weekly
2772 words
finished: 10:03 am

Part 1A - Worldbuilding Traits

Cameras
Distrust
Separation between different groups separated by different types of beauty / “beauty is in the eyes of the beholder” taken seriously
Strict rules about everything; ability to be perfect
Equalness in everything
Bright flowers
Battles that interfere with the conceivable peace
Children are a symbol of second chances
Good luck is highly believed in
People are expected to move in similar manners
Region for punishment
No room for second chances
Trickery in the government is common
Lying in high roles is okay
Animals are treated with tons of respect, although there is a universal animal for each separate place
Utopia is strived after
Little freedom
Independent thoughts are stripped at a young age
Given something they are good at and forced to do this
Unlimited candy

Part 1B - Connections

Separated into four separate Clusters (ARBOR (nature), VOLANTES (flying), LUMINA (light), TENEBRIS (dark)), Eirene is a large kingdom located somewhere in the pacific. Each Cluster finds beauty in something different, which is encouraged, and in each Cluster the main thing they value runs rampant. However, in Clusters, people are expected to talk, act, move, and think the same. The government strives to make Eirene, a now dystopian world full of arguing and bickering, a Utopia with no conflict. To do this, when conceived, the government strips each child of their independent thoughts. Because of this, it gives every child an opportunity to be perfect. They have the will to want to obey the government, which is good because disobeying the rules bring the severest of punishments (getting cast to TENEBRIS). Even still, the government distrusts each and every person. They have cameras hiding in every spare section, monitoring every inch of the Region. For hundreds of years, in their attempt to make a Utopia, kids have become a symbol of second chances. They are a fresh palette for the government to use and create to become the perfect Utopia. In their efforts, equalness is in everything.. Down to the food rationed to you per day and your job. At a young age, when the children are being programmed, the government gives them something that they are good at to benefit the society and they are forced to develop their talents throughout their lives.

Part 1C - Narrative

I don’t think I’m supposed to be the way I am. Everyone in the whole Region is bright and happy 24/7. I’m.. not. We’ve been warned of all the mistakes we could make and the consequences, but the whole time I’ve been alive I’ve only seen two people disobey. The government told us then that they would be back after a two week visit to Tenebris, but I had never seen them after that. I always look for them, partially because one of them came from Andor. I’ve always been fascinated with Andor - tall, golden trees tower above the people below there. The other one came from Lumina, light, but I don’t feel the need to check there for her because walking into that Region always hurts my eyes. Either way, because they messed up, we weren’t supposed to talk about them.

And, of course, everybody went along with that without a question. And, of course, I didn’t. I still wanted to know more.

My feet dangle off of the cloud I’m resting on, still thinking about those two people. I can do this during Free Time, but as soon as the bell gongs I have to be ready for dinner. I hate dinner. We always eat mashed potatoes and peanut butter. I always get the same amount as the day prior, and it’s never enough to fill my stomach. We also never have enough time to eat before we’re whisked away to Preparing For Our Futures.

But other people don’t complain. So I don’t either. It would be rash.

My eyes wander around the sky. I giggle as I look down. I’m hundreds of feet in the air, but I’m not scared. I’ve lived here my whole life. I turn around and lay on my back, staring straight into the air. I know a camera is to my right, approximately two inches, but the government doesn’t need to know that I know that. A golden butterfly with blue wing tips flies near me, landing on my nose. I sneeze, letting the butterfly fly away once again. It wasn’t any of my concern what happened to it.

Gong!

I’m careful to wait three seconds before I sit up, mechanically moving my arms and legs down in a way that matches the rest of Volantes perfectly. I may not really be one of them, or someone who’s supposed to be here, but I do know that if I want to live, I can’t let anyone figure out what I may know about myself.

Part 2 - Questionnaire

What kind of magic is used in your world?
In my world, there are two types of magic that are consistently fighting against each other. One group are the Knowers. They are responsible for knowing and keeping track of birth dates, death dates, ancestral lines, talents, and “fate” between loved ones and people they know. The second group of magic are those who are called Putters. They are called Putters because they control thoughts - they can make people think, or forget about, whatever they want to at their leisure.

Laws and punishments of using magic in your world?
Those gifted with magic are supposed to use their magic only amongst themselves. While there are rumors that Magics may conceivably exist, it is the magic’s duty to remain solitary and secretive. People with magic are marked so that it is obvious to tell, and among those who are marked there are no laws. However, the queen does ask that if you mean to kill, please do so in a non-public place and clean up afterwards. Using powers in front of non-magic results in losing their magic.

How common is magic, and are all characters aware they possess it?
Magic is somewhere between common and rare. Around a fourth of the population has magic, and they are split into their two groups. Characters who aren’t magic have no grasp or knowledge of the magic, and nor should they ever. People with magic have been told numerous times to stay away from those without and not to develop close ties with any of them.. And under ANY circumstances, do NOT fall in love with a non magic. That can only bring drama.

How is magic viewed?
Magic is not viewed among the people once they reach a certain age, and that is because it is the Putters job to remove all thoughts of magic when a child reaches the age of five. Before then, children are fascinated with magic and constantly want to know more. In their eyes, it’s one of the coolest things ever, and all the younger children want to be magic. In the magic community, it is viewed as normal. Nothing but normal.

