Hello everybody and welcome to my personal writing thread!

TABLE OF CONTENTS-



SWC, March 2024

Dailies:
3/1/24
3/2/24
3/3/24
3/4/24
3/5/24
3/6/24

Weeklies:

Other:


JWC, January 2024
1/3/24
1/4/24
1/5/24
1/6/24
1/7/24
1/8/24
1/10/24
1/11/24
1/15/24
1/16/24 & 1/21/24 & 1/24/24 & 1/25/24
1/22/24
1/23/24
1/28/24
Last daily of the session & thank you notes
Weekly 1
Weekly 2
JWC fanfiction!

SWC, November 2023
11/1/23
11/2/23
11/3/23
11/4/23
11/6/23-11/7/23
11/8/23
11/10/23
Weekly 1
Weekly 2
Writing Contest Entry

Kiara (She/her) ~ Fantasy ~ 10k Goal ~

~Dailies~
11/1/23: (Haven’t copied and pasted it yet XD)

Kiara (She/her) ~ Fantasy ~ 10k Goal ~

11/2/23 (493 words, 400 points with proof):

Dear Future Self,

Hello! I hope you are well. I’m not sure where you are reading this letter, or who you may be peering over your shoulder while you read. But I am so excited for this session of SWC, and excited for the opportunity to get motivation to write more, since with school you have had little time to do that. That’s honestly why I love the dailies and weeklies so much, since it gives me something to write about.

My current project is Scepter Of War. I know that it probably isn’t done, but I am super proud of myself for hitting 20,000 before getting to the 10-chapter mark! That is honestly the most words I’ve had in that amount of chapters, and I am super excited for this project to continue.

I wonder how diligent you have been keeping up with weeklies and dailies. I know that life happens, but I hope you got most of them submitted. I know you have at least two (if you have taken the time to finish this letter once homeroom ends in 12 minutes XD)

Okay, I’m back in Reading class. I should probably be working on my reading or math homework, since we have a coffee shop day, but I’d rather be sitting here, writing this. Also, my teacher is leaving tomorrow for good. By the time I am sitting here reading this letter again, I will have a new teacher. The whiteboard is a mess of writings and goodbyes. Soon, it will be blank. A blank slate for all of us. The new teacher, all of us, and our old teacher.

Scepter Of War is about three princesses struggling against their kingdoms when they go to war over a scepter that can supposedly connect with the gods. It is a fantasy-adventure with mythical creatures and a touch of romance. Like I said before, I hit 20,000 words before I hit 10 chapters, so I am so happy with myself.

This letter is ending up to be many paragraphs long. So I have a couple of goals for this session. The first one is to actually write, since I haven’t been doing a lot of that lately. The second goal I have for myself is to hit my 10k word goal. Most of the large chunks are going to come from my novel, but some are also going to come from the dailies and weeklies, which I hopefully will find the time to complete. My last big goal is to find time in my schedule to write on a daily basis, which I might be able to do since I am writing continually during this month.

I find that I tend to go down rabbit holes while writing letters to myself, especially when nobody else will really take the time to read my ramblings. So if you have made it this far, I applaud you!

From your past self,
-Kiara

Kiara (She/her) ~ Fantasy ~ 10k Goal ~


11/3/23:

“Well, we can’t all be perfect.”

Rowan had won another award. Maple had gotten used to this by now. Rowan would win all the awards, not just the academic ones, which Maple knew she had no chance of, but the teacher ones as well, all about ‘kind’ and ‘caring’ students, exhibiting ‘responsible’ ability.

Rowan looked to Maple, feeling her heart pound in her chest. She knew it wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t fair, to her or to Maple. Every year, she got all of the awards. Maple got nothing. She felt so bad for her friend, for the fact that the girl that everybody loved didn’t have the teacher's appreciation. It was honestly probably about the fact that Maple always smart-mouthed any teacher who dared approach her, but all of the students always loved her for that. But the students didn’t choose the awards.

Maple had always wanted her foster parents to be proud of her. She thought the only way to do that was by gaining end-of-the-year awards. But she could never do that because Rowan always got them all.

Maple put her hands on her hips, raising an eyebrow in Rowan’s direction. “We can’t all be valedictorians, best in the class, favorite of every teacher that comes our way.”


Rowan looked Maple in the eye. The comment stung more than she could possibly tell her friend. Or… wait… Rowan didn’t know what they were anymore.

Maple bit her lip, looking over Rowan’s shoulder at the corn field being plowed down. The corn, once glowing and golden, was now being trampled on and dug up by the big combine put-puttering its way down the field. Slowly but surely, the corn was being torn apart.

“Well, we can’t all be the girl who everybody loves, who is so incredibly charismatic and sarcastic that everybody can’t help but make room for her in their friend group. You have no idea how it feels to be torn apart, left behind, just because you are smart!”

The combine tore down another field. The ground underneath it was dry and cracked, a stark contrast to the sky above. The sky was bright above, blue and loft, above all strife.

“Rowan, you have no idea how stressful it is to be me, always trying to be perfect and have a comeback to every mean comment that is hurled your way.”


Rowan was done talking. The girl pushed her hair back into a tight high ponytail, then stormed off.

The combine puttered off, leaving cracked brown land behind it.

Maple ran after her friend, “Rowan! Wait!”

Rowan turned, not wanting anything else to do with her friend. “Rowan, I’m sorry.”

Rowan’s face softened, letting her friend in. “I get it. It’s not either of our faults.”

And outside the window, a single plant sprouted. This plant probably wouldn’t survive the winter, but it was there.

And that was what mattered.

Kiara (She/her) ~ Fantasy ~ 10k Goal ~


11/4/23: 600+ words

Cassiopeia was queen of Aethiopia, a small kingdom at the edge of the water.

Every year, when the tide was high and the moon was full, there was a meeting between the sea gods and goddesses and her and her daughters. Cassiopeia was immortal, a gift granted to her by sea god Poseidon when she had won his affections for a brief while. Then the god turned out to be a bore and she left him for more interesting -but with a much shorter lifespan- mortals, the humans in her own kingdom.

Cassiopeia only had one daughter, who’s father -a mortal- had passed away. Actually, Cassiopeia wasn’t entirely sure what had happened to the girl's father. He sort of… drifted off the map after a while. Her daughter was now eighteen years of age, and not immortal -sadly- men from across the thirteen kingdoms were coming to seek her hand in marriage, oftentimes surprised that her mother looked so young, for someone of five hundred and thirteen years old.

So when the tides rose, Cassiopeia’s kingdom was ready to welcome Thetis, Poseidon, and the sea nymphs called Nereids.

When the Nereids walked on shore, the entire kingdom held their breath. It was like there were fifty beautiful women walking on land, with long flowing hair in every shade of the rainbow, skins in many different tones, and eyes that glittered like the very ocean that they had emerged from.

