Celes's Swc Writing (Bi-Fi November 2022)

➽ Word Count : 4014/15000 ✦

➽ Dailies ✦

➽ Weeklies ✦

➽ Word Wars ✦

➽ Cabin Wars ✦

➽ Writing Competition Entry ✦

➽ Other Writing ✦

Abbie's Wonderful Word Mess

Dailies


Daily 1 - 129
Helloo fellow campers! I am Abbie, and I use she/her pronouns. I like to read just about anything from the billboards on the side of the highway to straight up dictionaries but I really love fantasy, sci-fi and dystopian. With that some of my all time favorites are Rick Riordan (can never go wrong with this guy), Shannon Messenger (because I don't think I'll ever find something to beat KOTLC), Nikki Pau Petro (because Crown of Feathers is the world I've been trying to put into words since I was 6), Leigh Bardugo (because I LOVE Inej and she is the most amazing person ever. Minus Aelin/Celeana and Lysandra but they dont count) and Rebecca Ross (because Sisters of Sword and Song is so so so amazing).


Daily 2 - 212
Scratch Writing Camp tips and tricks may just save your word count one day! A word of advice to all new campers, don’t hold it off until the last day. If you have a weekly, do it on the first day it’s out. Second word of advice, dailies matter. Don’t let the other cabins add up there points before you realize those dailies might help. Final word of advice. Do the cabin wars! If one person is writing for your cabin, and you’re losing, it’s not going to magically fix itself. Go help! Cabin wars may seem like a lot of work with no win, but the joy of finally winning a war is unparalleled! Word wars are an excellent way to write a bunch of stuff with little to no motivation. Word wars can also help you let out some of your cabin-vs-cabin steam without causing too much of a ruckus. On the writing competition: Start early or you won’t do it. Eventually you’ll realize you totally forgot to do it and are super freaked out about doing your entry. Start before the contest comes out and won’t have anything to worry about, time wise at least. Anyway, those are my tips to remember for your future SWC sessions! Happy writing.

Daily 3 - 349
Book smoothie! 30% off if you can show your SWC cabin and name our leader this session! Additional 20% off if you’re in Mystery Cabin! Terms and conditions apply: Cannot be used without proof of cabins and/or with other offers and seasonal deals. Take a moment to picture your paradise: Blue sky, fluffy clouds, a beach with palm trees singing in the wind. Or maybe: A huge domed library with shelves reaching up to the sky and little ladders and walkways zooming about with people grabbing books. Perhaps: A huge green canopy stretching out above you while a symphony of forest noises sets the tone. No matter where your paradise is, a book smoothie will make it better. Book smoothies taste a lot like how a book smells, but with a pinch of spice. These smoothies will take you beyond your simple world and into true paradise. Each smoothie is hand made with a different book to ensure that every smoothie tastes like a different story. When you taste a smoothie from an adventure book, pine and cool air will fill your mouth. A smoothie made of a mystery book would make you wonder about everything around you. A poetry book smoothie would make you feel warm and safe. A horror smoothie would chill you to the bone and freeze your blood. A bizarro fiction smoothie would taste crazy and send your brain spinning and blood tingling. A sci-fi smoothie would taste of unknown things and would send you far into the galaxy. A fantasy smoothie would taste like little wisps of magic and the joy of a fantasy world. Try a delicious historical fiction smoothie that reminds you of the smell of old books in an even older library. Treat yourself with a realistic fiction smoothie that tastes exactly like a friendship, with just a hint of sour! Seasonal smoothies will be based on books of that season! Request your own favorites to be made into one of these tasty treats! You can order at your local Book Smoothie Cafe today, online or at the nearest location.


Daily 4 - 303


Song: White Christmas
I dreamed of a white Easter
Like what I've seen
The trees light up
And the children listened
The bells are heard ringing in the snow, oh snow
I said: I dreamed of a white Easter
I write every Christmas card
It was a beautiful and bright day
And your Christmases are white
(Come, stay, come)
I say: I dream of white, oh, Christmas
Like what I've seen
The trees light up
And the children listened
Bells can be heard ringing in the snow
I dreamed of a white Easter
I write every Christmas card
good day, good day, good day
Be happy and win
And your Christmases are white
(Come on, woo)
(J-man, up, up, up)
I dreamed of a white Easter
I write every Christmas card
It was a beautiful and bright day
May all your Christmases be white

Writing:

The Easter morning of 2019 in Lincolnville Kansas should have been as boring as dirt. But it took a spin for excitement when a snowstorm managed to drag itself far enough south, and in Spring! Most of the people in Kansas had never managed to see snow outside of their TVs. Everyone was overjoyed. But more than anyone else, the kids were absolutely thrilled. Let’s take a look at one little girl specifically.
Nora woke up on that Easter morning with an already joyful mood. It was Easter! Easter egg hunts and running through the Spring grass and listening to the bird songs. Nora raced to the kitchen, ready to get the day started in a rush. Neither of her parents were up, nor her younger brother. Nora didn’t think to glance outside until she was nearly ten minutes into her daily routine. Just as she poured herself a bowl of cereal, she realized there was something wrong with her grass. It was white. Nora rushed to the window and pressed her face against the glass. Outside there was… snow!
Nora squealed in excitement and ran upstairs as fast as her legs could carry her. She burst first into her brother’s room and then her parents’, yelling, “It’s snowed!” with more joy than ever before. Once everyone was downstairs and had seen the miracle themselves, Nora finally realized there was one tiny problem.
“How are we going to have an egg hunt?” She asked.
Nora’s mother thought for a moment before she said, “We’ll just have to do it in the snow, I suppose.”
Nora and her brother both nearly burst with joy. They ran upstairs to get dressed for the coming day. Nora had to wear winter clothes to stay warm. The egg hunt was the best thing she had ever done.

Daily 5 - 338

A message in a bottle. Such a simple concept, isn’t it? Well on occasion these bottles don’t just float through the sea. They float through space, time, and undergo an incredible journey: The Journey of the Indigo Sail. But how did this trail of bottles begin? Now that’s a story to tell.
Not too long ago, around 2004, a young woman by the name of Rosalina corked her little faded bottle with an indigo cork. Her message was one to spur action into the hearts of the receivers. But that would only be if it ever found someone. Rosalina was scared none would ever see her words and read what would convince them to change the world. And so, Rosalina wished that her little bottle, the Indigo Sail, would find the people whose lives need changed the most. Rosalina set her bottle out to sea and hoped.
That is as far as Roslina goes, but the bottle travels farther. Like I said previously, the little bottle would float through space and time, paving The Journey of the Indigo Sail. So, it shouldn’t come as a surprise if you find that in some tucked away journal of a president or inventor or activist, there is a tiny mention of an indigo bottle. Each recipient of that bottle has added their own slip of paper and sent out their own little bottle. One by one, those little bottles have traveled the planet, and far above that, they have traveled space. Now they are bobbing along in the far off universe, slowly, slowly making their way to someone who needs to have their life changed.
Some of these bottles are still back on Earth, finding their people. Some never have left. Some are on their way home from some far off galaxy, and even more are searching for something very far away. But if you ever find a bottle with a little indigo cork and tiny flag that says The Indigo Sail you may just be the next great world changer.

Daily 6 - 475/400


Foxglove, Nightshade, Oleander, Rhododendron, Ice Plant

Aquila sat down at her small white table. The cloth covering it was lacy at the tips and perfectly smooth. She nodded her approval. A few silver plates sat at each of the 4 chairs, with silver utensils arranged neatly next to them. The napkins were folded to perfection and placed underneath the plates. Everything was perfect.
It was only then that she saw the flower arrangement, a piece specifically designed to explain the person sitting at that table’s status and mood. Sometimes it would tell you things about the person, like if they had lost a loved one. Around her she saw a mix of lotus, sunflowers, roses, and various other kinds of positive flowers. But her table was different.
Where Aquila should have had a bright bouquet, she saw only Deadly Nightshade, aggressive red Foxglove, yellow Oleander, lavender Rhododendron, and purple Ice Plant, which frankly is hardly usable in a bouquet. All of these flowers… all of them said to beware of her. They said she was heartless and treacherous and dangerous. Nightshade said she was that of a dark mind at the least and a sorceress at the most!
But it wasn’t exactly wrong. Aquila had done some questionable things. For one she ran away at age 14, and then slowly climbed herself up the court’s twisted ladder, with no support at all. Her rise certainly hadn’t been clean. She had cheated and lied, stole and broken. Auquila had tarnished many a court member's reputation to get to where she was, but she had never valued it above her own dignity, which was likely why she wasn’t married off to any high ranking official.
Yes, she wasn’t perfect, but there was no blood on her hands. So who had done this to her table? The arrangement was no lie, so it was by someone who knew her. And it wasn’t a general thing, so it was someone who knew her personally. It was someone who wanted to ruin her. Aquila scanned her mind for anyone who fit the descriptions.
As she thought she realized her table was drawing quite a bit of attention. People walked around it as though she carried a plague, and the women went as far as to gasp as they passed by. No one was seated around her, despite the three remaining seats. Perhaps those assigned had asked for a new table. It would be impolite but it would save their reputations.
Aquila tried not to think about her reputation. It was surely shriveling into nothing at all as she sat there. That blasted arrangement! It would send her to her grave. After so many hard years of work, only to be destroyed by some flowers! It was too much to take. She got up and promptly walked out the door. There was no stopping the fall now.


Daily 7/8 - 93

Dribble - 59
(“Clocks That Don’t Tick”)
I peer at the clocks through the peculiar shop window. No clever little hands tick as they play the keys of time. As though held prisoner, their small points are frozen over the twelve. Upon the homely little green door a clearly displayed sign seemed to utter this: “Clocks don’t tick forever, and neither do lives.” -Mr. A. Jaz

Fifteen word story - 14
(“Empty Pleas”)
A man screams for help and someone answers his plea. No one ever comes.

Twenty word story - 20
(“Youngling’s Peril”)
The youngling scrambles upon the deck of our ship. She is ours now, and they will not have her returned.