Education?
In the magic world, people with magic go to school for show. Oftentimes, the senior Putters remove the information from their brains afterwards in order to keep the magic far separated from the non magic. People with magic already know how to use their magic and do not need lessons concerning them. It would be a waste of time, especially after the 7 hours spent in the non magic school for show. They are required to simply use what they know.

Sensations when using magic?
The feelings for the Putters and Knowers are different. The Putters get a heart burn when they use their magic - it is dull at first, barely noticeable as a child, but it increases every time the magic uses their magic. When they reach unbearable pain (which is different for everyone), they die. The Knowers get a severe headache, but the same ritual happens for death and them. It starts off dull and gets progressvively more and more and more painful.

Noteworthy problems solved by magic?
While this is generally a self brought fate, occasionally someone lets on too much information with a non magic. When this happens, there is only one thing left to do. A senior Knower has to figure out what exactly the non magic knows, when or if the non magic will tell, and who the non magic is in a relationship with. A senior Putter then takes out the thoughts that the queen tells them to take out, and the magic is taken away from the person who used it irresponsibly.

Does magic effect the government?
No, magic doesn’t effect the government in the slightest unless someone accidentally spills the beans. If the government did know, however, about the magic, it wouldn’t take too long for them to be classified as dangerous and quickly sent away to their death. This is why it’s so important for all of the magic to be so careful with who knows what. The difference between one person is the different between a life and a death, so they are taught to be responsible and smart.

What is the origin of the magic?
The magic queen watches all of the children from their birth until the age of five. At the end of that five year period, the queen decides who is worth it and who needs to get their memories erased, Normally, no more than ¼ of the population is allowed to keep their memories. These are normally given to the most interested and invested children, along with the most disbelieving children. This is because she wants them to believe in the magic.

How is the magic used in everyday life?
Magic is used for war, and magic is used for fun, and magic is used to cover up secrets that people shouldn’t know. Many children grow up learning to torment each other with their magic; it is simply what they classify as fun because that is how they have been raised. Every day, a Putter removes the knowledge that the children learn in non magic school. Occasionally, the Putter makes them forget that seven hours had been used, allowing them to skip curfew and stay up an additional seven hours.

Part 3 - Subgenres

Dystopian Fantasy

I know I’m trapped.

Fear twists itself in my body, but there’s nothing I can do. I walk towards the edge of the marshy island. I dip my feet into the water, expecting to find the silky peace with a few waves splashing against my legs. Instead, I find only pain. I look down and see snakes, but they aren’t ordinary snakes. They have stingers, and their eyes are black and cold.

A loud noise gurgles out from me, and it doesn’t sound human - it doesn’t sound like something I could produce. The pain blinds me and black tears at the corners of my eyes. I clutch onto the wounds as if that would help, but that makes the searing burn worse. Tears dot my vision so I let go, arms shaking.

The government.

I don’t know if the snakes are poisonous. I don’t know if I could die.. But I know that I had traveled too far astray from the boundaries that the government gave us. With disgust painted on my face, I can’t help but wonder why they didn’t flick their wands and make me disappear. That would have been easy enough. They could have made me balance on the bridge made of sand - I would have crumbled after exactly one minute and thirty two seconds.

But no.

Why would they let me off with something that pain free?

I hold on to my knee where the burns aren’t. There is not a sole around me over here, so I don’t try to hide the tears. But I know that even if I did, there was no point. There were cameras dotting everywhere to see my reaction, and perhaps play with my emotions quite literally if they were getting bored. I wanted to go back, but my feet wouldn’t let me. The burns still ran rampant as if I had stuck my feet into a 450 degree oven, took them out, and stuck them with needles.

“Let me die, please.”

Science Fiction

People wearing white suits thunder around the hallways with the grace of an elephant, clipboards in hand and ready to complete tests. Oh, the world we live in. I play with a strand of my hear and tap my pencil on my clipboard, trying to think of a time when people didn’t have this. Magic was still undiscovered, and… I think that was in 2022. That’s when the world began falling apart, according to the history books. I shake my head, looking around for a baby with the status (and name) of “Untested.”
My eyes wander until I find one. She has bright, wide gray eyes and a tussle of brown hair resting on her head. She wears a onesie such a pale pink that it looks almost white, and she’s chubby. If I could fall in love with a baby, she would be the one.
“You’re coming with me,” I say softly, picking up Untested and waiting to give her a name. After Testing comes the name giving and family assigning. I pray that she doesn’t get Telekinesis, that she doesn’t get telekinesis. That was a sure way to die before growing up. They weren’t useful to time travel - only a few were. But, of course, in order to not have a just magic population, no magic babies are allowed to live if their Tester can give a redeeming trait about them.
Smile, be happy! I thought, words directed to the baby. I smile, realizing nobody knows that about me. Even if she did get telekinesis, I would still let her live.
I swing open the doors to the testing room and the next few hours are full of different tests for their mind and body. Really, it was all stereotypical tests that you would administer on young children.. Or should.
After the test, I send Untested back into her crib. I wander into the administrative room, opening the doors with my mind, before logging into the computer with only a thought of effort. I pull onto her profile, praying that it wasn’t telekinesis.
Untested - Telekinesis.

Hidden World

“Look, look it! I just popped a bubble. Do you know what that means?” Asked a five year old, a menacing gleam in her eyes. Her friend looked over, shrugging her shoulders, with a set of pretend fairy wings on her back.
“What? It doesn’t mean anything! Bubbles are just pretend!” The friend pleaded, eyes wide. She knew that she had popped hundreds of bubbles.
“It means a fairy just popped! It’s like a baby dying before it comes out. And I just killed a fairy!”

