Weekly:

Part 1
Protagonist: Pua
Antagonist: Sydney
Deuteraragonists: Pua’s friends- Ari, Joss
Tertiary: students, teachers, the townsfolk

606 words

Lots of students enjoy school only because of friends. The friends you see there pretty much every day. The friends that support you.

Students swarmed around Pua as she got off her bus. She knew where she was headed, and where her friends were waiting. She did not want them to stay on her. She rushed toward the seventh-grade hallway entrance. As she ran she bumped into some PC (pretty, cool) girls. “Watch it shorty!” one of them yelled. She brushed it off and saw her friends. She smiled and ran up to them.

She was late for class. Again. Pua apologized to the teacher and pleaded to not mark her as tardy. Her parents would’ve gone ballistic if they’d known. She usually offers to do an extra assignment to wiggle out of it. Unlike the times before, the teacher said no. Pua slumped at her desk knowing how much trouble she was going to be in. “You were the one that bumped into me earlier, huh?” Pua looked the girl straight in the eyes. She had long blonde hair and blue eyes. She could see how she was considered “PC”. Pua squinted. “Yeah, uh sorry about that.” The girl looked at her and snorted. “I’m Sydney, guessing you’re a nerd, haven’t seen you around.” Pua looked at the girl. She thought, “She’s already giving assumptions.” She rolled her eyes.” I’m not popular, nor a nerd, but I’m in between.” Pua stated. “Pua.” She stuck out her hand. “What’s that for? Slapping?” Sydney said looking at Pua’s hand. Pua really thought the girl was clueless. She stuck her hand back in her pocket and popped a piece of gum in her mouth.

Ari nudged her. It was lunch time and Pua wasn’t hungry. She pushed her lunch to the side. “What?” Pua asked. “Look, the popular tables pointing at one of us, most likely you, but there's a possibility it’s someone else.” The popular kids laughed.

Pua went outside and was bombarded with tons of questions asking about something and someone. Pua didn’t remember what they were talking about. But she knew one of them had started a rumor because that’s all she started to hear.

“Pua bullied-”
“No, I heard Pua stuck-”
“I feel so bad for Sydney!”

Pua walked around feeling confused. This was the first time she ever heard a rumor spread about her. And she knew that girl from science probably made something up.

At the end of the day, Pua knew what was going around. Someone had spread a rumor that she stuck gum in Sydney’s hair, intentionally, because she was completely jealous of her blonde hair. Pua asked herself why anyone would think she would be jealous of a blonde. Who would think she would want to switch out her brown hair for blonde hair?

Sydney walked into the cafeteria majestically with a new haircut. While Pua stood in the lunch line, she looked over and saw her trotting with her hair bouncing behind her. It’s not like Pua cared. Sydney stood in the lunch line, right behind her, and decided to trash her with the food she had and threw it on her back. Pua looked back and called Ari and Joss over to the bathroom. She acted calm as she got there, but had a mental breakdown in the bathroom. “It’s okay Pua, you can borrow my basketball clothes, I always bring an extra pair,” Ari said sympathetically. Pua knew this girl was going to keep trying to make her reputation worse. About something she didn’t even do, PUa figured that’s how life will work. Blame, and anger.


Part 2

Static: Arianna Cole // Nickname: Ari // Gender: Female // Age: 13 // Personality: Caring, Independent, Jokester, Smart // Family: Mom - Neah Cole | Dad- James Cole | Sister- Adisyn Cole // Friends: Joslyn Chu, Pua Smith // Backstory: A 13-year-old girl who’s part of the basketball team, enjoys listening to music, and loves her friends.

Dynamic: Sydney Coleman // Nickname: Syd (only for close friends) // Gender: Female // Age: 13 ½ // Personality: Popular, Rich, and Cocky // Family: Mom- Amy Coleman | Dad- Eric Coleman | Brother- Jack Coleman // Friends: Pretty much all the popular kids // Backstory: A 13-year-old who’s popular at her school and likes ruining other people’s reputations and relationships with her friends.

Flat: Tom Hack // Gender: Male // Age: 15 // Personality: Loud, Nerdy, and Caring // Family: Emily Hack - Mom | Violet Hack - Sister | Greg Hack (passed) - Dad // Friends: Half of the kids at Miller Middle School // Backstory: a 15-year-old boy who’s much older than the three main characters, but the brother of one of Ari, Joss, and Pua’s kind-of friends.

Part 3

1015 words

Arianna:

I’m Arianna, 13 years old. I’m on the basketball team and have lots of friends. But the closest ones are probably Joslyn and Pua. They’re both supportive and amazing people.

I’m in most accelerated classes, most people think I’m dumb but I’m not. As I headed to my third-period class, I passed one of the most popular kids in school. Mya’s brother. What’s his name? Wasn’t it like Mack, Thomas, or something like that? But why was he in the seventh-grade hallway? Isn’t he in eighth grade? I walked quickly past him and met up with Mya, she’s one of my friends, but not close like Joslyn and Pua. “Hi Mya, you ready for our game today?” We had a game later today, Miller Middle School versus O’Hallman. We were feeling overly confident, well not all of us, but I sure was. “Yeah, lowkey kinda nervous, but yeah,” Mya replied. Mya was definitely nervous. She normally stared down when she was. I put my arm around her. “We’re definitely going to win!”

Sydney

“Oh my gosh, you should totes wear that to school!” I said looking at my friends' outfits. We decided to skip school and go to the mall. She wanted to wear an outfit that looked like a crossing guards vest and some jeans that won’t even match the color. No way will she take over my spot of being queen bee. I have to say yes to all of the ugly outfits! She came out with a cute crop top and jeans to die for. Did she even have the money to pay for that? “Oh… Uh, that clashes with that color, maybe change the whole outfit.” I said looking at its top from bottom. But it was actually the most perfect outfit. A white crop top with a cross and jeans that were wider. Sadly there were none in my size. “Hey, we should do a matching outfit! Normally you choose, so I think I’ll choose the outfit this time. Plus I think I’m getting better at matching clothes!” Ava said. I think Ava wants to try to take over my spot as the queen bee. She was one of my experiments. I tried making her go from nobody to somebody! And sadly it worked, so she better not take my spot after all I’ve done for her.

Pua

It’s weird how popular kids become popular. Most of them are annoying and arrogant, so how do they have friends? Wouldn’t they be in the bully clique?

I’m Pua, and I go to Miller Middle School. It’s a preparatory school where most snobs and rich kids go. Most people think that when you go to an expensive school, you’re rich. But that’s the opposite for my family. We struggle with money, and more. My mom had recently been remarried. Our dad left us, the reason unknown. But my mom was always getting hurt. When our dad left us, she said it was for the better. Now, some other dude, Reggie, always ignores my mom and doesn’t give any credit to her. She’s always trying to talk to him, but he pretends he’s on the phone. But I guess he’s an upgrade. Why? Because my dad used to abuse my mom. Whenever she did something he didn’t like, he would hurt her. And that was traumatizing. He would punish us kids like he’s never punished anyone before. And he wasn’t doing it for the best. Not because we were misbehaving. Not because we weren’t doing our homework. But because he just didn’t like us I suppose. And since it’s becoming wintertime, my dad starts to call. He keeps trying to call, text, and just talk to me and my brother in general. I want to block him so much, but I feel like I can’t since he’s my dad. I don’t even know why I call him my dad! He’s clearly done nothing for the family but has made us worse.

I hate school. I like my friends. But I hate school. The popular kids make it bad. They make fun of me, and Arianna always supports me. Joslyn too, but she has other friends. “It’s okay Pua. It could always be worse.” My mom always says. And then she hugs me. Every single time I tell her.

Arianna


Out of all people, why does Pua get bullied? Well, one of our EX-FRIENDS shared a secret Pua told us not to tell anyone. I can’t write it down in this notebook even. It must stay in our locked minds. But she shared the secret with lots of people, and Pua gets made fun of for it. It’s a very serious situation. Why would you share a secret about that?

Pua

Last year I told my friends about my dad.

Sydney

Oh my gosh. That’s Tom! He’s the most popular guy in school, and so cute! Oh uh, and yeah Pua’s secret. The one about her dad? That’s hilarious! He went to go get the milk!

Pua

I question why that rumor is still around, but it’s not like I can do anything about it. The popular team has ruined my life. They say, “Oh Pua are you going to get picked up by your dad? Oh shoot wait, he’s still getting the milk!” They think they’re so funny.


Arianna

To be honest, the popular group should burn their finger while drinking soup. They’re all bad news…

Sydney

Wait- they’re bad-mouthing me?! Why? What did I do? Other than probably spreading tons of rumors about Pua’s dad and making fun of Arianna, what did I do? They caused me to go to the principal’s office! It’s all their fault. I didn’t even do anything.

Arianna
I think Sydney talks about other people so much, she doesn’t even realize she’s being mean. Maybe she should go to a boot camp, where all of the kids after attending go, “Well, I realized I didn’t want to be that person anymore.” Luckily everything was resolved after reporting her, well most.

