sxwjq wrote:

November 3 daily (323 words):
Ever heard of the Sharpie Smoothie before? It’s the newest sweet drink that you can rely on to become a better student. Though the Sharpie Smoothie looks murky and repulsive, the true flavor cannot be more different than expected. As you take a sip, you can easily recognize the unique, intense flavor of the marvelous smoothie. It is reminiscent of elementary school days when classmates drew Sharpie tattoos on their hands. One’s writing skills can even be boosted with a single sniff of the spicy scent. With the fresh pop of tangy liquid on the tongue and an ice-cold cup of smoothie at the side, your fingertips will immediately be reaching for the keyboard. Before you know it, you’ll have a perfect, completed essay finished all in the matter of seconds. This is extremely beneficial for literature projects, as one taste will give you the ability to write an entire hundred thousand pages before the effect wears off. However, with great power comes great responsibility! There is a limit on how much Sharpie Smoothie you can drink. One container of Sharpie Smoothie can only be consumed once a month. This means it can only be used twelve times a year, so be cautious of how you drink it. If the amount consumed exceeds the once-a-month limit, you may have uncomfortable side effects including nausea, red eyes, insomnia, headaches, and tooth decay. Furthermore, the method of storage affects your physical state since warm Sharpie smoothies may become dangerous to ingest. The smoothie normally comes refrigerated, so you can store it in room temperature for one to two days before freezing again. Not only does the energy drink have countless benefits, but studies have also shown that students are more likely to be accepted into top schools after intake of the Sharpie Smoothie. In summary, you should try the Sharpie Smoothie for a blast to the past, heaps of energy, and cheat to writing beautifully.

Daily Three
Word Count: 345

Table of Contents

Daily November 3 - The math book smoothie

Struggling with your math homework? Tired of boring maths lessons where you don't understand a single thing your teacher says?If this sounds like you you probably wished you had something which could make all your math problems disappear without much effort. Then the new math book smoothie is the right thing for you! It comes not only with five additional flavors for you to choose from but also will help you to solve all your math problems in no time! And even more: This smoothie is perfect to drink right before an important math exam. Yes you heard right- after drinking we can promise you won't have any problems anymore to find the answer for any math problem you come across in your exam!
Not convinced yet? Well then you will be probably happy to hear you also can share the smoothies perfectly with your friends for a great experience while doing math homework. Say goodbye to boring math lessons where you don't understand a single thing with our amazing math book smoothie!
In our smoothies we process all kind of math books for different grades as well! No matter  which book you will choose of - you will have all knowledge of the book in no time. Choose today between the five additional flavours cranberry, blueberry, apple, pineapple and strawberry and get the exclusive mango-flavoured math book smoothie for free! Drink our delicious math book smoothie and impress not only your teachers and friends but also your parents with your math knowledge! Make this life-changing descision an buy the new math book smoothie available in all stores which sell drinks! We make sure you won't be disappointed with your decision.

Note: We are specifying on math books. For other subjects please contact our customer service for the best possible customer experience for yourself.

This should be 302 words

Everything except the road trip part is completely true; I've just changed the names of the people ;')

(STARRIUS: hey jim! {frowns, voice falters} or mighty ruler flabsdz … {slight pause, more softly} ah, what should i call you? {raises voice again} well anyhow, it's good to see you again. how are you doing on this fine evening? )

JIM FLABSDZ: {smiles} oh hello starr of folklore cabin! i am jim flabsdz, sky monster vocalist, daily team member and mighty ruler of all space time… {pause} …but you can just call me jim. yes, yes, thank you for asking - i’m doing very well! {genuine, heartfelt} it has been a great day of not eating any children who didn’t finish the weekly on time, because i would never do that. {slowly pushes away a potentially human bone with his foot}

(STARRIUS: oh {startles} oh … oh. {glances down surreptitiously} i have some experience with tyranny too, so {cough} i'll let my suspicions pass. just {covers mouth and leans in to whisper} maybe don't let the hosts know. {leans back} now! {rubs hands together dictatorly} tell me about this wonderful home of yours - those cute clouds drifting by are so charming, and i absolutely adore the view. it must be nice being able to see everything that happens in swcland.)

JIM FLABSDZ: {sheepish, looks away guiltily} aha. yes. no letting the hosts know. not that i have anything to hide - {interrupts self, theatrical} yes, my wonderful home! there’s nothing better than the sky kingdom, and when i want to stretch my vast cosmic powers i simply go off and explore the planets. {earnest} i really do recommend it!

