Hola! :> I'm Day and my pronons are he/they. This is my 5th session in SWC! My favorite author is probably Cornelia Funke. I just love her books so much. Especially Dragon Rider. I'm a huge fan if the high fantasy settings and all the unique characters introduced in her books. On the contrary, I also like Dan Brown's books. He definitely doesn't write fantasy but his books are so immersive and I like the straighforward prose. I literally finished The DaVinci Code and Digital Fortress in one day! I'd also like to mention some authors I also like (but haven't read multiple books from). Leigh Bardugo (Six of Crows, obviously), Jamie Thomas (Asperfell), Cinda Williams Chima (Stormcaster), P.M. Freestone (Shadowscent) and, Paul Stewart and Chris Ridell (The Edge Chronicles).

What do Writing, Sleep Deprivation, and Mangoes Have in Common?
Right now, you're probably thinking, “You know, what /do/ writing, sleep deprivation, and mangoes have in common?” and I'm here to answer that question. To give it to you straight, the thing that writing, sleep deprivation, and mangoes have in common is SWC culture. Yes, after a few years, this triannual camp seems to have developed its own little culture which I myself am proud to be a part of. Writing is an obvious part of that culture, as the community of the camp itself was built on writing. What does SWC stand for? Scratch /Writing/ Camp. We've been writing since the start, and seriously, if you don't like writing then why are you even here? Sleep deprivation is also no stranger to us. Before we proceed, I'd like to state that I'm not blaming anyone for this specific section of this article. Staying up until the very latest possible to finish my dailies is something I've done, it's also something I'm doing the very second I'm writing this. Why do we do this? I don't know about everyone else but personally, it's just the fact that I'm near-always sleep deprived anyways and I have limited time during the day. I guess some people could also be super competitive and just want to write extra words for points. If you're doing that, please stop and get some rest. Seriously. This is the reason every single SWC description says SWC < sleep and the reason almost every camper has reversed the alligator as a joke. At least, I hope it's a joke.

Hey you!
Yeah, you! The one reading this paragraph for whatever mysterious reasons you may have!
You've most likely tried pumpkin spice lattes, pumpkin pies or at least something with pumpkin in it. That pumpkin was most likely not a jack-o-lantern though, right? Have you ever wanted to try a jack-o-lantern?
No, not the seeds or the flesh of the pumpkin, literally a jack-o-lantern. With the candle inside and everything. I personally have always wanted to eat one of those. Sadly, they're pretty hard to take a bite out of due to their shape and texture. I have come up with a great and practical solution to this issue.
I present to you, the jack-o-lantern smoothie. Very safe for human consumption and totally a passion project of mine not made just for my own monetary gain with no regard to my customers' safety. It tastes amazing, like the pumpkin part of pumpkin spice lattes without the bitter, unhealthy, disgusting coffee. Like the pumpkin part of pumpkin pies but without the sugar and every other harmful element.
You're probably thinking, “But Day! There is no way that could possibly be true! It's impossible to make something that perfect with zero downsides!” and then I tell you, “Oh but there is and I have that way. You will instantly agree with me once you pay me $99.99 to try a cup of my jack-o-lantern smoothie.”
I know you want to try it, come on! It's absolutely delicious and absolutely healthy and I'm pretty sure it gives you as much energy as caffeine from the lit candles I added to the mix.
Like I said, come try this spooky new drink, guaranteed to be the next hit, especially during the fall season and during the winter months with people who have a personal vendetta on Christmas.
Delectable, simple, convenient. The jack-o-lantern smoothie.

Earlier today, my mother sent me to the bean forest to collect some more beans for us. I have no idea why we even needed beans. My brother and sister's bean jar was already full and we've been having bean soup for dinner for the last week. I think my mother just wanted me to get out of the city.
Now I'm at a crossroads on the trail and failing to recall where I'm supposed to go to find my mother's secret bean-gathering spot. I think it's left but at this point I'm not that sure.
I'll just make a decision and be done with it.
Well on the right, there was a bean termite infested tree… Probably not where an ideal bean picking spot would be, so I went left.
Further and further into the woods. Or rather, the beans.
Just as I'm thinking, “Is it really necessary to go to the /special/ bean spot, will my mother really notice if I just get the beans that grow by the trail?” I hear a rustle in the bushes. Is it just the wind?
The next moment I was sure it was definitely not the wind because then, I heard a whisper, “Caledon…”
How did it know my name?
Could it be… One of the forest spirits I've been told about? Everyone knows they thrive on beans but I had no idea they'd be found in this forest.

To whoever finds this

Dear Person,

I'm writing this letter to ask you for help.
You see, I've been stuck on this desolate island for months or even years on end. I've completely lost track of time and writing these letters is the only way I've sustained hope throughout all this time. I'm sure you would agree that no one deserves this fate, especially someone that has done nothing wrong (such as me). I've been accused of betrayal, lies and even killing one of my teammates. I assure you none of those things are true, I'm completely innocent and wrongfully accused but, as you can tell there's no way to state that, is there? There's no other way for me to communicate on this god-* island. No one even sails around this place.
So, please, if you're honestly willing to help me, go to the Karrizzan Society, ask to speak with Torrent and tell them that Kir is completely innocent and (I hope) still is alive.“
Just don't show them the letter.
If you've got enough good in your soul, please help me. Regretfully, assure you that this is the only way you can help me. It's not hard, is it? Please. Please. Please. I've almost given up on trying. You can change everything for me and their ”society" and I know if you can find this letter, you can do this for me.

Regards,

Kir

I finished off the 4th letter and stuffed it into the last glass bottle. Now I'll have to wait for more bottle-like objects to wash up before I could send more. Hopefully it reached someone who could believe me, if it reached someone at all. If it reaches Torrent or one of the people loyal to them, I'll be dead before I have the chance to think about it.

“So, you want to know about that bracelet, huh?” said a small voice, coming from behind me.
I turned around, confused. I was even more surprised when there was no one there.
“Who said that?”
“Look down,” the voice replied.
I proceeded to look down. It was a cat!
“How can you talk?” I asked.
“That I can't tell you right now. But, do I have to ask you again? Are you at all interested in learning about what the key on your bracelet opens?”
“Actually, yes… I have been wondering. However; before I believe anything you say, I'd like to know a bit more about you. For all I know you could be dark magic or something…”
“I'm not allowed to say much but, my name is Periwinkle and I've been sent here by someone very important to show you exactly what that key does.”
“Who?” I asked, still doubtful.
“I can't tell you yet but there will come a time,” the cat sighed, “I promise, there will come a time.”
I was still doubtful. I couldn't bring myself to believe this cat. After all, in the books I've read, talking cats generally aren't the most trustworthy guides. I refrained from mentioning this to the cat.
As if it had just read my mind, the cat said, “I know you have your doubts. I completely understand why but I can promise I'll help you understand it all if you just come with me.”
“Ok, fine. I can leave whenever I want though, right? Also, my aunt will get very mad if I don't make it back in time for dinner so you better have excuses ready or make sure I'm back on time.”
“Yes, I know about your aunt's strictness. Don't worry though. I'll have you back on time.”
“Alright,” I said, unable to think of any more excuses that won't hurt this cat's feelings.
“Follow me, then,” said the cat, clearly pleased with itself.
The cat knew its way around my aunt's house surprisingly well, unlike me who still gets lost after I've lived here for over a month.
“So, are you like… My aunt's cat?” I asked.
“No, I'm no one's cat,” the cat replied, “But if you're asking if I live with your aunt of not, that's also a no.”
I continued following the cat through the house until we reached a room I never realized was there. In true Baines family fashion, there were a few pots with Asphodels growing in them. I never understood why my family loved them so much. I've never seen anyone else keep them.
The cat impatiently tapped at the door. Oh right, it couldn't open doors on its own.
“Sorry,” I muttered as I reached for the door handle.
The door was a back door, leading to the woods behind my aunt's house.
“Where are we going? My aunt doesn't allow me to go into the woods,” I said.
“Your aunt won't find out,” replied the cat.
So we continued towards the woods with me being prepared to learn whatever secrets the cat promised I'll learn.

“Why not go outside, Lucy?” said the woman in the living room.
I didn't object, some fresh air would help me think this over.
I opened the door and to the view of white picket fences and unnaturally green trimmed lawns.
It's very hot outside and I immediatly regret my decision of going outside but I can't go back inside either. The person planting flowers near the house next to the one I'm in smiles and waves at me. I put on a smile and wave back.
“How are you Lucy?” he asks.
“I'm great, thank you for asking…” I respond.
Suddenly I'm cut off by the lady from the house, “Lucy. Don't talk to him. William, stop trying to indoctrinate her.”
I don't even know who Lucy is. I've never met any of these people.