Daily 9 - 494
Virgo
Virgo was a kind girl. She helped people when they needed it and when they didn’t. She stood silently. She was seen but not heard. She did not run. She wore nice dresses. She sat primly and rose properly. She had perfect manners and did everything she was told.
When she turned thirteen her father decided she needed to be married off. Virgo did not want this and she pleaded to the Greek gods to save her. No one answered. She wanted to stay a maiden forever, not become the house worker and enjoyment of some old man. Her father was the ruler of her though, and she had no choice but to obey his word.
Virgo was married to the highest bidder, an old man who had been through several wives before. She was still very young and had an optimistic outlook on life. Virgo believed that maybe the outward appearance and wealth of this man hid a kind person. She tried hard to keep her belief in him as the days grew longer and longer, but her head said he had no good in him.
Virgo kept believing as much as she could, but eventually he crossed the line. He had just come home from a town meeting but he was angry. He yelled at Virgo to make him some food and scolded her for not having it ready. There were plentiful reasons to dislike him before but this was her first real inexcusable reason. Virgo got extremely angry and would have run from her home then, but a silent voice seemed to whisper to wait until the cover of night when her husband could not send men to search for her. After a moment of thought she realized this little voice was right.
Under the cover of darkness she slipped from the house and to the forest nearby. She had come with no supplies and it was far into autumn by then, so the weather was rather cold. She wandered through the forest, completely lost and alone until she realized she could hear the voice again. She followed it’s call and found a beautiful woman sitting in a clearing on a moonlight rock. Instantly she knew this was the voice she had heard.
“I am Artemis and I have called you from your husband to ask you this: why do you stay with a man who neither loves you or respects you?” Her tone was not that of anger or injustice, but of delicate curiosity.
“I had nowhere else to go,” Virgo responded.
“I shall then offer for you to join the Hunt, but be warned this means forsaking the company of men for all and ever more.” Virgo quickly agreed and she and Artemis became good friends and lived great lives in the Hunt. When Virgo was killed in a battle Artemis mourned her and put her constellation in the sky to forever remain, the Maiden and the Maiden Goddess.

Daily 10 - 603

Dear Future Me,
I can already expect you to be a bit more mature than I am now and I suppose that means I ought to turn this into a reflection on my nerdy, absolutely insane, and completely inadequate self.
FIrst of, I’m a nerd. Hard to believe it or not the girl you are today was once a pale girl in glasses who carried so many books she dropped them every 4 steps. *cringes* If you’re some crazy girl who is super self centered and spends all her time looking in the mirror, go read a book. You’re wasting your time and being a complete and utter idiot, and no I don’t mean anything about the Udderly Blue ice cream, though there are hundreds of puns I would love to make right now. There are many reasons you should stop your moping around looking at your reflection and get outside. If you have not converted to the ways of teenage girls, then congratulations.
Second off. Are you being nice to random people? I am going to say now that if it weren’t for about ten people who have gone out of their way to smile at me and make me laugh a little bit, then I might be in some crazy mental state where I just go in circles thinking, brain. Duh. bleh. Or something stupid like that. I gotta thank Redacted, go text her right now it’ll be better than reading this. Redacted, she (or maybe he, I don’t know) was a lot more help to you in the past so be NICE. If it weren’t for her you would still be trying to shove all your stuff onto a rack in PE. I could go on and on naming all kinds of crazy people and the things they’ve done but I am extremely tired (duh) and should probably stop writing this before Ii say something else I regret.
Oh wait! I forgot it’s too late for that and I’m gonna keep writing this. Oooh I’m gonna write about how I want you to be now, Future Me! Okayyy. Currently I would like it if you were a tad taller, your hair was light, and your eyes were a bit more gray so you can look like Annabeth. I certainly hope you got up enough courage to ask for round Harry Potter glasses, but you probably didn’t and that's fine. But aside from physical changes, you should be a lot a bit smarter, since in the past 2 years I learned more than any other time. (And you need to catch up with Redacted and Redacted) You should be more confident in yourself and have a greater sense of independence than before. I mean you can go a week not homesick but can’t go two days without your best friend. That’s a major youch. Next you should be more calculated in all your decisions cus that’s how I want to be. You should be able to figure stuff out without messing up and without adult help. And you need to stop being jealous of Redacted and straighten out your messy brain.
But I really don’t want you to lose your insanity, your nerdiness, and your loyalty. Keep those close to heart, Future Me! Anyway, that brings this to an end so I would like to say one thing. *clears throat dramatically* “With great power… comes great need to take a nap.” PFffft jokes on you. *sticks tongue out* And don’t forget to gloat at Redacted for winning! Hah!
~Abbie of thee year 2022 November 10th at like 6:30 at night

Daily 12-13 586/400

Mystery, Poetry, and Hi-Fi are standing in a clearing of an evergreen forest. There are no noises.
(Hi-Fi): So if we poison the cookies and then send them they could find out and stop our plot.
(Poetry): But if we have someone poison them at Horror’s doorstep-
(Mystery): What happened to all the birds? I swear it was noisy a second ago.
(Poetry): {angry} Always the sleuth, eh Mystery?
(Mystery): {mad} Maybe they got scared off by your terrible poetry.
Poetry and Mystery glare at each other.
(Poetry): Apologize right now! I will not hear you insult my wonderful works of elegance and prosperity!
(Mystery): {smirks} You wish! Your poetry is complete nonsense! It barely makes sense if you read it upside down or in a human mirror.
(Hi-Fi): {trying to lighten the mood} Did I just hear a Keeper of the Lost Cities reference Mystery.
(Mystery): {slightly more pleased} You certainly did!
Meanwhile Poetry slyly pulls a vine from the ground so Mystery will trip.
(Poetry): Hah! Keeper of the Lost Cities, pfttt, that’s years old.
(Hi-Fi): {not getting it} Ten to be exact!
(Poetry and Mystery): {groaning} No Hi-Fi!
(Hi-Fi): {confused} What?
Poetry and Mystery glaring at each other.
(Hi-Fi): {sighs} Too late.
(Mystery): {angry} You stole my words! I was going to say that!
(Poetry): No you stole mine! Give em back! Right now!
Poetry grabs Mystery’s head and tries to yank it off. Mystery grabs Poetry’s arm and pulls it.
(Hi-Fi): {gasps} Stop! {pulls Poetry and Mystery apart}
(Mystery and Poetry): {both breathing heavily}
Take note, Poetry is the one in place to be tripped at this point.
(Mystery): Stop breathing like I am! That’s not fair!
(Poetry): Oh yah? I’ll show you what's not fair!
Poetry starts forward, but becomes entangled in the vine and falls flap upon their face.
(Mystery): {laughing} I’m a sleuth! You really didn’t think I would notice your pathetic trap? Really! {laughs}
(Hi-Fi): {covers mouth with hand} A-are you okay? {bends down}
(Poetry): {tries to talk through a mouthful of dirt} M-hm-mph-mphpmh!
(Mystery): How’s the dirt taste? {bursts out laughing}
(Hi-Fi): Not nice, Mystery! You should know better. I guess because we’re siblings-
(Poetry): {spits out the last of the dirt} Because we’re siblings! Just because we’re siblings doesn’t justify what Mystery just did! Mystery has been tyrannic, mean, and altogether a pain, not to mention having been nothing but a disadvantage to our siblingship! Maybe I should go join Horror instead. {shoots glare at Mystery}
Trees rustle lightly.
(Hi-Fi): But-
(Mystery): While we’re on the topic of Horror-
(Poetry): I barely said anything about Horro-
(Mystery): Ahem. While we’re on the subject of Horror my sleuth skills have detected something else.
Poetry rolls their eyes and sighs. Trees rustle.
(Mystery): Our dear friend Horror seems to have decided they want in on this little activity.
Mystery races over and shakes a tree nearby. Horror promptly falls out of the needily canopy.
(Hi-Fi): {gasps} How did you-
(Poetry and Mystery): This is all your fault!
(Poetry and Mystery): {look at each other in surprise} Did we just… agree?
(Poetry): Huh. I guess we aren’t so different after all.
(Mystery): Yah. A lot more the same than we thought… {blushing} Also, if I’m being honest, I kind of love your poetry. It sounds absolutely amazing.
(Poetry): {grins} Teach you how sometime?
(Mystery): Totally!
(Hi-Fi): {squeals} Siblingship repared! {pulls into group hug}
(Horror): So I’m just gonna go… {no one listening} Oki seeya!
Horror runs from the clearing.


Daily 15 - 201

The sky is blue. It’s as blue as the days after we lost our father. But it can be other blues as well. There is a periwinkle that reminds me of a pearl, just hidden below the waves. Sometimes, when the sun is just beginning to sink, the sky turns a turquoise. That sky is like the sea’s water in a cove.
Dark blue. Dark blue is hard. It is the color of my eyes, and my mothers. But it mostly reminds me of the darkness from the Dark days. It comes with the stars, a silver lining in our sky. The stars are covered.
Indigo is its own color. Neither blue nor purple it hovers in between and dreams. Indigo is for hope. Usually it’s yellow or orange, but indigo is the color of the sky before the darkness comes. Indigo greets us in the morning, arms open and welcoming us away from the darkness.
Purple. Purple is worse than plain blue. Purple was the color of the man-who-destroyed-everything’s eyes. The color that haunts us from day to night now. If one color could be destroyed, it would be purple. Purple is worse than black. Purple is worse than darkness.

Daily 16 - 229

Warm to the nose,
Smelling like a warm summer rush.
A gentle breeze,
Its scent to ruffle cotton trees.
But it drifts through the air,
And the house smells fair.

Tinkling to the ears,
It’s as though it’s singing to the senses.
Drifting through the air,
As the lightest twinkling breeze.
And calling the joy,
Of the hearty dreamed home.

Bright to the eyes,
Like looking upon soft rye.
Glowing despite,
The harsh pan behind.
So perfectly round,
And so smooth to be sound.