Of course, this made Cassiopeia jealous. She had long been known as the most beautiful being in all of the kingdoms. Now everybody was going to be talking about these Nereids instead of her. Cassiopeia’s daughter was equally entranced, watching out her window as the parade of those from the sea walked up to the steps of the palace, gifts in hand.

Cassiopeia soon met with Poseidon and Thetis, both of them glowing from their years spent in the sea. Thetis was one of the fifty Nereids, her hair black and in many tiny braids down her back. Thetis’s skin was dark, and her eyes were a glittering gold-honey color. She was wearing a midnight blue dress that seemed to be made of the ocean itself, glittering and swishing with each step she took.

Poseidon had tanned skin, which seemed appropriate for someone who spent so much time on the ocean. His hair was golden, with a long beard that he hadn’t shaved in forever, even though both Cassiopeia and Thetis had pleaded him to.


Cassiopeia was so jealous of the Nereids and Thetis that, when in company of a few close friends, she boasted: “I think I am far fairer than that Thetis or any of the Nereids. I am the most beautiful being in the thirteen kingdoms!”

Now, not only was Cassiopeia lying, because the Nereids were close to gods and therefore as beautiful as the gods in an almost ethereal way, but Thetis was spying on the immortal queen and reported what she had heard to Poseidon.

Several days later, Poseidon, Thetis, and the Nereids fled the gathering early, and a beast began terrorizing fishing boats that ventured out beyond the coastline of Aethiopia.

One day, when Cassiopeia was on her boat ride out along the shore, the beast attacked. It looked like a shark, with glowing gold scales and fins that rose along its back in sharp ridges. Its jaws were big enough to swallow the boat whole, but Cassiopeia drew the sword from her side and vanquished the beast.

Angry at Cassiopeia for k!ll!ng his beast, Poseidon ventured out and found the queen. Since she was immortal, the worst punishment he could give her was chaining her to the stars.

Though Cassiopeia still lives in the night sky, her body chained to the stars for the rest of her immortal life, forced to spend her days with the other misfits and poor souls who, too, had found themselves haunting the night sky.

All my life I’ve longed for it to come true. Now it has.

As I stand next to the glowing Nightblossom, I call the light to my fingers.

The Nightblossom is a plant that tests for magical ability. If you touch the petals and it blooms and starts glowing, you possess magic. If you touch it and it stays closed and dull. It also has a way of letting your magic show in a form of light, as usually it is invisible to the human eye.

My magic was a pale pink, the color of the night blossom that is blooming next to me. That Nightblossom belongs to my best friend Bianca. I was half worried one of us was going to have magic and the other wasn’t, but thankfully that did not turn out to be true.

The glow of the flower slowly receded and was replaced by the purple petals, sealed tight for the next person.

Bianca grinned and walked over to me, and we watched as the glowing lights from our sessions slowly faded away. Some kids were sobbing, and I felt my heart break a little for them. They honestly didn't’ deserve to be magicless. Nobody did. But it was just nature. The rule of selection.

“I can’t believe we both did it!” Bianca squeals.

“I can.” I reply dryly, making her laugh.

“And we both will be heading to Nightblossom academy for the next school year!”

Since there was a plant that tested for magical abilities, it seemed only fitting that the school for those who had the magical abilities…

~694 Words~

“Sis, I really have to do my homework now.”

“Come oooonnn, Phoebe. You can’t be that busy all the time. Just come hang out with me!”

I knew I couldn’t. I knew I had to do my homework, take my mind off of the constant buzz in the back of my head.

“Lilac, I really can’t play right now. I have stuff to get done.”

Lilac didn’t leave me alone. “Phoebe, it will only be a couple of minutes! Come out and play in the pool, wander the sunflower fields next door! Just like we used to do… remember?”

“Lilac, those days are over. Stop bothering me. Please.”

I was nearly about to start crying. Lilac had been bothering me for days now.

“Sis, I know you want to play. Just let me have some fun, let us have some fun together. Just the way things used to be.”

But I knew that things wouldn’t be ‘how they used to be’ anymore. They really wouldn’t. I wish they would go back. I wish they would go back to the day before the fire. But they couldn’t. “Lilac, I really can’t play right now. I have homework in like all of my classes.”

I didn’t once turn around to look Lilac in the eye.

She, however, kept arguing with me. I could feel her breath on the back of my neck as she sat down next to me, sitting on the floor. “But the sunflowers are in full bloom. You’ve looked out the window, you’ve seen the flowers. Remember all the good times, Phoebe. Remember how we used to be best friends. Remember how we used to curl up in the winters, sitting on my bed, and stare out the window at the snow-flecked sky. Remember how we used to play in the garden, swim in the pool…”

I was just about done with Lilac. “Those days are over. Stop telling me to ‘remember’ when I have been wearing black for days and haven’t gone to school, getting all the work sent to my home. Stop telling me to ‘remember’ when I haven’t even looked out the window because of those flowers you tell me are so beautiful. I didn’t look out because I am scared of remembering.”

I could almost feel Lilac’s light touch on my shoulder. “Remembering is never painful. Remembering is joy, just waiting to be unearthed.”

“There is no joy in remembering. There is no joy at picking at scabbed-over wounds, Lilac.”

Lilac shook her head. “You have always been a downer. Too afraid to see the beauty that was right in front of your eyes.”

I shook my head. “No, Lilac. You are the one who has always been an optimist. Even… even a few days ago, when you were laying there, you told me to always look at the sun. You told me…” I started crying, “You told me to stay gold, just like that poem in that book that I read for class. That book where you still saw good in those rough-and-tumble boys, still saw the good in what the author was trying to teach us.”

“I did. And you didn’t listen. Phoebe, if you would have done what I had asked, do you think you would be sitting here now, crying, wearing black?”

My voice shook as I responded. “I-I don’t know. Maybe?”

Lilac laughed and shook her head. “No, you wouldn’t. You should just let me go, follow my last wishes.”

“No- You’re dead, and you’re just asking me to forget you.”

“Never forget me. Just remember me, and tell yourself what we had was golden. Tell yourself to look for the gold, just for me.”

And then the girl I had loved most in the world, my sister, my world, now only a figment of my imagination, left me.

And I was left with my thoughts, my homework, the black drapes over my window, and the grief that pounded in my heart.

“I’ll never forget you, Lilac.”

And suddenly, I knew that wherever Lilac was now, she would be so incredibly proud of me. If I moved on, Lilac would be proud of me.

Total word count: 422

“Heya guys!” I stood in the center of a circular room, looking around at the younger girl and young woman who stood on either side of me.

My younger self looked to be around six, with her hair still cut short into the bob it had been in during the start of kindergarten, with two little barrette clips in her hair.

My older self looked quite a bit like me now, with really long dark hair and dramatic curtain bangs, her nails painted a sage green, wearing a white cable-knit sweater and ripped flare jeans.

“Hi!” My younger self said enthusiastically. Apparently I had pulled from the time period where I still got a decent amount of sleep.