I'm standing in front of a pair of huge stone gates, reading, “Welcome to Hell”. So my death wasn't a dream. I though it seemed too vivid. I knew I was going to get this fate but I didn't think it would come so quickly.
The last 50 years of my life went by much faster than the first, I would say. Even with the guilt weighing me down.
I took my first step towards the gate and immediatly remembered that technically I should've been in a wheelchair and clearly wasn't. I looked down at my hands and feet and realized all the wrinkly skin was fresh again. I was young again! Even if hell doesn't sound too pleasant, being young again in death feels great.
Some guy rams right into me.
“Watch it!” he says.
He would act differently if he knew I killed someone.

I play a crazy guitar riff and the crowd goes wild. They love my ability to seemingly never get tired and how I always play the most random chords while still sounding amazing with the rest of the band. It's as simple as that for me. That's the life of The Cardinals' guitars. I'll even go as far as to call myself their main claim to fame.
I can't write my own songs though, they never sound “alive enough”. Whatever that means. Oh and under no circumstances must I talk to a fan. They could accidentally find out about my lack of a soul. Yes, I sold mine; but don't lecture me on it. I knew the dangers.

Dear Fantasy,

I hope you're enjoying being a steampunk this session! I love everything with machines (it sure fits that I'm on a train this session), I wish that I could come see what the steampunk sanctuary is like. I always love whatever theme I'm in for SWC but I admit I'm a bit jealous of yours. Even though I can't see you right now, you have to tell me what it's like at some point! For me, as I already mentioned, I'm enjoying myself quite a bit on this train. I mean, what's a better combination than mystery and trains (yeah, Murder on the Orient Express got it right!). I can't wait to explore more and I can't wait to see what this session holds.

Best of luck,

Mystery

Dear Dystopian,

I've always loved reading in your genre. I've also heard that you've got a realm now? That sounds like a cool concept. Except, you're Dystopian so I'd think twice before calling a concept of yours “nice”, your genre finds a way to make anything sound depressing. Yet, I still like reading your books because I have no idea where they'll take me next (I can appreciate a well-written plot twist, my genre is like, all about them). I wish your cabin best of luck, genuinely as your ally. Have a great day and a great session overall.

Your friend,

Mystery

Dear Historical Fiction,

Hi, Hi-Fi! It's another new SWC session, exciting, right? I saw your cabin theme, it's so unique and I think it fits with your genre pretty nicely! You won't rob our train, though; right? Please don't. You can rob horror instead, although they're on an airplane… I think you'll figure something out. Well, I'm glad to have you being my sibling cabin this session. I wish you luck in robbing everyone but us (obviously). I myself am enjoying my theme, which as you might already know, is being on a pretty old train.

Best of luck,

Mystery

Dear Poetry,

Good afternoon (or morning, or evening, or night, whatever time it's at the isle of fame.)! It's a brand new session! I'm ready to get writing and I hope you are too! I'm writing just to say “hi” to my awesome sibling cabin. I admit I'm not an avid reader of poetry but I do enjoy it from time to time. I have read Edgar Allan Poe before. I'd assume you feel the same about my genre as it's so different from yours! Well, either way, I hope you have a good session this November.

Your sibling,

Mystery

Dear Folklore,

So, Folklore… How is your first session as a combined cabin going? I hope you're not salty about being combined from mythology and fairy tales. Look on the bright side though, now you have double the theme opportunities! As I've heard, your theme is a trail, like, in the forest! I love the themes every new session brings and nothing's different with this one. Especially with some of the cabins changed. As an ally of yours, I feel that I do need to wish you the best of luck this new, promising November session.

Your ally cabin,

Mystery

Dear Thriller,

First of all, an ocean expedition?! That's such a good theme idea! So many storyline options… From giant squid attacks to discovering ancient sunken ships! Sorry, y'know, my genre is mystery and I have way too many ideas since literally everything can be turned into a mystery. Plus our genres are so closely related… Anyways, that's not what I was originally writing about. I was writing just to wish you a great session this November. I think we're both off to a pretty good start in 5th and 6th (as of the time I'm writing this.). Again, I wish you best of luck in this new session.

Your friend,

Mystery

Dear Script,

I admit that I don't talk to you that much, I hope to change that this session. Trust me, I'm totally not just trying to get on your good side. Also, I love your theme, very fitting for your genre! I hope you're enjoying it as much as I'm currently enjoying mine. I'm sure that as Script, you would enjoy something with a script- like a musical, as I enjoy stuff with mysteries in it (like the fact that someone was murdered on my train) since I am Mystery. Well, it's been nice to talk to you for once. Bye for now!

Regards,

Mystery

Dear Naan Fiction,

No, I'm not enjoying the puns coming from your end of SWC. However; can I do anything to stop them? Sadly, no. All I can do is beg for you to change your mind about this pun thing, though I have this feeling that you won't. You /chose/ for this to be your theme. Bestie… (neutral, actually). I appreciate the creativity and despite it being such a joke, it's surprisingly well thought out. I don't know what to expect from you next, you better not start attacking /me/ with puns. I'm not giving you any more ideas other the one that despite our differences, we should stay friendly neutrals. I don't attack you, you don't attack me.

Regards,

Mystery

Dear Sci-fi,

Aren't you just a ripoff of Dystopian at this point? Stop thinking so highly of yourself and your book genre. Now, a part of your theme is Project SCP? This just proves you have no originality. You are a walking spinoff of anything you come across. As you might've guessed, I'm not writing to wish you luck this session. I'm writing to say your genre is worthless and your decision to make me your enemy was a bad one on your part. I honestly hope your plagiarized book genre and theme lead to your untimely demise this session.

Your enemy,

Mystery

Dear Adventure,

I have found myself writing letters to everyone participating in SWC this session and I couldn't possibly forget you as another amazing friendly neutral of my cabin's. Your theme is as always lovely, only not exactly my type of thing. Too straightforward for mystery, you know? Though I may just be proven wrong once you further progress your storyline, who knows? I assume with your medieval-esque theme, you wouldn't know what a train is (remember that you need to stay in character, Addie). It's like a carriage but it's way bigger and it doesn't need horses. That's my theme this session. Anyways, I wish you luck and a lot of good writing this session.

Regards,

Mystery

Dear Fanfiction,

I'll have you know that the only way this letter was delivered to you on time was using your very own time travel agency. Assuming it was delivered to you on time. But I hope you wouldn't make your letters late on purpose, what kind of psychopath does that? Spoiler alert: that psychopath is the typical villain in my genre. Whatever people will do to remain undiscovered. I personally would never make my amazon package late, even if it connects me to a major robbery of mangoes which I totally didn't commit- Well I got a bit off track. What I meant to say was good luck this session. Genuinely.

Regards,

Mystery

Dear Realistic Fiction,

I haven't talked to you much either. Well, this session's the session for social interactions whether you like it or not. So, how's your third day of SWC going? Yes this is a mandatory question, and yes I expect more than just “good”. You are a writer. Well, as a neutral, I wish your cabin luck while offering you my not optional, totally friendly competition. I love your inn theme by the way! I could've used it to. Not that I'm planning to steal your theme like I stole those mangoes- Oops! Anyways, have a great session and say goodbye to your introvertedness.

Regards,

Mystery

Dear Bizarro Fiction,

Welcome to the SWC cabin gang! I hope you're enjoying the first days of your first session. It's great to finally see something like your genre on here, you make an amazing addition to our list of cabins. Also, don't mind Folklore. They're just mad that they got combined from Fairy Tales and Mythology for this session. They'll accept the fact eventually. They're secretly happy to have you here, trust me, I've known them. Your first theme looks great and truly bizarre (forgive me for my limited knowledge of your genre, I've just recently been introduced to it)

Regards,

Mystery

Dear Horror,

You have the most confusing theme ever this session. Stop trying to be edgy and spare your campers' braincells, this is coming from a genuinely concerned person, not just your enemy cabin. I think you may have accidentally pasted a completely unrelated random story instead of your cabin introduction because I refuse to believe that it is your actual cabin introduction. I'll be glad to take the campers who feel the same about your cabin's theme. I'm just so nice, aren't I? I'd say you still have a chance to redeem yourself but you really don't. My cabin will, with all due respect, crush you.