Miles away, in the same region, where magic was practically in the air, although still hidden from the non fairies, fairies gathered together, watching the five year olds talk with great indignance. There were thousands of bubbles being popped now.. But that seemed to be the worst scenario.
“She knows!” One muttered, angrily aghast.
“Now we have to kill the two of them instead of the one of them,” another replied sadly, playing with a golden fairy egg that would never hatch with tears threatening to spill over. Some people could be so ignorant.
“I would have thought,” a fairy high in command said, strutting into the room. “That a human would have more dignity.. But more than that, I can’t help but wonder who told her? How does she know? To me, it appears that two children and one fairy will die.” His accent was thick, but his words were smooth and even. His hair was slicked back, another common misconception about fairies. They had to be girls.
“But who in our kingdom would have told a young child?” Another, quiet fairy piped up. “Everyone knows that’s just a recipe for disaster. We should punish them hard. Five year olds will believe anything anyone tells them.”
“Yes, yes, of course,” the male fairy said, turning around and giving a small smile. “We really must figure out who.”

cabin wars writing!!
+333 with the extra challenge
finished: 10:20 am

A cat lies in a fetal position. It is very calm; it does not move for a total of a few seconds. Then, a cat (whose name is Bob) continues to stand itself up. It does not enjoy laying down. So it decides to stand up, which is very reasonable for a cat to do. Bob realizes that he is a very hungry cat, so Bob, which is a very hungry cat, decided to go down stairs to his food bowl after waking up his owner. In order to wake up his owner, Bob, which is a cat, decided to claw his owner to wake up his owner because Bob, which is a cat, was very hungry slash was tired of laying in a fetal pose. A owner, whose name was Henry, who also happened to be Bob, which is a cat’s owner, decided to actually wake up so that he could feet his cat, which name is Bob, who is a cat. They were all very happy until they went downstairs. Bob, which is a cat, along with his owner Henry, who is an owner, decided to eat breakfast together. But then Bob, who is a cat, was not happy with his food options so Bob, who is a cat, decided to eat Henry, who is an owner’s food! Henry, who is an owner, was very sad slash mad at Bob, who was a cat, slash that is where said present tense came in. Bob, who is a cat, ended up dying because his owner was very sad and mad at him for eating all of Henry, who is an owner’s food. Of course, this made Henry, who was an owner of Bob, who is a cat, very sasd. Now he was catless! He decided to go to an animal shelter, also to adopt another cat. It was a very good idea slash journey. He adopted another cat, whose name was Thomas, who is a cat. Henry decided to change his name.

daily 7/25
171

“No, stop,” Daisy shouted, flickering the lights on and off and on and off and on.. “You’re forgetting a major step of stand-up comedy, coming from a very qualified teacher.” She shook her head, rolling her eyes.
You watched her carefully, wide eyes forming. If this is what Scratch Writing Camp was, you weren’t so sure you were ready for it. You had only signed up because of the inside jokes and.. Well, of course the memory book. You didn’t even know how to write, and weren’t very interested in learning.
“It’s all about the voice ,” a girl standing to the left on Daisy said in a deadpan voice. “And this is why you’re at Daisy’s Professional Comedy School; to learn how to talk.” The girl to the left of her giggled, having heard that a thousand times already.
“Anyway, welcome! I hope you enjoy your stay!” You give a nervous chuckle, unsure of what your future for the month will hold..
But one thing was for sure.
You were excited.

daily
7/27
401 words
MYTH STAN LOVE <333333

In everything in me, I do believe that Myth is the best cabin of all time. I am here to convince you of this in this paragraph (that my teachers would be ashamed of, but that’s not the point.) that this is the case. So, please, put down your emotional ties that you may have that prevent you from liking Mythology (such as the fact that Myth is winning first place, but we will tackle that later.) and listen. If you understand none of what this is, I hope that you at least read the whole essay and considered liking Myth.
For starters, Mythology is home to three incredible leaders, but this isn’t to be said only about the leaders - the campers also happen to be incredible. However, the leaders are amazing because they are able to wrangle their campers and motivate them without all of the flashy advertisements that have become all too popular in SWC. As many of you will notice later, it is very aesthetic and that’s one of the reasons it’s getting bonus points i love the memory book page it’s beautiful and gorgeous and fabulous robin is incredible.
The second reason is that it is home to Nights.
.
.
Do I need to explain further?
They work hard for everything they have. Some might say that they don’t deserve it, or luck, or SHH- Mythology deserves every single point that they own. Hard work and dedication has given them that, and while we should be jealous and strive to be like Mythology because we’re jealous of them and want to be in first place, it’s crucial that we still give them the credit they deserve because, after all, they are fabulous and work very hard. To achieve, you MUST do - you can not wait around, and Myth demonstrates that fact EXCELLENTLY.
Finally, Myth is an amazing cabin (and should be everybody’s favorite) because they gave me my favorite ever session in SWC. It was with Livvy and Wishes, and it was my first time being a co-leader, and besides writing 100k words, the campers and the dailies and weeklies were amazing and literally just everything worked and I loved it and stan that session, so quirky.
Myth is the best cabin ever, I hope you agree now, and I hope you will go to their cabin and bombard them with love messages <3