Fruitful to the tongue,
And as flavorful as rum.
Softer than cotton,
Like eating food from the clouds.
Warm as can be,
Fresh from the delightful warm heat.

Ruff to the hands,
As you touch the dry brand.
But when you break the dry crust,
The inside is lush.
As warm as can be and as able to see,
That this bread has been made with the love of the day.

If the colors of the sky,
Were to choose where we lie,
Our hearts would glow bright,
In red blue and white,
With the stripe-starred heart,
Of the wondrous light,
And the hope of a home,
For our brave, brave, young world.
Immigrants and pilgrims,
Dreams and hopes,
We bake in our bones,
And feed our homes,
With the bread of our pride.
With the bread of our country.
With the bread of America.

Daily 18 - 826


Indigana Shayle Whillonder was not her name. Not anymore. That is nothing but a birth name. It is not a tie. She had fruitlessly tried to convince herself of this for years. Years before she freed herself. Before she had severed the final tie to her life. She was 14 when she slipped from her so-called “master” and into the night. 14 when she stole a ship from the boat yard of some ridiculously pompous noble’s completely inadequate voyage boat. 14 when she put together her own rag-tag crew of criminals and unwanteds, but not her crew. 14 when she hid her face behind a dark hood and simple cloak. 14 when she changed her name to Indiga in her own mind and “The Shadow” or “Shadow” for everyone, finally ripping her old self away. 14 when she took a final look at her homeland and left forever. 14 when she vowed never to love, never to trust, and never to look back.

Indiga hated the ship. That was all she could think as she stood, silent, in the shadows of a deck. A “fairy” or something like that, to move you across the river? Infinitely stupid. It was insanely sluggish and, if she was being honest, made her feel a bit sick. But that wasn’t reality. Reality was being the Shadow, ruthless, cruel, calculated, and certainly not sea sick on a river boat. She had stood on the prow of her ship as it crashed over waves triple the size of the boat. This was nothing.
But even as she told herself it was a useless boat, the thing seemed to glow. The wealthy noblemen and women pranced about the ship. The ship. It was, though not even remotely sea worthy, a beautiful vessel. The sides were a bright, royal red and the railings were bedecked in gold. The entire deck was perfect white and layered as a cake, with tiers and more decks. But it wasn’t the noble people or the boat she liked to see. It was the air of peace so different from how her own ship was. It would only be another moment before she was safely aboard her own shi-.
Something hit her from behind, a clean swipe at her legs, probably with a still-sheathed sword. As she fell, an arm encircled her waist and pressed a cloth around her nose and mouth. She had barely a second to think before whatever was on that cloth sent her far, far into her mind. And in that second she thought of one thing. I hope the crew misses me.
When Indiga awoke she was surrounded by pirates. They certainly weren’t her crew. None of her allies had such a diverse group. Every color. That’s what this crew was. She spotted reds, golds, and blues, acceptable for a pirate, the typical browns and blacks, and even the sharp slash of green and… purple? What pirate wears purple. And the ethnicity range. There must have been someone from every country aboard that ship.
But they had to be pirates. The ship was a pirate ship, with its strong mast, carved prow, and billowing sails. And if it were a pirate ship there had to be a leader. First she looked for the biggest, but none of them seemed remotely incharge. Then the strongest, then the smallest, then the most adorned. Not one of them had the posture, authority, or strength of a captain. That left one option. The captain was below decks.
Just as Indiga realized this the doors in the shadow of the upper deck flung open. The woman who walked was clearly the captain. From her wild red hair to her squared shoulders and piercing eyes, she was a leader. If that hadn’t been obvious enough, she walked from what was clearly the captain's quarters.
As she strode across the deck the pirates created a path for her. It was quite obvious where she was going. To Indiga. She strode the rest of the way with an ease Indiga had never quite captured, stopping a couple of feet away. Indiga got to her feet.
“So,” the woman said, her voice like the sea breeze, rough but so delicate. “I’m assuming you want to know why you’re here.”
“It would be preferred.” Indiga said with as much confidence as she could muster. Her cloak was gone.
“We’re in need of a new Second. And unfortunately, none of my crew wanted the position.” She paused. “I’m Rachel Kivali, captain of the Leiona. And you, Indigana Shayle Whillonder, are invited to be the second to the one-and-only pirate of platonic love.” Rachel spread her hands at her ship, her crew, her love and loyalty.
“So what do you say, join the crew?” Rachel’s eyes sparkled as she flashed Indiga, no Indigana, a grin.
“I suppose I shall.” Indigana said, as a girl who had long ago died relit her flame.
“Welcome to the crew!”

Daily 20 - 206

Everyone froze. Literally. Well everyone except Tiana Thalock, the District 8 female tribute. She didn’t go and stab them all in their ice caskets. Didn’t gloat at their frozen faces. Instead she cried. Funny thing to do when you have your victory secured for you, huh? But that’s exactly what Tiana did. And it wasn’t a couple tears for her fellow District 8 tribute, it was huge sobs and wells of tears, freezing when they touched the ground.
This state continued for a good half and hour before Tiana even looked up from her lamenting. That’s when she realized one of the frozen bodies was still moving. It was frozen, yes, but it was also alive. She knew she had to do something. She searched the ground, the sky, the trees for something, anything to warm the tribute up. There was nothing. Nothing at all. But the longer she waited the more she knew she could save this tribut- no this kid. It was just a kid. A kid like her. A child!
And with that she drew the strength from inside herself, from inside her, and burned the world. No one survived that Hunger Games, and they never found out who the girl’s parents were.

Daily 21 - 307


ORIGINAL: 826
Indigana Shayle Whillonder was not her name. Not anymore. That is nothing but a birth name. It is not a tie. She had fruitlessly tried to convince herself of this for years. Years before she freed herself. Before she had severed the final tie to her life. She was 14 when she slipped from her so-called “master” and into the night. 14 when she stole a ship from the boat yard of some ridiculously pompous noble’s completely inadequate voyage boat. 14 when she put together her own rag-tag crew of criminals and unwanteds, but not her crew. 14 when she hid her face behind a dark hood and simple cloak. 14 when she changed her name to Indiga in her own mind and “The Shadow” or “Shadow” for everyone, finally ripping her old self away. 14 when she took a final look at her homeland and left forever. 14 when she vowed never to love, never to trust, and never to look back.

Indiga hated the ship. That was all she could think as she stood, silent, in the shadows of a deck. A “fairy” or something like that, to move you across the river? Infinitely stupid. It was insanely sluggish and, if she was being honest, made her feel a bit sick. But that wasn’t reality. Reality was being the Shadow, ruthless, cruel, calculated, and certainly not sea sick on a river boat. She had stood on the prow of her ship as it crashed over waves triple the size of the boat. This was nothing.
But even as she told herself it was a useless boat, the thing seemed to glow. The wealthy noblemen and women pranced about the ship. The ship. It was, though not even remotely sea worthy, a beautiful vessel. The sides were a bright, royal red and the railings were bedecked in gold. The entire deck was perfect white and layered as a cake, with tiers and more decks. But it wasn’t the noble people or the boat she liked to see. It was the air of peace so different from how her own ship was. It would only be another moment before she was safely aboard her own shi-.
Something hit her from behind, a clean swipe at her legs, probably with a still-sheathed sword. As she fell, an arm encircled her waist and pressed a cloth around her nose and mouth. She had barely a second to think before whatever was on that cloth sent her far, far into her mind. And in that second she thought of one thing. I hope the crew misses me.
When Indiga awoke she was surrounded by pirates. They certainly weren’t her crew. None of her allies had such a diverse group. Every color. That’s what this crew was. She spotted reds, golds, and blues, acceptable for a pirate, the typical browns and blacks, and even the sharp slash of green and… purple? What pirate wears purple. And the ethnicity range. There must have been someone from every country aboard that ship.
But they had to be pirates. The ship was a pirate ship, with its strong mast, carved prow, and billowing sails. And if it were a pirate ship there had to be a leader. First she looked for the biggest, but none of them seemed remotely incharge. Then the strongest, then the smallest, then the most adorned. Not one of them had the posture, authority, or strength of a captain. That left one option. The captain was below decks.
Just as Indiga realized this the doors in the shadow of the upper deck flung open. The woman who walked was clearly the captain. From her wild red hair to her squared shoulders and piercing eyes, she was a leader. If that hadn’t been obvious enough, she walked from what was clearly the captain's quarters.
As she strode across the deck the pirates created a path for her. It was quite obvious where she was going. To Indiga. She strode the rest of the way with an ease Indiga had never quite captured, stopping a couple of feet away. Indiga got to her feet.
“So,” the woman said, her voice like the sea breeze, rough but so delicate. “I’m assuming you want to know why you’re here.”
“It would be preferred.” Indiga said with as much confidence as she could muster. Her cloak was gone.
“We’re in need of a new Second. And unfortunately, none of my crew wanted the position.” She paused. “I’m Rachel Kivali, captain of the Leiona. And you, Indigana Shayle Whillonder, are invited to be the second to the one-and-only pirate of platonic love.” Rachel spread her hands at her ship, her crew, her love and loyalty.
“So what do you say, join the crew?” Rachel’s eyes sparkled as she flashed Indiga, no Indigana, a grin.
“I suppose I shall.” Indigana said, as a girl who had long ago died relit her flame.
“Welcome to the crew!”