Your enemy,

Mystery

I would say that I don't share many similarities with the characters in this book, mainly because they're quite one-dimensional (at least for most of this book). I think the character I am more similar to is June. For example, we're both quite good at schoolwork (although, I wouldn't say I'm the best and June literally is /the/ best so far). Also, she's observant and the only thing that distinguishes her voice in the book is the way she over-describes things. I tend to do that too, making note of everything from slight accents to differentiating physical features. One thing that makes us different is that she is quick to believe anything without really looking into it (Thomas tells her that Day killed her brother and she just believes him for no reason), I find it difficult to do that and my google search history can prove that. Also for a large chunk of the book, she messes with people for no reason. She literally climbs her school's wall for no reason other than to show that she can't be expelled because she's so smart and privileged. I'm not perfect either but you don't see me climbing walls during the school day, I just talk to my friends and/or play games on my chromebook if I get writer's block.

kitty's writing folder

dailies

weeklies

word wars

notes: this is supposed to be funny and it might not be true. also, i’m surprised i only used the word swc once.

Hello there, dear Adventure.
I’m surprised I’m even writing to you, due to your lack of skill and speed. Your handwriting is hideous, not to mention. But I need to tell you, the new weekly’s quite fun. I hope you fail to meet the amount of words. Also, have you heard that naan-fi just hired new bakers for their bakery? They’re always so nudgy about getting the new stuff. I hate to see you tied with me on the so-called ‘leaderboard’. Anyway, hope you had a good halloween, and I hope to never see you again on my front lawn.
From your loving enemy, Fantasy

Hi Dystopian!
It’s been quite a while since we last met, can you come to my back garden tomorrow? I want to show you a few of the animals who moved into the sanctuary! I think we’re having a cabin meeting next weekend, can you go earlier so we can have a chat? Also, you realm is just the quite amazing. I’d love you to come over tomorrow, what do you think? Oh, plus, the weekly’s really cool, you should go do it! I heard it’s about writing letters, that’s why I’m writing to you! Also, do you have any information on the cabin wars update? There’s 2 new rules, I think.
Love from Fantasy

Hey, what’s your name?
I think it’s called Bizzaro-Fiction? Everyone’s been talking about you lately, and, you’re the new neighbour, right? The one that moved into Myth’s house? I’d love to know you, and so will everyone else! It will be amazing if you could come to our next meeting! I wrote the address below. We usually talk about campers’ behaviour and all that stuff with the wonderful Naan-Fi’s pet, Birdi. She’s also the boss of the tiny campers, I heard. Tell me about some of your favourite things, and I will, too! My favourite colour is gold, and my favourite animal is hard to choose, there’s so many amazing ones living in my back garden!
From your next-door neighbour, Fantasy. (also you’re our enemy…)

P.S. the address is 10 SWC Road, Scratch, Chrome.

Hi Folklore!
I’m surprised you haven’t wrote to me lately, but, how are you doing? I’ve been quite busy, grooming my unicorns and everything. I hope you get a good point score at the next meeting! You’re doing great! I’m busy in the next few days, because I have to ship one of my imps to Safari, and that’s another entire continent! He’ll need to get used to the warmer climate before I can do that, so I have to train him for a few days. Don’t blame me if I don’t come to next week’s meeting!
Love from Fantasy!

Omg hiiiiii Naan-fi!
How are you doing with your three new bakers? I heard from one of your camper that they’re doing great, and that you have over 1000 french sticks sold? Anyway, are you looking forward to cabin wars? Well if you are, please don’t betray us like your dad did! I’m sure it’ll be fun this term! I love your muffins, can you bring me 20 to trade for a new oven? Our steampunk sanctuary has lots of cool stuff in it! I have the best mechanics! Oops, sorry for braggin! Oh, plus, the next meeting is coming around the corner, your awesome baker, Birdi, is updating the points, don’t miss out!
From your ally, Fantasy frantically writing <3

Dear Horror,
We haven’t talked a lot before, but I’m thinking that we can get along quite well? We have to go to a summit next week, it’s for all the cabins to sort out relationships again, so what are you planning to be? With us, or against us? I don’t have a lot to say, but I’m forced to do this for the current weekly, if it were not for this, then I would’ve just walked up to your beautifully half disgusting front door instead. Soooo… you gonna do the weekly or not? I hope you’re not!
From Fantasy

Hello there, so-called ‘Historical-Fiction’.
Perhaps you should be a part of history. Maybe you just don’t belong here in SWC. Maybe you should be only a word. No more. No more than a word. But guess what? Here I am, writing to you only because of this stupid weekly. I’d rather show up at your house and punch you. And, if you were wondering, I’m rather glad you aren’t that high on the leaderboard right now. And not that you deserve it, do you? You don’t! So back away and don’t you dare write back to me.
Yours angrily, Fantasy

Oh my goodness, Poetry!
It really has been a while, hasn’t it! I’m so glad that we’re allies, I remember last session a lot of us started calling you Foetry! I’m so sorry! What’s up? I’m looking forward seeing you at the next meeting! I hope you guys get third (after me and Folklore, of course)! Have you done the weekly yet? Because I would love some advice on how you should treat Script, I’ve never interacted with him before. I’m doing this because of the weekly (and I’m rather stating it in every letter), and it would be so cool if you wrote back to me as part of your one, too!
From your dear ally, Fantasy.

Oh Science-Fiction, what a rip-off you are!
Stop copying my friend Dystopian for once, please! Can’t you make something original? Isn’t Sci-Fi and Dystopian the same thing? You are a completely and utterly useless BOT that no one wants to talk to, so be glad I’m even talking to you! So I hope Robin, our mailman, shoves this in your face when you receive it. Your points should be well below a hundred. Perhaps the negatives fit you. I’ll also add the fact that the rest of us all hate you. So shut up and be quiet next time at the meeting.
Fantasy

Hello Script!
I haven’t talked with you before, so this session I would love to fix that problem! I was on holiday for half the session that was when you joined, so I don’t really know you that well. I’ll be sure to know more about you at the next summit, and I heard you’re hosting it in your theatre, right? It would be really cool if we could make this play about SWC and word wars and stuff! That would be so fun! I have this idea about this guy called Ritch who is really rich. I hope you have a fun time planning the meeting out!
-From Fantasy

Oh hey there Thriller,
Let’s just start this off with: first of all, this is for the weekly, and if you’re smart, you would write a letter back for the weekly to, but if you’re dumb and skipped this, then too bad. Anyway, when the leaderboard updates, I’ll be sure to check where you are, and I hope you’re just a little above the middle. Speaking of the weekly, who else have you wrote to already? I’ve wrote to ten of them, and you’re my eleventh! I’m coming to your house tomorrow to get ready for the meeting, hope you have time!
Best of luck, Fantasy

Ahhhh, yes. Hello there, Realistic-Fiction.
Maybe you’re only realistic and not real. But you are, which is kinda sad. SWC is going on pretty good for me, what about you? For the weekly, I had and tumble of ideas for Bizarro-Fiction, but then for Poetry and some other ones, I kinda had a mind blank. Anyway, how are you going on? Our road’s sign is so cool this session! It’s got clouds and the words ‘Main Cabin SWC November 2022’ in cursive! Doesn’t it look awesome? Naan-Fi let me have a few baguettes, and I can give you a few if you want.
From Fantasy.

Dear Mystery,
Ever since you traded in your wonderful Monastery for an old, cranky train, I really haven’t thought that highly of you. I mean, it’s not my fault half the neighbourhood doesn’t like you. (and you do realise that we’re 4700 points ahead of you, right?) I’m doing this for the weekly, or I would’ve just turned up at the meeting last week with a boxing glove instead. But you’re not too bad. But the passengers on your train that you carry make me speechless in a bad way. Who murders on trains, robs luggage, and fails to do the weekly? The passengers on your train! Duh!
I hope you improve, Fantasy

Hello there, Fan-Fiction.
I have to admit, I haven’t talked to you that much before, so I’ll try my best to meet your approval of a ‘well written letter’. None of my letters are formal, and I hope you’re fine with that. I need to write more, because you are the last person I’m writing to for this weekly, and I hope only one fifth of your old campers complete the weekly, and that I stay in first. Let’s chat at the next summit to stay in touch! Script is organising the next meeting, so I hope it will be good, unlike our last one.
From Fantasy

Now, I know that we all joke about the “ life < swc ” and “ sleep < swc ” and although this is inevitable to be joked about and a bit of humor now and then is like, a-okay but in all seriousness this is not okay to actually do.
SWC is supposed to be a place where you can have fun and write in your spare time: not a place where you stay up all night or fake being sick to stay home to finish the weekly. And I know many campers do this, on several occasions.
There are so many risks if you put SWC in front of your life, including physical health issues, mental health issues and being burnt out. It is not okay to risk this just for a writing camp, despite how awesome it is.
Like it or not, SWC is a part of your life. But may it be a part of us all, it is not a big enough part of us to just dump everything in the trash for it.
You have family, friends and school outside of swc- a whole different life. You must love them more than some strangers who you have never seen in real life, despite how awesome they are.
Please don't give up on them for swc.
Never let “ life < swc ” or “ sleep < swc ” become true to you.