Why Comedy Should Be Added
a persuasive essay written by daisy
+589

Scratch Writing Camp would benefit from a comedy cabin. Comedy would provide Scratch Writing Camp with a whole different world of ideas. Many people would agree that SWC is famous for its inside jokes, screenshots, memory books, and, of course, arson and mangos. However, not many people know how to write comedically. If a seasoned comedian had a comedy cabin, it could open doors for people in writing comedically. People could learn how to write better in that genre. It would tie SWC together because it’s different from any other cabin. Because comedy and jokes can’t be reused, it would involve people being creative. It would take a creative person to bring comedy to life, but that is a whole other adventure. Comedy would help reinforce what SWC believes in - writing, originality, creativity, and laughter.
Many people could also argue for Script’s existence because it’s easier to create cabin storylines for. It could be anything! For this, I suggest that Script stays. It is not only popular among many leaders and campers, but it is also different from many other cabins. While it wouldn’t bring out the same creative side comedy would, it would still allow endless possibilities.
At this point, you may be scratching your head. I recommend removing a different cabin. Between the fifteen cabins we have now, there is so much overlap or hard to write cabins. Mythology, Fairy Tales, and Non-Fiction immediately stick out into my head, along with Horror. These cabins are too similar to other cabins, or don’t allow the creativity Script or Comedy would.
I would suggest removing Mythology because it’s too similar to Historical Fiction. Apart from that, it all centers around one thing - gods. Many people who follow religions can and will be made uncomfortable by this, and I think it’s important to recognize this and help that. However, apart from that, this doesn’t allow much diversity in cabins throughout the years. They all end up the same, in different words, with different activities given by the brilliant hosts.
Fairy Tales is quite similar to Fantasy - there are many overlaps between the two. Fairy Tales isn’t really a genre - it’s part of the folklore genre. It also highly references and refers to well known stories such as Cinderella, Peter Pan, and Alice in Wonderland. While it is possible to create new recent stories (Frozen one and two immediately come to mind), it is difficult and not many people know how to.
Non-Fiction allows room for no creativity. The only things you can get from this genre is already done events, and facts. While this, along with essays, are important.. Non-Fi doesn’t provide much room for growth or creativity. It’s impossible to create new works using Non-Fi, which in my opinion doesn’t bring out the heart of SWC.
Horror is an exciting cabin that often brings out endless possibilities. However, SWC is currently located on Scratch and open to people of any age located all around the world. Especially for the younger audiences, Horror is a bit too much. At least a few SWC-ers put down “No horror” annually on their applications. It’s important for SWC to stay kid friendly for everyone.
Comedy as a cabin would benefit SWC but so does Script for various reasons mentioned above. This is why the hosts should consider removing a different cabin that isn’t a crowd favorite or doesn’t allow much growth and development, or some people aren’t allowed to partake in. Comedy cabin would most certainly benefit SWC and the writers in SWC.

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My fingers move to Aina’s nose, giggling for a second when she licks it. But then I remember that there’s no point in laughing. She’ll be gone in six days and.. I glance at my watch. 15 hours. I bite my tongue, allowing my squatted legs to fall from under me. My fingers grasp onto Aina’s neck and she gives a whine.
She doesn’t understand what exactly, but she knows something’s wrong.
At this hour, the sky is a canvas of different pink pastels. I know my mom would disapprove of me being out now. “There are so many bad things that could happen,” she would say, and I would give my average response: “Not with Aina.”

—

The searing, burning pain makes me open my eyes. I was expecting to see the sky, the grass, trees, but instead I only see blurs of random colors.
Blue, red, yellow, orange, green.
A buzzing sound echoes in my head. My head aches, but my eyes are so much worse. I clasped them, trying to get them away from a spoon. That’s what it felt like.
Was this time travel?
In the movies, it looked calm. Peaceful. They would be exploring the foreign machine in slo-mo, but instead there was just pain. Searing pain. Grasping me.
Until there wasn’t.
I was just out of the tube.

I was expecting something - anything different. Or, maybe not different. Anything normal, but normal was anything but this.
There wasn’t any color.
Or trees.
And the language they spoke was.. forei- non existent? I tried to think of the books I had read, anything to suggest anything about this world. For a few moments, it was useless. I could think of nothing. But then I realized.
Utin (OO-tin). I smiled, then frowned. There was no way to get around, no way to talk to anyone.
They used telepathy.
And I, believe it or not, did not.

—
Sabotage: Stop working on the weekly and do something else creative for 15 minutes

I made a playlist with a bunch of songs I want to have a program to… 15 minutes was about 60

Score: 29
Sabotage Status: Fixed

—

You patter around the space station, breathing hard. They would be chasing you, they are chasing you, you can’t get away. Your heart stops and skips a beat - but you keep going. There is nothing more important than getting those stupid files.
“One oh two. Over and out.” Your voice is a dull hush. You can’t speak any louder or the guards will find you. Your mission to get color would be sabatoged, and then everything would be done. You smile, a hint of a grin marking your face.
“Do you copy?” You whisper, a bit louder, glancing around the area. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5-
They were here.
And you had to get away.
But Chase still hadn’t freaking answered your freaking freaking freaking- but it was too late now. Too late to get color. Too late to fix the scientific labs trying to figure out not how to fix cancer but how to give cancer.
Too late for your earth.
It had been all down to you, and you had royally screwed up.