NEW WRITING: 307

As Indigana walked brightly after Rachel she didn’t regret anything. She felt blissfully free, as if the time had been rewound and she was just a kid running across the beach of her homeland. Her homeland. And just like that the girl who had been re-lit so quickly died. Again.
It took only a moment, but instantly her shield went back up, her hood slipped back on and her eyes shut off their glimmer. She was Indiga. She was the Shadow. Rachel must have noticed the change. Her back barely straightened, and her pace barely quickened, but there was no other indicator she had felt the change. But Indiga knew she had. No one that observant wouldn’t notice.
The two of them trod across the deck at a quick pace, never pausing to talk to the various stations and outposts. Rachel never faltered, even when a crew member yelled out at her. Impressive.
Rachel led Indiga around the second deck, carefully stepping into a narrow trek around the thing with only short rails to prevent their fall. They stopped at an intricate door on the far side of the heightened deck, hidden delicately in the shadow of the overhead.
Rachel turned to look at Indiga. “This is the meeting room for everyone who has a job over other people. You will report here for anything, as well as when called,” She grabbed the handle. “Let’s take a peek inside.”
Indiga’s breath was swept away immediately. The room was ravishing. The place had wooden walls and a polished floor, but it wasn’t anything there that surprised her. It was the table. Circular to the point of perfection and beautifully carved, with a matching delicate bench-ring to match. There was a hole in the middle and from it rose a perfect globe. The idea of the globe was something thought to be a fantasy or complete fiction, but these people clearly believed it was real.

Weeklies

Weekly 1 - 1824/1400

Adventure -141/100 words

Adventure Cabin,
I am here with your kindest intentions at heart. It has come to my attention that several of your hikers were inside the private property of the Investigators Institute of Troubling Endeavors. This is private property and as decreed in the 1986 agreement, “Neither Adventure or Mystery shall attempt to harm or trespass upon another’s property.” As the keeper of such records I am required to send letters as such. If visits such as this continue, our cabin will have to help you enforce your rules, and/or find a solution to this unfortunate situation. May I remind you again, our cabin has nothing but the best intentions for our relationship to continue smoothly and have no threatening intentions to your cabin or campers. Best wishes and happy writing to you.
Sincerely,
Mystery Cabin and the Investigators Institute of Troubling Endeavors

Dystopian - 124/100

Dystopian Cabin,
Hello! I’m writing to ask you about a recent disagreement on several controversial topics between several cabins. There has been a recent war about whether pineapple belongs on pizza. Mystery has chosen our side to be, as well as Fantasy, Poetry, Horror, and Script, that pineapple belongs on pizza. It came to our attention while gauging our allies that your cabin had not chosen a side! We hoped to advise you on this increasingly controversial topic: the reasons for pineapple's belonging on pizza. Pineapple not only adds a necessary sweet to the burst of fascinating flavors on pizza, but it also has one of the most delicious crispy outsides. We hope to see you on our side soon!
Happy writing,
Mystery Cabin

Fantasy - 140/100

Fantasy Cabin,
I have come because there is the most dire of situations at our cabin, and it requires a large amount of opinions from a wide range of people and cabins. Our rather complicated situation is due to a lack of similar opinions on cookies. Our entire cabin attempted to agree upon our official cookie, but alas it seemed that none could agree upon one kind! As a result we have decided to ask for attorneys from every cabin to state their opinions on the best cookie, and then allow our campers to vote from there. This will allow us to narrow it down in a peaceful way that does not involve any internal cabin conflict. If you could please send two of your campers to help with our situation it would be greatly appreciated.
Thank you,
Mystery Cabin

Non-fi - 149/100

Non-Fi Cabin,
It has been quite the session so far! But it has come to our cabin's attention that our libraries have a lack of non-fiction books within their premises. We were wondering if you had noticed this or had any qualms about the lack of your representation in our inter-cabin libraries. We are aware that it is not part of the cabin’s requirements that you must write in your cabin’s theme, but we were wondering if your cabin could contribute any non-fiction pieces to a project our campers have been working on. Our campers have been slowly taking small excerpts from books of each cabin’s theme and putting them together to create a fascinating piece of literature involving a story where each cabin’s theme is a person based on their excerpts. If your cabin could comply as quickly as possible this would be appreciated.
Thank you,
Mystery Cabin

Thriller - 131/100

Thriller Cabin,
We have recently had quite the conundrum this past day! Our cabin has found that we are lacking in writing techniques for several genres. As a result we have been writing to several cabins of these genres for techniques. Unfortunately one of these genres is horror! Our cabin is an enemy of Horror Cabin and certainly cannot ask them for help. We looked upon our issue in a different light and noticed that thriller stories tend to have parts of the story close or similar to the horror genre. As your ally, we hoped you would be willing to share with us any information you may have on how to write in the horror genre. If you can help us it would be greatly appreciated.
Happy writing,
Mystery Cabin

Fan-fi - 129/100

Fan-fi,
A few of our campers recently all read the same book! When they realized this they decided that it would be an amazing opportunity to collaborate and create a work of art together. This plot to write a fanfiction, was however stopped. Our campers had absolutely no idea how to write fanfiction in a properly captivating way. These campers asked to send a letter to the fan-fi cabin to see if you could help. Our leaders found this to be a wonderful idea and set us writers to work right away. Though it is not required that you write anything in your cabin’s theme it was hoped your cabin might know how! If you feel willing, it would be greatly valued by our campers.
Thank you,
Mystery Cabin

Folklore - 112/100

Folklore Cabin,
Hello! We have just found that there is a fascinating new section of the library. If you walk to the far left corner of the second floor and move around twenty paces forward, you will find there is a notch in one of the bookshelves. When pulled upward and out, this notch open a secret door into a small room devoted entirely to fables, tall tales, and folklore! We thought that by right, this little room would be perfect for your cabin. We did not tell any other cabins of this little discovery so it is entirely for your cabin. We hope you enjoy it greatly!
Happy writing,
Mystery Cabin

Hi-fi - 155/100

Hi-fi Siblings,
Hia! You wouldn’t believe what our cabin found in the main library yesterday! There was a giant bird in there! It looked like something straight out of the prehistoric times. The bird was at least 30 feet wide, including wingspan, and another 10 feet tall. The bird almost crushed us with its wings just flying around. Its face was kind of mean and it had a 4 foot beak that must have been able to cut through meat. When it landed one of the chairs broke! Then it kind of flapped around and disappeared. It made this super creepy caw! Before it disappeared. We’ve all been wondering what it was and why it was in there. This is sure to be another one of our Mystery mysteries. Our detectives will be on this one for sure. Welp, that’s another weird day at SWC for ya! Stay safe siblings!
Lots of luck,
Mystery Cabin

Real-fi - 134/100

Real-fi,
Our cabin has been extremely fascinated by the limits to your genre. We realized recently that some of the genres such as mystery cross into the realistic fiction genre as well. Some of the stories in the mystery genre are very much able to fit inside the realistic fiction genre. One of the classical mystery works, Sherlock Holmes, is a realistic fiction story as well as a mystery one. We were wondering if the genre of realistic fiction is labeled onto stories that would fit better into other genres. Perhaps realistic fiction should be more a default genre and complications like mystery and horror should be genres that you put in place of real-fi to further express a story. Thank you for listening to a rather long, particularly pointless letter.
Sincerely,
Mystery Cabin

Horror - 115/100

Horror Cabin,
We may have been rather rude in the past, but it has always been in our best interests to follow the “forgive and forget” policy. We mean you absolutely no harm at all. *snickering* IGNORE THAT! Why would we write this in pen? It’s stuck! Anyway! We are going to leave you a completely safe, absolutely delicious, fresh batch of chocolate chip cookies. They definitely aren’t dangerous in any way, and they totally won’t give you a nasty writer’s block. These shall be sent as a peace offering to encourage our inter-cabin relations to develop in a more prominent and strengthened way. We are, *cough*, sincerely wishing you a good day.
-Mystery Cabin

Poetry - 147/100

Poetry Siblings,
Hey sibs! How’s it going? We recently had a really cool encounter with a gigantic leaf eating giraffe! It was also, completely by chance, reciting poetry. Any good books recently? Our cabin just read a poem from “Falling Up” by Shel Silverstein. It was quite interesting. We were wondering if you all could send in some other poetry so we could compare on the different types and themes. Also what do you think about the cookie prank we played on Horror? Was that not the best!? They’ll be stuck with writing blocks for days if they eat those things! The curses and ingredients we put in there though were probably the hardest things we’ve ever had to obtain. The Blank-Mind Mandrake nearly cost one of our campers and arm! We might try it on sci-fi too. Anyway, we wish you good luck with… everything. *wink* Write back soon!
Happy writing,
Mystery Cabin

Sci-fi - 126/100

Science Fiction Foes,
We have written in a recent response to your rather creative we admit, but all the same inaccurate claims about Mystery! We have been within the top five for quite some time. There is absolutely no doubt that we will indeed win this session, while you and Horror are still in the back seat. But that is not our only reasoning for this letter. It has come to our attention that we have provided other cabins with cookies while you have not been given the same treatment. Though we are neither allies, siblings, or even neutrals, we owe it to you and our honor to give the same fair treatment to all of the cabins. So enjoy your cookies.
Worst luck,
Mystery Cabin

Bi-fi - 106/100

Bizarro Fiction,
Our cabin has been working on another of many pet projects, and we have realized we know very little indeed about your cabin and your forms of writing. We have not only been collecting various tips on different kinds of writing, but also pieces of writing themselves. It would be greatly appreciated if you could send us both some writing tips for bizarro fiction, and some excerpts of bizarro writing. If you would prefer it we can meet in the library at 3:00 pm sharp tomorrow or you can just send them via bottle mail. Thank you very much.
Best wishes,
Mystery Cabin

Script - 115/100

Script Cabin,
Hello! We were just writing to ask for your opinion on a rather serious matter- should the Percy Jackson movies be deleted, permanently? We have, once again, voted and came to the conclusion that they should be. The Percy Jackson movies are really an insult to the books and have been giving off false information for a long period of time regarding the Greek myths and the Percy Jackson books. Now you may be thinking, “Then what about Hercules?” but Hercules is different. It may be extremely inaccurate but it is animated and nonviolent, while the Percy Jackson movie is violent and inaccurate, the exact opposite of the books.
Choose wisely,
Mystery Cabin

Weekly 3 - 391

Part 3

One of the worst things you can do to your poor, busy brain is to stress it out. When you spend a long time focusing, it’s like your brain is using up its battery. Eventually your battery is gonna run out and you might start to feel frustrated, tired, and maybe even disappointed. That’s when you can use a few tricks to get yourself back in working order. These are reading, listening to music, and writing down your thoughts. Let’s take a closer look at these and figure out what might help you with your mental care!
Reading may seem like just another way to exhaust your brain, but that’s not the case. If you find you’re reading something that causes you stress or is involved with a lot of work, then you’re not doing yourself any good. The kind of book you need is a no-strings-attached book. That’s essentially a book that has no work, stress, or requirements involved. It might also help to pick a book that is easier to read and doesn’t involve humongous words. Reading the right kind of book will help you turn your stress and frustration down, as well as any other emotions you might come across.
Listening to music can be another hard one. It depends on what kind of music you're listening to, the volume, and your surroundings. Music that blares into your ears may seem like an easy way to drown out the world, but it also could just leave you more upset than in the first place. Like I said, the volume matters. If you give yourself a headache from your music then you're out of luck. A lower volume might help. Also, if you’re in the middle of class, you can’t exactly just pop in your earbuds and start listening. If used correctly though, music can relieve your stress, relax your brain, and all together make you feel a whole lot better.
Finally, we have writing down your thoughts. You may be thinking, “I just did a bunch of work, why would I want to write?” Well writing doesn’t have to be work. If you’re just writing it off the top of your head there’s very little work involved! Seeing your thoughts down on paper (or screen) can help you organize your mind and put yourself back in the flow!