Daily #8
400 words

She approaches the door, ever so slightly, and reaches toward the doorknob, with shaking hands. The doorknob creaks as she goes in, leaving the door open; an easy escape, but immediately the door closes on its own. She shivers, as she stares at the ruins, trying to find something worth of gold, as her only reason she dare enter is only for an item of cost. Slowly, she crouches down, finding an emerald necklace, gleaming through the pile of ruckus. Something to feed her tonight! A smile widened across her face, and she grabs it, kisses it, but suddenly she feels the ground shaking. It was just like the myths. No, those were fake. She was silly for believing such tales. Still clutching the emerald necklace, she runs –a steady jog, at most– towards the door, but the ground breaks ahead of her, leaving no chance of escape. What had she done? She dashes up the stairs, to /hopefully/ find a window to jump out of, but the stairs recede behind her, leaving her completely bewitched. Had she made a mistake? She finds a window, but the glass gets a mind of its own, and stabs her, leaving her laid on the floor, completely still. Tears rush down her face. The furniture is moving. No, she was making this up. Maybe it was all a dream. No. The stabbed area pained dearly. She wasn't in control of her own thoughts anymore. Voices were coming and going through her head, the intrusive thoughts booming inside her head. She couldn't give up on herself like that. But she was dead; mentally. She still was alive, down on the floor, extremely tense, as she tries, struggles, at the very least, to retain herself; her head was going against her. Why had she come in here? A hand creeps through the side of the wooden plank, grabbing her. No, she had to make it out alive. Run. Get up! What are you doing? She lets out a scream, but her voice is drowned out. She no longer feels like her own self; her self consciousness has taken over. Suddenly, her head starts to ache; her body falling, her vision flickering, leaving herself limp on the floor. She had given up on herself; as she had no escape, and was now part of the mortals that dared enter this house, just as the myth said.

Daily No. 8! 714 words!


I could see the cave up ahead, its opening leading into a tunnel of darkness. The sun was starting to set quickly as well, I tried to speed up, I needed to reach the cave before dark before the creatures came out. A foot from the cave something in the dark shadows suddenly leaped toward me.

“Farah! Don't scare me like that!” I yelled
“Sorry, Elaine! It's getting dark and I was scared you weren't going to make it in time!” My sister squealed, throwing her arms around me.
“Okay, okay. Just don't come charging at me like that again. You're like a wild animal,” I added laughing. “Come on, let us go make a fire and roast the turkey I caught.”
“O-o-o-h! A turkey!? We'll be feasting like kings for weeks!”
"Well, maybe a week but we'll see, I guess,“ I replied, herding Farah along toward the cave as I tried to not think of us having to stay more than one week.

I knelt down beside the firewood, trying to get a spark with the little bit of flint I had left. After some minutes of struggle, we finally had a raging fire before us. I relaxed my weary muscles for a moment as I sat warming my hands and looking out into the night.
”The creatures won't come up here right, Elaine?“ Farah asked nervously
”No, they're scared of the firelight. Remember?“ I replied wearily, closing my tired eyes for a moment.
”What happens when we go to sleep?“ My sister persistent
”We'll just have to keep the fire going all night.“
”O-okay. Will we take shifts for tending it?“
I grunted as I stood up and stretched, ”Yes, yes. I'll take the first shift. Now, will you help me with the turkey?“ I wanted to add ‘and stop asking stupid questions’ but I held my tongue, there was no use in getting into a fight.

I watched the shadows on the ceiling of the cave as my sister moved about trying to make our current living space as comfy as possible. The turkey slowly roasted on a handmade spit above the fire while I thought about our situation. We were still confused about how we ended up in this strange land, I secretly wished it was all a dream. We had woken up by a pond five days ago with two satchels equipped with some of our belongings and not an inkling of where we were. Monsters roamed the land at night, trapping anything they find that is living. They chase the unfortunate creature until runs out of stamina then they slowly play with it, making it suffer for long periods of time. I shan't go into detail about what they do to it afterward, it's too gruesome to even think about. ”I think the turkey's done, Elaine!“ Farah exclaimed, rousing me from my troubling thoughts. ”Oh! Great, get the plates ready.“ I gestured to some large flat stones that were piled up in the corner. We had been using these as plates ever since we came here. I pulled out my knife and started carving away at the bird. I silently thanked it for giving us its life then divided bits of it up for Farah and myself. Silently, we sat down together to eat our meal.

I slouched against the wall of the cave as I whittled away at a large stick. It was my first fire-tending shift and I frowned at the fire as I muddled over the facts of our unfortunate affairs. I had been awake for hours each night, thinking about every possible explanation to no avail. I sighed a bit too loud and my sister sat up startled.
”What is it!?“ She asked, staring at me with wide eyes. Farah had been jumpy ever since our arrival here.
”Nothing, go back to sleep,“ I responded.
”There's no use in it now, I'll just have to take my shift early." She said begrudgingly, taking my knife and stick from me. I nodded and walked over to my sleeping bag–yet another thing that had been with us when we turned up here. I settled in and was soon dropping off to sleep, my final thought being:
We have to get out of here, we have to.

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Weekly #1 - Character Roles

Total Words: 745
Points: 700

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Part One: Character Roles
Words: 745

Protagonist: March || Antagonist: Brittanee || Deuteragonists: Kiki, Ms. Ashe || Tertiary characters: Various students


March nervously fidgeted in her seat, frantically reading over the sheet of music she held for the hundredth time. She knew the song well, and she knew that when she actually started singing she wouldn’t be quite as nervous anymore, but the suspense and anticipation of waiting for the auditions to begin were freaking her out. And the nerve-ending chattering of the dozens of people in the room didn’t help her feel any calmer. March glanced at her watch; six minutes until seven o’clock. She glanced over to the lobby door, wondering when the director would arrive.
March pushed her blue glasses farther up on her nose, and smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt.
“Thank you, ma’am!”
March looked up and grinned immediately when she heard the voice, and excitedly watched as a girl with dark brown skin and dark curls that reached her waist, wearing a blue jumper with a rainbow sweater underneath, thanked the production manager politely and entered the audition room with a huge, happy smile on her face.
March waved to her.
“Kiki!” She called in a loud whisper.
Kiki turned to face the direction of her voice, and her smile grew even bigger as she noticed her. She ran over to March, who had stood up to greet her, and the two girls embraced.
“I didn’t know you were auditioning for this show too!” exclaimed March.
She had first met Kiki about two years ago when they were in the show Annie together; they both played ensemble orphans, and immediately developed a strong friendship.
“I’m so happy you’re here!” squealed Kiki, hugging her again. “What song are you auditioning with?” She plopped down in a chair next to March, and the two chatted quietly, giggling and whispering together as they waited for the director.
“Thank you Mrs. Poppy!” a fake, sickly sweet high-pitched voice chirped from the sign-in desk.
March sighed as Brittanee Baker sauntered into the room. She was a year older than March and always threatened that “something would happen” if she didn’t get the lead role. The next two months were guaranteed to be interesting for the cast as long as Brittanee was involved. Kiki and March exchanged a look of disdain.
Brittanee sat down in a folding chair, flipping her golden hair with a cool-as-a-cucumber expression on her face, and began speaking to the group of girls next to her.
“I swear, if that March girl gets a solo and I don’t…” March strained her ears to try to hear the rest of what she said, but couldn’t hear her entire sentence.
Kiki gasped and glanced at March. “Did you hear what she said? She said if you get a solo and she doesn’t she’s going to-”
But Kiki’s sentence was cut off as Ms. Ashe, the director, walked into the room and sat down at the director’s table in the front of the room. She wore a long flowered dress, huge ladybug earrings, tiny round glasses, and was smiling as always. March smiled and grabbed Kiki’s hand; all of the students at Mulberry High loved Ms. Ashe.
Ms. Ashe cleared her throat.
“May I have your attention please!”
She waited until the room got quiet.
“It’s so exciting to have so many young performers auditioning today! Please pay close attention so we can all have the best audition experience possible. And remember, just do your best and don’t be nervous! I’m here to cheer you on, not to critique you to death.”
March somewhat zoned-out during Ms Ashe’s little speech, nervously dreading her audition. Dancing? Great! Acting? Fine! But singing - she loved singing, and she was a fairly talented singer…. but it was just so nerve-wracking to stand alone on the platform and sing solo!
One by one, Ms. Ashe called out the student’s names, and one by one they stepped up to audition. March swallowed nervously and twisted around in her seat.
“March Briar; you’re next, dear.”
March took a deep breath and stood up, adjusting her messy low bun.
“Good luck!” Kiki murmured encouragingly.
Trying her best to ignore Brittanee’s self-satisfied grin, and pretending she didn’t see the way Brittanee whispered to her friends, March made her way to the platform.

Part Two: Character Types ___
Words: ___

Part Three: Putting it all together ___
Words: ___

Unfinished *sobs*

Weekly #1
Part 1

Protagonist: Cora Finley // Antagonist: Mr Augustus Humphry Appleson IV // Deuteragonists: Indigo Solace, Damien Anderson, and Cameron Solace // Tertiary Characters: Stubborn aristocrats, waiters, the orchestra.