You feel a tug at your hair. You scream, thrashing to get away. You don’t dare turn your head - it could be the piranhas they kept in the lab, or any number of their torture devices. But you didn’t want to find out - you just had to get away.
“Chase, I can’t get far enough away in time. I need backup! Do you copy!?” Your voice now echoes through the science lab.

Notes: I feel like I should have gotten more words, but I put too much thinking time into my writing (like,, a lot) but it’s okay!! I like it because I incorporated Dyst. Sci Fi, and Thriller into it instead of just one and staying in my comfort zone :>

—

Your voice cracks, heart beating a thousand miles per hour. You shouldn’t open the door; you shouldn’t go in. You know it, but you can’t stop yourself. It’s too.. Tempting. Levi. How long had it been since the death?
You shake your head, wandering in, expecting to feel overwhelming sadness but instead feeling excitement.. Happiness. Through the still crystal clear mirror, you could almost see his smile. You look up to the roof, feeling a comfortable shoulder resting on yours.Levi
”Bellaaaaaaa, hurry up! Come on already, we’re going to be late to my game!” That had been the day Levi had gotten seven home runs.
“I’m coming, I’m coming, shut uppppppppppppp- I’ll be there soooooon.” Your voice is whining, painful, sad, it’s almost despairing. But there was nothing youc ould do about that anymore.”
You smile a cracked, pained smile. He was gone.. He always would be. There was no changing that, never ever ever, but there was one thing for sure. Levi would always be with you, and Levi would never leave you. And Levi would always be in the back of your mind, the playful smile on his face. Nostalgia, you murmur to yourself. You don’t know if you love it, or hate it. With a smile, you exit the room, going back to yours to start the artwork. The lovely beautiful artwork that Levi would have loved.. That you loved. For him! All for him! Yous mile, knowing that this wouldn’t be the last time going in that room.

—

The shattered mirror makes me look sadder than I really am. I swear I’m not.. The dull gray it paints me as is terrifying. It makes me look ugly. I wear a frown, and I have tears streaming down my face. It’s no wonder nobody wants me. I’m too ugly, too skinny. I have rashes. I’m.. I’m just too much. Too much. By anyone’s standards. But that doesn’t mean I don’t want to fit in; I don’t know why I try. Why I even want it. I know there’s no hope for me. But I always want to do better, to do better, to do even better. All I want is to have a sense of belonging.
Maybe I’m being rash, or too greedy. Maybe I shouldn’t ask for that much. Maybe I should just let other people live their life but it isn’t enough. I just want to belong. I give a cracked smile, throwing myself at my bed, and swallowing all of my many tears. Just let me belong.. But it makes sense. I’m too sad to do that. Nobody should want to!! It’s so sad, it’s so sad, it’s so bad. Although it’s very understandable.. But doesn’t change the fact that I want to belong.

–

(1157)

I stifle a laugh as I watch a group of teenagers get taken to the stocks. On first thought, that was rude. But my main concern is keeping away from the punishments I would be baren to if I had been caught laughing. As I watch them, it is obvious they saw me smile. I give them a little wave and blow a kiss to the ringleader. A grunt - perhaps directed to me, and perhaps directed to the guard - told me that JT had seen me. Satisfied, I pivot on my heel and turn around.

In Nirvana, the first rule we have in our village is to respect other people. Breaking it brings the severest of punishments. For most, it's easy. However, they are not careful with the food they eat during breakfast. I am, which makes following the rules harder. I know that we have it easy, though - in another district, Hecatomb, they slaughter their firstborn child. There, everyone has children at the same age; 24. They are assigned marriage partners when they are born, Most people are unaware of what happens if it is not possible for someone. But I know almost better that those who live there.

—
order of events:
- at village
- contemplates death
- soldier gets her, dahlia gets away
- ends up at castle
- mistaken as the princess
- sent to the tournament
- “dies”
- mistakes measured at the castle, glitch in the system that puts her as royalty
- prince falls in love with her
- charades, purposely acting as a queen should
- escapes to go home
- warns district
- gets a relationship w/ family
- family gets bribed for her
- parents send her away
- forced marriage
- ends with a diary entry, accepting the marriage

the sacrifice

i'm not beautiful, but i could settle for pretty

When I wake up, my eyes wander around the room as I look for Mam and Pop. The room is dimly lit, but it's obvious that I am the only one occupying our one-room house. I can not blame them for not wanting to spend time with me; I am not going to be here after today. It would be best for the three of us to try to cut all ties before I leave. Even through my bed covering, I am still freezing. I push it off of me and sit up. My bare feet hit the cold floor and I bite my tongue to keep from making an exasperated sigh. Today I am not supposed to make noise.

But today will be my departure from the world in all likely scenarios, so what else could happen? Would I lose a weapon? Pathetic. The answers are unclear and it would be best not to dwell on questions that I can not answer, so I wander to the mirror, which is covered in a blanket of dust. It would be vain to look at myself - especially today, when everything is supposed to be centered on other people. But it can not matter if I am about to die.

My long fingers wipe the dust, leaving a clear part in our mirror, and leaving my fingers blanketed in dust. I can see myself. I inhale, unprepared to see who looks back. The person in the glass is pale and skinny. Her cheeks have sunk in, her pale and watery eyes are too big on her face. Her legs are as thin as sticks, her arms thinner. She looks like she could fall over at any time. Freckles dot her face, and her sandy hair cascades down in layers. That is not me; it can not be. I have been taken care of.