Whizz!
The inside of the smoothie mixer is a mess of colours, red splashing at the corners from the strawberries chunks, and white spots fading into the smoothie from the lightly mushed banana.
Just an average smoothie, boring to be exact. I grapple among the bench, looking for something that will make the flavour more unique. But there is just sugar and measuring cups and that's it. So you turn to the living room, junk flushed in every corner with books, and dad's smart clothes and the heater to keep us warm in winter. Wait, the heater! Sure sounds interesting enough! I can't wait to taste the smoothie at the end!
Without wasting another second you unplug the heater from the wall and carry it up, limping under the weight of its gigantic body. But you don't give up. Soon enough I have heaved it up onto the counter and is uprooting the wires to try to make smaller pieces.
I hear a creak and plunge the messy heater in, masses of smoothing splattering over my dressing-gown and harry potter pyjamas. But I don't care. No-one can see the heater like that. So I press the on button and just like that there is a loud crunching noise.
Crunch!
The smoothie has changed colour and now it has planin white chunks and holes of black, one small white chunk has the words “CDimplex” on it. The liquid colour is brown- murky and I feel squeamish. I don't actually feel like eating this smoothie anymore, with the unappetizing colour and the- smell! It smells like dog manure, with vomit- and, is that overheated software? Coughing, I sprinkle sugar on and it makes the smell much better.
Ah, you take a sip and you realise something- this smoothie is amazing! It tastes like mangoes and the colour doesn't matter anymore! Soon you have chugged most of the jug down and have just enough left for one more cup. As my brother yawns and comes in, you throw the last cup of smoothie at him and he drowns it down.
“Sister, you make the best smoothies!”


November fourth

Dear Anastasia,
it has been so long, and I have not benefited from the separation. After your name was chiseled of the marble archway, I quickly found myself leaning into poverty and quickly applied for many long-term jobs. But as my education had been cut short all those years ago, no-one answered. I ended up as a submarine cook, a long and tiring work for the littlest amount of pay possible! I ache to be able to pursue my dream of a train-driver but no luck so far. I saw you in the news. So exciting: you, married to Prince Freddy! Glad you are living a life of luxurious necklaces and posh dishes. Yum, yum yum!
But I am not here to talk about daisies and rainbows and puppies. This is serious, although it might seem a joke as it was sent in a glass bottle (sorry about that- can't afford postage.) Remember how you used to play that detective game, with you like Nancy Drew because you solved the problems lickedy-split.
Well, dear sister, I need you to solve my problems away- and fast. I'm going to have to move out (and soon!) The solicitor was talking to me last week and he made it very clear that there is not a way around it- I will have to move out of the flat, my (and your) childhood home.
But there are two options that could make me not possibly homeless in a week, and one of those is letting me move in to your giant palace. I could work as a maid, perhaps: live in the servants rooms. I heard you need a new cook! I'm very experienced with cooking professionally. Or you could pay my rent: its only 100 bucks- that's very cheap (well- for you.)
Your poor sick sister,
Ashley.

Weekly #1

Dear Folklore,
how are you doing? coping with the new haul of hikers stumbling by you? hopefully- i'm not sure we can help you out: between the celestial realm falling apart and all whatnot.
ugh, my stomach is rumbling while writing this. possibly any more of Lio's famous soup could be sent? we're very tired from all the collecting stars: what a better way to get more energy than trying out that thing I am personally missing out on.please?
anyway, I am pretty sure postage service has been cut off- but when it returns to normal i have plenty, tons of gifts to give to my faithful allies.
Your dear friend,
Dystopian.
Dear Mystery,
you must be happy about this letter because it was so hard to actually find a decent postage company that wouldn't charge me, like, double to reach a freaking train. I am not happy about that- so hopefully the warm clothes and gumboots enclosed are good in case you end up working as their mechanic. Still, it was quite fun having an excuse to go on a load of shopping adventures. Yay! Heard that there is likely something going wrong: don't worry, it can't be much when you compare it to a dimension falling apart with you in it.
Oh yeah, got a few stars enclosed. Hopefully you can keep them as a sakekeeping, just in case I die along with the realm I am currently trapped in.
See yah,
Dystopian.
Dear Fantasy,
is the gadget we gave you still working, perfectly in contact? just checking: must make sure that the magic we have made outside of our realm is not fading as well. if it was then the bridges of history would collapse before we know it!
sorry for such an alarming start, must have given you quite a scare.
on a more bright side, i see that the sanctuary is thriving! lucky you- must have such lovely volunteers that are not willing to learn from the best animal caretakers ever!
Your most loyal ally and caring- helpful friend,
Dystopian.
Dear Sci-fi,
oof- sorry that your stuck in an alternate dimension, or whatever we should call it. but hopefully you will be able to get out soon: it can't take that long when you have, like, so many people who are helping reach the goal.
luckily we didn't give you any, like, magic item or anything- we believe that items outside the celestial realm that have been created using our magic is, well, fading along with us.
oh- its kind of funny. we both are trying to get out of the realm we are stuck in: but for totally different reasons, of course.
I'm going to keep it short: must go and get more stars to get out,
See you (if we ever get out),
Dystopian.
Dear Thriller,
ah, haven't heard from you in a while, sibling! how is it going down in the ocean, any scary sharks chasing you yet? send us pictures!
enclosed in this package are some pictures of our recruits reactions to being stuck here! there all so open mouthed and foam bubbling in their jaw- and tearing hair and all that whatnot. if you exchange some it could be a kind of, club.
we kind of need a favour. you know, that magical crystal underwater fortune ball? well- break it. shove it in the dump, okay? our magic and everything that is ours is fading: and it might backfire, the precious gift.
Your weak sibling,
Dystopian.
Dear Fan-fi,
haven't seen you in a while, sister- having a good time with all the travelling into time. or as mum would say, meddling with the bad stuff no-one needs to see. in my opinion, time traveling actually looks quite fun: but i wouldn't give controlling the celestial realm for it. even with the whole being stuck in the dystopian world, i still wouldn't stop.
apparently thriller is going pretty well- but i'm still waiting for a reply from the latest letter I wrote them.
oh- that reminds me of when we were long you used to pretend that you lived deep in the sea and I was far up in the clouds and we communicated using, well, letters.
Love you,
Dystopian.
Dear Poetry,
oh look! now you come running to us, begging for help- apparently you “need help” and “the isle's is your life.” But we're not buying it- I'm not, at least. you know what you did and it is to big to start over again. when I asked you for help- with a more sentimental problem, and it wouldn't cost you you said no.
why should we help you now? we are over and we will never get back again.
why don't you cut the prize or something? i don't know and I don't care.
Bye, Poetry. Don't write back,
Dystopian.
Dear Adventure,
i've heard all your excuses. the kingdom needed a good ally, and poetry was open- but you took their side. in that fight. i was your closest friend: and i was helping you but you took my resources and went.
and then- the big thing happened.
this letter is wet and right now the ink is running from my tears: because what happened next is so horrible- so nasty, so backstabbing. so stop pretending we were kids, it was foolish of you.
well it was, because you made a powerful enemy, adventure. although my place is fading i still will have my revenge: before i die along with the celestial realm.
bye- not for the last time,
Dystopian.
Dear bi-fi,
it is much harder to write to you: since i can't drone on about how horribly you betrayed me since, well, before that day we weren't close: just allies in capture the flag. but i thought you were my friend, not a bff but a friend. but i guess since adventure had the hots for you you had to go on his and poetry's side. guess i can't be surprised, you horrible trash can.
i hated playing capture the flag with you anyway.
but you could have made up when you were adults. but i guess because you and adventure started dating you stayed on his side.
So yeah, that small arson attack was actually really fun.
Hopefully I'll see you never again,
Dystopian.
Dear Horror,
oh you cheating, lying double-agent scum. i know you will have forgotten about everything, so i'll tell you- in extreme detail just to make you feel bad. you were my boyfriend, a hot one at that. when poetry branded me a liar after he revealed he was a complete bully i expected you to protect me and you did- at first.
but then i walked into you wjile you were talking to poetry about how I was such a naive idiot.
I left you then.
Hope you feel guilty now, it will make me feel very better.
Your ex who is much too good for you,
Dystopian.
Dear Real-fi,
oh- now you're being so kind and sweet and caring to everyone. would love you to have done that when we were kids.
we always didn't see eye to eye. i believed that adults needed to see the real person inside of everyone, but you pulled a fake persona every time a grown up came into your life and thought it was fine.
so, i've decided to not arson the inn although i bet you will do that to the dystopian realm when you have the chance. i wish to stay out of your way: my life is much better that way.
-Dystopian
Dear Non-fi,
ugh- why does everyone seem to have so much food! i'm hungry just thinking about the lovely bread you must be baking right now!
i know you didn't take a side back when we were kids, and i have to say thank you for that. although i did not win the argument, your piece-making made it that it came to a close without a big physical fight.
and now you don't have to cut contacts with anyone because they don't believe what you believe! you are so big brain! haven't got much to say to you, haven't talked in a while but- i guess thank you for not being against me?
Your neutral,
Dystopian.
Dear Script,
hey, neutral! how are you doing on the stage, does it suit you: all the fame and popularity? if your current musical gets you into Hollywood then get me something, okay? like, a big peal necklace or pure gold earrings. something flashy i can show of to the celestial realm if i survive. i mean, maybe i am not an ally of yours but still *puppy eyes*
I don't remember you and me contacting much as kids. You were too into the big peices of paper with musical notes scrawled on. not that is a bad thing.
Hope you have a good performance,
Dystopian
Dear Hi-fi,
how is all the robbery going? planning a big heist or something flashy? found enough spades: i'm dis-enchanting some spades that I will be enclosing in this parcel. hope that gets you closer to the 200 spades you need. glad your robbing poetry: down with them! if you need any help finding their weakness, contact us: after fighting poetry since kids I know how you do it. anyway, just wondering if you want a fairwell gift from us? i'm going to be giving them to everyone who wants them, apart from enemies. i'm not going to give them wonderful chocolates with laced icing to anyone other than neutrals such as you and allies.
See you if we ever get out,
Dystopian.