My older self smiled kindly. “So, here you guys are again.” She had no braces, which made me blink for a second, wondering how this girl could be me.

“I have some questions for both of you.” I asked them, taking charge.

My younger self perked up. “Questions? I love questions!”

“Okay…” My older self asked.

I turned to my older self first. “What was the hardest thing you had to go through during these eight years?” I asked her, and she laughed.

“There have been a lot of things I thought were impossible at the moment, but I worked through them, one step at a time.” My older self said, “Though I was still on my search for a home for quite a while, something I realized is that if you are always searching for a home, you will never see the one in front of your face.”

I paused. I… didn’t know where that had come from. I hadn’t planned for her to say that. But… something about it ran true. If I was always searching for somewhere to call a home, I would never see what was right in front of me.

My younger self was clueless. “Home? I have a home.”

I laughed, shaking my head. “That word will mean so much more to you in the future, hon.”

“Do you still like art?” My younger self asks both me and my older self.

I laugh. “Yes, and you discover a few new hobbies along the way, like singing, dance, and writing.”

She blinks. “That sounds so fun!”

I laugh. “Goodbye, you guys. And until we meet again…”

My older self gives me a smile. “And remember, you are the only one in control of your future. Always remember that.”

And then they fade away, and I am alone again.

1,825 Words!!!

Part One

Song: Betty

My summer camp cabin was filled to the brim with people. Actually, there were only eight. But since the cabin was so small, it felt packed to the brim. There were four guys and four of us gals.

Our summer camp cabin was in the woods, and our parents were all friends and we all went to the same school, Frostwood Prep.


“Betty, please…”

Another thing our cabin was brimming with? Drama. My favorite source of drama was between Timothy Gillis and Betty Hill. They had been summer sweethearts, then Tim messed everything up and is still trying to get Betty back. But to be honest, if I was Betty Hill, I would take him back. Tim is really cute.

“Is Timmy back at it?”

Joshua Boyce, another of the kids in Folklore Cabin, was as intrigued as I was with the two of them.

“You bet it, Josh.”

Josh grinned, and I missed spending hours in the gazebo with him, staring up at the stars and talking about everything and nothing at the same time.

Honestly, I think me blowing up at his parents was part of the reason that I was sent to this cabin in the first place. They did deserve it, though.

My parents dislike how I always had a comment to shoot back at anyone and everyone who insulted me. They disliked how I preferred basketball to softball, and liked listening to pop instead of jazz or classical. They disliked a lot about me, actually. Josh had been one of the only people who had loved listening to pop, and came to every single one of my basketball games. Of course, his parents were stuck-up brats as well, so I guess we had that in common.

“Betty, let me have one more chance.”

We all need one more chance, Tim. I thought sarcastically. Folklore Cabin? Might as well be called the Second Chance Cabin.

~
Part Two

Name- Elle Bridges
Age- 16
Gender- Female (she/her)
Eye Color- Green
Skin Color- Tanned skin with freckles
Hair Color/type- Brown, curly hair that usually refuses to be tamed.
Place of birth- California
Family- Mother (Olanda Bridges), Father (Eric Bridges)
Personality traits- Sarcastic, Independent, Flighty, Sometimes unreliable
Hobbies- Basketball, listening to music (especially pop), playing guitar, and writing songs with her best friend Joshua Boyce.
Flaws- She always wants to be in charge, tends to be unreliable in relationships, always fires a sarcastic comment back at whoever tries to boss her around.
Quirks- winds her hair around her finger when she is irritated
Style and pacing of speech- Quick, harsh, sarcastic

~
Part Three

I crossed my arms over my chest, looking around at the leaves, bright and green.

The leaves just got to be… leaves. They didn’t have to hide anything.

But then I thought about how their natural colors were red and gold and brown and yellow, but the chloroform covered up their true colors so they were all a matching shade of green.

That made me feel a little bit bad for the leaves. They all had to look the exact same to fit in. There were hundreds, thousands of them, and not one stood out. And when one tried to stand out, if it was brown or speckled or red or gold, then people looked at it in disgust, annoyed at it for not conforming to the status quo.

It honestly seemed a lot like people. They were all supposed to look the exact same, act the exact same, and if one person tried to stand out, everybody else shunned them.

“What are you thinking about today?” Josh joined me outside, glancing at the leaves.

“Leaves.” I replied softly, listening to the wind blow through said leaves.

“What metaphorical meaning do you have now?” Josh asked, laughing.

“You know me too well.” I joked.

Josh smiled. “Well, if you’re thinking about metaphorical meanings, that means it is time to get your mind on something else.” He grinned and tagged my forearm. “You’re it!”

~

Everybody’s eyes were on me. I didn’t quail under the pressure. I wanted to be someone new here. I wanted all the kids here to accept me for who I was, unlike my parents did.

“Hi everybody.” I said, smiling a little, “I’m Elle Bridges. I like basketball, being in charge, and listening to pop.”

I knew a lot of these kids already, but looking down at their accepting faces, I thought back to my own parent’s faces when I told them I wanted to try out for the basketball team. They had looked at me in disbelief, and started laughing. Laughing! They had told me that I was no good, there was no way I was going to make it in basketball. They told me I had been training in softball my entire life, might as well stick with what I know.

I had rolled my eyes and tried out anyway. I had made the A team, but they didn’t seem to care. They hadn’t attended a single one of my games.

After everybody was finished introducing themselves, Tim stood up. “Who wants to play basketball?”

If my team couldn’t win a simple 4v4 game, I might as well accept defeat and tell my parents they were right.

What was I thinking? Of course I would win. My parents could be jerks by themelves.

~


It was supposed to be parent visitation day.

I had been dreading it all session, the day when the parents came to ‘check in’ with their kids and ask them how camp had been so far.

The counselors had been absolute angels, letting us have our space when we needed it, but coming in before anything got too out of hand.

“Well, glad to see you are flourishing in this new environment.”

I stiffened at the voice, not wanting to turn around. “Hello mother. Hello father.”

They both looked at me, their eyes brimming with disdain. I felt my heart pounding like I was running a race, felt my breath quicken.

I instinctively turned to try and find Josh, but I found him in a similar position as I, having to confront parents who weren’t supportive of anything you did.

Our eyes met from across the room, and we both sucked in a breath through our teeth at the exact same time, then covered our mouths to keep from laughing.

“Why don’t you stop laughing and talk about how your session has been?”

I turned back to my parents, and gave them a forced smile. “Of course!”

That’s when the storm hit.

The storm that would change everything.

~
Part Four

Full length scenario- 706 words!

They had been predicting bad weather for quite some time, but nobody expected it to hit this hard. Or right in the middle of parent meetings.

Just my luck.

The rain outside started pouring, and it went from nothing to buckets in a span of a couple of minutes. It was straight-out scary, but I forced myself to keep a straight face, keep the record speed my heart was pounding to myself.