I blow the dust off of my fingers, turning on my heel to the wardrobe I share with Mam and Pop. I have five dresses and one nightgown, just enough for me before our washing day. Of course, I have to rewear two dirty dresses each week. I only shower once per week to save water, only eating one meal per day to stop the monster tearing at my stomach. At school, there is a water fountain. Only the poor people drink from it, and even though my parents are far from poor I have been taught to gulp down my body weight in water. It would be vain to consider myself unfortunate, though, so I open a drawer without another thought. Today I can have my choice of dress because the clothes were washed yesterday, so I pick the newest one. It's the only one that does not hang over my shoulder because of the weight I have lost since my coddling days.

My feet remain bare as I open the door to the outside world. My feet are always caked with dirt. Today, the market is full of people. A laugh escapes my throat as I realize that most people are not used to this market. I clamp my mouth shut because of the noise, but people seem unfazed because I do not look like an oldest child. I switch to mentally laughing at the people's shocked expressions. We live in the poorest district. We are not used to extravagance, but it is all too clear that they are.

I'm not needed until ten o'clock, so the next two hours will simply be me trying to distract myself from what is coming; my death. There is no work today because it's The Sacrifice, but I wish there was. Even though I normally hate embroidering dresses, I long for just one more day at work. Yesterday was my last. My friend, Rosa, a second born child gave me a cake. She is six years younger than me. I don't classify her as my friend. I only started talking to her when her older sister - my best friend - was killed in The Sacrifice. Her giving me the cake was a gesture that she knew that I was sure to lose. I am too short, and too weak, to win. Winning brings life, but losing means death. It's something that every oldest child goes through.

The King decided that selfishness was the worst sin someone could commit. In order to protect the older generation of this, she made a law that the firstborn of every family, at the age of 16, would fight to the death. The winner was allowed to live. I don't see the point of this. It doesn't teach selflessness; it teaches fear. As it is, our region has enough fear without the fear of our children and next generation.

The district's crowd thickens as the time draws closer to The Sacrifice. I can't get Myla Rinn out of my mind. In the ring, her eyes were bright eyed and wide like a deer in the headlights or prey. That will be me, in a few hours. I will leave my Mam and Pop for them to live alone. But really, this is what they wanted. To live a life without kids. Long live the Queen!

A soldier grabs onto my thin arm tightly. His thumb and pointer finger can touch well past my elbow. “You're late,” he says, a gleeful smile playing onto his lips. “Come with me.”

I have no reason to run. Even if I momentarily get away, death will still catch up to me. My fate then would probably be worse, whatever that may be. So I walk with the soldier. I don't protest, but somehow I don't think he was expecting that. The sun gleams above me and I know that I wasn't late. Maybe he was just saying that.

“How selfish of you,” I murmur, looking up at him. With my free arm, I latch onto his side as if I couldn't get away.

I don't know what I'm doing.

This is a recipe for disaster.

I just talked to a guard on Sacrifice Day.

“How selfish of you, Dahlia Rae. Talking. On the day of your sacrifice.”

I let out a light laugh.

“I'm going to die anyway, aren't I?”

“You selfish, petty girl. Go! Go!” The soldier yanks my hair, making me fall to the ground. I let out a cry and the people around me leave. I still haven't found Mam or Pa. I still don't even know if they're going to watch my Sacrifice. The taste of bile floods my mouth as I shakily stand up, biting the guard. He drops my arm and I start running, running, sprinting.

I have no destination. I just need an escape. I need to get to my death, I can't keep living while knowing that my death is coming. That's how I've lived for the past 16 years.

My feet thunder against the gravel, and I can feel every single jolt of pain. The path is winding, but I choose not to stay on it. That makes me feel more trapped. I want to be free until my death - but I need to get there in time. I have to get away from the embroidery. I have to keep running. I can't let death catch up with me. I can almost see him scoffing at my face.. if death were a real person.

Death, if you exist, take me now.

The trees, sky, and grass all blend together as I'm running. I can't tell apart the scenery from the landmarks that I wander through on a daily basis. I want to say that's an excuse for not realizing that I'm passing by a castle, but even that seems too bizarre to count as one.

The windows are huge; the building brick. It looks just like the castles in the stories that Mam and Pa read to me in my coddling days. I stare at myself. With my brown dress, I don't look bad. I'm still skinny, and my eyes are still too big for my face. I'm not beautiful, but I could settle for pretty. I bite my tongue as I consider my death (and Death) for what must be the tenth time today. I long for it now.

“Oh, Avery, my dear! Come here!” I turn my head to face the voice. I don't know why - Avery is not my name. I stop where I am. I don't move, I barely breathe. If I stand still, she won't see me. Idiot.

“The King has been looking for you, sweetheart. He's been worried sick! He was frightened that you had actually went to the Sacrifice.” She laughs, holding my arm tightly. I watch her. All of her movements are animated. She wears bright red lipstick, eyeshadow a slightly different color. Her dark brown hair is pulled up into a tight bun, and her skin is so pale it was nearly white. “I told him that you wouldn't dare. You'd come back.” She wags her finger at me and chuckles. "Your father is so stubborn! I think he nearly didn't believe me. But I was right, look at you! You're back!“

All of her words rushed into one big spiel. The only takeaway was that one, I'm not going to die. Two, I am the King's daughter, and three, I am a runaway. The only thing I had in common with the King's daughter was that I, too, was a runaway. I force a smile.