November 5th

the flower's I used were carnations, daisies, clover, euphorbia, ferns
It was a normal day, Mum trying to balance out her work with spending time with us, her kids by having a “special outing” to the garden centre. The locked area's carnations had withered and without the pretty pink flowers blooming around the place it just seemed like a boring dull padlock with weeds tangled up at the rusty old gate. Rosie was bounding up and down in absolute joy, looking at her patterned frock to see which plant matched the stitches embroidered on the white silky fabric. “Oh Mommy, look-” she pointed to the daisies in the neat pots “They match my pretty dress. Can I please have one?” Mum laughed, a hollow laugh as she checked her half-empty wallet. “Sure dear,” she grimaced and handed out a ten pound note. “Sure.”
Rosie quickly grabbed the closest flowering one and flopped it onto the trolley. Mum looked at me, and with that we were off, Mum taking notes because she's a price inspector. She usually has to check in garden centres because they were the highest pay she could find. She used to work for a big manifacturing company- and the uniform had a big clover sewn on the pocket. I had recently aquired a book on flowers: apparently clover meant industry. Even if that was a coincidence it still was a bit of an inside joke for me (and mum when I told her).
But now she was in bright yellow dungarees with a basic white t-shirt, a smiley sun stitched on the yellow fabric. She was wearing a straw hat and she hummed a tune under her breath: a energetic song. She pulled out her old, crackly phone and scrolled through her many texts about “lavender prices going up” and “blah blah blah daisy's ten pounds!” She mumbled- a hissing sound as she prodded a grey text. “Ugh, give her the euphorbia price: its 20 pounds per given the hot climax” she muttered, scribbling a scrawled note (it was the words “oh the vain self-centered bully”) She looked at me, tears filling her eyes: “oh please, find Rosie and stay with her.”
I nodded and rushed off, following the call of laughter (and the trail of soil from the daisy plant she possibly was uprooting right that second.)
Finally I caught up with her and she immediatly pushed me away. “Go away Lavender-” she snorted horribly, stroking the white petals of the daisy's. She shoved a fern at me- but as I remembered what ferns meant in ancient times and I grinned- pulling her into a sweet embrace.
Free writing
As soon as Oswald opened his mouth I knew there was trouble. The mountains had not been farming much gold lately: and gran said that it was because most of it had been found ages ago. Oswald was the person in charge of stuff such as rations, and the collection of any gold found. So he was also the messenger of bad news, since he had close contact of the king and was his messanger for the mountains: and the king only ever gave bad news.
Rations had been low for a while, and everyone was starving. The grain was bare and although we had harvested tons last month Oswald was hanging onto it and using most of its so we had to make do with a cup of grain every two weeks or so. The flour was worse as the kingdom was reluclant when sending it to the mountains, so having a few teaspoons made you extremely lucky.
Anyway, when Oswald opened his big fat mouth I heard many villagers creep away, because if you crossed his path when he gave bad news then he'd kick you where the sun don't shine.
But today he gave the expected news, the king was unhappy and would be giving us less and less food. One of the exiled kingdom kind
November 7nth
The kingdom was starving. For so long the gold found in the mines had been decreasing, and that meant less food. Less and less food. The boys and girls, in their matching green dungarees dug and dug at the mines, and so did the men- lavishing away to the core of the brittle mountains. Oswald was not impressed, and since he was in charge of the rations we got less and less and he got more and more.
One day, the king was visiting- checking no-one was “depriving” him from his precious gold, when Elias gave a squeak of horror. His house had plenty of gold inside, Oswald had been doing secret buisness with him for years now.
He gave another one as the king, stoked over to him, dressed in so much finery.
“What do we have here?”
The prison cells were full with conniving men, glamorous women and children with lollies stuffed in their moth eaten socks. They were all crammed into tiny cells: and around fifteen were rattling on the bars per cell. But there was one person, alone in a big cell: a dark hood basically glued onto their head, and chalk scribbled on the walls: a tally of how many days they have been their: and by the look of it it has been a few years since they had seen the light of day. Guards filled in daily, checking on everything: giving them a few slaps to keep them in check but they stayed still- even when the hits left marks they did not flinch. Noone knew who this was, they were just a random person who's sentence was kept a secret. No-one dared take of their hoodie, until one day. Suddenly their was a shot and a bang.
Water dripped from the small brook running through a crack in the ceiling of the cave. A puddle underneath it was clear and if you dared grapple with it then you could feel gems ripening the small leaks. Sounds echoe the cave, and rumors are that their are ghosts. And there are. One comes over, a perfect replica of Edmund Hillary apart from the transperent look about him. He squeals in pain, and his stomach is sucked in- his eyes looking in perfect terror. “no-” he yells as he dissapears quickly. And he whispers his secret to you: and then his life is taken away.



Daily "writing a letter for a future self

Dear Future Willow,
are you (or is it we?) still best friends with the gang? hope so- although Zara has been drifting of lately so maybe she decided to go off with Cade.
Are we (you? i don't get it at all.) still into Chris Colfer, the most amazing writer in, like, all of published history! Okay, that sounds cringey and i' m not meaning too: I just happen to be embarrasing for a living
Still partcipating in SWC, hopefully. I'll be quite disappointed if you aren't: apply for next session if you missed out for whatever reason: you were away or something else.
Have you yet gone to england?If you have, then good for you! Was Harry Potter World as good as you thought it was? If you haven't yet then remember that it will be an amazing treat when you do.
Who's your teacher currently? Hopefully Mrs Marshall (she is the best) but if you have already gone to that new school then i hope none are scary. But you know most of them because of Dad, so don't worry. You'll have a great time! Don'y lose any sleep over it.
I'm not sure i will be able to see your reply if you bother answering/ sending a letter back,
Present Willow

Weekly 2 <33
Song writing

I was just picking flowers from the mossy ledge,
I had dropped a daisy and a rose bright red.
You ignore the rose so loved, and pick up the broken daisy.
You hand it over, and maybe you think i'm crazy..but!