Josh came behind me, and together we went to the window. The rain outside was as thick as a curtain, and you could hardly see the driveway of the cabin. The counselors ran to the center of the room.

“Nobody panic, this is simply a couple-minute thing. For now, we want everybody to stay inside and make themselves comfortable. We will get food for the parents if they want it.”

Josh and I looked at each other, and our eyes widened in realization. If this storm didn’t go away real soon, it would be far too dark for our parents to drive home on the narrow gravel path leading to the main road. We would be trapped here with them.

We went to the downstairs music room, since every good cabin had a room completely dedicated to music, obviously.

If I had said that out loud, Josh would have laughed at my sarcasm. But I was too scared to say anything now.

Josh sat down next to me on the couch in the music room, handing me my guitar. My guitar was my pride and joy, made of polished white wood, with a dove indent on the side.

He grinned at me, and I strummed a couple of notes, cringing when I realized it was sorta out of tune. Josh laughed, and I started playing the song we had written when we were little, playing a game of ‘make up the lyric’ even now, it still held a deep meaning to me.

Take me home.
Take me away.
Take me to the place where I can play.
Where I can be myself all day.
And play pretend with fairies!

Both of us laugh at that line, and I notice that both of our parents are standing there. We ignore them, and I chime in for the chorus.

Oh take me away,
Take me far far away,
From the people who don’t accept me as I am.
Let me be myself, wherever I may go,
Take me to that kind of home.
That kind of home.

Josh finishes up the last few verses -we didn’t know much about songwriting when we were little- and we laugh.

Our parents stand there, and slowly, my mom says. “You guys wrote that?”

Josh looked at me, his eyes coated with a thin glaze of fear.

But I take a deep breath and nod, winding my unruly brown hair around my finger. “Yes. We wrote that.”

“Was… that about us?” Josh’s dad asked.

I saw Josh give a little jump, and I grabbed his hand, squeezing it before I nod again. “Yes. It was about you guys. Even when we were seven years old, we wished you would just accept us for who we are.”

My mom ran to me, sweeping me up in a hug. “Hon, me and your dad have been talking while you were away. We told you that we didn’t support you, that you weren’t good enough. I know that nothing can account for what we said, but I want you to know that we are sorry. We were so set in our ways that we couldn’t see that you wanted to do things your way.”

Josh’s parents say something along the same lines, and the two of us share a look, much like we do all the time when our parents are involved. But I find, I forgive them. They just like doing things their way, and they don’t want to see anything past what they have learned.

“T-thank you guys. And though we might not totally forgive you, we know you were just trying to do what was right.”

Josh nodded in agreement, and together we stayed downstairs, watching movies in the music room, until the storm cleared.

With the storm, our parents' many-year-long anger and disbelief towards us faded too.

Total Word Count: 661

Red coated the lavender field. Red coated the lavender field as a country tore itself in half. Red coated the lavender field as people ran across it, escaping to safety.

Some made it, across the red-stained lavender field. Some were captured, brought back to where they had come from.

Then two figures emerged. From the bushes bordering the meadow, a young woman and young man locked eyes from across the meadow. The flowers watched as the young man knelt, picking a single petal from a lavender flower. The petals of peace, the flowers whispered, excited though they knew that this step of peace would be almost nothing in the grand scheme of things, but everything to these two people.

The young man had dark curly hair that fell across his face, a smile that was warm, genuine. He wore the simple, stiff clothes of a man who worked in the fields all day. A man from the South. The woman also had dark hair, but hers was stick-straight. She had tanned skin and light freckles, but her smile was guarded, wary. She had learned to never trust anything, take anything for granted.

The young woman walked across the meadow, looking down at the red on the purple flowers. She met the man, and he smiled. Two people from opposite sides of the border. A farmer and a country girl, both wanting peace. They both wanted the same thing, only they knew they wouldn’t be able to achieve it alone.

“Hello.” The man said, grinning at her.

The young woman rolled her eyes, “Hello to you as well.” She said, a light accent coating her voice. The flowers could not pick out what kind of accent it was.

The farmer tucked the lavender petal in her hair, and she laughed, looking over. How could two people live in so much peace, when they knew their country was torn apart, with no clear way to re-connect it.

Both were involved in transporting those who needed their help across the border to safety. Both were ready for this war to end. Both were ready for the two sides of the country to be one again, and stop fighting each other for something that seemed so simple: human rights. Because both also believed that every human on the face of the earth had rights, and they all needed each other to survive.

They were meeting in a place coated with theoretical red, a place of pain and suffering, a place where your only choices were to leave everything behind or be taken back to the life you had always known. The girl and the man, though they weren’t suffering, had reached that point as well. They had to turn away from the lives they had always known, follow their hearts, or return to a place where they never quite fit in.

The country girl heard a voice, her father’s voice, and knew she had to leave. She knew another group of people had arrived, searching for freedom that they would try their best to give.

“I- I have to go.” The young woman said softly, and the man nodded slowly.

“Will I see you again?” He asked her.

She gave a sad smile. “I don’t know. I trust that fate will steer us towards each other if we were meant to be, though.”

The man nodded, but he didn’t believe in fate.

The lavender flowers watched as she said goodbye to the farmer, afraid of being caught with him, knowing that her father would see what side of the border first, and ask questions later.

The flowers watched as she walked away.

Neither knew they would never see each other again.

Neither knew that they would both go on to change the fate of the country, in their own special ways.

Neither knew that the single lavender petal exchanged on that day would be a promise, an affirmation, that they were doing the right thing.

Betty groaned in frustration, annoyed that her butter had once again turned out bitter. This had been the second time she had gone to the store to get it, only to find out that it had turned bitter.

Now Betty was starting to blame the store, and she went to the store manager to tell him of her concerns.

“I have found, for the past several batches, that the butter has been bitter.” She told the store manager, and he looked at her like she was crazy.

“Seems like you have a tongue twister on your hands there.” He said with perfect seriosity, if that was a word.

Betty, irritated, groaned and continued. “I mean that your store obviously has a quality problem. And I might just have to report it if I do not get a refund soon.”

The store itself was nice-looking, or as much as a store could be, with bright lights above, metal shelves, and polished tile floors. The manager was as polished as the store he owned, wearing a crisp black-and-white three piece suit with polished black shoes. Betty thought it was just a tad bit formal for a… store owner, but she made no comment or complaint.

Her only complaint was about the butter. The butter that had been so bitter, she had resorted to beating it to make it taste less bitter.

When you said it all together, it sounded a bit like a tongue twister, Betty had to finally admit.

“Do you have a sample of this… bitter butter?” The store manager asked her, and she shook her head.

“I beat the bitter butter to make it taste less bitter.” She replied, and almost fell over laughing. But she kept it all contained. She didn’t want this man to think she was crazy.

“Oh-kay then…” The man said, clearly confused on what to do with this woman who arrived claiming that her butter was bitter and that she… beat the butter, whatever that meant, to make it taste less bitter.