(STARRIUS: {winks} yes, i've heard you're quite the traveler. we have time - care to enlighten this tired old dictator with some heroic tales? {smiles, rubs hands together} and i'm sure the listeners would like to know more about the monster in the clouds who keeps stealing their hairballs.)

JIM FLABSDZ: {beams proudly} why, thank you! {pointedly} it's nice to hear that *someone's* noticed my heroism - i put a lot of work into the upkeep of my image, you know. indeed, i'll have you know my main diet is actually asteroids. the sky monsters of today have learned to thrive on the nutrients our utterly superior digestive systems can extract from mineral compounds. so whenever i see an asteroid getting dangerously close to any of the planets in my wonderful sky kingdom, i have it for lunch! i saved everyone in swcland from extinction just the other week, i'll have you know. it's a fabulous system… {sadly} not that i ever get much credit for it.

(STARRIUS: {gasps} oh my, how noble of you! {wipes away tear} may i take this opportunity to thank you, jim, on behalf of all swcians? {profoundly} you are so jay. thank you. and you can be sure as pirate treasure that i'm going to do whatever i can to make sure the rest of the world knows, too. anddd with that said - i'm afraid our time is up today. thanks for joining me today! and do come by the folklore trails sometime, it'd be an honour to have you. we have lots of children for you to - {breaks off} i mean, interview over!)

soldiers, comrades… my friends. the time has come for us to face a great evil, greater than any we have faced before - greater than the avocado, greater than the sourpatch, and greater, even, than that one time the main cabin turned into a mango. but together we are stronger than the things that seek to divide us. the tyranny and its oppressive regime have held us trapped for far too long. i don’t need to tell you that, though - you wouldn’t be here fighting with us today if you didn’t know in your hearts that this was true.

(today, my brave mateys – we are battling swc itself. it’s a rough prospect, and a heartbreaking one, too. but tyranny is ingrained not only in hostship, but in the nature of our land; in every tree in the folklore trails, and every flitting star in the dystopian realm. our world … it was crafted in the image of dictators. but we can change that. with each one of your flaming torches, and the burning need for justice in your soul: we can change the tide of our oceans. the tyrants may dominate, but we are swc. they watch from the clouds, but we are the earth and the fire and the cities. without us, they are nothing.)

and yet… today, i am scared. i know you are too - you hide it well, but i see it in your faces. they have always been tyrants, the hostship. but in our younger days of innocence and trust, they were, it seemed, our friends. i miss them, those people i thought i knew, more than i could ever admit to you in spoken tongue. it would be easier to take their hands, to join their side, to imagine their empty promises as filled with truth. but justice is never easy. when we set sail today, we know the tides of history flow with us.

(we’ve seen times change before, many, many times. every season, we are born anew and afresh. cabin loyalties swing left and right. the rules change. occasionally, the skies break for rain. but this time – this time will be different. this time, we are rewriting the story of our world – and our first sketches will be in faint chalk, but through time, we shall drag up stones and mount walls and make legends. and we will do it with love; for ourselves, for words, for everything that swc beats for. we will do it the way they never did.)

so let us be the tidal wave tonight! turn by turn, the tyrants in their arrogance have underestimated us. how plain their foolishness is to see now. they never represented the glory of swc. that glory, always, came down to us. the moment we storm their shores, something long lost to swc shall find itself returned once more: integrity, and soul, and hope. we have all fought in the cabin wars - but then, we fought with friends. now, we fight against them - but only ever in the belief that the wounds we inflict upon the battlefield shall heal, while we will have liberated them for a lifetime.

(stay together, friends. have your mango catapults at the ready. in this moment, we are no longer divided. we are swc – united against evilry, a force that can change nature. as our ships graze the clouds and we come upon the tyrants’ palace, i hope you will remember how worthy you all are. thank you for being here with me today. thank you for being a part of this journey.
hall away our kings, we are bound for australia!)

Breathe in, breathe out. It’s only you alone in here
You and the shadows, and your mind, and your fear
She locked the door; you can’t get out, but she can’t get in
It’s only you and the window. And look how thin
The glass is – could you spit peas through it, like grandma used to say
Before she left you too. One punch, is that all you would need?
And sure, your knuckles would bleed
And the glass embed in your skin in fractured shards
But would it be so hard
If you truly wanted to leave?