I've fallen for you, very well
How little i know about you, but still i blush
I've fallen deep, you sold me- i can tell (i can tell-ell-ell)
And you keep buying me with soppy mush.

And you keep giving me fresh flowers,
each a pretty daisy,
until one day they wither and my eyes go hazy.
You used me- it was nothing genuine
everything was fake.
you used me- it was nothing genuine,
oh for goodness sake.

Why didn't I see it before?
He concealed it, but i should have seen it.
All those remarks he hid- I should have seen it.
But I didn't, and that's not okay.
But I deserve it- to live with the guilt.

I've fallen for you , very well.
how little i know about you, but still i blush.
I've fallen deep, you sold me- I can tell(tell-ell)
And you keep buying me with soppy mush.

And you keep giving me fresh flowers,
each a pretty little daisy.
until one day they wither and my eyes go hazy.
you used me- it was nothing genuine
everything was fake.
you used me- it was nothing geniune,
oh for goodness sake.

Now clear all the gardens,
not a single daisy i will allow in my sight.
I want to prove him i'm not a tiny daisy,
or a little girl being bought by pretty flowers.
So clear all the gardens,
I wont be bought no more.
So dump all the daisies forever more.

No, I won;t be bought no more.
I'm not as inoccent as i seem ,
my daisies withered a long time ago,
'lucky for me (lucky for me)
So I can't be bought no more (no more, no more)
Cause theirs nothing to be bought with now.

So dump all these daisies, forevermore.
i'm not a pretty flower,
nomore

Part 1
Me: Hello Coco {smiles warmly} As a member of the mystery cabin, {pauses} i would like to know your insight and your view on this session. Is that okay with you? {breaks of}
Coco: Hi {smiles back} Yes, of course {pauses} This session has been amazing so far, especially as it is my first. I have had so much fun participating in it. {breaks off}
Me: Oh, so it was your first session? {eyebrows raise} Cool! {they lower again} How do you feel about your cabins ranking currently? Do you thing it will get higher, or lower?
Cocoystopian's been top of the leaderboard for a while, and I'm not really sure how that'll play out, {pauses} but I think that Mystery will overtake Horror again and get back into third place {laughs}.
Me:{grins} Not sure how to process that you are not sure that the marvelous cabin I belong in, Dystopian, is going to win but- {shrugs} Fine. Yeah, horror has been clinging on to third: hopefully they get bumped off soon. {grins}
Coco:{laughs} Well, we'll see what happens! And I can definitely agree with you on that one, Horror needs to go- {grins}
Me: {laughs back} But at least Horror isn't climbing up, they are just clinging on {mimes someone attempting to grab at a rock} Like that.
—————–
Coco:Hello Emma {smile}, as a member of the cabin with the highest points so far, how are you feeling?
Me: {grins happpily} very proud, but also a bit nervous because well, {shrugs} you can't boast about it as you might get bumped off any second
Coco: {laughs} yeah, I bet! How's your experience been this session in general? {smiles}
Me: Well, {pauses to think} at first I did every daily but then they just didn't click so, {guilty laugh} i've ended skipping a few of them

Me:
Part 2
When my parents suggested I started working as a babysitter, I was delighted! Kids had always been my strong suit, they always crawled up to me and got me to help them. It was rather sweet of them, actually, and I really did love them. So when they suggested that to me, I was over the moon in joy! It would be so fun, with all the little kiddies running at me- and maybe I would get a chance feeding a baby! I had never done that before! Or maybe I would get to be the brave knight when they play! I had immediately took my parents up on the offer, fantasizing about all the fun I might have. I put out an advertisment offering my babysitting services. Only a few days later I got a reply from a desperate single mum with four children, in need of someone to look after her kids whilst she was out of the house. I went to school that day, and all I could think about was all the angelic little ones that I would get to take care of after school. And then I finally met them… It was a disaster, I had expected them to be angelic sweet little things, with cute little sparkly eyes and blonde hair- but I was wrong, everything was so unexpected! First there was the Mom. I had prepared for a women who was in a hurry, but she was far from that. Instead she was an overbearing Mom, who kept adjusting the hair of the blonde good as gold girl who was getting into the modeling buisness. Ugh. And then the kids. As soon as their mum had left they went into a little devil mode. They seemed to be doing everything they could, going out of their way to make my life a misery. They got into the kitchen cupboards and started playing with the most extravagant looking glassware. I did my best to keep them away, but it was no use. As I was clearing away the broken glass, they snuck away with several bottles of paint to create some ‘pretty artworks,’ as they put it. How could one make such a big mess in such a short space of time? I tried to be as benevolent as possible, but I could see it in their eyes.They were enjoying this. I had spent hours scrubbing the paint of the house, but it still looked like a graffiti mess. Oh god, that single mum was going to kill me! What would my parents say? So I slipped into the kitchen and started boiling some pasta, while heating up a store-bought sauce. Then the kids arrived, grinning- their eyes sparkling in excitement. The pushed me forward, heaved and I collapsed, the boiling water sloshing down my front. Oh god! They laughed a cheeping laugh and then ran down to their gigantic room. And they were so fast!


Part 3
I want you to think very carefully about every object you have used: may it be stationary, or a tennis ball: or cricket gear. Maybe you might seem like it is just an inanimate object, that it wouldn't matter if it was to disappear. But would you actually like to live with no objects, none at all? With absolutely nothing to haul?
That wouldn't be nice: how would you do stuff in everyday life? You wouldn't even be able to cook: there would be no knife! And what if they went on strike? There would certainly be certain things to dislike.
And what would be one of the major reasons they dumped you, or are on strike, if they did is because you mistreated them. Didn't look after them, drop all of them on the ground or perhaps decide to dump them under your bed- this is like treading on a flowers stem. This breaks, them, ruins them maybe. Would you like to be tripped up or stepped on like that, as small as a baby?
Maybe you need some examples, since many of you might not even know what i am talking about.
A pencil, being dropped on the floor- their lead would snap and if they could talk they would SHOUT!
A water bottle, clattering to the concrete ground again and again- they would crack and leak and boy, would you blush!
A hairbrush, being kept on the shelf- they would be lost and boy would you be annoyed when you next needed to brush!
A computer, being used with food crumbs littering the keyboard- it would jam and make the keys all stiff and it would be hard to type!
Tissues, being crammed to the bottom and when you next had a snotty noise there is nothing to use to wipe!
Books, being splattered with food and drinks and when you want to read it the words are blacked out!
Measuring scales, being fiddled with so when you attempt to see how many grams of sugar you have put in it gives you a very incorrect number that is wrong without a doubt!
There are so many bad things that happen when you mistreat an object: these are negative consequences that affect other aspects of your day. Whenever it is, june july or may.
And they are expensive! So expensive and you keep ruining them (yes that is offensive.) How much did that cricket bat cost? What about that squash racket that really looks squashed? Or that antique typrewriter you got for your birthday? Or that china doll you like to clean on thursday? Oh, and of course we can't forget your new stuffed toy? What about that sandpapered twig boy?
To answer all your questions I would say, a lot! They all have different costs, but them must have cost a lot! And probably your poor parents had to buy them! Kiddo, be a gem. And don't break them!
So now you know why you should look after your precious belongings, because you need them- and if you mess around with them you will have to get a new one: and they usually cost quite a lot.
Tootles, I'll come around tommorrow to see you tudying the house!

November 16th
At first she was yellow.
She was my yellow buttercup, the one who told you you weren't alone.
She was my yellow Saturn, surrounding me: her sun.
She was my yellow duck: making me laugh as she waddled around.
She was my star: making everything brighter around her, showing that there is hope in the dark.
She was my honeycomb- sweet and sugar-coated.
She was my canary, singing a song to raise my spirits.
Then she was my grey.
She was my grey in the distance, the figure walking away as the mist hides them.
She was my grey, the elephant squashing me out from love and hope.
She was my grey, the sea churning out in the horizon: out of reach.
And then she was my pink- or so i thought.
I thought she was the pink flowers brushing my cheek in a loving way.
I thought she was that love heart presented on valentines day.
I thought she was the pink cherry blossoms daintily falling to the ground.
I thought she was the pink radish: good for you and making you feel better.
But she was red.
She was my red dripping spear, plunging into my side at any movement.
She was my inferno, raging at me and surrounding me while i choke and cough.
She was my red coral- sharp and dangerous.
And guess what her name was?
Daphne Red.