So the man simply nodded to her, then went to consult with his co-owner of the store, and they both agreed that this woman was crazy.

And so the co-owner came out to meet the woman for herself, and when she arrived to see Betty, she was surprised at how put-together Betty looked, as her counterpart had made her seem… eccentric.

Betty was wearing a simple maroon dress with a glittering golden pendant on a chain. She wore flats and obviously had taken her time getting ready this morning.

“You claim you have received bitter butter.” The co-owner said, her voice full of disbelief.

Betty nodded enthusiastically. “Yes. For the past two shopping trips, the butter has been unbearably bitter.”

Now the co-owner also wanted to burst out laughing at the absurdity of the statement, but she held it together because she was, clearly, a professional. “And you have no proof to show us that this butter was indeed bitter.”

Betty was almost done with this repetitive conversation. “Yes. And I need butter because my son won’t eat anything without it. And he can tell the difference between the different brands.”

Clearly these children were as eccentric as their mother, the co-owner thought.

But she said nothing, simply nodded and turned to her counterpart, because what else could she do? A woman was here complaining about butter, for goodness sake.

So she gave Betty a refund, because there was little else she could do. Betty went on to buy her un-bitter butter, and Betty’s son enjoyed his butter-filled meals.

And they said nothing of it, for the rest of their days.

Until Betty started getting bitter butter again…

404 words

“Now that you have come of age, it is time you learned to train your dragon.” Summer smiles, offering me her hand.

I take it, and she leads me to a pasture, with dragons grazing on bright green grass, an autumn breeze drifting through the air, ruffling my leather vest.

I tug it tighter around me, even though my long-sleeved blue shirt provides a medium amount of warmth.

There are many kinds of dragons in the field, and I find myself in awe of their size, and all the beautiful colors. There is a two-headed one that another young woman is checking out, and Summer is greeting a blue one with a yellow-spiked head.

I look around, wondering how in the world I am going to choose. Then a black dragon with a white chest and white tips on its ears approaches me, nudging my hand lightly.

“Oh, hello!” I say, and the dragon growls in appreciation.

Summer laughs, coming to join me. “That’s Everest. She is super nice, but gets tired easily, especially when she flies fast.”

“So very fast, but not a lot of stamina. Like me!” I comment, and Everest almost seems to laugh.

Summer helps me board Everest, and I slide a bit, but eventually find my footing, locking my feet into place in the bones behind her wings.

With a little nudge, Everest is flying.

I find that the experience of flying is hard to describe to someone who has never experienced the feat, just like it is impossible to describe color to the blind person.

But let me try, just for the sake of this story.

The wind whips through my hair, blowing it behind me and in my eyes, obscuring my view, which was annoying. I can feel the leathery hide of Everest beneath me, her sides moving up and down with her breath. Her ears are twitching, and the pace was slow, mostly so Everest didn’t tire herself out. The sky around me was the most beautiful shade of blue, and the clouds were full of cold, misty air that almost made you shiver when you passed through them.

Eventually, I landed, and Summer and the rest of the trainers were watching me. “T- that was amazing!” I manage to stammer out, and everybody laughs.

“It sure is.” Summer says, “And that is only the beginning. Welcome to Fantasy, where nobody but the bravest dare wander.”

527 words!

The daily team going on strike would cause a number of very bad -and very chaotic- problems to SWC. One of these problems is the campers -and I, sadly, know this for a fact- would make up their own dailies with mangoes for rewards instead of points, and cause general chaos without the daily team there to monitor them. Don’t get me wrong -I love a good amount of chaos- and not to say they don’t cause a lot of chaos with the daily team, but the amount of mangoes being traded around would be crazy, and we would lose all our mangoes, and nobody wants that.

Another reason the daily team shouldn’t go on strike is because dailies are essential to what SWC is. Without dailies, most of us wouldn’t even meet our goals without the daily.
Also the daily is a wonderful opportunity for all of us to express ourselves and get motivation to write. (Look at me, sitting on my couch trying to get this daily done while simultaneously trying to do singing practice)
It also serves up writing prompts in manageable amounts that people can reasonably get done with schoolwork and everything else that life always comes carrying.

And the daily team is also super active, so they are able to respond to a lot of our questions, which is always incredibly helpful to all of the new SWC-ers -and a few of the old ones, too-

Along with all that, dailies help get a lot of sustained points for our cabins, which is always nice, especially when you don’t have the energy to complete a longer weekly. I bet if you ask all the winning cabins in previous sessions where they got the most points, they would probably say: “dailies and weeklies”

Also, writing competition entries might contribute to that, but we won’t touch on that here.
The dailies also help people with writer's block get through it by providing fun, easy-to-follow prompts that are also very open-ended

Honestly, when I first heard about SWC, back in March 2022, the thing that made me the most interested was the daily. I was going through a terrible bout of writer’s block at that time, and the dailies helped me get through that and start to make progress on my writing again!

The dailies and weeklies also help us to be more active, wondering what the next one will be and getting very excited about it, helping us to participate more in SWC, by checking in every day for the daily. I found that when there was a bi-daily, I actually wasn’t as active after I completed it on the first day.

Following along with the point I had before, it also helps add a sense of change or newness to SWC every day, since you aren’t getting the same prompt day after day.

Those are just a few of the reasons that the daily team shouldn’t quit, and I’m sure my fellow SWC-ers thought up a bunch more.

Please don’t go on strike, I’m sure we can find an agreement that works for all of us. How do some mangoes sound to you?

Clava Noctis

I tried the door, but the handle wouldn’t budge. It was locked.

I tried the key, but for some reason, it wouldn’t turn.

We were trapped inside our ‘immersive experience’ club, the Clava Noctis, and the building -probably haunted by ghosts- was locked.

The sign above us, flickering, welcoming people to the club, cast eerie bright green shadows across my friends faces.

The Clava used to belong to some rich old man back a while ago. But then he died, and nobody knew what happened to the house after that. It sort of faded off of the map after a while, returning when the owners of the Clava thought it would be cool to buy the town’s local ghost house -with only one door and no windows in the entire building- and base an interactive experience in it.

Nate Bryon, my best friend since we had both started working here, was quiet. I knew that he was well aware -we both worked here, after all- that there were no exits. But now he was putting his college-math-degree brain to use and thinking of any possible escape route. They probably all involved blowing the building -and, by correlation, us- up.

“Boo!”

Both me and Nate jumped. But it was only Vivian Gerald, one of the other workers here. She acted like it was her job to freak us out, but I knew her tell: a subtle flick of her eyes from side to side.

Her twin brother, Tim, huddled in the corner, almost like a turtle trying to retreat into its shell. I felt bad for him. He had always been jumpy, and I think hanging out at this house made him even more so.

And it was my job to be the calm one. The unrattled one, even though I was about to revisit my lunch.

