteen.
Rowan is an ambivert who keeps to herself most of the time but will have odd spurts of extrovertedness that leads to her having friendly conversations with complete strangers.
She loves nature and animals but doesn't have any pets due to the fact that she isn't ready to be tied down by any living, breathing responsibilities just yet.

Layla Wang is the only child of a couple who died young. She was raised in an orphanage and tends to be a little more reclusive than her best friend. She is very quiet most of the time, and tends to zone off a lot when she thinks very hard about things. She calls it brooding, Rowan calls it staring off into space with googly eyes. She is a hard working, diligent person and tries not to think about her past too much.

Alex Hawthorne is Rowan's older brother by three years. He is somewhat of a jokester and can be relied upon to lighten a tense mood. He loves pulling pranks but he can be serious if he wants to. He has a soft spot for his younger sister as they share a close bond.
His jokes can sometimes be insensitive and especially seem to trigger Layla, given her traumatic past and her fierce protection of her best friend. She had assumed Rowan's protector position shortly after Alex had been in prison.


ROOFTOP: Match Field: Main Character Dies
202 words / 8 minutes

It was two forty three in the morning. A dark figure crept along until it plastered itself against the wall of an apartment building. The figure was wearing a black collared shirt. Under the flap of the collar was a printed blood red scorpion.
The figure pried open a window on the east facing wall and slipped in stealthily. The figure crept up to the bed. Sage green covers were pulled up all the way to a girl's chin and curly ginger hair spread out in waves on the fluffy pillow.
The figure drew a dagger from the sheath hanging from its belt. The figure raised the dagger, and then brought it down swiftly.


Rowan Danielle Hawthorne died in her sleep at the age of twenty two by first degree murder. The officials brought in her brother, Alex Hawthorne, who was a prisoner who had escaped last month. He is the prime suspect of the case, though his motives are unknown. He called the police after he came upon his sister's body, which had been brutally stabbed in the heart. Even had he not killed his sister, he is still going to jail for escaping before his required sentence in prison.


ENDING: Happy (lol i laughed so hard because i had just killed off the main character and now i had to make a happy ending, like-)
668/ 500 words

Alex stayed on his bunk, most of the time. He sat there with his head in his hands and his eyes wet. He wept everyday. It had been two months since Rowan's death. Alex had been too numb to do anything except eat and sleep and think and cry. Just after reuniting with his sister, she had been killed. And the worst part was that people thought he had killed her! People wouldn't actually think that he had killed her, would they? Well, obviously they did, because he was still stuck in prison with an extra sentence for allegedly killing his sister in her sleep.
And then, everything changed. Alex was trying to get through another day, which was like every other day, when his cell door opened and a guard beckoned for him to come.

“What is it?” Alex asked in a tired voice, not moving.

“Get out of here, man. Haven't you heard? You're being released today,” the guard said.

“I don't know if you've heard but I have a life sentence in here,” Alex replied.

“They found the actual killer. Guy named Scorpion, but actually Fred Harrison. He killed your sister because he had gone crazy and thought she looked like his deceased daughter. You're free, man. Come on.”

Alex stumbled out of his cell in a daze. The nice guard was right. The judge had revoked his sentence and found out about the framing too. He was free from all of it.

He stayed at a friend's house for a few days and pulled himself together. Then he went out to visit the local cemetery. It was January, and it was snowing. Alex found his way to Rowan's grave. The stone had accumulated some snow on the top of it, so Alex brushed it off with his gloved hand. For a while he stood there, gazing at the etched words. Then he crouched down and touched the stone gently.

“Hey,” he said, smiling a little. “Sorry I missed your funeral. I would have gone but they wouldn't let me attend. The police guards, I mean. I got released, though. Last week.” Alex paused. “They found him. He's in jail now, and he's not getting out. The police are making sure of it. He's not going to hurt anyone else now. And he can't hurt you anymore. So- you can rest now. Just rest.” Alex stood up and took a step back. He bumped into something behind him. He spun around quickly and came face to face with Layla.

“Oh- Layla-” he fumbled. “How are you?” he managed to say correctly.
“I'm fine.” Layla replied shortly but not coldly. “I heard you got released last week,” she said absently. Alex stayed silent. Layla was gazing at the gravestone.
“Thanks,” she said suddenly.
“For what?” Alex asked.
“For cleaning the snow off the top,” she replied abruptly, and then turned to leave. Instinctively, Alex shot out a hand and grabbed her wrist. She bumped into him and for a second Alex's mind blanked.
“Uh- would you like a coffee?” he asked. Layla squinted at him. Then she nodded.


Alex and Layla started dating, and two and a half years later they got married. Their first child was a boy and they named him Daniel, after Rowan's middle name Danielle. He had dark hair and brown eyes. Their second child was a girl with strawberry blonde hair and forest green eyes. Her name was Rosalind.

It was early October when Layla visited Rowan's grave alone. The leaves sprinkled the ground, adding pops of color to the dirt.

“Hi bestie,” Layla said, patting the gravestone. “Rosalind took her first step today.” Layla continued to talk and fill Rowan in on what was happening in her life, just like in old times.
“So yeah.” Layla paused. “I'll see you soon.” She got up to leave and hugged her gray sweater around her to keep out the cold.
“And, thanks for the sweater,” she smiled sadly. Then she walked away.