“I’ve never been to a masked ball before!” Indigo dramatically swings her hair over her shoulder. “Haven’t you heard that this one is a perfect replica of one from the 18th century?”
I grin at her and continue adjusting my wig. “Good to know our resident historian is back. Best of all, the place will be filled with all the finest aristocrats.”
Perfect for scheming and finding out exactly what the public have been saying about my recent scandal. Blowing up a prison doesn't exactly boost your social rankings.
Not that I even had a place in society to begin with.
Tonight I will be Ms Amethyst Harding, a young woman with a taste for the finest riches. Maybe Damien won’t even recognise me.
As if! He’ll recognise me no matter what identity I adopt.
Maybe that’s the reason I’m attending the ball tonight. Not because of the rumours, or the fact that I could be preventing a horrifying crime, but that I could be able to recruit Damien. He has so many skills that I could use for granted, like the fact that he basically serves as a living lie detector. I know for a fact he’ll be attending tonight.
What could I do if I had him on my side?
“Cora? Hello?” Indigo waves a hand in front of my face, snapping me back to reality. “You’re doing that thing where your eyes go all cloudy and you disappear to another dimension. Also, could I borrow one of your wigs? I don’t think that aristocrats have blue hair.”
“Yup, that sounds good!” I force a smile and watch as Indigo disappears into my closet.
Cameron sticks his head through the doorway. “How long does it take to get yourselves read- whoa, Cora? Is that you?”
“The name’s Amethyst Harding, and it’s a pleasure to meet your acquaintance.” I drop a curtsy.
“Well, Miss Harding, you’re going to be late, and as your chauffeur for the night I strongly advise you to get in your selected method of transport.
Honestly, Cameron can be so impatient sometimes. He’s Indigo’s older brother, and the only reason we can get a ticket into this ball.
He’s also the only one old enough to drive, and being a wanted criminal means it’s kinda hard to get my driver's licence when I’m old enough.
“Hurry up Indigo!” Cameron yells in the direction of my closet.
Indigo appears sporting a long wavy chestnut brown wig. She looks…stunning.
Much better than my elegant auburn updo. I can't believe I’ve never discovered that one before.
Then again, I own a lot of wigs.
Enough about wigs. I have a part to play tonight.
“Strap yourself in,” I whisper to Indigo as we step into Cameron’s Toyota. “It’s going to be a very long night.”
***
The party is in full swing once we arrive, waiters handing out martini cocktails with those fancy Italian olives, people dancing around.
And in the centre of it all stands the man I loath most in the world.
Sir Augustus Humphry Appleson IV.
How Indigo and I scored an invitation to this party of snobby nobles is beyond me.
It’s also exactly what I needed.
Tonight Sir Augustus will play a power cut to distract everyone, while his minions smuggle a book out of the building.
Yes, a book.
A book that has everything a person could know.
After all, they say knowledge is man’s greatest enemy. Brains are our strengths and weaknesses. And this book holds everything.
But Sir Augustus doesn’t know that the book in his possession is a beautifully crafted replica.
The reason I’m here is to try and switch the books. Someone’s here to take the book and return it back to it’s rightful owners,
But they don’t know that the book is a fake. And they could return the fake if I don’t make the switch.
I glance around at the whirl of the dancers, waltzing around to the rhythm of the orchestra. Any of them could be the agent sent to retrieve the book.
Augustus knows this as well, that’s why he plans to move it tonight.
But I know everything. I know where it’s kept, why he stole it, who owns it…
The only thing I don’t know is who this person is.
My plan is to waltz to where the book is being kept, make the switch, and waltz bake without anybody noticing.
I’ve been taking dancing lessons online, so that shouldn’t be a problem.
“Excuse me,” somebody says and I jerk my head up.
It’s Damien. He’s here? Of course he’s here. His family is literally one of the most famous names of all time.
“The name’s Damien. Damien Anderson. And you are..?” He dips his head in some sort of bow.
“Oh um…” I fumble a curtsy. “It’s Amethyst Harding.”
I can tell he recognises me by the faint double take when he sees my face. Then his lips curl into a smile.
“Well, Miss Harding. Care for a dance?” He holds out his hand.
I take it. “Why, I’d be delighted to!”
Why am I speaking like I’m from 100 years ago?
But that doesn’t matter. I’ve found a dance partner and the countdown to my switch has begun.

Part 2: Character Bios.

Round Character: Damien Anderson // Age: 15 // Gender: Male // Personality: Complicated, distant to strangers, open to those he trusts. Has a sense of humour, and sees the world differently from other people. He tends to keep secrets, and tries to act like everythings no big deal and that he can conquer the world without lifting a finger. Can be slightly stuck up and snobby at times, but is also supportive and patient. // Likes: Fruit, sudoku, cryptic crosswords, literally any kind of crossword. // Dislikes: Being lied to, betrayal, society’s expectations. // Other: Damien has a rare talent to tell when people are lying, and can remember the face of anyone he’s met.

Plausible Character: Cora Finley // Age: 14. // Gender: Female. // Personality: Confident, slightly reckless, doesn’t really think much about her decisions, tends to dwell on her mistakes, and always jumps to the worst case scenario. // Likes: Watermelon, wigs, disguises, and reading Fantasy novels. // Dislikes: People underestimating her, not being able to grasp something straight away, liers, pineapple on pizza. // Other: She changes a lot through my story that I’ve written for her (you’ll find out more soon!), She has a photographic memory, and learns things incredibly fast.

Static Character: Aaron Villa // Age: 22 // Gender: Male // Personality: Secretive, quiet, not much is known about him. // Looks: Caramel skin, dark hair, and ice blue eyes. // Likes: Unknown // Dislikes: People asking him for personal information. // Other: Aaron plays the cello in the orchestra hired for Sir Augustus’s ball. He is also sent undercover to recover an unknown book from an unknown location…

Part 3:

The band starts up a lively tune, one I haven’t heard before. Damien leads me around the dance floor doing dances I didn’t know existed.
I thought I knew how to dance? Well, turns out I was wrong. It’s taking all my willpower not to trip over the 2-inch heels I chose upon wearing tonight.
My face bears a sarcastic and bored looking expression, like I’d rather be anywhere else but here. All the stuffy aristocrats have the same look.
I am one of them now.
But seriously, who invented ballroom dancing? I am currently prancing around the dance floor, nowhere near where I was to be.
The book is being kept in the lobby, behind a vase of rare Parisian flowers, which have some long Latin name I’m supposed to remember. But at this rate, Damien’s going to waltz me into the kitchen, which is pretty much rock bottom.
Indigo is loving this though, she looks like a professional ballroom dancer from one of those celebrity TV dancing shows. I should’ve asked her to teach me to dance, that would’ve been better than relying on Google for everything. But as I see her waltz around the room, I realise how happy she is right now. Indigo isn’t here to stop a theft, or replace a book, she’s here to cover me, to waltz around and nibble on parmesan crackers. I have never been more envious.
But I have a job to do. The band finishes with a flourish, and I head over toward the table of snacks.
“Well Miss Harding,” Damien takes a cracker. “That was a very lovely dance to share with you.”
Ha! I was so close to breaking his toe.
“Yes, it was…lovely” I falter.
I can’t do this anymore. It’s so hard to pretend when they know exactly what you’re doing.
Would I be safe if I told him the truth?
Can I trust him, or will he rat me out?
Only one way to find out.
And I can run, if things get serious. Or I could always pull another stunt and blow this play to smithereens.
My explosives don’t hurt anyone, they just find a way to provide a distraction.
Which I think tells people I’m a relatively nice person.
“Damien.” I look him in the eye. “Can I trust you?”
His lips curl into a smile. “Maybe.”
I roll my eyes. “Come with me.” I drag him out of the hall, causing quite a commotion.
Once we’re out. I reach a hand up and pull off my wig, letting my short dark hair flop into place.
“The name’s Cora. You probably remember me as the most wanted fourteen-year-old there is. There’s a prize for whoever catches me in about seven different continents. I don’t blame you if you turn me in, but be warned I have my own ways of getting out of whatever they put me through.” I reach into the wig and pull out an explosive. “There are plenty more where that came from.”
“Cora?” Damien splutters. “You should hide. Anyone out on the street can probably see you.”
I shrug. “What’s the point of being wanted if you can’t let people see your face now and then. It builds up the thrill.”
“What’s the point of being lied to? If you can switch disguises so convincingly, anyone could. People in this very ball could be thieves under wigs.”
“Anyways, I’m here to make the switch.” I reach again into my wig, this time producing a small carefully binded book. “The one hidden is a fake, someones here to take it back, but ‘ve got the real one and I need to make sure that they don’t take the fake instead.”
“Thanks for telling me.” A voice says from the doorway.
We spin around to find one of the guys from the band, the one who plays the cello. What’s he doing here?
Unless…
He’s the one who will be taking the replica.
“Hand it over.” The guy says.
“Give me five reasons why I should trust you.” I say calmly.
“One, I’m Aaron Villa, a cello player. Two: I’m not giving you any more reasons because I don’t like personal questions. But this should handle it.” Aaron flips out an ID card.
In 5 seconds my life has gone from bad to worse.
He works for them
The same people who captured and framed my sister.
The same people who lead the hunt for me.
I stuff the wig back on my head before he realises who I am. Hopefully it’s not too late to go back to the party as Amethyst Harding.
“Miss Amethyst Harding,” I hold out my hand. He doesn’t shake it. “Pleasure to make your acquaintance. I came upon this book by accident, in a local second-hand bookstore. It took me a long time to finger out all the details, but once I did, I figured I must return it.”
“Why, thank you Miss Harding.” Aaron snatches the book out of my grasp. “Now if only you knew where the replica is as well..”
“I do, actually,” I reply to him. “It’s behind that vase of rare Parisian flowers.”
“Ah, you mean the Flores Paradisi?”
“Yes, yes, that’s the one!” So that’s what the Latin name was. The Flowers of Paradise. They are quite pretty, I guess. “Behind the floor is paradise, or whatever you call it.”
Damien coughs, reminding me he’s still there. “Cora, you’re giving him too much information.”
“Am not!” I shoot back at him. “He’s here to rescue the book. He’s one of the good guys.”
If only.
Anyone working to capture me is definitely not one of the “good guys”
“Cora, don’t trust anyone, you meet just because they’re working to help rescue a book.”
I scowl as rage tries to slither its way into my brain.
Maybe that’s why I don’t notice his mistake.
Damien called me Cora, not Amethyst, or Miss Harding.
And Aaron heard everything.
Which is why I wasn’t prepared for someone to stuff a sweet-smelling cloth over my moust before the world spins and I pass out over someone's shoulder.