Breathe. It’s only you alone,
Turning your thoughts on the grindstone to hone
Chipping all that is broken away til it’s clear
What you actually want, what you need – what are you even doing here?
A heart’s built for more than just survival
Meant for more than the rhythm of being alive, hell
Like that’s meaningless, and the white eye outside is unblinking and still
You break the stiffness from your hands, clamber up to the sill
Condensation on the glass where you
Breathe.

It’s only you alone; the streets are bare as the stretch of your neck
And the puddles of pitch on the pavement are black
There’s a light on at the window of the house only two blocks or so away
The worn stone sparks. If they let you in, would they let you stay?
You catch your reflection like a bird out of the air
Haggard and empty, your thousand yard stare
Looking right through itself. Now who would believe
You? You fumble the latch; breathe.

But you’ve no need for a key. It swings open at the barest touch
Like it was just waiting for you to do half as much
And the air hits your face like a slap, only colder
And the brilliant moon glows so bright it should smoulder
Like bone fire-ice in a bare sky; your fingers brace the ledge
As if to pull yourself up and through, kicking your legs
To dash over the streets like you’re going to be free
But you don’t.

You breathe.

It’s getting cold. You shut the window
You’ll be spending the night in here, most likely. Before she lets herself in again tomorrow
No point making it worse for yourself. (She’d catch you anyway.)
Don’t want to catch your death of cold. (She’d drag you back by your hair by the very next day.)

These four walls are safe; you’d miss it really, if you were to leave.

Selfish; you breathe.

Wood Sorrel (joy)

Verse 1: You call yourself a city girl
A stone-hard, steel-cold original
So why’d you bloom when you smile?
You blush when I call you pretty girl
And the light on your face is impossible
So tell me you’ll stay a while

Prechorus: ‘Tween the trees, I sway
In the petrichor haze
I’ll brush the rain from your face

Chorus: So would you let me hand the key over
Unlock every mystery, heather
Underneath our feet, and we’ll be free (I don’t think this can get better)
So would you run away with me? Sorrow
Has no place when you’re with me, I know
I could take you deeper in a world that’s full of summer colour
And when this smile splits your face
I know you’re saying you’ll
stay
(running free between the leaves, wood sorrel)

Verse 2: We carve a heart into a tree
In the bark, engrave initials for history
To hold when we’re dead and gone
But now we live, and we’re living wild
You don’t ever tell me I’m just a child
So if we want, we’ll promise this can last forever

Prechorus: In my arms, I hold
close your aureate glow
You make the sunlight seem cold

Chorus Repeat: So would you let me hand the key over
Unlock every mystery, heather
Underneath our feet, and we’ll be free (I don’t think this can get better)
So would you run away with me? Sorrow
Has no place when you’re with me, I know
I could take you deeper in a world that’s full of summer colour
And when this smile splits your face
I know you’re saying you’ll
stay

Bridge: And aren’t
Constable and Turner broken-hearted that they missed this?
And when the light hits the ground, it’s a whole new apotheosis
And when I see your eyes, how did I ever live without this

Without you, you without me
Isn’t that sad? What would we be
If you’d never painted all the stars in
If you’d never rewrote my beginnings
If you’d never sent my still world spinning

(running free between the leaves, wood sorrel)

Chorus Repeat: So would you let me hand the key over
Unlock every mystery, heather
Underneath our feet, and we’ll be free (I don’t think this can get better)
So would you run away with me? Sorrow
Has no place when you’re with me, I know
I could take you deeper in a world that’s full of summer colour
And when this smile splits your face
I know you’re saying you’ll
Stay

(it’s joyous what you do to me, wood sorrel)

The constellation of Aries, as taken from the Latin for ‘ram’, is composed of four core stars – Hamal, the brightest star, Beta Arietis (Sheratan), a star system, Gamma Arietis (Mesarthim), a potential trinary star, and 41 Arietis, a triple star system. These stars were born of the catastrophic Space Window Collapse (commonly abbreviated to SWC) that disrupted the space-time continuum some 12 billion years ago.