“Nate, do you have your phone on you?” I asked, forcing my voice not to shake. It wasn’t really a question. Nate Byron always had his phone.

He took it out…

“No service. Sorry Melody.”

I shouldn’t have been surprised. The Clava was so out of the way that hardly anything reached here. I was grasping at straws now, trying things that even I knew wouldn’t work.

Which meant we were trapped here until someone decided to come along. And since all the actors had already left, that might be as late as tomorrow. I certainly wasn’t spending the night in this -presumably haunted- house.

Nate bit his lip. “I know that this might not be a… popular decision. But there might be a way out at the end of The Hallway.”

That drew an immediate reaction from all of us. Tim literally jumped into the air, Vivian shook her head, and I did nothing, but wondered if Nate was going crazy. I think all of us had lost our minds at this point, honestly.

Anyone who went into The Hallway had never been seen again.

I mean, not that anybody I knew had tried. But there were stories…

Nate and I took the lead, standing where the dark hallway met the normal, lit-up area in the back of the building. Vivian looked at the hallway, her lips drawn tight, her eyes flicking frantically back and forth.

We formed a little circle, with me and Nate at the head, Vivian and Tim behind us.

I drew a quick breath when the light behind us disappeared, replaced with a glowing green light ahead.

Nate nudged me. “I guess we follow that?”

“It could be a trap.” Vivian said matter-of-factly.

“Do you have a better plan?”

Surprisingly enough, the words came from Tim. I got the impression he didn’t stand up to his sister a lot.

Vivian was surprised too, but she just shrugged and turned to Nate. “I guess we could follow the light. But don’t say I didn’t tell you.”

I shared a smirk with Nate, the little bit of lightness breaking through our fear.

I jumped back as a figure appeared in front of us. I was startled. It was a woman. Her hair was black, and it was braided in much the same style as Vivian, all the way down to her waist.

“Help me…”

Her voice was light, airy, but still managed to convey almost ethereal sadness.

“My story is yet untold…”

The woman looked eerily familiar. I shared a look with Nate as she faded away.

Then Tim’s eyes lit up, through his fear. “I know where I saw her! When I was serving in the Dining Hall, there was a picture of her!”

“But… who is she?”

The hallway started glowing with green light, bright enough we all had to shield our eyes.

“I think we’re gonna find out.” Nate said quietly.

The light overtook us, and a new scene was painted around us.

Magic really does exist… I thought to myself.

We are back in the Clava, but I can’t move my feet. I also can’t see Nate, Vivian, or Tim. But I can feel Nate’s shoulder brush mine, so I assume my head is frozen too.

A young woman walks through the dining hall. It is the same one we saw before, in the Hallway, but this time she was alive, with hair and skin that actually had color. The whole room, however, was tinted with the lightest shade of green, which is how I knew we weren’t actually back in the Clava.

“Father. Women aren’t cattle to be sold off and traded. You can’t make me marry such a vile man!”

The woman’s father simply brushed her off. “No, Marietta. You will marry Victor, because it will be good for my business.”

I inferred, from the hats on the table, that it was a haberdashery.

“No, father. I will make my own life. And if you think you will be there to control it, you are wrong.”

We watched the woman grow older, see her fall in love and get married, see her looking out the window as two young children who resemble her play in the field.

We watch her take over the haberdashery, but run it exactly how her father wouldn’t want it run. We see her make her own life, just like she told her father she would.

As this new vision starts, I feel my heart grow in size, watching with a little smile on my mouth as the woman aged before our eyes. In this vision, she is wearing a dress not unlike the dress I had worn this morning, red and poofy, with a black lace cardigan and bow in her hair. The old woman took a picture off her nightstand, and, with wobbling steps, walked to place it gently on the mantle in the Dining Hall.

The vision faded to black, and as I found myself able to move again, I saw the woman -once again swathed in green- appear.

“Now you know my story. Please tell it to those who need to hear it.” She said softly, and disappeared.

A light appears in front of us, and it's a window… and a door!

Nate ran toward it and tried the handle. It was unlocked.

~

The next day, the three of us approach our supervisors and tell them about Marietta’s story. And they do something none of us expected.

“We should change our experience to the story of Marietta.” Our main supervisor, Yolanda, said.

And so the Clava Noctis became the Memoriae Clava. The Club of the Night became the Club of Memories.

Nate, Vivian, and Tim stayed employed, and together we brought to life the story we had seen with our own eyes.

And The Hallway was never dark again. Instead, it shone with a bright green light that attracted visitors from all over.

And sometimes, when Nate, Vivian, Tim and I went and looked into The Hallway, I could have sworn I saw the ghost of Marietta, smiling out at us.

Brianna stood at the edge of the volcano, wondering if she dared step inside, leave her entire life behind.

“What are you waiting for?”

Brock Winters stood behind her, already preparing to make the leap from what he used to know to what he did.

Brianna simply looked at her friend, wondering how he could be so trusting, so sure in the fact that everything was going to turn out just fine.

She knew that if she joined this school, she would never get to see any of her other friends again, and probably not her brother or parents. Some people would tell her she would make a new family for herself, make new friends. But Brianna just wanted to stick with what she had always known.

Brock was trusting. He always had been, through their childhood and beyond. He was always ready to jump head-first into adventure and never look back. Brianna, however, always looked for every possible option and considered them all equally.

Brock leaped into the bubbling volcano, taking his leap of faith. Brianna couldn't bring herself to follow him, instead staring out into the bright red. She knew she wouldn’t be hurt if she jumped. At least, not physically. That wasn’t the problem. The problem was the emotional toll it would take on her if she left her entire life behind, left it for the new.

But she knew that whatever happened, her family and friends would always be with her. She knew they would be, and they would never truly leave her, even if she left them. So Brianna took a deep breath and jumped.

For a second, it was pure terror. Then exhilaration as the hot air blew up from the magma, hitting her and blowing her dark hair back behind her. She might have screamed. She didn’t know. But then a large net came from behind her, tangling her legs in it. She felt herself scream for sure this time as they drug her up on a ledge of the volcano.

A young man stood there, his smile bright and excited. “Timothy Herring. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Briana Bright. Same to you.” She wasn’t entirely sure why this boy was being so… formal. Was everybody in the academy this way?

From the eccentric look of the girl standing next to Timothy, that was obviously not the case.

She had a bright pink skirt and green shirt, with tall white boots and her hair looked like she had cut it herself. “Hannah Yonder. At your service!” She offered her hand to Brianna, and Brianna took it.

Brianna had to shake herself as her hand was shaken vigorously by Hannah.

Critique for @*
433 Words

Long ago in a village named Bheempoor, there was a girl named Isabella who lived with her parents who were rich farmers.

This seems like a rather classic fairy tale entrance. If that is the theme you are going for, then that will be perfect entrance. If you are looking for a more original way to start, then maybe start with dialogue. Also, I’m wondering how her parents could be rich farmers. Farmers don’t often make a lot of money. Keep in mind I’m critting as I go, so if there is something revealed later, then I apologize for that.