Weekly! I had a big exam this week, so this isn't as good as I planned it to be :,)
TW: k!lling, if you know, you know.

part one, character roles

protagonist; august
antagonist; ryker
deuerotaganist; aurora
tertiary; other employees, customers

680 words

August had to take the night shift this time. He sighs, as he hated staying up; he needed his rest. Aurora, who heard him sigh, jokes, “Aww, August, are you losing your precious beauty sleep?” August replies, “Listen up, Aurora, at least I don't have a love affair with the cafe owner.” “You know we were set up! Quit using that on me, August.” Aurora says, her tone ever-so-slightly angry. “Get back to work, goofballs!” an employee shouts. And they do. Soon, Ryker Kennedy, whom they just call Ry, glances at August. August shivers. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? “Pick this up, kid.” Ry says flatly. He had no choice but to say “Yes, sir.” Ryker was the owner; he could get August fired in a flash. But why couldn't he just leave him be. August knew the answer; thousands of other people would get this job in an instant. August was an orphan; Aurora was his identical twin, and she used to date Ry. Ry was madly in love with Aurora, and who wouldn't be? She had gorgeous hazel eyes, dimples, and chubby cheeks. What wasn't there to like about her? August, however, inherited his criminal mother's deep dark-brown eyes, and dirty-blond hair. Ryker always did August dirty when Aurora wasn't around. The twins practically lived with Ryker. If August acted up, it would disadvantage him and his twin. He couldn't do that, so he'd have to put up with Ryker. Ryker then spits on the floor, and August cleans it up immediately. “Too slow, that's $100 off your paycheck.” Ryker says, slightly smirking. Suddenly, Aurora walks in, seeing the commotion. Ryker starts sweating, and says that he was sorry and it wasn't what it looked like. August hears bells ringing, and he dashes to the front desk to attend to the customer. “Cheapest thing on your menu?” she asks, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. “Small coffee, miss. For $1.59” She rummages in her pocket, and only pulls out a dollar. “No worries, ma'am. Keep that money, here, let me get you a coffee.” August whispers. The woman is dumbstruck, but slowly a slight smile appears on her face. August gives her the coffee, and sneaks a $100 dollar bill in her pocket. He smiles, glad he did that. Suddenly, the manager door bursts open, Ryker coming out and slapping August across the face. “Listen bud. Go tell your sister that I didn't mean what I did, or its –” he imitates a knife going through the neck. August nods, his hands shaking. “Aurora, I spilled coffee on him on purpose. That's why I got $100 deducted.” August lies. “How dare you! He is a nice guy, and you dare do that to him?” Aurora replies. “I'm sorry.” I murmur, and walk out. “I know you're lying. I know about Ryker.” Aurora says. But August leaves. She knew? That was great! She was going to stand up to Ryker, and everything was going to be alright. August jogs to the front desk and takes a few more orders. After his night shift was over, a new employee took over. “Go get some sleep, you did good.” the employee says. August flashes a thumbs up, and falls down on the couch. August wakes up, with a knife to his neck. “I said, don't tell Aurora anything. And you thought you could get away with it? Now she won't date me anymore, all thanks to you.” Ryker says. He was down bad, and August knew it. But his mind switched to Aurora. Why did Aurora tell him? He was going to die, wasn't he? All thanks to his twin, whom he was trying to protect, but no. He was going to die right there and then, and he couldn't protect his twin sister anymore. August promised Dad to protect her, and look at where he was now. The knife touches his skin, and he has no idea what's going to happen to him next. Suddenly, the door opens, and a tall figure stands in front of it. Aurora!?

part two, character types.

stock character; Ryker Murphy // gender: male // age: 21 // personality: greedy // hobbies: earning money. he only enjoys being rich // father: Axel Murphy, mother: Hannah Murphy // friends: none // backstory: he's the evil “CEO”

static character; August Kennedy // gender: male // age: 17 // personality: quiet, gets lonely easily, smart // hobbies: volleyball // father: Noah Kennedy // mother: Lena Smith // twin sister: Aurora Kennedy // friends: Aurora and other employees // backstory: he and Aurora are orphans, and have to work for themselves. They work for Ryker

flat character; Olivia (“Olive”) Madden // gender: female // age: 16 // personality: smart, creative, strong // hobbies: tae kwon do, makeup // father: Felix Madden // mother: Vivianne Madden // friends: Amira Syed // backstory: she works for Ryker along with August and Aurora

part three: putting it together
1,036 words

August had to take the night shift this time. He sighs, as he hated staying up; he needed his rest. Aurora, who heard him sigh, jokes, “Aww, August, are you losing your precious beauty sleep?” August replies, “Listen up, Aurora, at least I don't have a love affair with the cafe owner.” “You know we were set up! Quit using that on me, August.” Aurora says, her tone ever-so-slightly angry. “Get back to work, goofballs!” an employee shouts. And they do. Soon, Ryker Kennedy, whom they just call Ry, glances at August. August shivers. Why couldn't he just leave him alone? “Pick this up, kid.” Ry says flatly. He had no choice but to say “Yes, sir.” Ryker was the owner; he could get August fired in a flash. But why couldn't he just leave him be. August knew the answer; thousands of other people would get this job in an instant. August was an orphan; Aurora was his identical twin, and she used to date Ry. Ry was madly in love with Aurora, and who wouldn't be? She had gorgeous hazel eyes, dimples, and chubby cheeks. What wasn't there to like about her? August, however, inherited his criminal mother's deep dark-brown eyes, and dirty-blond hair. Ryker always did August dirty when Aurora wasn't around. The twins practically lived with Ryker. If August acted up, it would disadvantage him and his twin. He couldn't do that, so he'd have to put up with Ryker. Ryker then spits on the floor, and August cleans it up immediately. “Too slow, that's $100 off your paycheck.” Ryker says, slightly smirking. Suddenly, Aurora walks in, seeing the commotion. Ryker starts sweating, and says that he was sorry and it wasn't what it looked like. August hears bells ringing, and he dashes to the front desk to attend to the customer. “Cheapest thing on your menu?” she asks, her eyes staring blankly at the wall. “Small coffee, miss. For $1.59” She rummages in her pocket, and only pulls out a dollar. “No worries, ma'am. Keep that money, here, let me get you a coffee.” August whispers. The woman is dumbstruck, but slowly a slight smile appears on her face. August gives her the coffee, and sneaks a $100 dollar bill in her pocket. He smiles, glad he did that. Suddenly, the manager door bursts open, Ryker coming out and slapping August across the face. “Listen bud. Go tell your sister that I didn't mean what I did, or its –” he imitates a knife going through the neck. August nods, his hands shaking. “Aurora, I spilled coffee on him on purpose. That's why I got $100 deducted.” August lies. “How dare you! He is a nice guy, and you dare do that to him?” Aurora replies. “I'm sorry.” I murmur, and walk out. “I know you're lying. I know about Ryker.” Aurora says. But August leaves. She knew? That was great! She was going to stand up to Ryker, and everything was going to be alright. August jogs to the front desk and takes a few more orders. After his night shift was over, a new employee took over. “Go get some sleep, you did good.” the employee says. August flashes a thumbs up, and falls down on the couch. August wakes up, with a knife to his neck. “I said, don't tell Aurora anything. And you thought you could get away with it? Now she won't date me anymore, all thanks to you.” Ryker says. He was down bad, and August knew it. But his mind switched to Aurora. Why did Aurora tell him? He was going to die, wasn't he? All thanks to his twin, whom he was trying to protect, but no. He was going to die right there and then, and he couldn't protect his twin sister anymore. August promised Dad to protect her, and look at where he was now. The knife touches his skin, and he has no idea what's going to happen to him next. Suddenly, the door opens, and a tall figure stands in front of it. Aurora!? “Ryker! What is going on with you?! I think I will have to leave this cafe.. I've worked here for so long, but..” Aurora says “No, my lady! Please stay, or your brother will suffer such consequences.” Aurora gasps, looks at August, and sighs. “Alright, but do not hurt him under any means!” Aurora says. Olive, or Olivia, who is another employee, overhears this conversation. August does his morning shift. After he teases Aurora about getting back with Ryker and her doing the nightly shift, he goes to bed. It was a continuous loop. One day, he wakes up somewhere he shouldn't be. In an attic of some sort. “Where am I?” he whispers to himself. “Alas, you are finally going to be dead, and I can have Aurora all to myself.” a voice replies. No. Not Ryker! “Ryker, stop it. What did I do to you? You are blindly in love, she will reject you instantly when she hears about this.” August says. “No, my dear. I have forced myself upon her and she knows the consequences. She's stuck with me. And she's mine.” Ryker smirks. No. Not his twin sister. Why hadn't she spoken up. But August knew the answer to that question. Ryker had tricked us all, and it had to be stopped. “Speak up, young one, won't you? Or we can move on to the fun part.” Ryker says, his tone strong. He grabs the gun, and August scrambles, dodging the bullets. Suddenly, a bullet goes straight past his shoulder bone. August falls, but faintly hears someone running towards the attic. It was.. Olive. “Olive” August whispers to himself. She dodges the bullets effortlessly, astounding August. In Olive's hands is a pocket knife. Which she swings around, and then– August's vision blackens. He wakes up in a meadow, sets of eyes staring back at him, which belong to Olive and Aurora, which Aurora says, “He's alive!” “He only got shot in the shoulder bone, so of course he is.” Olive replies. Aurora cries and hugs him tight, and ignoring the pain in his shoulder, he closes his eyes and hugs her back.

Daily 1/8
“Everyone needs writing prompts, sometimes, right? Well, today it's time to share some! Make up a prompt for someone to use, and post a comment with it. Take someone else's prompt and write a scene using it! 400 words for 500 points! An extra 100 points if you share your work!”