You take a bite,
it pleases you.
You were right,
it tastes delicious, like it was bought from the supermarket new!
You swipe a bit of the icing off,
and you stick it in your mouth with a muffled cough.
Yum, you think,
what a surprise!
You sip your ice cold drink,
and there is nothing about this moment you despise.
You love cake,
with a vanilla tinge.
And as the day breaks,
you realise that cake is a better treatment than anything in a syringe.

Weekly 3 <33
part 1
proof not given due to not being able to photograph the pictures, but has been done
part 2
Me: hi! it would be great if i could have some motivation to complete my writing competition entry-
Cynthialz: Hey Willow! I know it feels super duper stressful when the deadline starts creeping up on you, but I'm confident you can do it! Just think about how satisfying it will be when you finish and how many points it could win your cabin! Of course, points aren't the only good think that'll come out of finishing up your entry it'll also help you to improve as a writer! I already know your entry is going to be simply amazing and I wish you luck! <3
SussyLegWarmers-: Hey! I'm in need of the same thing. Right now, think of the wave of satisfaction that you'll feel once you finish. How proud you'll be. The deadline is creeping but remember, you can write. Think about how it'll help your cabin in the long run!
SussyLegWarmers_: I need some motivation to finish my entry for the writing competition.
Me: You've got this! All you need to do is identify what you want to write about it, and then you are away! Whatever you decide to go with, it will be amazing, I promise! Always remember to stop if you aren't having fun writing the entry <3
Whirlygig: hiii! It would be great if I could have some motivation to study for my math test and work on my comic <3
Me: I believe in you! I promise, acing that math test will be a breeze! If you are having a bit of a problem studying then I recommend listening to music (as stated below) and taking small breaks often, instead of long breaks not so often! And about that comic? If it is digital, then I recommend just sketching a story board on paper, and if it is on paper then just go with the flow, and if it looks stiff then maybe loosen your grip on the pencil? You have got it!
TheBibliophile7: Ah, can I have some motivation to work on my writing comp entry? I feel like everyone's needing motivation for this, lol, but I really need to work on it…
Me: You've got this! Maybe go over to the brainstorming group if you don't know what to write about, but if you do know what to write about then just go to the laptop (or typewriter, or refill pad- whatever you write on) and keep thinking about what you want to go into this piece. If you don't feel confident with your piece after you write it, go and do the critique activity! You have got this nailed!


part 3
checklist <33
- reading
- exercise
- water drinking
- reading
- spread affection
{Persuasive Piece}
Self care is an important part of our life if we wish to stay healthy- both physically and mentally. But how do we exactly use self care? Well, what you need to do is pretty much just do some tasks that help you!
But what tasks, you must be wondering. Well, here is a list of tasks that work for me: I hope these work for you too!
To start of us, I must say reading. I know, I know, many dislike reading but I promise- it is a very soothing activity to help clear your mind of whatever drama you are facing. Diving into a whole different universe really helps getting grips with yourself! It is actually scientifically proven!
Now, if you want to stay healthy then going for a jog is a good idea! Even if you only run a lap or two it still makes a difference! The reccomended time of excersise is an hour a day, and you don't have to do it at once! So just sprinting, or swimming, or playing a sport is really good for you- and on the good side it also gets you away from your devices for a while!
Being dehydrated is a really bad thing! It makes you feel really bad inside, and the amount of water you should at least drink is 6 cups ( a day.)
When you feel bad, what is a way to make you feel better and someone else as well? By spreading kindness, of course! Just by complementing someone you can feel a smile itching on your face- and you can watch someone grin as well!





Writing comp entry
The day I saw her was the day my life changed.
I had no idea what my past was, why I was made- those questions I sought. So I looked everywhere for those answers- and then I met you.
I think the music brought me to you. The silvery harmony just echoed across the halls, each note seemingly sung by an angle. It crept up behind me, the first time I entered the place it felt like it wanted me.
So I followed it. I followed it up the corridors, into nooks an cranny's- everywhere, and then I found the source of the high melody.
That was her.
She sat on a chipped wooden stall, winding the threadbare wool around the strings of copper wire. Each time she weaved a note the house shook with the sound.
I peaked at her, hiding behind the curtain to shield herself from the temptation of showing myself. After hours of watching, she got up- flicking her long braid and went, her shoes tapping the floor every time like a drum.
As soon as she left, a shadow morphed in front of me. She held out her hand for a sealed deal and started to tell me my past…