”Oh, yes, of course! My dad can be beyond stubborn, but I can't wait to see him again.. Do you know how long I was even gone? I- I kind of lost track of days when I left."

I shouldn't be doing this.

But Fate, if you're real, please let this work out.

"Oh, you poor darling! It's been weeks! Your father was worried that you had died. And I, of course, told him that you were too smart to do that. You little pumpkin! All of the maids and servants were worried sick. Now come inside before you get sick.“

I giggle, but it sounds fake. ”I'm so sorry! Let's just get inside. I want to give my daddy a big hug - it's been forever!“ Death is going to catch up to me; it's going to happen sooner or later. The maid nods and starts ushering me inside, a smile so large it seems like it belongs on the television plastered on her face.

”Of course, sweetheart. You can tell daddy what you want for your 13th birthday. 13 is a big number!“ I giggle. Too perfect. It's my birthday and I am the daughter of the king.

The castle is gorgeous. There are velvet carpets, chandeliers hanging from the ceiling. I exhale softly, eyes widening. It's fit for a king. And I want to live here. But I know that death will catch up with me sooner or later.. and the cake that Rosa gave me still fills my mind. She's waiting for my death. Viewing is mandatory for commons, but from the maid's words it seems optional for royalty.

The door to the throne room swings open. There's a king sitting down, back straight with food by the rolling cart next to him. He could stuff his face. The maid left before my daddy could see her. Instead of the joy I felt earlier, I needed to leave. I had to leave. I didn't want to be associated with someone who had so much yet left his people to fend for themselves. My thin arms and legs made me look like an imposter. I wasn't the king's daughter.

”I'm not your daughter. I'm.. from the districts.“ I give a light smile. ”I'm 16, and I'm the oldest." Death, I'm ready for you.

“Why are you here?” King Damascus boomed, eyes glaring at me. “You should not be here. Go! Go!” His voice reminded me of the soldier's earlier. I smiled lightly.

“How selfish of you,” I murmer. “But I would be obliged.”

I turn on my heel, quickly exiting the way I came. The maid tried to grab me but I shoved her away. I was ready to face my death head on. There was no point in running. If I was meant to live, I would figure that out the right way.

A soldier grabs onto my arm for the third time today, pulling me to the tournament. “You will come with me. And once you do that, you will fight.” He eyes me down, looking for any mark of growth. “By the looks of it, you will die.” Right now would be a good time to remember the rule of silence I was supposed to be following all day. I am stronger than I look.

We walk in eerie silence until we reach the tournament. I am not too late, thank goodness. Technically, there is supposed to be an introduction to everyone. But I ignore that and wander straight in. Someone tries to pick me up, coax me out of the ring, but I won't go. This is my chance to get prepared.

Eventually, the announcers give up. They know that today has been ruined, but they don't know everything that has happened and we are going to keep it that way. I smile, thinking of the full day that has happened. One of the announcers who I recognize from previous years watches me, tapping his wrist and letting a screen appear in front of him. It's a list of the sacrifices. He scans it, then glances back at me.

“We have our Dahlia Rae!” I stand up, waiting for the other people. One by one they get announced. I recognize a few kids from my class at school, and a few others from my embroidery. Other than that, all of the faces are unrecognizable. I don't know why I care. I will be one of the first eliminated.

“Let's start the annual countdown!” He cries. His voice is high pitch, eager, and his movements are once again animated. He reminds me too much of the maid. My eyes wander throughout the stadium, trying to find my parents before the gong plays. It's no use. By now, the rings were beyond crowded. People were crowded, smashing each other to get a better view. All of the second and third children.

“10! 9! 8! 7! 6-” his voice pauses for a second, and the whole stadium joins in eagerly. My heart pounds in realizing that I was one of them a year prior. “5! 4! 3! 2! 1!”

A gong rang. My first instinct wasn't to attack, it was to curl in a ball. I can't even count to 120 before I can hear someone breathing over my head. I brace myself, prepared for everything. A slight hesitation. Do it now. Put me out of my misery and expectation. It was so, so hard to hear anything. Everyone was shouting. I tried to roll away, but the person's foot kicked into my rib. There was no running, and it was far too late to hide. The only option now was to face Death head on.

I stop moving and sprawled out. A knife flashed down and I squeezed my eyes shut. I was preparing for this. I was ready. And I had been expecting pain. Or maybe I had been expecting for it to be over quicker than pain could set in, but I felt nothing. It was as if the knife had been numbing medicine, but the only thing it could have been numbing me from was real life.

Maybe, just maybe, I was supposed to live.

My eyes flutter shut, but I can still hear the announcer's words in my ear. I was still alive, temporarily. I can't see anything, but I can still hear all the noise around me. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have it! Our first death of tonight; Dahlia Rae. She came in fierce and seemingly ready, but it turns out she wasn't so ready!” Laughter echoes throughout the dimly lit arena. I should be dead. I am dead, according to the announcer. The announcer could not be wrong; I have to be dead.

But, the thing is, I am still alive.

___

I wake up in a prison. The walls are stone, and the whole room feels as though someone moved Antarctica into it. A gurgle of laughter escapes from my throat as I realize how funny this is. I recognize a few other people from The Sacrifice earlier. They are not dead.