Prompt courtesy of @smartypantschlo:
Dawn looked around. Cloaked people were surrounding her, and she knew it. They didn't know she knew. As she pressed herself against the mountainside, one question rang through her thoughts. Were they friends? Or were they her enemy?

Dawn wasn’t one to trust easily. Betrayals were second nature when you lived in a city as crime infested as Thornkeep; it was best not to get attached. The city was dreary and dark, filled with suspicious-looking alleyways, abandoned buildings, and even more suspicious-looking people. The clans regularly fought with each other for resources, territory, whatever supplies they had- everything. Even fights within the clans were common, people double crossing and stealing from other in-clan groups. She preferred to stay solitary, living life as a scavenger who didn’t belong to any clan but had debts to several.

She wasn’t loyal to anyone but herself, and she preferred to keep it that way. But then she’d come across that little gang of survivors like herself… and maybe she’d been too lonely to look beyond their tired faces and kindred spirits. Maybe she’d been too caught up in memories she hadn’t noticed the slightest gestures that could’ve quickly revealed their disloyalty. Maybe she wouldn’t have been so caught off guard by the imminent betrayal.

The little girl reminded her so much of herself- cheery but with grey eyes who’d seen pain. The older boy, who’d been injured sliding down a drainpipe, with the permanent limp that didn’t make him any slower than before. The younger boy, sharp-tongued and swift with his fingers. And then there was the eldest, a girl who clearly didn’t trust her, dark hair always braided perfectly even when she was scraped and bruised all over. She should’ve known not to trust them.

Dawn didn’t suspect anything at first, heading out on the typical morning rounds. She picked up someone’s leftover sandwich, a stray bottle of water, and managed to knick a few bags of dried fruit from a market stall. After slipping into an alleyway and back into the slums, she returned to camp, only to find it empty.

She put the supplies in their small fridge in the little hut, and then left for the woods to hunt. It was one of the little sources of money she could find, and it was simple for her to do with the pistol she’d stolen from a pair of guards a few years previously. The woods were at the edge of Thornkeep, surrounded by an electric fence that hadn’t had any power in decades. She made her way through the slums, passing homeless and a few clan members, all grimy and caked in grey dirt and dust, and dressed in loose cloth slacks and tees.

About halfway through, she felt a prickle on her neck. Dawn was experienced enough to know when she was being followed, and smart enough to know not to let them know she knew. She didn’t dare glance back, though she probably could’ve figured their position within seconds. The safe plan was to head to the woods, and then lose them there.

Minutes passed and the clouds turned dark with rain. She quickened her pace, wanting to get under the tree cover before the drizzle began. She just made it, slipping under the fence as the sky broke loose and it began sprinkling.

Dawn moved swiftly through the trees, one hand resting on the pistol at her hip and the other hanging limp at her side. She dodged and weaved, hoping to lose her pursuers in the brambles. She could hear them know in the distance; heavy footsteps with a slightly uneven gait trampling through the leaves.

Her heart pounded. She knew that walk. Tomas, the older boy of the group.

She’d been betrayed.

There was a yelp, and she could hear the little girl tumble into a tree branch, and the younger boy swear.

Dawn pressed herself against the mountainside, knowing they were coming. This was why she didn’t trust people; she was always betrayed.

Hi I’m driving

Cinderella was a normal teenage girl of 15. Her stepmother and stepsisters always wanted her to study, study, and study. She did as they asked her, and studied all the time. She studied Math when they asked her to, and Science when they wanted her to. She loved her stepmother, but she hated studying. When her father came from his business trips, they would let her apply some makeup and wear fancy stuff, but the moment he left, they threw a large stack of books at her face and made her study. And no matter how much she studied, they always criticized the marks she scored on her tests.
Her one and only dream was to attend a party. Once, a party invite spread throughout the town. Apparently, the party was organized by a very handsome boy who was looking for a girlfriend. Cinderella desperately wanted to attend the party, but her stepmother and stepsister laughed at her and said. “You can’t even study! There’s no need for you at the party. My daughters, however, will manage to woo the princess and start dating him in no time! You should rather do your homework than get into stuff like parties.”
“But—”
“If I don’t see your homework complete when I get back, you’re dead.”
And with that, the matter ended.
The day of the party approached, and poor Cinderella did her homework as her stepsisters went out to party. She was just doing her homework when someone knocked on her door.
“Huh?”
In front of her stood a very fashionable old lady. “I am here to help you reach the party.”
Cinderella squealed in delight. “Really? Can I go to the party?”
“Of course! I will dress you up and arrange a ride for you.”
The lady dressed Cinderella up in a pretty dress and styled her hair, along with makeup. Then, she asked Cinderella to ride her car to the party and come back before 12 AM, or her makeup will start disappearing and her ride will also leave its spot.
Cinderella had a wonderful time at the party, and was also invited by the organizer to dance. Just as the handsome boy was about to ask her to be his girlfriend, 12 o’clock struck, and Cinderella ran for her life, leaving one of her fancy heels behind.
The next morning, the boy searched everywhere for the shoe size, but when he reached Cinderella’s house and saw her, he knew that it was her shoe.
“What? That can’t be true! Cinderella was doing her homework!”
When Cinderella’s stepmother realized that she was the girlfriend of such a rich person, she made her daughters do Cinderella’s homework and Cinderella wasn’t pressurized like before.

Daily #9 1/9/23
word count: 1566
points: 650

In the futuristic city of Gernomia, skyscrapers towered over all, neon lights flashed everywhere you looked. Walking in the dark alleyway, trying to avoid attention was Bianca White, me, also known as ‘Snow White’. I darted quickly across the alleyway, my face was not to be shown. You might ask why, well let me tell you a bit about myself. I was born as Bianca Riley White to George White and Hailey Yarrow White nineteen years ago. Sadly shortly after my birth my mother passed away from complications of the pregnancy. Three years later, when I was three, my stepmother, Lezabel Malo entered my life. Lezabel was like a ‘blessing’ to my father, a dream come true, we were running low on money, my dad having to work two jobs and take care of me. Lezabel was from a rich family, had an inheritance and basically took us in. Her house was a literal mansion. With a garden, pool, basement and several rooms. She also had some of the most expensive, I repeat, most expensive items in the world from auctions. There was one that was particularly famous, the Apple Red Ruby. It was about as big as half my fist, and was a shining and rich color of crimson, which reminded some people of an apple. Now this caught the attention of some of my buddies. I learned that many of my good friends were part of a ragtag gang, Aequas. They were a gang that stole very expensive things and sold them into the market gaining millions at times. These gangs were for people who couldn’t afford the high costs of living in Gernomia. They turned to such trading, or stealing, to live and care for their families. I was quite fortunate to have Lezabel as a guardian. When the Aequas heard that Lezabel had obtained the Apple Gem, they immediately grew interested and threatened Bianca with her life for the gem. Of course Bianca had no other choice but to steal it. The whole process went quite smoothly, I was able to sneak into the library, pick the lock to the case holding the gem, and snatch the gem. The troubles occurred when I started to sneak out the room. Lezabel was coincidentally walking into the library when she bumped into me causing me to drop the gem. Lezabel’s face scrunched up with disgust as I acted quickly snatching the gem and dashed off. It was not too soon when Lezabel’s bodyguard, Fidus, came to fetch me and the gem as I was sneaking out the window of my room. I’d suspected there were hidden secret cameras in my room that captured my every move. He grabbed me gruffly by the arm, and dragged me to Lezabels suite. Lezabel stood there in her black silk nightgown glaring down at me.
“You know you can be arrested for theft?” she said, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow of hers, observing the gem in her hand. My father wasn’t in the room, he was either at the gym or at his office when he wasn’t in Lezabel and his suite. “I’m doing you a favour you know?” she continued pacing around the fluffy carpeting in the suite. “Fidus will guide you out, you are thereby banished from my home and this city, Fidus will take you to a place where you will be forgotten. Do NOT try coming back. I have eyes watching from all directions. As for your father, as of now he’s in the Carribians, the only thing on his mind is relaxing, he shouldn’t be back for another month or so, and when he gets back he will not remember you. Remember as someone rich there is so much you can do.” she smiled at me, turning around, waving a perfectly manicured hand with glossy, scarlet red nail polish, signaling for Fidus to take me. Fidus gave me three minutes to gather anything I needed, I didn’t need anything so I told him to just take me along to where I should be going, I’m guessing it was Memory Lane. The famed company store that was able to replace or erase memories, the future has a lot in store.
Fidus walked with me, accompanied me as I like to think of it, for what seemed like an hour till we were almost in the center of the city of Gernomia. Then he stopped, turning around and looking at me with a blank stone face.
“Miss White, I do not wish for you to lose your identity. I will leave you here and you will head on as nothing has happened. Stay out of sight and keep your identity a secret. When your father comes back I will make sure he will remember you. Go on your way.” he spoke in his monotone voice, surprising me. I never thought of Fidus to be ‘on my side’, but he had proved me wrong. That’s basically a shortened version of how I go here, walking alone in the alleyways of the city of Gernomia. Suddenly out of nowhere seven masked figures jumped out.
“Hands up! We wish you no harm, come with us,” they shout, their voices didn’t sound like adults, more like young children, perhaps teenagers. I complied slowly, raising my arms in surrender. Then I followed the gang to an underground tunnel leading to what must be their hideout. It was made of concrete, no windows. Then the masked figures removed their masks. Underneath were the faces of young teens ranging from ages of possibly twelve to fourteen, I had been right.
“So… who are you guys, gang name, and real names?” The gang members glanced at each other unsure if they should speak or not. The tallest gang member, must’ve been the leader, with brown curls and piercing cinnamon eyes nodded and spoke. “We are the Simul gang. We saw you on the street walking alone, we know the city well and Back Door Lane is definitely somewhere where you don’t want to be walking around at night. We invite you to join us.” I raised an eyebrow but agreed, these boys definitely needed someone to look after them, to clean up their place which smelled musty and looked dreadful. Over the next few days I grew to know all the seven boys better. The oldest boy was fourteen, the one that had spoken that night, his name was Felix. Then there was Stern, Timens, Somno, Malevo, Medens, and the youngest, Lang. I quite enjoyed their company, even though they acted like a tough gang, once you got to know them better they were more like a litter of puppies. On the sixth day I was there, Felix told me that the gang was going out to scout for food that day, as they had run out of food. He also told me that a lady would be visiting today, she was apparently the leader of another gang, the Intres, they’d met her on the street the previous day while pickpocketing and she’d been one of their victims, instead of turning the boys in she offered that both their gangs join as an alliance, the boys didn’t exactly agree so they invited her over to their place and wanted me to evaluate the woman. I sat around, cleaning here and cleaning there for the rest of the day. Then around 1pm I heard footsteps echoing from the entryway into the big room. I scrambled over to the entryway and there was indeed a woman walking towards me. She wore a crimson overcoat with leather leggings. The hood of her overcoat completely shadowed her face, it was a bit unsettling but I tried to ignore the pricking feeling in my gut that something bad was about to happen.
I cleared my throat as she approached me, “Hi- I’m the temporary leader of the Simuls, they are gone right now but I’ll be conducting this conversation and see if my gang would like to form an allegiance with yours.” The woman didn’t speak instead she stood deadly silent and still in the dark entryway. Then all of a sudden without warning she lunged towards me shoving something in my mouth, I choked on my spit and had no other option than to swallow the powder, it tasted weirdly of apples. The woman’s hood had fallen off when she’d lunged towards me, now I could see that she was Lezabel.
“I thought I told, no ordered, you to leave this city,” she clucked at me in disapproval, “Just like your mother, never listening to others,” I tensed. What did she mean about my mother? I started seeing my vision darken around the ends, what was wrong with me. I knew then though, it was the powder she had shoved in my mouth. Granny Apple’s Sleeping Powder, I used to use a pinch of it before bed when I couldn’t fall asleep. Lezabel had shoved way more than a pinch in my mouth, more of like a handful, this would knock me dead asleep for who knows how long. I tried to hack it out, but it was too late, I could feel myself losing consciousness, and my legs giving out on me as I collapsed to the cold concrete floor. The last thing I remember was the feeling of the cold concrete floor against my cheek.