The SWC, in turn, was triggered by the Nano Wrimo that was established shortly after the Big Bang. The power within the Nano Wrimo fractured off into several subunits, one of which developed combustible properties – the resulting Space Window Collapse, which lead to drastic restructuring of our universe as we know it, led to the clustering of these four stars. Hamal, or ‘ram’s head’, is the brightest within the constellations, and like all stars, in olden times its luminescent properties were credited to the power of ‘Host’. (Temples to Host can still be found on all continents on Ess-dublue-swee, our home planet, though its power as a global religion has faded in the last few centuries. Now, the only practitioners are a few devout followers who still worship the Old Gods.) Beta Areitis is the second-brightest, and its traditional name ‘Sheratan’ (‘the two signs) refers to how this star marked the northern vernal equinox opposite Gamma Arietis before the SWC. 41 Arietis, the triple star system, is said to mark the 20.20 Golden Trio (Ici, Sin and Alb). Finally, the least bright star, Gamma Arietis, has an enhanced magnetic field. This is just one of the examples of the SWC establishing strange powers within stars.

So the next time you look up at the nights sky from Ess-dublue-swee, think about the incredible coincidences that had to coincide for us to have such beautiful constellations to gaze upon.

Snow, a soft dusting of icing sugar, has settled on the uneven tiles of the cottage. Inside, all is dark; the storm outside rumbles on in a cacophony of light and sound. They brace themselves, cold and stiff as wood, against the walls. The painted smiles are dripping from their faces; they fail to blink as large, glassy eyes peer through the holes where windows should be. Now the yellow light is caving in, and terrible white fingers are reaching down…

The little girl laughs, pops the chunk of gingerbread into her mouth, and brushes the crumbs from her fingers.

“Where are you going?”
She freezes, fingers barely brushing the worn bronze doorknob. She did not see the man behind her, but now she feels him – the coldness of his shadow, his closeness, and the warning silence hanging in liquor-tinged air. She tastes the blood on her lip.
“On a walk.”
Some days, that answer would be incorrect. Today, it is not; he grunts, and the footsteps behind her stumble off down the hall. The door to the kitchen clicks shut as softly as a prayer.
The girl in the red jacket turns the key in the lock, and goes.

The ladder is wet when her bare feet meet the rungs, and the matted plastic of the diving board is marked with the footsteps that came before her. She sucks in a slow, deep breath consisting of air of a higher altitude, and wonders if this is how the eagle feels when he looks down upon his kingdom from a distant peak. Like the eagle, she too is now just a step into the ether away from taking flight.

Below her, tiny people mill in their black and blue swimsuits, their chatter lost to her with the roar in her ears. They aren’t looking at her, yet she feels their eyes upon her, boring through her. She sucks in her stomach; directly down below, the rectangle of water shimmers and ripples in anticipation.

Hit it like you would a target. A poker player wouldn’t look away from the dartboard when he throws. With balletic movements, she approaches the edge, and it bends under her weight – but the way it dips beneath her puts a pit in her empty stomach, for reasons nothing to do with the height. She was never scared of falling.

Her coach sounds the whistle. She jumps.

It doesn’t seem so long ago that they were children, rolling on the manicured lawn in the Queen’s gardens and holding buttercups under each others’ chins. It doesn’t seem so long ago that they fit into the tiny, identical waistcoats that Tiff now keeps hidden under her bed; it doesn’t seem so long ago, those days of hide-and-seek games that would only end with sunset, and the laughter that filled the eternal halls. Sometimes if she listens enough, she thinks she can still hear it echoing. It is in the rafters, in the tapestries, in the creak of the stairs as she makes her way up to the dingy servants’ quarters. She hears it still, when she kneels by the bed and folds her hands and prays, softly, under her breath. She doesn’t have much to wish for. But tonight, there is only one plea on her lips.

‘Keep her safe.’

~

The Queen died a strange, sudden death five days ago, and just like that, her kingdom was plunged into confusion and darkness. You could map how the news spread from house to house by the slamming of the shutters, and watch as it spiderwebbed across society until all that was left was the ghost of mourning in the air. The next day, they put out the marigolds, and the streets ran bright with their grief.

Tiff has seen the flowers from her window, and heard the screams of sorrow at night; they leach through the stones like the cold does, and it chills her nights until she can’t bear to close her eyes. She has barely seen Princess Helena since the fateful morning of the late Queen’s passing. Of course they had become more distant as they aged – Helena is a Princess, the heir to the greatest throne this side of the Perseatic Ocean, and Tiff is heir to nothing at all – but now it is like a chasm has formed between them, insurmountable and deep with loneliness.