Also, it might help to add a few commas, like after ‘ago’ and ‘parents’

When Isabella opened the box, in it, she found a map which was leading to a place.

The interjection of ‘in it’ kind of interrupts the flow of the sentence. Maybe add the ‘in it’ towards the end of the sentence. Also, the word ‘place’ doesn’t seem descriptive enough. Maybe add what exactly the map was leading to?

Isabella agreed and said “ I will take my best friend Sophie with me”.

Anytime a new character speaks, try and make a new paragraph so that it isn’t confusing for the reader. For example (this is a made-up scenario, just used for practice)

“Where are you going, Hannah?” My best friend, Lillia, asked.
“Not anywhere dangerous, I promise.” I said.

That’s the only time this critique I’m going to mention that, but try and go and make sure that stays consistent through this piece and your entire novel.

When Isa checks the map in her house, she spots a riddle on it and decides to tell Sophie about it.

What does the riddle look like? Is it written in handwriting, and if so, what is the handwriting like? Is it printed on there, and if so, what type is it using?

Suddenly, an old woman appears walking down the path towards the two friends.

You can get rid of the ‘suddenly.’ Maybe add what the characters did when she appeared. Did they jump back? Gasp? And what does the old woman look like? What is she wearing?

… replied in an uncertain way

In what way? Is she stuttering, is her voice quiet, or is she second-guessing herself?

That’s all the critique I have for this! Overall, I loved the characterization and the events that are occurring. I think this story has a bunch of potential and I am looking forward to seeing where you go next!

Part One
Total: 1514 words

398 words

Pepper: Guuuyysss I need help. I only have a little bit of time left on the daily.
Mouse: Oh no! Maybe… try word-dumping?
Kiara: That’s what I’m doing right now on my weekly.
Lily: You guys! That’s why you probably shouldn’t wait until the last second?
Kiara: And the forums are down, so now I don’t know what I’m going to do.
Poppy: Try writing in a project.
Kiara: I’m writing on a google doc, so saving isn’t the problem. The problem is that I am writing far too many words for a project to hold.
Mouse: Oooh… yeah that's a problem.
Pepper: So me and Kiara have joined the procrastination crew.
Lily: Isn’t that all of us at some point, though?
Mouse: Yeah, I can’t think of a single session where I didn’t procrastinate at some point.
*awkward silence*
Poppy: So… Uh…
*more silence*
Kiara (laughing): Poppy, I don’t think that’s what you do when you try to break a silence.
Lily (joking): I mean, she broke it all right.
Poppy (joking): Why do you guys have to blame everything on me! I am an innocent human being who is only slightly chaotic!
Mouse: I am the one who is supposed to be slightly chaotic.
Kiara: If we were commenting right now, this would be the point where one of us used an emoji because we don’t know what else to say.
Mouse (laughing): Way to be an omniscient third person narrator, Kiara.
Kiara: We are just dropping writing terms in everyday conversation. What is wrong with us?
Mouse, Lily, Poppy, Pepper: Everything.
Kiara: True that.
Pepper: So, any advice for the daily I still haven’t finished?
Poppy (completely off topic): Only a few more minutes until… *spooky voice* midnight…
Kiara: And at midnight, guess what starts!
Everybody: Wo~rd wars!
Kiara: Not us just casually staying up until midnight.
Pepper: Aaaand the daily? Which I still haven’t finished yet?
Kiara: I don’t know. I just wrote a couple of words and let an idea sprawl from there.
Mouse: That’s what creating a story is, Kiara.
Kiara: Oh. yeah.
Pepper (jokingly exasperated): You guys are no help at all.
Poppy (still off-topic): Two minutes!
Mouse (even more off topic): Oooh mangoes!
Kiara: Mangoes?
Pepper: How about doing my daily in two minutes?
Pepper (still jokingly exasperated): *sigh* I guess you guys are determined to stay off topic…





Part 2
Style Parody (T Swift)
353 words

Midnight
We’re counting down the minutes
Long drive
Could end in losing points or mangoes
Fade into view, oh
It's been a while since I have even heard from you (heard from you)
And I bet you’re procrastinating on the weekly (cause I)
Know exactly where it leads, but I
Watch us go ‘round and ’round each time
You got that pro-crast-i-nation look in your eye
And I got that 11:59 thing that you like
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause it never goes out of style, it never goes out of style
You got that last-minute, waiting, eating mangoes and laughing
And I got that mango faith that 359-word-daily
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause it never goes out of style, it never goes out of style
So it goes
Counting down the minutes
Until the weekly (mm)
Takes me home
The lights are off, I’m sneaking down to write
“I heard, oh, that you’ve been out and about writing other things”
He says, “What you heard is true, but I
Can't stop procrastinating and I”
I said, ”I've been there too a few times"
'Cause you got that pro-crast-i-nation look in your eye
And I got that 11:59 thing that you like
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause it never goes out of style, it never goes out of style
You got that last-minute, waiting, eating mangoes and laughing
And I got that mango faith 359-word-daily
And when we go crashing down, we come back every time
'Cause it never goes out of style (it never goes), it never goes out of style
5 more minutes
Just give me 5 more minutes
Yeah, just give me 5 more minutes
Oh, whoa, oh
(Out of style)
Oh, you got that pro-crasti-nation look in your eye
And I got that 11:59 thing that you like
And when we go crashing down (now we go), we come back every time
'Cause it never goes out of style, it never goes out of style
Part 3
755
Kiara was waiting patiently for midnight, sitting in a chair and reading a book.

Poppy bounded over to her. “Six more minutes!” She cheered.

“Until what?” Lily emerged from her cabin, rubbing sleep out of her eyes.

“Until cabin waaaars!” Mouse said, bouncing out from Sci-Fi.

Kiara sighed. She had *wanted* to keep reading her book, but now that everybody was here she might as well join in on the excitement.

Pepper, however, huddled in the corner, writing frantically on a notepad.

Mouse peered over her shoulder. “Oooh, what are you working on?”

Pepper didn’t look up, her pencil moving back and forth on the lines. “Daily.” She said, “It’s due in six minutes, and I’ve waited until the last second to do it.”

Kiara grins. “Sounds like me.” She replied, continuing to read her book.

“Four minutes!” Poppy chimed, making everybody laugh.

Lily worked on the weekly, munching on a mango.

Pepper slammed her pencil down “Done!” She cried out, grinning. She submitted it, proud of herself. “And with a few seconds to spare.”

The main cabin was cozy, with plush purple armchairs in the corner. There was a large oak table where daily letters to the campers arrived, from their families or friends. Also, there was a large bulletin board up front where the dailies, weeklies, and announcements were posted. On top of the table, there were beautiful sketches of planets, drawn by SWC’s resident artists, and if you looked out the window, you could see the top of mystery’s mansion, and the edge of the dragon pasture from fantasy, peeking out of the woods.