Weekly #2 since I can't post on the weekly forum.

Part 1: Character sheet.

Character: Juliet Tealsworth

Age: 17

Looks: She has beautiful tan skin and dark brown eyes. Her hair falls just below her shoulders and is almost black. She wears simple black blouses and somewhat flare jeans along with a pair of converse that has uniquely colored laces.

Characteristics: Juliet isn't that of an outgoing person. She tends to keep to herself and observes rather than engages. Sure she has a couple of friends, but only two is fine with her. She is manipulative, cunning, and smart.

Strengths: Very manipulative. She always finds a way to get what she wants without being a brat about it. While her looks are a bit deceiving, she is very cunning and smart and will steal the truth from anyone who hides it from her.

Flaws: Observes everything. She observes the crowd she's in before attempting to walk through it. Even though observation may seem like a strength, she always ends up second guessing her decisions, making her look anxious and timid most of the time.

Backstory: Juliet lives in a separated home. Her father and mother divorced, forcing her to swap between their houses every week. Her school stays the same, but the distance it takes to get there from her mother's is fifteen minutes longer than the ride from her father's. She doesn't have any siblings because her father is . . . well . . . complicated and gets distracted too easily per say. However, she keeps herself company with her two friends and rides her bike from school to her father's house since it's only a five minute bike ride.

Extras: Juliet loves to play the violin. When she goes to her father's house, she practices the violin with an instructor which also keeps her somewhat busy. She also really enjoys the outdoors which is where her violin lessons take place; on the backyard porch. (307 Words)

Part 2: Character arc!

My Character Arc!
(53 Words)


Part 3: Character arc/motivational lessons.

The purpose of a character arc is to make the character learn something at the end of the story. If the character never learns anything, then they're not worth reading about. Everyone changes in reality, so why not make characters in fictional literacy change like that as well? Character arcs can also teach something to the audience. For example, in The Boy Who Cried Wolf, the boy constantly tells the townspeople that his sheep are being eaten by wolves. Countless times, he claims that there is a runaway wolf eating his sheep and of course the people believe him. The boy, however can only tease the people so many times before they think he's ridiculous. The last time the boy cried wolf, there was a real wolf indeed, but the people couldn't believe him. The wolf ate his sheep and he couldn't do anything about it because no one believed him since he tricked them time and time again. The lesson in this story was to tell the audience that you can only cry for help a few times before someone realizes you're a fraud. But then that last time when you actually need help, no one comes.

Take action into what that story is trying to say. The author wrote the little boy as mischievous and untrustworthy, but at the end, he then realizes that being mischievous and untrustworthy is actually very misleading and immature. That's why at the end, he figured out that by treating people with respect and honestly, he'll get his more times than none. Every story has a character arc and it is to either teach the audience a lesson, or to give moral to the actual character in the story. Most of the time, the moral is obvious and to the point, while others you have to read between the lines to figure out what the author is trying to make you understand.

In my story, I chose for the character to change for the better. To not hide from the world and herself. This benefits both her and the reader because it makes the reader understand and sympathize with her and if the reader can understand her, then they will be more enthusiastic to take action themselves. No one should hide from themselves or to the world. Sure sometimes it's hard to fit in and people love to judge, but they're not always thinking about you. They're thinking about themselves and that's the lesson I hope the readers will understand by reading my story. (421 Words)

Part 4:

“And slow . . . fast!”
I followed the instructor's directions as perfectly as I could. The violin sounded so serene the instructor clapped his hands and smiled with delight I smiled too because it was pleasure to my soul. Maybe it was because he was such a good teacher, or maybe he really liked my violin skills. Either way, I love to play the violin, so I could care less if the instructor improved because it sounded lovely to me no matter what. I played a song that was more suspenseful than joyful, but that was what I love about it. The eeriness, the heart pounding satisfaction that came with it. It felt like home to me.
“All right! That was splendid, Juliet! You're going to be a famous musician one day and you can have me to thank you for that! That should sum it up now. You can go inside and continue your life without my presence. Which is quite annoying sometimes if I do say so myself.”
“Thank you. I appreciate the lesson we had today and I hope tomorrow's goes great as well. I can't wait to perform in front of a crowd.”
“Oh, miss Juliet! You are hilarious I dare say. Don't look too far ahead into the future. You will only disappoint yourself if you don't succeed.”
“Juliet! Juliet! Your mother just called and wants you to come over for brunch.”
“No.” Juliet said. I can't stand my mother. She treats me like a puppet and I can't seem to pull the strings away. It's been like that for my entire life. That's why I prefer [my dad more. He understands me and doesn't treat me like a pawn.
“Juliet, it's your mother. You must go.” There was something off about my father. It was the way he uneasily shifted feet. How he
“Did she request, or did she demand?”
“She requested you to come over this week. It was a last-minute decision, but please respect her.”
“Fine. I'll go, but don't expect me to be nice.”
“That's fair enough.”
I turned to face my instructor who gave me a judgmental look in response. I didn't care, though because my mother deserves much more punishment than me not being nice.
“Do I want to know what that was?” The instructor asked.
“No, I suppose not, but I need to go. My dearest mother's awaiting my company.” I rested my violin on the swinging bench and walked inside the house. I grabbed my go bag and headed out to the car. The go bag is pretty self-explanatory. It has a change of clothes worth an entire week, a spare hairbrush, and a book. Since I move around every week, I need to be prepared, especially in a situation like this where my mother randomly calls and takes me away from my dad. I sat in the passenger seat of the car and glanced at my butler. Danny. A strange fellow with few words. “My mother made a last-minute call with my dad. She wants me to come over early. I tried to refuse but was obviously cut short.” I shrugged. “You don't have to take me to her house. You can drop me off at Katie's house instead.” I stared at my butler who didn't seem at all convinced about my offer.
“Your mother's house it will be.” He said and drove off.
I pulled out my book and started to read. It would be a long drive. Well, that's a bit over dramatic. It's actually only forty minutes from my dad's house. I sank further in my seat as I flipped a page.