Now, she sees the coffin, piled high with foxgloves – Helly’s favourite – and the new monarch walking behind it. Her satin hair is wreathed through with silver, and her face wears the colour and sheen of porcelain. Tiff swallows, and inclines her head to the varnished wood. And she remembers:

‘I’ll always be looking for you, Tiff. You don’t need to worry. I could never forget you. How am I going to be able to do any of this without you?’

She looks up. And Helena’s glassy gaze slips right by her.

Hello,

This is a waste of time. I recognise that. The bottle will leak, or crack, and this piece of paper will be mush. A shame, really; all that effort wasted.

Hi. My name is Diedie (you pronounce it dee-dee). I live on an island, which is great because sand gets everywhere and the birds are noisy and the draft that comes in under my bedroom window is chilled to ice by the Atlantic. That was sarcasm. I hate it. The weather is depressing and I’m cold all the time and there aren’t even any trees.

We moved here two months ago. Mum said I’ll get used to it, so I told her to stick her head down the toilet. Yeah, I get it, things could be worse. Could be dead. Could be starving. Could be in Utah. (Now I’ve said that, I hope this doesn’t wash up on some beach in Utah. No, wait, Utah doesn’t have beaches

School is nice? There’s only about thirty people there all told – small island, small population. That’s why Mum was paid to move here. So I don’t get bullied, yet. That’s nice. Nobody is exactly my age, so I work alone most times. We only have the one teacher for everything – not Mum, thank God, because she teaches the younger kids. Our teacher is Ms Boyle and she’s… good. I don’t miss our old teachers at all. Is that something?

I should be doing homework, or chores, or anything other than this, really. But when I talk to my Mum, it’s like I’m just talking to a wall. I don’t think she wants to be cold, or at least as cold as she is, because she says she loves me. But I don’t think she likes it here either, to tell you the truth. Because inside, I know she feels it too – the hollowness.

I think I’m lonely. I think that’s why I’m talking to you.

Diedie

To Fantasy,

Warmest greetings, dearest sibling! Let me congratulate you on your current place at first on the leaderboard; your efforts have been truly valiant so far. The ties between Fantasy and Folklore run deep and strong; your success is well-earned, and I hope we can share places at the top before the month is out. Do respond shortly, as I wish to hear about how your latest projects are going – your devotion to technological advancement is truly astounding. Maybe that’s something I could learn from you? Say hello to the magical creatures for me.

Your loveliest of sisters,

Folklore
(100)

Dear Dystopian,

Sometimes I look up at the stars from my realm and wonder if you are looking down at me. So how is the night up there? Is it lonely? Don’t fret, I consider you often – even during the day, when your kingdom is hidden to me. Your lands are so beautiful, and yet so dangerous. Is that what it means to be ethereal?

Ah, ignore me – I do tend to ramble on. Let’s come back to the true topic of interest… your recent accomplishments have been impressive, but in the name of friendly rivalry, watch out for us, will you?

In jest, Folklore
(105)

Dear Bizarro Fiction,

Congratulation on your inclusion this session of SWC! I know it was a close-run thing, so I’m very glad to be your ally this month. Us newbies have to stick together, no? So with that said, how are you finding it? It must be a challenge having the cinema to run at the same time. Given the habit your films have of escaping out the screen, I’d be careful if I was you. But I’m sure you’re up to the challenge!

Congratulations on your bronze medallist position – yes, that’s truly impressive at this stage of competition! I’m sure we’re both aspiring to silver, however, so best of luck.

With love, Folklore
(114)

Dear Horror,

Our official relationship appears to still be pending – is it just in your nature to leave us in such a state of (pardon my wordplay) horrific anticipation? If so, I do admire your commitment to your role. Still it seems you are doing quite well where the leaderboard is concerned – so congratulations!

It has been a while since I paid a visit to your Underworld, and I do apologise, but you must surely know at this point that I have a deadly fear of bats and you keep far too many about the place for my comfort. Perhaps you would prefer to meet with me in my realm? Perhaps then we could clarify how our alliance will play out.

Folklore
(122)

Dear Script,

Oh, how I love the theming you have chosen for this November sessions! The lights from your theatre truly light up this cold winter. Of course you knew already that I have a penchant for the theatrical, right? It’s in my nature, what can I say… other than well done! As I write, we’re right next to each other in the cabin standings. Quite a few of your followers have been doing the ‘weekly’, no? However, was it really in the script (get it?) for you to overtake me? How rude of your, dear ally!

I’m joking, dear. In all seriousness, I wish you well.