Weekly 4
2419 WORDS

In the far off land of Nevora, a baby cried into the night. The air was as still as the water in the lake, as it reflected the full, purple-tinted moon. No creature could be heard, with the exception of the screaming child. Towering over the lake and blanched as precariously as a bird on a branch, sat a humongous castle. The child’s scream’s rang from the castle again, and this time it was greeted with another noise. Not the friendly one of a bird’s call or even a wolf’s howl, but the wicked screech of a terrible monster. A figure streamed from the foggy night towards the castle. The child screamed no more.
Silene was a forgotten princess. No one spoke of her. It was as though Silene didn’t exist. With her beautiful siblings and fit-for-the-throne brothers, she might not have. At the age of 14, she was far too young to marry off, and it was only men who were allowed to inherit the throne. If none existed a princess would quickly marry some man to ensure there was a “steady ruler”.
Silene often stood at the top of a tower and stared out over the kingdom. Over the twisting walls and homes of the city and then over the lake, and then over the dry grasslands beyond that, and then even farther on the bright days when the sun burned away the endless fog, and towards the far off mountains. When she did, she saw the flashes of dragons. She saw the glimmers of light bouncing off their scale and the roars of their battles.
It did not matter to the court where she went or where she was. That is why, one day as she scrambled down a servant’s hall, she ran into the man. He had hair as black as night and skin as pale as the moon, but his eyes… His eyes were gone. In their place were only sunken, hollowed pits.
As Silene watched, he moved his hand over his face. Just like that it was covered by a mask. A convincing mask, so real that you would never know that he wasn’t normal. The man turned, his eyes still dark and angry, and looked at where Silene was standing. Or had been standing. She had already turned and headed to the safety of the halls beyond. She did not know what that had been, did not need to know. She just knew she had to leave. Had to leave the castle with the evil thing inside. The thing with the mask.
Silene ran from the castle. She had raced to her room and changed as fast as possible into the clothes of a commoner, the only thing she had to keep her from being recognized as a noble, or even a member of royalty. She kept her pace, far faster than a jog, all the way to the cliff’s edge. The cliff dangled the castle precariously over the lake, just as always.
Silene stepped as far as she dared. But then, as if by the force of another world, she was pushed toward the edge. Later she would come to realize it was wind, but then it didn’t matter. What mattered was she was slipping, Slipping, slipping, slipping, to the edge of the cliff. Slipping until she neared the very tip. Still slipping when she teetered on the edge, as paper on a blade. She was slipping away as she fell, as the water rushed to her, slipping as she fell through the air. Slipping from her mind so much she didn’t notice the wind stopping her from splattering on the water, but only sinking. She stopped slipping as she sank. She sank into the dark water, into the nothingness.
Silene had hit the water. Everything disappeared the lower she fell. And as her body was swallowed into the lake, her mind drifted away. It drifted to the past.
Silene stood in front of a bookshelf. Nothing moved around her, no noises at all. She stepped forward towards the shelf. Dim light flickered from the shelf itself, as though something glowed behind it. Silene touched the shelf with a tiny hand. She could be no more than 7. Far too young to be out when it was so dark with no adults. Her tiny hand moved across the shelf to touch the books. She kept her hand on the books, gently moving it along. When Silene’s hand stopped, it was on a teal book. The book had gold all over it. Gold accents covered it’s spine and more peeked out from the hidden cover. Silene pulled the book out. The shelf slid away. Young Silene gasped, staring wide-eyed at the shelf’s empty space. Inside was darkness. Silene stepped in. She walked forward until she disappeared into the gloom. For a moment it was silent. Then she screamed. She ran out, and shoved the teal book back into place. The shelf slid shut, but her scream had awoken another. A baby cried into the night.
Silene gasped to life from the shore, her breath coming out ragged and torn. Her eyes streamed, but as they slowly cooled, her eyes speared the surrounding area, looking like a wild animal caught in the light. When they landed on the woman at her side, she scrambled backwards.
The woman was sitting forward on her knees, wearing a dark green cloak and a black tunic and pants. Her black hair cascaded over her shoulders, matching perfectly with her cofee skin and green eyes.
“Woah, take it easy there. I’m not gonna hurt you,” she said, putting her hands up. “I’m Rhianna. And you?” Her voice had a slight lilt, as though she had been raised by someone not from here.
“Uh.. GIisselda. Call me Gliss,” she smiled nervously at the woman. This would be harder than she thought. “What happened?”
“Well you were sinking, I saw you, I saved you. Pretty simple!” Rhianna said with an impish grin. Silene realized she might not be older than her at all. No, they could be the same age!
“But how?” Silene asked, oblivious to how rude she might sound.
Clearly Rhianna was too as she grinned and replied, as if it were the normalist thing in the world, “With magic of course!”
Silene’s world stopped. Everything in her life stopped. Magic.. Magic… no. Magic was not real. Magic was- Everything flooded back to her. A shelf. A teal book. The spine… The History of Magic. The tunnel. The… the thing inside… She knew that thing. She had seen it that very day. Seen its eyeless sockets. And she knew. She knew that no matter what she did, magic was real.
The next few minutes passed in a daze. Rihanna took her to an inn, where people barely gave her a passing glance. It felt as though she were… normal. But in comparison to Rhianna, in comparison to possibly some of them, even as a princess she was plain as porridge. Magic. What she wouldn’t give for that!
But… she had magic. She knew that. No, she felt that. Like… like she had seen it somewhere. But just as quickly as the flash came, it was gone. Silene was normal. Or as normal as a princess could be. No ma-
Silene nearly bumped into Rhianna as she stopped in front of a worn brown door in the dim, musty hallway. A floorboard creaked in a room above them.
“This one's mine. Or should I say ours! I’ve never shared a room before! Do you snore?” Rhianna’s rapid fire words gave away her obvious excitement.
“Uh, great?” Silene mumbled.
Rhianna’s smile disappeared. “Do you want your own room? I can try to get you one…” Her voice trembled.
“No!” Silene rushed. “Please don’t,”
“Oh! Okay, here we go!” Rhianna’s smile returned and she grabbed the rusted door knob.
Inside, two beds lay on opposite sides of the room. Both were made and a small table sat beside each of them. On the tables sat a couple of candle stands. There were no windows at all and immediately Silene felt trapped.
“Er… this looks great Rihanna. I’m just going to… uh clear my head. I’ll be back in a minute,” Silene mumbled as she backed out the door and began to walk away as quickly as she could.
“See you soon, Gliss!” Rihanna yelled at her retreating form.
Silene barged out the back door and into the woods beyond. She continued her stride until she had reached a clearing, of a sort. The trees had cleared into a wide circle around one larger tree. As she looked at the tree in the center she realized there was something glowing on the ground. She reached down and picked it up. A… key? The key still glowed faintly in the dimming light.
Silene looked back up at the tree, and realized it was even more peculiar than she had originally seen. The bark was almost sliver, and it was dotted with clouded areas where random other colors shined through. She took a step forward and laid her hand on the tree’s mottled bark, feeling its texture. It was smooth and warm, but the longer she kept her hand there, the more she realized it thrummed. It was as though the tree had a heartbeat itself and she was just feeling its beat. She moved her hand farther up the tree until she reached a colored spot. There it felt… fuzzy. Not soft, but like moss. She peered closer and realized it was moss, but it was transparent!
“Hello.” A soft, elegant voice with a slight accent drifted from the tree. Silene jumped backwards, nearing the edge of the clearing.
“I mean no harm,” the voice said, still not coming from any visible speaker. “I only wish to help you, if you’ll allow me?”
Silene’s voice was ragged as she bravely said, “If you want me to believe that you’re going to have to show yourself!” She trembled from her place at the edge of the circle.
“Very well,” the voice said, sounding resigned. “But… please don’t freak out,” Silene barely had time to wonder why before the speaker appeared.
She let out a shrill scream as the… the creature glided down from a branch high, high above in the flowering blue leaves. It had pale skin, like snow on a tree, and brown-red hair, and indigo eyes. But what set him so far from human were the ears. No one had ears that extended so far out, ended so sharply, pointed upwards like that. No, this thing was not human.
“Well you haven’t run off screaming, so that’s a start!” It said brightly. “Cosm Vindaso, expert phoenix trainer and descendant of Hikla and son of Nafari. And you?” His voice had its elegant lilt again.
“Uh… Glisselda. Just Glisselda,” she muttered, still not totally in belief of what was happening.
“So… I’m assuming you’re lost?” Cosmo said, tilting his head at her. “No one comes if they aren’t lost.”
Silene wondered how she had got here. “Yes,” she said, more confident. “Can you help me get back?”
“Of course!” Cosmo said, looking as shocked as if she had just asked him if the sky were blue. “That’s my entire job! But I think I’ll do a little extra. There’s a phoenix who needs a bond and I think you’re perfect for the job!”
“I… Uh… That’s a great honor but… umm,” It was too late to argue as Cosmo floated back up to the tree and disappeared from view. A moment later an ear-splitting screech echoed through the air and a great firey beast arose from the tree. But as the “firey beast” landed in front of Silene, she realized it was not, in fact, a huge monster as big as a mountain, but a creature no bigger than a small horse, with room on it’s back as one.
“Wow,” she breathed, reaching her hand forward to its beak. “Can I… can I touch it?” She asked dubiously.
“Of course you can!” Cosmo said grinning. “She won’t burn I promise,”
Silene reached her hand forward and touched the beautiful creature's smooth beak. The flames didn’t burn at all, and the phoenix nudged her hand a little, looking at her with those beautiful brown eyes of her’s. Silene smiled, and then laughed. The first one she’d had for a while.
“No you can go back with her! Two dragons with one lasso!” he cried, whooping a little as he floated up a foot or so.
“Thank you!” Silene said, eyes shining. She moved to hug him but quickly switched to a handshake.
“You’d better head back, just tell her where you want to go,” Cosmo sounded a tad bit sad.
“W-what’s her name?” Silene asked as she mounted the phoenix.
“It’s up to you, I suppose,” he said. “Goodbye, Glisselda!”
Silene didn’t have time to yell back as her phoenix swooped up into the falling sun’s rays. “What am I gonna call you?” she murmured as the began the journey back. “How about… Echo? How’s that?” Echo purred beneath her as the firey wings sent them gliding over the sky.
The sun had set and Echo had extinguished her flames by the time she reached the inn. They landed not too far away so Silene didn’t have to walk too far, but no one would find Echo lounging around in their woods.
“Just stay safe. I know you’ll be able to hear me if I call, and don’t worry. I’ll visit and bring some food if you can’t find any,” Silene gave her phoenix a sad smile as she walked away. Echo made a sad whining noise but stayed. “I’ll be back soon!” she called to her phoenix.
It didn’t take long for her to reach the inn, and when she did she was greeted by a loud yell of, “Glisselda!”
“There you are! I’ve been looking all over,” Rhianna said as she surveyed Silene. “Where were you?”
“I went out on a hike and got lost,” Rhianna looked horrified, but Silene quickly reassured her. “I just walked around a lot. My poor legs will ache for days!” she laughed, “I just need some rest,”
“If you say so…” Rhianna agreed, looking unconvinced. The pair walked inside, and when Silene got to their cramped room and flopped onto her uncomfortable bed, she felt as though she were in the best place in the world.