“Hey there, doll!” My mother yelled from the balcony of her mansion-like house. She had an accent like you wouldn't believe. No one else in this state had one and she never told me where she was born. Not like it matters, though because I ignored her most of the time.
“Hey, there, darlin'! Nice to see you on this fine afternoon. Glad you had the chance to pick up the phone! Oh, I love your nail polish color. It's so pink!” I smirked. That was one of my best ones yet.
My mom dropped her smile and her shoulders and stared at me with one of her trademark death stares. “Okay guess you're still all hate on mom, huh? I still don't understand what your problem is.”
I shook my head and walked inside. This next week and a half is going to be entertaining for sure. My mom walked down the stairs with folded arms. “Seriously, Juliet. What is your problem?”
“My problem?!” I scoffed. “My problem is you, mom! You always try to take me away from dad and act like we're one happy duet once I get here. But you never ask how I feel about it, do you? Oh, no. You just randomly call and ask me to come over like I don't get enough time to see you. So I should be asking you what your problem is with me!”
My mom put two fingers on the bridge of her nose and pinched it like a headache had formed. “Juliet Tealsworth. I did not ask you to come over early to argue with you.”
“Oh, that's rich, mom.”
“Enough with the teenage girl attitude! Sit down, would you?”
“Sure, mom. Whatever I need to do to play your game.”
“Excuse me? You think all of this is a game? Juliet, do you understand what has been going on for the past few days?”
I could care less. She couldn't go through as much hardships as my dad had been through, so I couldn't wait for her to continue.
“Juliet . .. your adopted brother, Malcom . . . he's not actually your stepbrother.”
I scoffed. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Please try to understand what I'm about to say. You know what? I'm just going to say it and you're gonna have to be fine with it. Malcom isn't your adopted brother. He's your stepfather.”
My mouth dropped. My stepfather? What kind of mind game is my mother playing? “What?”
“I knew you wouldn't like him if I said that I married someone else, so I said he was your brother so that you would think your dad and I are back together. Please forgive me.”
“Unbelievable, mom.” I shook my head to show my mother that I was infuriated. I stormed upstairs into my room and dialed in my dad's number. He picked up immediately.
“Yes, my pumpkin?” My dad answered.
“Dad, did you know mother was married to someone else and that she had a son? I knew he looked way to old to be ten which mother clearly said with a straight face. I just don't know what to do, dad.”
“Juliet, forgive her. It's all my fault.”
“How?” There was a long pause afterward that made me think he had hung up. “Dad?”
“Your mother forgot to say something . . . he is your adopted brother, but don't you recognize his last name?”
“I was never told. Why?”
“Because he's my son.”
I threw the phone on my bed as tears rolled down my cheeks. I had been lied to by both my mom and surprisingly my dad. Who could I trust now? (1,224 Words)

Total Words: 2,005
Yeah, I may have gone a ways overboard, but I just couldn't stop. XD

Daily for 1-9-23
Words: 520
“Get over here, now, you stupid rat!”
“I’m not a droid servant, but maybe you should get one!” I snap. I don’t bother to address the fact that she won’t even use my real name. My name is Everett, but she doesn’t call me that, because she’s always telling me that I look like a girl. It used to make me mad. Now, it just makes me exhausted.
I hurry down the floating stairs, trying not to let my hand run down the railing because I know she’ll scold me for it, and find her at the bottom, her mouth a thin scowl. She looks me up and down, taking in my tangled hair and the dirt on my knees, then rolls her eyes.
“Well, at least you won’t be coming to the emperor’s festival.” she says. “You’re a disaster.”
I bite my lip angrily. “You said I could go.”
She looks down at me, eyes narrow and condescending, her lips pulling into a thin smile. Like she knows that she’s won. “You can go if you get a haircut.”
I open my mouth, then close it again. I don’t know what to say, I don’t know what I want. I want to go to the ball, not because I care about who marries the emperor’s daughter, but just to get out of this house, and away from this woman’s constant mistreatment. Part of me hopes that I’ll be able to work up enough courage to slip away while everyone is occupied, and never return to the house, but I know I’ll never be able to.
“No.” I say, and her eyes narrow.
“You look like a girl, and a dirty, starving one at that.” She says. “Can you imagine what rumors would spread about our family if they knew that my son was so unkept?”
“I’m not even your son.” I say. I’m not, my real mother died when I was a baby, and when my father died a few years ago, I was left with her and her two daughters. Both of them hate me as much as their mother does.
“Whether or not you think of me as a mother doesn’t affect that you are, by law, my son.” By law, not because she actually cares about me. “Anyways, why would you even want to go to the festival? The princess won’t even look at you, or most other people she meets. You have no friends, no nice clothes, and you’ve always avoided other social events. What would you have to gain from going to a five day festival?”
Nothing. Everything. I want to get out in the world. I want to see what it’s really like out there, and whether or not it’s worth leaving this behind. I want to live my own life, and not look back at this mess that I was left in.
“You don’t get to force me to change my appearance.” is all I say.
“Then you don’t go to the festival.”
“Fine.” I say. She can’t stop me from going to the festival.
I have to go to the festival.

Daily 1/9
“Fairy tales such as Little Red Riding Hood and Cinderella are considered classics in the book world. Today look up a famous fairy tale and rewrite it in a different genre! You don’t have to make the story as long as the original fairy tale and you’re free to change aspects of the original story. 400 words for 550 points! An extra 100 points for sharing your work.”

A scream echoes through the shop as a young girl bursts, in her brown curls flying behind her. She flings the door open, and it crashes against the wall, though she makes no motion to stop it. “Someone- help! It’s my brother! He’s been…” She lets out a sob, and then buries her face in her hands.

The shopkeeper rushes over. He bends down beside her, pushing his glasses up his crooked nose. “What’s happened? Are you alright?”

She looks up at him, ugly tears streaming down her pale cheeks. “It’s my brother, sir! Hansel- he’s been murdered!”

There’s a sudden silence in the shop, as if all the customers were drawing in a sharp breath. A thud from the back, and then a woman came running towards them, hobbling in her ruby heels. “Well why’d you come here? Honey, you need to go to the police!”

“You don’t understand; we don’t have time for that!” she exclaims, shaking her head violently and wiping her nose. “He’s at the top of the hill- we need to hurry! Someone, help me please!”

“Dear girl, what’s your name? Where are your parents?” the shopkeeper asks gently, taking her hands in his own wrinkly ones.

She tears her arm away from his grasp. “Gretel. You need to help me!”

“She must go to the police,” the woman says again, pulling out her phone. “Perhaps child services, she’s clearly delusional-”

“There, there, no need for such drastic measures,” the shopkeeper replies quickly. The rest of the customers watch them with concern and confusion. Some are already ignoring the sobbing child.

“Let’s go take a look, shall we?” he adds.

Gretel tugs at his arm. “Come on! We’ve wasted enough time already!” She hurries down the street, the shopkeeper and the woman following close behind. “Hurry!”

The trio works their way to the forest, where the girl leads them down a narrow path to a steep cliff-face. The trees empty them into a large clearing, overlooking a sharp drop-off.

“Quickly!” she says, bending down to peer over the edge. Her companions look down into the ravine.

The woman shrieks and the shopkeeper stumbles back. At the base of the rocks, lies a limp body, coated in red.

“Yes,” the man says, dazed, “call the police. And quickly!”

“No!” the girl shouts, launching herself at the woman. “They won’t understand! Papa won’t understand! He’ll just-” She breaks down again, sobs racking her body until she’s coughing and crying, choking on hot tears.

The shopkeeper kneels before her. “Dear, if you want to help your brother, we need the law enforcement involved. Especially if he was murdered, as you say. Why won’t you let them help?”

Her glistening eyes meet his. “My papa- he’s an officer- is the one that sent us out here! To the witch that lives in the woods! He doesn’t care about us; he’ll just make them believe I did it!”

The woman yelps. “Well, then this is a case of child abuse! And murder! Something must be done!”

“No!” Gretel screams again. “Don’t call them! Don’t do it! Please!”

“Can’t you see the state she’s in?” the woman counters, speaking only to the shopkeeper, who’s now holding her back, while opening up her phone.

“No!”

“Miss, how about we wait just a moment,” he says quickly, casting a glance at the thrashing child. “This one’s clearly gone through some trauma, no need to make it worse.”

Gretel finally settles down, curling up in a ball and weeping. The shopkeeper runs a hand along her back.

“We need to figure out what happened here; the murder comes first,” he adds. “Child, did you see it happen?”

She sits up, still wrapping her skinny arms around her legs, and shakes her head. “I only saw him fall, and a tall shadow slipping into the trees. I screamed, and they took off running. I couldn’t see their face.” She pauses, and then adds, “I think it was my father.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions,” the shopkeeper says, running a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair.

“He’s wanted us gone since Mum died! What better way than to shove Hansel off a cliff!”

“What about the witch? Wasn’t she in the forest? Was there anyone else?” he presses.

Gretel shrugs. “I don’t know,” she admits, her eyes suddenly turning stony. “But someone murdered my brother. And I’m not stopping until I find out who.”

a/n: Whoo, perhaps not a last minute (LITERALLY) daily? Could that be me? Only last… half hour? Hehe, this was actually not as bad as I thought! I took Hansel and Gretel and tried to make it a murder mystery (yes, my limited experience in mysteries let alone ones involving murder is clearly evident). If you’ve ever read The Land of Stories by Chris Colfer, I did take a bit of inspiration from part of book… three, I think it was? I forgot most of the plot of Hansel and Gretel except the fact that there was a witch with a candy house, something about an oven, and a trail of bread crumbs, but besides that… *shrugs* I don’t remember if their father actually hated them or if I made that up in my head, but whatever! It works