Exit, Folklore
(109)

Dear Thriller,

It seems we have not made contact before? How tragic - the seas and beaches have been home to many tales of folklore, after all. I think we would get along! On perusal of my wall calendar, it can’t be that long until we raise our lances and bayonets in battle once more. It would be a pity for you to get caught in our crossfire before we even exchanged so much as a friendly greeting. This must be remedied! I invite you to have a bowl of soup with me in the Folklore Trails, and let’s see if we can work something out.

Extending a warm hand in allyship, Folklore
(113)

Adventure,

So… how’s it going? It appears to me when I peruse the details of the leaderboard that you are below us… a pity, for you. I wish you the very, very, very best of luck in beating us. I’m sure you will find you need it. For such an admittedly magnificent kingdom, you haven’t shown us much of your inclination to battle yet. Or is that a surprise for us as of the next cabin wars? Well, if so, don’t wait too long. We wouldn’t want to start thinking that your castles were nothing more than façade, would we?

Folklore
(101)

Dear Fan Fiction,

I hope this letter reaches you – it’s very hard to keep track of which timeline you’re visiting and in what order. But isn’t such confusion what makes fanfiction somewhat of a modern-day folklore? With that in mind, let me send my regards and encouragement for this oncoming session. It’s early days still, let me remind you. It is up to fate to decide how things will pan out over the next twenty-seven days. Just don’t you interfere – I admit readily that I don’t trust that time machine of yours.

In confusion as to which postal service I should be submitting this to, Folklore
(106)

Dear Mystery,

I hope this message finds you well – I will say it’s been quite difficult trying to find the right contacts to get this letter onto a moving train. I think I shall have to enlist a crow or two to carry it for me. I have to say I’ve never been one for such new-fangled contraptions as steam trains before, but both you and Fantasy seem quite intent on modernising, don’t you? Very well – but if you ever wish to return to your roots, meet me in the trails.

May you rise ever further in the ranks! Folklore
(100)

Dear Science Fiction,

Apologies for any glitches in the following message; it seems your connection is a little unstable. I am Folklore; it seems we are yet to make contact. Science has little to do with my genre, but I hope we are still able to build a solid working relationship.

… Further research has revealed you are an enemy of my dear sibling, Fantasy. Personal biases aside, I suppose it would be optimal to discuss further on cabin priorities before I pass judgement. If you wish to meet me in the forests, I will be there.

Connection is being terminated; goodbye. Folklore
(103)

Non Fiction,

Hello. I stopped in for a little of your bread yesterday and I suppose I must give credit where credit is due. It’s very good.

This means of contact is merely a matter of formality – I’m sure I do not need to reiterate on how we fail to see eye to eye on certain priorities. That said, I hope you find what you’re looking for this session, whatever that may be. Your bakery is very… cute. That said, the followers of the Trails will not interpret your pink colour scheme as indicative of any weakness – we will crush you as merrily as we shall all the others.

Folklore
(110)

Dear Poetry,

It’s truly a shame that we could only be neutrals this session; the tradition of spoken word and folklore are so tightly linked, after all. That said, let me extend my well wishes to you. Your isle of fame is very… glittery, and I admire the strength of your devotion to this competition. As a kindred spirit, I do hope you won’t be offended when I warn you of Folklore’s power. I’m sure you’re already aware of it.
I hope we can establish boundaries of mutual respect before the wars. I feel confident in wishing that the best genre may triumph.

Folklore
(104)

Dear Historical Fiction,

Hello, you hardened criminals! Is robbery really the way you choose to spend your time? Ah, well, who am I to judge? My own twisted stories have caused enough harm historically, I suppose. I am Folklore, and open to contact, provided you don’t steal my soup.

Another enemy of Fantasy, I see? How strange… my sibling is usually so amiable. I will not be helping you with any plots you may have against them, but equally, I’ll keep an open mind – if you wish to work further with me, leave your fancy trains behind and meet me in the woods. You’ll always find me there.

Folklore
(109)

Realistic Fiction,

Finally, an easy address to reach. It’s just a pity for you that I find it at the very bottom of the leaderboard… at least Historical Fiction is there to keep you company. How is it that I had to explore your headquarters myself to find that we were even enemies? I thought we all agreed to leave the mystery to, well, Mystery.

It does not matter. Surely by now you’ve heard of the power of my realm, of my people. I’m afraid I was the worst enemy you could possibly choose to make… but no, I don’t entertain take-backs. Or second chances.

Folklore
(106)