Random Writing

SWC Parody- Deck the Halls - 209
Deck the halls with balls of paper
fa la la la la la la
Tis the session not to waver
fa la la la la la la
On we go to joyous peril
fa la la la la la la
Til we secure first or lost meril
fa la la la la la la

See the wondrous leaders before us
fa la la la la la la
Time to drive them insane with priorities
fa la la la la la la
Don’t forget to do the weekly
fa la la la la la la
Or you’ll be doing in it last minute
fa la la la la la la

Quickly does this session pass us
fa la la la la la la
But we’re loving everyone second
fa la la la la la la
Hard we write to beat the other cabins
Heedless of our sleep and classes
fa la la la la la la

Deck the halls with words and merriment
fa la la la la la la
We just won, the session’s ended
fa la la la la la la
You all wish you’d been our cabin
fa la la la la la la
Cus Mystery just won our session
fa la la la la la la


Suspenseful/Spooky Story - 3754
Lincoln Meteorology Center, Virginia, October 13, 2028

The waves churned with the fury of a thousand monsters on the large screen. The meeting room was silent as the waves crashed again and again over the bobbing probe. The sky above was a dark, silent gray with threatening flashes. Waves smashed the probe again.
A man in a suit with a briefcase stood up and said. “See it’s nothing! Some water probably just snuck inside it last time!” The rest of the room murmured their agreement. “We can all just go back to our jobs now! Good day!”
“I wouldn’t be so sure-” Said a man in a dark green trench coat. The screen shook violently. Every head whipped back to the monitor. Something black whizzed from the thunderous sky, and the camera went black.
Everyone held their breath.
“Wait for it, wait for it,” Muttered the man in green. Another camera flickered on. “Yes!” The man cried in joy but only for a second, because what he and the others saw that day changed their world for good.
A gigantic skeletal frame with Stygian black skin. The skin was leathery and torn with flaps and flakes all about it. Through the skin you could see the bones poking out like rocks breaking the water. The creature's overall shape was hard to discern but there were wings and leg-like things. The “legs” held the creature up like four pillars, each ending in three long claws that tipped in points sharper than a needle. The creature hovered for a moment in the air before it raised one end, most likely its head, to the wind and shot back up into the gray space.
For a moment everyone was quiet. Then as one chaos broke out. People screamed, ran from the room, fainted, and vomited. The man in green ran to a computer and yanked the mouse over to the send button, forwarding the video footage to at least ten different offices. Someone who would know what to do.
As the panic pursued the screen shook again, unnoticed, and the footage went out in another black flash.


3248 Shiloh St. Wyoming, October 14, 2028

Cypress pulled open the cedar drawer and gently placed another pile of books inside. She looked around her room, already missing its cozy demeanor and warm light. The room was barren, stripped of everything from clothes to art with furniture like bones left sticking from the room. Cypress sat down on a wooden stool and grabbed a news tablet from the side of a table. The tablet was open to another article on the storm. The headline screamed another city overtaken and hundreds of people missing, dead, or lost in the storm. This time it was a town no farther than 40 miles from Chicago. Of course Cypress should have had nothing to worry about being so far out in the country, but it was a country wide evacuation for kids and elderly people.
“You ready to g-go love?” Her mother nearly choked on the word “go”. They both knew how far away it was. Cypress nodded. “Ok. Let’s load up in the car.” Her mom tried to make it sound like it was nothing, that they were just going another trip down to California to see the beach or something.
The time to leave drew nearer and nearer as Cypress and her mother loaded the car with her duffle bag.
“One second!” Cypress turned and ran back inside, whirling around the corner and bounding upstairs and into her room. “Where is it… where is it…” Cypress slid her hand along her bookshelf, seeking the title of her favorite book. “Yes!” Cypress yanked out the dark green cover and dashed downstairs again.
“Whatcha got there?” Her mom asked as Cypress walked back out to the car.
“It’s just a book.” Cypress held out the cover for her mother to read.
“‘Dangerous Creatures in History’ Why would you need that?”
“Um, the reports?” Her mom stared at her blankly. “The ones with the gigantic monster things with black skin?”
“Oh those!” Her mom gave a nervous laugh. “They're probably hoaxes. Just out there to worry you. It’s fine!”
It wasn’t fine. Cypress had found the articles in every newstablet and every government crisis declaration.
“We better be going! You need to be at the school in less than an hour for the buses,” Her mom opened the car door. “We don’t want to be late!”
The car ride to the school was silent and strained. When they got there, the mood was just as tense. Cypress pulled her duffle bag from the back of their car and glanced around, unsure where to go. There were kids and parents saying goodbye, kids murmuring darkly, and parents talking in fast anguished voices. Busses were lined up in neat rows with signs showing their destinations on the back.
“There’s your bus.” Her mom pointed at a bus that… looked identical to the others.
Cypress turned, about to say something when someone honked from the bus.
“Hello everyone!” A woman yelled over a speaker tucked towards the front of the line. “I’m here to make sure you all go to the right places and the right airports. We’ll begin loading the buses in a few minutes, so start getting ready!”
Cypress turned towards her mother, and found her hurriedly swiping at tears. Her mom sniffed and said with forced positivity in her voice, “It’s only Benin! You’ll be back in no time safe and sound.” Cypress hugged her, but everything felt like it was in a dream. It was like there was a giant pillow clamped around her ears and someone had put slow motion on.
In only a few minutes the woman yelled back over the speaker that it was time to start boarding and to head to your bus.
“Remember this is just to keep you safe,” she consoled both weepy parents and trembling kids. “You’ll be home as soon as the storm’s passed.”
She hugged her mom and said something reassuring. ‘It would all be ok’?
Cypress drifted to her bus and stood in line. Her duffel bag made a soft thud when she sat it on the ground, but some of the kids practically jumped out of their shoes. This storm sure had spooked everyone.
Their bus began to board and Cypress gave a final glance to her world. This was it. She was leaving.



Above Asia and the Pacific Ocean, October 19 2028

The next few days were a whirl of flights and bus rides and chaos. A couple of times Cypress nearly was lost in the storms of people trying to be in the right places. Her destination was somewhere in Africa, a bunker that would hold her and a couple hundred other kids for a few weeks. But flying to Africa was harder than it sounded. There wasn’t any crossing the Pacific, so planes flew around the globe and over Aisa to get to the other side of the ocean. Relatives were kept together. This meant that everyone was going somewhere different and some people were leaving the country. Cypress’s mom had linked her with some far off cousins in order to “ensure she was safe”. How can one be safe with people you didn’t know?
There wasn’t really anyone or any reason to talk to anyone until her second flight. Previously her buses and plane had managed to have enough open seats for her to sit alone, but this plane was more crowded as they had picked up another group at the airport. But this time there were barely enough seats for everyone there, let alone to leave spaces next to a little girl. And that’s how, on the final flight, Cypress met Ash and Jasper. Both had lived in the United States. Both were going to the same place as her. Neither of them thought the storm creatures were a hoax.
Cypress opened her backpack at her feet and pulled out ‘Dangerous Creatures in History’.
“What’s that?” Ash questioned, pulling out the earbuds she’d been listening to for the past 3 hours of their flight. The disadvantage of being so far away was that they were flying for nearly 27 hours at once. This was nearly their 10th.
“‘Dangerous Creatures in History’ I’m hoping it’ll have something on the storm creatures.” Cypress flipped the book open and Ash and Jasper leaned over to see. This book covers many of the supernatural and dangerous encounters with unknown or unbeknownst creatures throughout history. The actual creatures may be pure fantasy or false but their stories and encounters remain. Within these pages you will find a record of various encounters and their descriptions. Continue if you wish.
“That’s… Ominous.” Said Jasper when Cypress finished reading.
“Question is, do we dare?” She grinned mischievously. “I say let’s do it!” She yelled jumping from her seat and causing a flight attendant to rush over and sit her back down. The three of them fell into fits of giggles.
The flight wasn’t shaping out to be that bad, but it wouldn’t stay that way for long. Nearly 7 hours later Cypress was still flipping through the book, but with no luck.
“It's like they weren’t ever here!” Cypress exclaimed as she skimmed another page full of references on flying snakes.
“Welp on the plus side no one else had to deal with this mess,” Ash said in her “Yay us!” tone. “Only our generation gets the maniac flying monsters and a gigantic storm.”
“That’s a good thing! Say it like it’s a good thing.” Jasper yelped as Ash kicked his foot starting yet another round of bickering from the two teens.
Cypress sighed and turned back to the book. These pages which had claimed to be the unlocking of everything she needed to know and prove were not being very helpful. There were at least sixty pages on dragons, another thirty on krakens, and a bajillion of the most random and unlikely creatures to have ever lived. Maybe it was farther into the book. Cypress kept searching. Ghouls. Wolves with wings. Demon phoenix. Monster unicorn. No creature to be found. Cypress drifted off.