Final Weekly Certificate of Completion and Submission Code (or, well, half of the submission code lol)

7/26 Main Cabin Daily

shes-a-lady wrote:

from the outside, it just a forest– oak and pine trees mushed together, lushious green grass covered in pink wildflowers. But as you walk through– past the vines and the roots and the low-hanging leaves, you will find something magical. A bright blue waterfall, drifting over uneven rocks and into a giant pond. It's almost like magic– the pond never fills up. It is a beautiful sight, only known to some, although no one's seen the top of the waterfall. It's impossible to climb.

332 words

It has been one hundred and five years since the Seddimn people permanently settled in the forest. They keep it hidden, and the vines and brush camouflaging them from the outside world are still there. The people made small huts near the tall rock wall where the waterfall cascades down. They soon realized that the waterfall and the pond below weren't like the others. They utilized its ability to never flood and made good use of it all year round. As the years passed, the Seddimn people stubbornly held onto their old traditions.
They stick fast to their old ways of building and honor the delicate forest by always giving back what they took. Thanks to the people's consistent awareness of their habitat, the forest is healthier than ever and flourishes.

The rock wall is a little chipped away as the people first used the rocks as building materials, but it is not severely damaged. The people actually helped the forest by cutting down trees, as the forest was getting to be a little too overgrown and crowded with trees and vegetation.

It was only four years ago when a young man from the small civilization decided to climb the waterfall. After all, there had previously been no purpose to climbing it, but now that the Seddimns had permanently settled there and were comfortable, they had free time on their hands. The young man made many failed attempts but didn't give up. He finally succeeded to hoist himself over the top of the wall.
The view was beautiful. Beside him was the quiet, rushing waterfall, and ahead was the breathtaking view of his world. Below him, the forest stretched out for miles. The trees clustered together with not a single patch, except for the clearing which was where the village was. The pink wildflowers brightly decorated the tall green grass and grew around the small huts.

The young man sighed happily, not giving a single thought to how he would get down.

7/27 Main Cabin Daily + Word War
182 words - 3 minutes - no prompt - Sandy-Dunes

Okay I just set my timer. It's only three minutes so I gotta type super fast. Adventure is second which I'm very happy about, but myth is still first which I'm not so excited about. Thriller I third, I believe, hi fi is fourth, and sci-fi climbed up to fifth. These could be completely wrong but my memory isn't the best so I apologize if these statistics are completely off. On a different subject, yesterday, thriller's leader, birdi, came to the Adventure cabin to ask if we should lower our hostile neutral relationship and band ad allies to to take down myth, the current first place cabin. A lot of myth campers mysteriously popped up and added a lot of comments that basically were saying stuff like ‘nooo, traitors stuff like that. I popped in my personal votes of approval, as did a few other adventure campets, but it’s ultimately up to soki, the amazing adventure leader, to decide. Now i'm running out of things to write and I have eight seconds left so I am going to talk about things that

7/28 Main Cabin Daily
301 words talking about how awesome Myth is


Myth is an amazing cabin. One of the best, some might argue. It is extremely impressive how Myth is performing this session. They are well on their way to breaking one million points at the end of this camp, obviously with word totals and writing competition entry points included. The entire cabin's consistency and activeness has played a big role in the strong lead they've managed to maintain for this entire month. Other than that one time Thriller passed them, but other than that they've been at the top of the leaderboard almost from the start.

An awesome cabin naturally has awesome leaders, and Myth is a model example of that. First-time SWC leader Moss has crafted a well oiled machine of a cabin along with the talented co-leaders, Re and Robin. The amazingly drawn matching profile pictures are the perfect bribe to get the Myth campers up and writing, and everything in their cabin screams perfection. The storyline, Harry the unicorn, the competitive chaos- perfection.
The activeness and engagement the leaders have with the Myth campers further prove the solid fact that Myth deserves to win. The Mythians are consistent with their dailies and weeklies and word wars and no doubt will be in the top rankings at the end of the session- if not the very top.

Myth, the best cabin, should clearly win this session due to the campers' off the chart word counts and consistency. Their competitive spirit and natural determination to win has made them a forceful contender this session. It's been there since day one and will power them through the final scores.

In short, despite a few cabins protesting against the awesomeness of this particular cabin, Myth deserves the top spot in the SWC July 2022 Results project when all is said and done.

/sarcastic /hj

7/29 Word War
213 words - no prompt - 3 minutes - dearbangtvn_

I find that I can type faster if I'm not thinking through the plot of what I'm writing. But I'm still thinking about what I'm writing, of course, just not like how I would write a story. Anyway, the weather is very nice today where I live. It's very sunny and nice and warm, with a slight breeze. I already went out for a walk with my puppy, and we did some jogging and running too.
For breakfast I had a buttered bagel and a corn on the cob. We had corn yesterday for dinner and it's really good. It's lunchtime for me right now but I'm not sure what I want to eat today, usually I have eggs but I don't know. I always can't decided whether I want scrambled eggs or an omelet, because I like both. Omelets with cayenne pepper, salt, pepper, and celery are really good. And sunny side up sandwiches are also really good. You basically just get two slices of any type of bread, toast them slightly, put some butter on them if you so wish and then cook a a sunny side up egg. Then you slice some cucumbers, and then put the egg and cucumbers on the bread. It tastes really really good. Sometimes I