Then it strikes me. I am not dead either. I pinch myself to make sure, wincing at the contact between my fingers and the flesh. For some reason, the feeling of being alive is foreign. I should be dead. I was expecting to be dead. But I am not dead.

A few guards fumble with the lock. Once it's open, guards swarm in and handcuff each and every one of us. I do not make a sound, even though people around me protest and ask why. They are supposed to be dead, and because they are alive they have lost the right to protest to anything. They have lost the right to be human. If they were animals, they would still have no right to protest.

But, that being said, I do want to know where I am going. Perhaps I'll be send to heaven.. or hell. Or perhaps they will keep me alive.

“Where are we going?” A girl from my grade at school asks, thrashing against a guard. She has no chance in life. For some reason, that makes me smile. My mind runs wild with possibilities, the largest one having to do as a competition. Some will live, some will not. And if that's what's happening, she stands no chance which simply gives me one more chance at life.

“To measure your mistakes,” the guard replied, and I can hear the girl cry as her hair gets pulled.

I was wrong. That feels foreign to me.

The guard looks at me suspiciously, as if he was surprised that I wasn't moving or trying to get away. My footsteps patter behind his, my mind still replaying the girls' scream that echoed throughout the dungeon. The guards don't care if we live or if we die.

Before I know it, another door opens. It's even bigger than the door to the opening of the castle I had seen just earlier. We wander inside. For a second I stop. I see wires getting attached to kids' heads. That must measure our mistakes. My stomach does a somersault - and then another. My fate will be death. I'm not good. That simply makes the whole thing funnier.

Until it's my turn, and the guard I was with attaches it to my head.

“So, what are my options?” I ask, a smile playing onto my face.

“Death, prisoner.. Death might be better than that. Memories swiped, back to village. The possibilities are endless.” The guard's voice is dull and bored, as if he's spoken the same spiel over again. Maybe he does this every year. That would be an amusing job.

“Any advice?” I ask. I know my fate isn't in my hands anymore. It's all down to my mistakes. The list of mine are endless. I'll probably end up with prisoner.. anything else would be a glitch.

“Stop talking,” he responds. He gives me a slight nod, and I think. And then remember what today was - I was not supposed to make noise. My mouth clamps shut. “And good luck, kiddo. You're easy.”

The machine starts buzzing. My eyes close for what must be five minutes. And then the buzzing stops. I open my eyes.

“Who are you?” The guard asks, grasping my hand and falling to the floor.

“What were my results?” My voice is shaky. I am preparing for anything. Death, prisoner, memories swiped and going back to the town.

“Royalty.”

—

I wake up in between two sheets on a king sized bed. A gurgle escapes my throat. I can not tell if I am in heaven or still alive, but it seems like heaven. The walls are painted my favorite colors - purple and blue. My fingers stretch out and feel a teddy bear. I hold my breath, counting to thirty. My breath exhales in stammers and I clasp my throat.

I am not dead. I am not in heaven.

I am royalty.

I know I should not be cocky, though, because any time someone will come in and tell me it was a glitch. It had to be. Even today, I made too many mistakes. Argued with guards, ran away, lied, talked.. the list goes on and on.

My door opens, and a maid rushes in carrying a different outfit in each arm.

“Oh, you poor dumpling! Avery, come with me.” It was the same maid as earlier. That was beyond clear. “Did you go to The Sacrifice?” I nod, throat parched. “Oh my /gwoodness/, you poor girl.” I smile, intimacy crowning my head.

“My name is Dahlia Rae,” I murmur, grabbing onto one of the outfits. “Leave me right now. I will meet the prince on my own time, slave.” My silky smooth hair whips in her face as I pivot, ready to don my outfit. Where I used to live, this would be a party dress. It is obvious that here it is simply an everyday outfit.

The maid leaves without another word, but a curtsy. I take my time getting dressed. There are so many layers. At least three undergarments, then another few outer wears. I hum , quietly murmuring the name of a song and listening to it play through the room in an instrumental.

This must be what it's like to be a princess.

I leave the room, snapping my fingers to be lifted. It must be obvious that I'm an imposer, but the comfort is beyond anything I would have ever imagined. But I still can't stop thinking about how I want, need, must go home. My parents aren't here. They never will be.

They must have made a ton of mistakes.

While I know I glitched in, part of me wants to stay, but the other part wants to go back home and ration my food to bring it to my parents. They don't deserve it. They don't deserve royalty. But I do; I deserve the world. I used to be pretty, but now I am gorgeous.

I get dropped off near another chamber. From the looks of it, it must be a prince. Perhaps my future husband. Who knows what goes on in a home for royalty? The door opens, and I double take.

I recognize him as Charles - he's all across the limited news we get in our districts. His hair is raven black and falls into his black eyes. He's thin, but nothing like my barely standing up posture. His arms reach out for mine, he draws closer to me.

(4000 smth, i have enough proof so i on't feel like getting the exact number :"D)

as an added bonus!!

birdi
BIRDI you are so, so amazing and you have been such a great leader this session!! being part of your cabin three times has been amazing and i’ve learned something new each and every time. you’re a phenomenal leader and you are so incredibly patient, kind, and ohmygosh you have such a pretty singing voice, although you should’ve actually singed the thing moonlit dared you to - that would have been cool. anywayy you’re epic and thanks <3

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