Above Aisa, October 20, 2028, 1 am

Cypress jolted awake, followed closely by a feeling of absolute dread. She whipped her head away from the window where she had fallen asleep and scanned the nearby plane. Next to her Ash and Jasper had both fallen asleep and a row over it seemed to be the same as well. The flashing light above the seats indicated that it was a no seat belt required time. Cypress silently slid past Jasper and Ash and into the walkway. In the aisle there was nothing but silence. A few kids had their legs in the walkway, and multiple people were snoring in their seats, but nothing was out of place. The flight attendant must have been on break because no one rushed to sit Cypress back down.
“Might as well explore a little.” She murmured to herself as she continued up the aisle. When she had just about reached the front of the plane, a small voice whispered from the seats.
“Can’t sleep?” It was a little girl, probably around 6 years old. She was sitting alone and the seats next to her were filled with stuffed animals. “I couldn’t either. No one wanted to sit with me, and now it’s too scary to fall asleep myself. My mommy reads to me, but she’s not here.”
“Do you have a story to read?” Cypress found herself asking as she sat down next to the little girl.
“YAH!” She said in an excited voice, then, catching Cypress’s shhh, “Yah!” While the little girl was searching her duffle bag Cypress took the chance to do a few investigations of her own.
“So what’s your name?” Cypress asked as the little girl pulled out a pile of picture books.
“I’m Raven. People call me things like Twig and Fishbone though. I’m half Native American. Which story do you want to read?” Raven held up a story with a front covered in bright colors and flowers and a book with stars and a rocketship on the front. Cypress tapped the rocketship lightly and smiled, but inside she was hooked on Raven’s story.
“Do you live in a Native American tribe or in a town?” She asked as she sat the book on her lap.
Raven casually opened the book for her. “I live in a town. I used to be in Chicago. Ready to read?”
Clearly Raven had no intention of answering any more questions, so Cypress began to read. “On the planet of Girona there lived a little human named Devin. Devin loved to climb things, and one day he climbed up a tall rocket. The rocket was going to land on a far off planet, but Devin didn’t know that. The rocket began to count down to launch, but Devin was still on it! Devin tried to get off but it was too late, the rocket was gone with Devin on it. The next part of the story depends on where you are. If you stayed back on Girona, Devin’s family and friends tried to get Devin back, or you could follow Devin on a journey far away. We’re going with Devin now, but maybe we’ll see the others later, but not in this book.
“Devin was far from Girona and very scared, but Devin knew that when you look back at your home, everyone else looks back at you. Soon the rocket landed on a new planet. This planet was Earth. Earth was far nicer than Girona, and there were more people! Devin lived on Earth for a very long time, very happy and safe.
“The end.” Cypress finished her story and tilted her head to look at Raven. “Why do you like this book so much? It has a sad ending.”
Raven smiled. “Everyone always says that.” Cypress felt for a moment as though she had done something wrong. “The ending isn’t sad. Devin fit perfectly into Earth. It’s a bit like our story really. We are sent somewhere far away that was neither our choice or our loved one’s and we’re going to find a way to fit into this world too, just like Devin.”
Cypress was quiet for a moment. “I never thought of it that way. Thank you Raven.”
“Thank you for reading to me.” Raven mumbled back, already falling asleep. Cypress smiled to herself and thought about what Raven had said. Maybe this wasn’t her sad ending. She fell asleep again.

Nigeria Africa, October 20, 2028, 6 am

“Everybody up! Everybody up! We will be touching down in about 30 minutes. You all need to get buckled and pack up your stuff,” yelled the escort in charge of making sure baggage wasn’t lost. “Now!” She barked.
“I need to go, Raven. I’m sorry,” Cypress started as the plane began to bustle with people. “I’ll see you at the airport?”
“Yah,” Murmured Raven sleepily.
Cypress quickly put Raven’s stuff away and hurried back to her seat. Jasper and Ash were awake and, surprise, surprise, bickering again.
“That’s my blanket!” Ash said, grabbing a blanket from Jasper’s bag. “I bought it at the Dollar Tree last weekend!”
“No way-”
“You guys calm down,” Cypress said, shaking her head. “At this rate no one is ever going to let you sit by each other again.”
“Okay, sorry.” Jasper said embarrassed.
“Yah, fine.” Ash grumbled, grabbing the blanket.
“But I-” Cypress picked up an identical blanket from where it lay knocked to the floor next to Jasper. “Oh.”
Once the bags were sufficiently packed and the kids had all been seated properly, the plane began to land. When everyone had gotten off the group began to divide. This took a rather long time as it involved each person’s name being called one by one to their group, as to ensure that no one was lost or left behind.
Raven, Ash, and Jasper had all been put into the same group, along with several others who would be their new bunkermates for the next who-knows-how-long. The group boarded a bus and began their journey West, towards both the storm and their safety. The bus jolted and jumped at every crack and bump in the roughly paved road. A few long hours later the kids had passed the border to Benin and were on their way to the other side of the country and their bunker.
As the group was passing a tree with the leaves completely ripped off, the sky changed abruptly. What had been the gray-blue of a cloudy, no-storm day had turned into a dark, dark, blackish gray that churned with flashes of blue and yellow. The kids craned their heads to see the sky above them. Would there be a sudden black flash above their bus? Would they die as so many in their home countries had? The bus driver stopped their pace entirely.
“Okay everyone. The storm has made it this far, and it certainly isn't going to stop now. We may need to make a run for-”
The bus exploded. Something black hit the windshield. Or more accurately hit the engine in the front of the bus. The last thought Cypress had as she curled around Raven, protecting the little girl with her body, was Why would I ever come here.

Outside of Fati, Benin, October 20, 2028, 4 pm

Cypress awoke with a dry feeling in her mouth. Raven, she thought, eyes snapping open and hands already pushing her up on their own accord. All around her the long, dry grass was burning. As she sat up, she realized she had an aching pain in her right arm. It seemed she had landed on it wrong. She stood up and nothing else seemed to hurt too much. What had happened?
“Cypress?” Someone croaked nearby.
Cypress whirled around and saw Ash and Jasper laying on the ground nearby. Jasper had a nasty slice in his left leg, but nothing time wouldn’t heal. But their surroundings… The sky was gray-blue again but everything else was far different. The three of them were in a circle of burnt, withered grass. Beyond that though…. In the far distance there was smoke clouding and blooming up into the sky. But even closer, in the other direction, a village was silhouetted in front of the low sun.
“Is that…” Jasper was pointing a shaking finger at something a few yards away. It was the smoking remains of the bus. And near where the front had been the body of their driver and escort Mrs. Marie, lay, just as smoking and lifeless as the bus.
That reminded Cypress of something even more important though. She had to find Raven.
“Raven!” She called out as the three of them split to search for survivors. “Raven!”
“Here,” Came a hoarse croak from a bush nearby. It was Raven.
“Raven!” Cypress crouched down, throwing her arms around the younger girl. “You’re okay!” Raven’s face was streaked with tears, but other than that she seemed to feel fine.
Jasper and Ash had returned, and their faces brought no good news.
“Any?” Cypress asked, a look of astonishment on her face.
“Not one.” Ash said, for once not complaining or bickering at all. The four of them bowed their heads in a silent acknowledgement for the lost ones. Then, as one they set off for the town in the distance. Time was of the essence.

Fati, Benin, October 20, 2028

After an hour of walking, the group had reached the town. The sun was beginning to fall and the town had an eerie glow in the streets. Nothing stirred. Bones of both animals and people lay bleached in the sun from days, or maybe weeks left out. Cypress covered Raven’s eyes as they passed the tiny human skull of a child probably no older than five.
Whole buildings had collapsed from the force of the creatures' landings. A fountain trickled water onto the streets. A tiny black kitten lapped at the water in the street. Raven scooped up the tiny cat, holding it close to her chest.
“What’s your name, little fella?” She whispered to the cat, gently sliding her finger over its tiny head. “I’ll call you… Moon.”
“Looks like someone found a friend.” Cypress said with a grin at Raven.
“Well, on the positive note everything is free.” Ash said with her telltale smirk. “I don’t think the owners mind.”
Jasper glared at Ash and then promptly launched into an explanation about the reasons not to steal from the stores. “No one is there to stand up for the store owners and represent their rights! Or to enforce the laws. This means that now should be a time of civilized manners and proper behavior on the part of the citizens for the sake of those unable to serve their purpose or take care of their homes and goods!”
“Blah, blah, blah,” Ash said, sticking her tongue out at Jasper. “I don’t hear anything important in that mess.” She plucked a wrapped candy from a shattered storefront as they walked by, unwrapping it and handing it to Raven, who promptly fed it to her new cat.
“I for one agree with Jasper,” Raven said as Ash pretended to be wounded.
“Betrayal! I have been cornered! The pain!” She thumped a hand over her heart dramatically.
“That would be like seeing someone get hit by a car on Halloween and just sitting down and eating all their candy. Mean.” Raven finished.
“I have an ally in my endeavors!” Jasper said, pumping a fist in the air.
“Okay, okay, but… I still have Moon on my side! Hah!” Ash said, grinning wildly.
“No, Moon agrees with me!” Raven said, clutching the kitten to her chest so the cat jumped from her arms and onto Cypress’s shoulder.
Cypress laughed and stroked Moon as they walked through the abandoned town. Somewhere far above them, the monsters worse than any nightmare they had ever seen swooped and shrieked. But down below Cypress saw another kind of ending. The one that doesn’t have to be the same as the beginning. Maybe Raven had been on to something, that endings don’t have to be the same as the beginnings to be happy. Endings don’t have to be the end of a story, there can be more to the world.