594 words, Daily #8

Ruby stood at the train station, waiting for her train to arrive. She was going to see her grandmother for Thanksgiving. It was the first time she was ever going to see her, so Ruby was fairly excited. She received a text from her mother: are u on the train little red? Ruby sighs. ‘Little Red Riding Hood’ was her nickname, made by her mother, because she was always wearing red hoodies. Red was her favorite color, of course, and she adored hoodies. But the reason Ruby's mom was sending millions of texts is because it's also Ruby's first time traveling alone. So her phone was shouting ting! at her each second. Ruby left a text that read: yes mom, on the way. love u! she didn't want to upset her mom even more, although her train was running pretty late. Finally, 20 minutes later, Ruby's train arrived. She hopped on, feeling super excited and confident that she was traveling alone. She brought a bunch of food, which Ruby's mom insisted on giving, but she couldn't come herself; she had lots of work and couldn't afford to waste her sick days. She sat down next to a young mother and a middle-aged man. Ruby went on her phone, while the middle aged man was staring directly at her. Ruby hoped it was only because of the TikTok she was watching, although she knew it wasn't the case. After the train ride was over, Ruby stayed behind to check if hre grandmother was at the station, but she wasn't, as she got a bit sick. The middle-aged man scrambled to get up and jogged away. At least he was gone. Ruby exhaled her breath she didn't realize she was holding. Ruby took a taxi to her grandmother's house, clutching the food that she was sure her grandmother would enjoy. When she arrived at her grandmother's house, the door was open. How welcoming! Ruby thought. She found an old man in the kitchen. “Hello, Ruby! Welcome, I see you've brought food.” the man says. Weird. Ruby didn't recall her mother talking about her father, but Ruby politely replied, “Hello, yes, er, grandfather, your fellow daughter made them. Where is grandma?” the man says, “Oh, she's uh, at the store. She wasn't expecting food.” Ruby thought this was very suspicious; her grandmother was sick. “Grandma is sick. Grandfather, you have lovely blue eyes. Mum doesn't have blue eyes, and doesn't share any attributes with your self being.” Before the man could reply, Ruby heard shouts from a bedroom closet. She ran, disregarding the man, and opened the closet. “Grandma?” Ruby says. “Oh honey, how are you? This isn't a lovely welcome.” Grandma says. “Your mother's ex-husband has threatened me. Please go tell him a lie to break his love hungry heart.” Mother's ex-husband? What? Ruby was bewitched, but she knew she had to do what she had to do at that moment. She walks into the kitchen, heart hammering, legs shaking, shouting, “Listen, mom told me she has interest in you, you should go visit her in Florida.” “Oh, you've gotten me, haven't you. Oh well, tell me the address and I'll go about.” As Ruby told a random address, the love-struck man immediately leaves. “Grandma, let's go celebrate thanksgiving. Mum made a load of food!” Ruby says. “Of course she did,” Grandma laughs. And they both enjoy the lovely food, under the sunset, while Little Red receives a text: u arrived at moms, right? Ruby sighs, as she replies: yes mum

Word War #5 1/9/23
competitor: TWILIGHT_A
word count: 306

Imagine the time stopping. You don’t stop, those around you don’t stop, but the time does. Frozen in place unmoving. That’s exactly what happened on June 22, my birthday when I made my wish. I’d wished for me to have more time before I became an adult. And as if the sky heard my wish, time stopped. It was an international crisis and it was all because of me. You see, I turned 18 on June 22. I wasn’t ready yet to enter adulthood and accept all the responsibilities, cause adults don’t have it easy. I’d wished that night on the pink candles of my black forest birthday cake that I would have more time to enjoy my teenagehood/childhood before I had to fully become an adult. I went to sleep that night content, stomach filled with delicious mouth watering birthday food that my parents and sister had made. The next day I woke up and my clock said that the time was 10:30pm. I assumed that my clock had stopped working overnight or glitched so I checked my phone instead for the real time. I looked and said 10:30pm as well. How weird, I was sure that it was morning by now. I pulled open the drapes of the window and looked out. It was dark. What? I thought bewildered, did I only sleep 10 minutes or something, what was happening. I decided to run to my sister, Daphne’s room to see if she was up. She was, she was staring out her window with a perplexed look on her face.
“What happened?” she asked, turning around to look at me. I shook my head. I had no idea. The only option I had was to run to my parents’ room now to see if they were up and if they knew.

Daily #11 1/10/23
word count: 470
points: 400

This was nerve wracking… I don’t have much courage to go back and read what I wrote in the past because I have a tendency to cringe at myself all the time, but since this daily calls for it that’s what I’m doing. I’ve read a few and I noticed that my writing style has changed from realistic fiction towards fantasy. I would say this is partially because my favorite genre of books have changed as well, from realistic fiction to fantasy, though I still love reading realistic fiction. I think I’ve improved quite a lot on dialogue and description. Description was definitely something I lacked immensely in my story, it made my past stories bland and boring to read. Over the past two years has been my biggest improvement, as my ELA teachers have pushed me to be the best writer I can and taught me on how to add more details to my stories. As an example of my improvement, I would like to show a small sentence from a short story assignment I wrote a few years ago then I shall rewrite it using my ‘improved’ skills:

“The book was quite an ordinary book, it was a brown leather book with drawings of magical creatures on the cover.”

Honestly this is quite bland in my opinion, but this was the small start and my attempt to add more description in my stories. If I were to write it now I would write it like this:

“The book was an ordinary book. By ordinary I mean, a worn brown old leather cover, with stains and creases here and there. It had enchanting images of magical creatures such as centaurs, unicorns, mermaids, fairies, elves, and so on. Though the book was quite ordinary it was a powerful and peculiar book. It contained one of the world’s most powerful magic, sorcerer magic.”

Okay so I admit, the improvement is gradual. I try my best with descriptions to help readers envision the scene more easily. There is so much more I can still work on. The thing with description is that I always write too much, my ELA teachers have started giving out assignments with word limits or page limits and certain formatting I have to follow, this makes it difficult for me to add as much description as I would like. I usually end up having a slow paced beginning and fast paced ending as I start to ‘freak out’ towards the end when I start exceeding the limit. The plot of my stories could also use a lot of work, I feel like my plots need to build up tension gradually as I reach the climax. Overall, I guess this activity wasn’t too bad, I do like looking at my improvement though it comes with a side of cringing.

Weekly #2 Pt. 1 1/10/23
word count: 301
points: 400

Name: Amaya Aoki
Age: 14
Appearance: She has straight black hair draping down to her shoulders. It’s normally pulled back in a braid down her back. Obsidian eyes, long eyelashes. She likes wearing jeans and sweatshirts, and running sneakers. She has pale skin.
Hobbies / Favourites: Amays is very fond of reading and playing the violin. She also enjoys being at the animal shelter and spending time with all the animals there. She enjoys spending weekend nights watching movies on the couch and snacking with her family.
Characteristics: Amaya is a loyal person and companion. Though you must not break her trust, if you break her trust even once, she will not forgive you. She’s a generous person, always willing to share what she has with others. She is careful over her actions, always thinking before acting, as she knows the dangers of being careless.
Flaws: She is hard to forgive others, which leads to her cutting off many people from her life. She is stubborn, she has a hard time accepting other people’s help and prefers working independently.
Strengths: She is loyal, will not betray her close friends or family. She is also honest, always telling the truth when she is asked to, the only time she lies is if she or someone else is in danger. She is patient, and always willing to help, it’s hard to get on her nerves so most people don’t waste their time doing so.
Backstory: Amaya lives with her father, mother, and five-year-old sister Akira. They live in the busy city of San Francisco. Amaya longs to leave the busy city one day and enjoy the peace of the countryside. Every summer, her family visits her grandmother at her countryside cottage. It’s a magical place there, but there is dark magic there too.

January 10, 2023
207 words

I started writing when I was four years old with tiny pieces of paper written on. I would write a few words to say what was going on and then use a dull pencil to draw crazy pictures. One of them was about 3 super kittys… Another was about my sister being a super hero and having to save her sidekick kitty. My handwriting wasn’t legible and the stories had no action. Around 3rd grade, I started to write magical stories where the character were stuck in odd places. This one story I was sucked into outer space and stayed with my made up character for 2 weeks! I really expressed the emotion of when I was scared of the aliens and I think the whole class liked it. My handwriting was neat and I bet if I rewrote the story it would be better. Which brings me to say that in the past year, my writing has been extraordinary and loved by other scratchers! I mostly wrote fictional stories but started a realistic fiction story, getting inspiration from Beverly Clearly. I think my writing has improved from being mostly pictures and a few words to adventurous stories with aliens and then coming to exiting heart-stopping books!

Daily 1/11
“Look back and at least read three of your old stories. If you don’t have three just go with as many as you do have. How much have you improved? What do you still have to work on? Journal about your writing journey and how you've progressed. 200 words for 300 points! An extra 100 points if you share your work!”

I should begin by stating that these were… painful to read. I’ve always found my past writings to be cringey, mostly because my style is constantly changing, and things that are a past style seem unfamiliar to me. My writing has both changed and grown so much over the past two years- the way I wrote before seems so bizarre to see.

A lot of my old stories were very cliche, something I’ve discovered and worked to change more recently. There were a lot of those “my life is awful, I feel so misunderstood” characters that suddenly find a magical school and their life makes sense… I’ve since realized how cliche a lot of my writing was, and have worked to improve this, creating more developed and unique plots and characters.

Something else that has developed since my early writing days has been my style and overall writing technique. My stories before incorporated lots of humor, and typically took on an edge of whatever I’d been reading, sometimes hampering the flow of the story. I wrote very whimsically, throwing out whatever came to mind at the time and not planning anything out, leading to bizarre turns of events and several loose ends. Recently my style has definitely matured, taking me down a more dystopian route, which I personally have enjoyed a lot. I’ve figured out how to give the characters clearer “voices”, and better ways to incorporate description and setting as well- though I’m aware my writing is far from perfect.

My character development is still somewhat lacking, and I know I have to work on finding the right times to include dialogue and description, but I’m consistently improving and stretching myself. My stories have begun to reflect my personal style, which I know still needs work in the many areas of description and plot. I would like to think my past stories, however cringey, have helped me improve as a writer- and I’ll always continue working to make myself better.

Weekly #2 Pt. 2 1/11/23
word count: 89
points: 500

(img in here)
https://scratch.mit.edu/projects/787250920/