Weekly 4The wispy haired girl gave me a funny look as she spotted the rag that was much cleaner than her oily greasy one. “Oi,” she announced in a silly american accent that would surely make the snooty posh upper class stare. “This is my job, it jolly well ‘aint yours, mate.” I sighed and got down on my knees, coughing as the soot from the bottom of the train clouded up in the foggy air. “Daphne Red is my name, and I have got a role here.” I smiled, tucking a strand of my silky brown hair behind my ear. “Daphne red?” she screamed, snapping all of a sudden. “I have to share a room with you and some other twits?”
I wriggled again in my soft cotton bed sliding around slightly on the rocky ground. The sound of honking is repeating every ten minutes, and whenever I fall asleep it makes me jump. That cycle has been repeated hundreds of times already, and the circles under my eyes make me look like a panda on a train. Cling! The sound beeps up on me, scaring the wits of me and I scramble out of bed- willing myself to go and shovel some coal into the furnace as the train is slowly slowing down. But something strange is going on, it is like the coal is refilling itself. Huh. Must be the sleep deprivation side effects. So I get into bed and the cycle starts all over again.
The train screeches to a halt, and the staff crowding around the mist sprayed windows could see orange sparks flying into the air with a crackling noise. “Must be someone from the subway coming to join us” the girl in the dorm (well, it isn’t really a room but a separated area on the second floor) next to me comforts, but she has a nervous look on her face that matches all the other expressions crowded upstairs (the space made only for staff.) She stares into the distance and screams-“their is a train.” but as the words echoed through the tunnels, it screeched to a halt like our train had and dissapeared up the way it had came down. The train I was on started speeding in the opposite direction- we were not law abiding citizens so getting caught could lose our lives.
I woke up, my eyes fluttering open but instantly closing again due to the bright light shining in my eyes. Huh? Wasn't the train setting off before I closed my eyes? The wispy haired girl swept a lock her messy hair and flicked it back in a bullying fashion. “You've been out all day, clogs.” She snapped, for the first time not pictured with the same old holey oily rag. “But what about the other train- and the- the-” I whispered faintly, fingering my badge with the text “Daphne Red- Staff” printed on it. “Classic dream.” She hissed, trembling with rage that I ‘could be such an idiot.’ to say in her words. I got up- and plunked back down, putting pressure on my ribcage. “Oh yah you yab dooda doodle” she added “take a tiny bit of ‘ime to adjust from the ’ltitude.” And then she leaves me alone in the big spacey medical room that is bigger than the dorms (you know the drill.)
I'm still in bed. My ribs are healing from the wound i got from having a box full of coal pushed onto my head, but I still can't return to my job and everyone else is currently heaving coal and wiping the train- all those fun jobs that are better than feeling like you are on probitation even through bed time is completely different. A lonely tear dripped of my face as I curled in the matress less cosy to the one in the dorm. How I wished to be outside, it would mean the world to me! But I'm not. In a day i'm out, but every second seems a minute every minute seems an hour- reliving 24 hours here seems to be the same as 24 days! That is more than a week- two weeks, it is 3 weeks and a bit. My ears got clogged as the train went through a bumpy patch. I heard screaming through the blocking in my ears. Actually, for the moment maybe it wasn't such a bad thing.
As I lugged the coal into the raging fire, I grinned at the girl who was almost identical to the wispy haired girl (names harriet) apart from she was shorter and slimmer and smiled instead of frowned. Her name was Ella and she was my best friend. She was helped me up the stairs after my 24 hours was up, and she strayed away from cooking dinner for the passengers onboard to help me with the tons of coal I was forcefully shoveling with a spade into the fire. “Creamy savory suprise with tomato sauce for starters, buffet to japan today and muffins for tea” she echoed while sniffing in the smoky air. “Sound delish, but i don't enjoy cooking at all. Rather stay and shovel coal- but i'll join you for cooking duty tommorrow.” We held hands, smiling and grinning but then a booming voice snuck up on us. “What are you doing, Daphne, with my sister?”
I stuttered to explain, but it was plainfully obvious with the hand holding that I wasn't going to start sparring her. If that was what Harriet wanted (and that I had no clue on the topic). Struck for words, I scrambled for an excuse in my brain but failed miserably to find one. On no- what would she do? But luckily I had Ella to rely on. “She's my friend, f.r.i.e.n..d” she yelled in her sisters ear and picked up a slippy and wet piece of unusable coal and threw it in Harriets face. Grinning smugly at the blackened face attacking her, she grabbed my arm and rushed of into the kitchen. “Come on, Daphne- lets go cook!” As we raced around the bend, she stopped at a hault. “Sissie is so mad mad mad,” she sung in glee, leaving black fingerprints all over the wall. “Oops- but harry harry it will get the blame blame blame!” She added, and we sprinted to the kitchen to help prepare the rest of the meal.
The smell wafting through the kitchen smelled great. Smelled greater than great, actually. A creamy riccota was being served onto several posh white plates- enough for every client on board and staff member to have a helping. A bubbling tomato sauce was cooling in the pot, and some muffins were cooling on the cooling rack. But in the other corner the chicken was being coated in soy sauce- udon was dripping with a silky kind of dressing and their was tofu with tiny fish flakes sprinkled on top to add a bit of pop. Their was some cream needing a bit of a whisk- two bowls actually and so me and Ella both grabbed a whisk and whipped up some cream to plop on the chocolate brownies coming out of the oven and to complement the muffins. Yum, yum yum! After that is done the muffins are seemingly stuck to the racks! Sliding a knife under each muffin, we (and a few others who had not ditched like Ella) seperated the muffins from the rack, and after they cooled down for a few more minutes plopped them on a plate for serving to finish off the meals. Finally it was done, and we waddled down to dining hall to satify our hunger.
I had never set my eyes on the customers riding on the train. Us staff were supposed to keep to ourselfs, that was proper. So we never ever went near anyone who was not a staff member because we needed people on our train to help. Duh. But right now it was impossible to just walk past all of them, the men in suits with blazers jingling with the medals pinned on. The women had curled hair that was so big on top of their head it may have just been a wig. And the little girls and boys- so neat, neat as a pin and pale faces that made them look ill- and the most red lips that looked like lipstick had been chalked on. I felt so guilty with my sooty face that I rushed into the servants eating quarters and almost bumped into Harriet.
“So, like, I hit the monster on the head and-” Ella broke off in a smile as she saw I was looking open mouthed at her dramatic and almost certainly not real story. “And then i-” she continued, before being interupted by Harriet clasping a hand over her mouth. “Your such an egg, egg, sis” she screamed at her sister, growling slightly as the slightest bit of coal strand slip between her two eyes. “Just leave the train- you don't belong here at all.” She mimed pushing someone else, and then turned to me with a bit of glee in her eyes. “THat appys for you, too, Daphne. I'm too willing to give you a shove of the train.”
Later, the rocky train is slowly chugging across the subway tunnels, the sweet smell of cooking wafting through my nose. Wait- cooking? I immediatly open my eyes, quickly putting on my bronze star dressing gown and slipped down the crooked stairs that decided not to creak to loudly for once and I could hear chimes dinging quietly through the big train. Oh no, I had slept through the getting up alarm. Maybe I wouldn't get breakfast- i hadn't sat through or seen a punishment. I carefully joined the back of the queue, grabbing a plate and hoping for the best. No one noticed and I joined Ella at the bottom stair.
Wjen you think of waffles and pancakes, do you think of yum? Well, some pancakes and waddles are soggy and wet and not fluffy and have too much baking soda so they get too big. Well, this was not the case this time- the drizzling maple syrup dripped over the top just boosted the flabour of the vanilla waffles, and made breakfast an enjoyable time and not just milk like it was as a maid (maids are not top prioity) The hoops of bread with sprinkles ontop were dunked into the maple syrup bowls two shared, they tasted like cocopops but different. Well, I don't actually know what cocopops are but- still. The winding stairs leading up to the driving cabin were not creaky, and we were allowed to sit their although we had to make sure not to spill anything because important stuff were upstaairs- including the steering wheel and the drivers room for himself. Lucky beast! As I spotted Harriet fingering a lump of bread I couldn't help grin. We had taken the last serve of waffles- right before her!
Bump! The train hauled to a stop, and some very snooty looking women jumbled out onto the polished floor of the underground station with their noses up turned. One of the jolly staff pushed us out onto the streets, dishing out the oily rags that were already oily. Ew! A few of the more lively girls seperated me from Ella and I was forced to work on one of the more dirty floored spaces to reach the tire they wanted to clean because it had less dirt. But seriously, that was smart! My rag had turned a dark shade of black by the time the wheel was squeaky clean- but mine was the only one dirty out of all the girls. They just look at their nails while i rub away working myself into a fit, but finally it was over and I could meet up and find Ella.
Sweat beading on my forehead as I attempted to crack a bit of coal in half- “Come on, this is so hard! Why do we have to break up the coal? Can't we just put it in.” I slam my spade on the coal, breaking it in two uneven pieces. “Oh dang, that aint even.” I scream quietly, silently crying in my mind. Maybe it wasn't all fun, helping out was not all the easy life. “Ugh, ugh ugh” I attempt to savor a bit of the coal and cough it onto the smaller piece of coal. Nope- it doesn't work and just makes my hands incredibly black and sooty. “You better do this, Ella, your better at this.” I exclaimed, dropping the wooden spade onto the ground that is crowded with minerals and matches from when someone assumed it was better to light a fire than keep one going and add to that. Huh, thats funny. And a bit weird, of course. Wiping the hair of my tanned olive forheard, and collapse in a heap on the floor- my umiform yetting drenched and the patterns slowly dissapearing before my very eyes. But I don't care, getting dirty is fun! I tuck another strand that wiggled loose a few seconds ago and start collecting the even sized coal and stacking them in piles for the ones on duty for restocking the fire. Ah, thats much better! Since the coal has been cut down the spade is unnescasary and I can just put them into patterns- smily faces and flowers: of I could just do it properly. Actually, no, patterning it is much more fun and its boring just stacking them on either sides. But then, when we hear clanging I start heaving the tall heavy piles onto the dusty corners with spiderwebs (with the spiders dead, of course.) As the door opens, I gasp and quickly hide behind a barrek full of large coal we are yet to actually cut in half. Harriet appears, her face red with anger. “Come out ‘Aphne, if meh sister is here so is you.”
Something happend- a sinking sensation fills be and as I look at my feel I can only see my legs above the floorboard. Soemthing really bad is happening- but I don’t know what. I shake my head (and I daydreaming?) and look down again, now I am only appearing above my knee length stockings. Oh gosh, I do feel shorter as I look at Harriet standing in the doorway with a smug look and grin itching on her smirking face. I look down, and scream in shock. The floorboards have made way to a giant hole into the void! Or a hole into the universe, just thought the viod is more referencable due to the only music made by THE VIOD is popping money at the time. Sorry, i'll stop ranting on about that. I cling onto the rope tied to the roof in case of immergancy, but i fall down down down.
Ding! My clock rings again, and again and again. Usually its in union with the getting up bell, but this time its all alone like on bird who was late for the dawn chorus. Wait, late- I'm late! Slipping on my uniform (pale yellow t-shirt, bronze jacket and beige skirt) I quickly run down the stairs before they notice that i'm not in the crowd. Oh wait, they have spotted me. They are grimacing as their eagle eyes soar the crowd in search for me. They falter and start stepping lightly towards me- their expression either upset and dissapointed or happy. Its hard to tell with officials.
They grin at me- okay, so they are happy- and plop a lonely crusty piece of paper into my pocket. The official grins in an absurd way and claps me on the back- not a form of punishment although it hurt like one. “Read it” one of the less dressed up fancy smancy staff hisses while keeping the official from hitting my back again. I grin and gtake it out, uncrumpling it and reading up. Oh boy, a promotion! They grin and pick up the speed of getting out of the hall. I take the piece of paper out of my pocket again and run up the stairs to Ella, grinning wildly.

Our SWC magazine, The Postscript, will be open for submissions all through November! Today, start working on an article about any SWC-related topic; once you've written at least 200 words, you can claim 100 points for your cabin. We encourage you to finish off your article before the end of the month and submit it to Robyno's (@-redredrobin-) profile (they should have a project shared by the end of the month) for publication!

LETS GET STARTED

LETS GET STARTED

Character Of Thriller -
Name- Leko
Qualities - Funny, Smart, Dark Academia, Extrovert, Competitive
Gender- Female