History Club Project - 1101 words

I come from England, in a small farm area where the people are few and spread on the vast fields. I had to travel far to reach the mountains of thrown away things, but I found it all the same. It had taken me nearly a full week on foot and I will travel back the same way, under the same excuse; that my brother is in need of help as his wife is away and left their children with him. As of now, I must find the metal I need and begin the journey home so there is no reason to believe I traveled by foot.

~~~

This is my eighth trip and my fifth journey since my last entry. I have accumulated enough metal to begin hammering it out when there is no soul around. It seems far more efficient to hammer out the metal while I am still at the yard of metal, but this may arouse suspicion or even awake one who is there to manage the supply. I fear as the weather continues to go sour there will be less times where none are within the town and surrounding areas to hear.

~~~

As I mentioned in my previous entry, the region has seen more and more activity as the traveling farmers and merchants have begun to return to the farm towns to spend the winter. Many stay in the inns but there are even more who build huts or stake large tents for the winter months. I find few a time when I can hammer at metal without causing a great deal of noise and suspicion. There is an easy solution; but I wish not to head down that path. My family is no longer in the town, but it is still where I grew up and have worked and lived for very long. I wish not to leave.

~~~
It has been much longer since I last wrote, but I have much to say. I was found while working on my scrap metal project by a simple apprentice boy, and he said no word to anyone I know of. This does not confirm that he told no one of my project. I must return to the scrap yard again for more metal. I shall risk working on the project there and then heading back again a few days longer.

~~~
I realize this is the same way I began before, but it has been far longer than before. I was captured while working on my project at the scrap yard. The gatekeeper must have heard my work echoing quietly through the hills and headed to investigate. I am now accused of stealing and sentenced to work as a laborer for 5 years in Australia, which I learn is where the English convicts are sent. As of now I am on the ship being sent to Australia. The company is… of unimaginable variety. Some are like me, simple people with complicated troubles, but some are far, far worse. I am to serve as a house servant for the next 5 years. I was of course officially convicted of stealing scrap metal, but the real crime was an attempt to aid the French in their war. I regret not what I did, but it shall be my downfall to have believed in such rebellion. I had refused to disclose why I needed the metal, and if I had I would have been surely freed. What is done is done, and the light is quickly fading. I hope I shall write sooner than previous times.


~~~
The ship is of the fine making, and it has held well and must be fairly new. Not on its maiden voyage, but perhaps on its second or third. The ship may be seaworthy, but our quarters are not very kind. We are being kept in the hull of the ship. There is not much water and even less food, but our group must be rather small.

~~~
We reach the shore tomorrow around noon. I have been told I will work as a domestic servant and do housework for a master. There are some men who will be mechanic servants and do work of special content. These are smiths, tailors, and carpenters who have evidence of their work from before. It is whispered amongst these people of the ship that the mechanics will be treated better. I hope to see if this is true when we reach the shore.

~~~
It has been quite longer than anticipated. We were sorted into our jobs today. It was failed to mention while we were on the ship that we would be sorted on things like our gender rather than our talents. I was chosen as a domestic servant. That means I shall be treated as a maid or work in a factory. It is simple work, and no man was assigned such a job. If I were given a proper position as a mechanic then I would be of far more use to these barbaric tyrants. I will be assigned to a master soon.

~~~
My assignment is to a household of a rich man who is not often at his home. It is not my place here to ask questions but it is of note that he wears the suit of a captain, and he is likely to be in charge of a ship. The rest of the household steers clear from us under the impression that we will attack them. Some of the previous servants explain to us that nearly half the servants before rebelled and as a result, were killed. This goes to show how expendable us servants are.



~~~
As I noted in the previous entry, us servants are expendable. Over the past two weeks, many of us have been “broken” as some call it. When a master drives their servant to the point of absolute and complete brainwashed obedience. We’re working nearly double with the upcoming return of their master, so it will be even harder to write than before.

~~~
It has been at least four weeks since I last wrote an entry, and I’m afraid there will be no more. Our master has become harsher than ever before and has gone as far as to take away all of our personal belongings. Many of us believe he is losing money from his countless voyages. He forbids ud any form of writing and many are not allowed to learn to read and write. However, I intend to hide this journal somewhere no one should find it, which I suppose means no one should ever read this.

AOTDs

AOTD November 16 - 307
Mystery genre

“What are your intentions at this time of night?” I glared into the fearful eyes of the defiant young high schooler. I hate youths.
“I-I didn’t do it!” the kid cried out. He was too skittish to have done anything if I was being honest, but instead I gave the “official” answer.
“If you’re innocent, you have no excuse not to tell me why you’re here. And no reason to be scared like a cat up a tree.” His posture relaxed a tiny bit. It was either from that simile or my pointing out the obvious.
“I was going to the store to get myself a flashlight. The power went out, you know,” he said.
“Did it now?” I asked dryly. Of course I knew that. “Well I wouldn’t recommend walking at night.”
“My car is electric,” he said in a resigned way. “It hadn’t been charged. I wait until night so that I can save some money. Who would have thought it’s cheaper to use electricity at night?” He let out a loose laugh.
The last thing I wanted to do was talk about his electricity, but it was too late now. “Does it really?” I ask with mock politeness. He doesn’t catch on.
“It’s almost a dollar cheaper! And around 3 am, if you’re up, it’s better than tha-” My walkie-talkie begins to spit out a mess of static and the kid jumps back.
“Sorry man, but I gotta get back to work. See you around,” I said, while trying not to scream at his absolute idiocy. I certainly hoped I didn’t see him.
I walked a few blocks before I picked up my radio. “What’s the issue?” I ask.
“We got a murder on our hands now, my friend,” crackles the staticy voice of the Cheif. “And the murderer is out and about tonight.”

claiming! <3

⧖ Nat's thingy that tracks all of their swc thingies ⧖

⧖ Word count:

766/6000

⧖ Weeklies:

link
title

⧖ Dailies:

daily no. 1: write an intro
word count: 766

daily no. 2: column
word count: 270


daily no. 3: drink this smoothie
word count: 338

⧖ Writing:

link
title

⧖ Word wars

war with @green_skyy, total word count in war: 271

‘the room where it happens’

Skye's Hidden Cove
Thriller Ocean Expedition

Totals

Total Words: 4345
Total Feet: 160ft

Dailies

Weeklies

1 - link - 1500 words!
2 - link - 909 words (unfinished)
4 - link - 2726 words!

Word Wars

Writing Competition

Other?

◆ peggy’s archive ◆

weekly #2: spoken forms of writing

didn’t finish on time

lynx's UwU restaurant
folklore trails

dailies

weeklies

other

Loki's Writing Directory

Dystopian Realm, November '22
—-

➷ My Thread

➷ Word Count: 0/6000

➷ Goals:

Dailies: 0/20
Weeklies: 0/2
Word War Participation: 0/4
Enter Writing Competition: 0/1

➷ Dailies

1/11 - 1073 - 0 pts - link
2/11 - 219 - 100 - link
3/11 - 302 - 400 - link
4/11 - 328 - 200 - link
day - words - points -
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link
day - words - points - link

➷ Weeklies

❱ Week 1:

Link
Theme: Letters
Words: 1741/1400

❱ Week 2:

Link
Theme:
Part 1:
Part 2:
Part 3:
Part 4:

➷ Word Wars

day - words - won/lost - link
day - words - won/lost - link
day - words - won/lost - link
day - words - won/lost - link

【 ▻ Aurelia's Index ◅ 】
【 ▻ Sci-Fi Simulation November 2022 ◅ 】

【 ▻ Word Count: 0/5000 ◅ 】

【 ▻ Dailies ◅ 】
Daily 1 ○ 10.31.22 ○ Link ○ N/A
Daily 2 ○ 11.02.22 ○ Link ○ 332 Words
Daily 3 ○ 11.03.22 ○ Link ○ 345 Words
Daily 4 ○ 11.04.22 ○ Link ○ 238 Word
Daily 5 ○ 11.05.22 ○ Link ○ 1034 Words
Daily 6 ○ N/A ○ N/A ○ N/A
Daily 7 ○ N/A ○ N/A ○ N/A
Daily 8 & 9 ○ 10.08.22 & 10.09.22 ○ Link ○ 111 Words
Daily 10 ○ Date ○ Link ○ Word Count
Daily 11 ○ Date ○ Link ○ Word Count

【 ▻ Weeklies ◅ 】
Weekly 1 ○ N/A ○ N/A
Weekly 2 ○ Link ○ Word Count
Weekly 3 ○ Link ○ Word Count

【 ▻ Writing Competition Entry ◅ 】
Writing Comp Entry ○ Link ○ Word Count

【 ▻ Word Wars ◅ 】
Word War 1 ○ Link ○ 160 Words
Word War 2 ○ Link ○ Word Count
Word War 3 ○ Link ○ Word Count
Word War 4 ○ Link ○ Word Count
Word War 5 ○ Link ○ Word Count