Many of the campers started joining them as the countdown to midnight intensified.

The clock was swarmed, with campers (im)patiently counting down the seconds.

Mouse tossed out mangoes, which made everybody laugh, and Kiara ate one while still keeping one eye on the clock.

“Five… four… three… two… one…” The campers counted down the seconds.

“CABIN WARS!” Everybody shouted, laughing.

Mouse scurried off to war Sci-Fi's enemies, and most of the cabins went to get fresh notebooks and sharpen their pencils.

Kiara grabbed her favorite pencil (mechanical, of course) and her brand new glittery blue notebook. Glitter, in her opinion, made everything better.

Poppy walked in, a slip of paper with her war on it held in her hands. “Write 2000 words in the next three hours as a cabin, or lose 500 points.”

Pixie and Moonsy came out to join Kiara, their notebooks in their hands as well.

And… the comfortable silence of writing ensued, the only sound was the soft scribble of pencil on paper.

When the war was finished, Fantasy cheered, then quickly quieted down, not wanting to disturb the dragons.

When Kiara returned to the main cabin, she saw several people working on wars or the weekly. SWC-ers really were procrastinators.

Kiara was most certainly included in this statement, she sometimes waited until three hours before the weekly was due to actually turn it in.

Of course, sometimes the weekly even took priority over other things, like the daily.

Lily, Poppy, Mouse, and Pepper all came back from their various cabins, probably with a war already completed. They would probably hop back there when another war was issued.

“Hi you guys!” Kiara said, smiling.

The four waved, and came over to join her on the couch.

“How have cabin wars been going?” Pepper asked the group, and they all gave varying degrees of ‘good.’

It was now about 2 AM, and lots of SWC-ers were still awake, per usual. Some of them were still on different time zones, but some were just staying up late because why not.

Lily shook her pencil hand, “I’m so sore. Writing non-stop for thirty minutes has its tolls.”

The three others nodded. “Hence why we prefer keyboards.” Mouse replied.

“Mangoes, anyone?” Poppy asked, and for at least the fifth time that day, Kiara ate yet another mango.

Cabin wars? More like mango wars.

“Guys, the forums just… crashed.” Mouse said dramatically, and everybody groaned.

“We probably broke them.” Kiara joked, smiling.

“Honestly, I think the forums always happen to be down when everybody is stressing about finishing their weekly and it is the last day possible for it to get done.”

“And having like forty words left.” Pepper joked, as if she hadn’t just been stressing about the daily a few hours earlier.

“Well, I guess we’re just gonna have to wait until the forums come back.” Lily said sadly.

“And pray.” Kiara said, refreshing the forums.

Part One
Total: 2840 Words

The first genre parts are not my finest work, but I am so incredibly proud of my Secret Santa piece!

Epistolary
312

Dear Brianna,
It’s been forever!
I think it's been… give me a second to check my calendar…
Almost exactly two years.
How is life back on Terra? I miss having blue skies above me all of the time.
The skies here on Gilia IV are orange. Almost like a pale sunset orange. But there is no night, that's the thing. Because we have no sun, we rely on the Terra clock to tell the time.
Go to bed with orange skies, wake up with orange skies.
I also miss clouds. And seasons! I miss the seasons a lot.
I miss the way the leaves turn brilliant colors in fall, and the soft snow of winter.
But my parents got amazing new jobs here, so I guess there is nothing I can do but be a good, supportive daughter.
How have you been? How is your sister? How are you parents? Have you picked up any new hobbies? (Knowing you, you have, and you are crazy good at them too)
I miss you so much, and I am so thankful we have finally got a mail system in place between the planets, so I can send this to you.
I would send a digital mail, but I think this is more fun.
Much love,
-Zallia

Dear Zallia,
Wow, I have missed you as well!
It has been exactly two years since you left, today.
Life has been kinda dull without you.
My sister died last week.
And then I blew up at a supermarket cashier because I was so grief-stricken and mad.
And… then I learned he goes to our school.
I’m pretty sure he hates me.
Wait, did I write our school? I guess it’s just mine now…
Like I said, I miss you so much that sometimes I forget that you aren’t here anymore.
Love to hear from you later,
-Brianna

Cashier Memoir
352
Vincent Whispers was having just a wonderful day at the supermarket.
Hopefully you could hear the sarcasm in that.
Vinny was texting his friends, extremely ready for his shift to end.
There was only one rude customer today…
Scratch that.
A young woman walked up to the counter, looking extremely annoyed and kind of teary.
“How can I help you, miss?” Vinny asked, in an extremely cocky way.
“By scanning my freaking groceries, thank you very much.”
“Woah, okay there miss. No need to get feisty with me.”
Vinny recognized the girl, she was in science class with him.
She had always seemed moderately welcoming, but now she was nothing but a cold block of ice.
Vinny could swear he saw her shake, just a little
“Is there anything I can help you with?” Vinny asked again, gentler this time.
“My sister just freaking died of cancer, so you might as well shut your pretty little mouth and scan my groceries.”
Vinny felt for her. His grandma had died of cancer as well, he knew how sudden and strange it felt. But he still couldn’t fight the urge to be cocky. He knew this wouldn’t end well, but he said: “You think my mouth is pretty, Princess?”
That's what everybody at school called her. ‘Space Princess’ or ‘Her royal majesty’
That was because her parents were super rich and owned a good half of the ships that were shuttling people in between planets all over the universe.
“Don’t freaking call me that to my freaking face or it will be the last freaking thing you see.” She hissed at me.
“Okay, chill it out.” Vinny said, scanning her groceries as fast as he could. He knew that
Brianna was a black-belt in martial arts, there was no messing with her or her ‘freaking’ face would really be the last ‘freaking’ thing that he saw.
She gave him a tight-lipped smile, then grabbed her bag of groceries and turned on her heel.
“Thank you, sir.” She said behind gritted teeth, walking away.
Vinny was having such a wonderful day at the supermarket, huh?

Bangisan
243
Hanna opened her eyes.
The first thing she noticed was that she wasn’t hurting anymore.
Hanna lifted her hand to her face, and it shimmered with an almost ethereal light.
Unless…
Hanna looked around.
Doorways opened through the seemingly endless abyss of stars.
‘Am I… dead?’ Hanna asked herself softly.
She heard no reply.
She thought of Brianna, back on Terra. “I am so sorry, sis.” She said, out loud this time.
She remembered Brianna sitting next to her bedside.
The doctors, all these hundreds of years later, still didn’t have a cure for her disease.
She thought of Brianna’s tears. She knew this would break her sister. She cursed whatever god had let her pass away, knowing what it would do to Bri.
The doors were alluring, especially one that was painted a pale blue.
The exact same color as Bri’s door.
Hanna tapped on it, and it swung open
It was Bri’s room. Her bed, in the exact same spot that it always was, but it was much more askew than normal.
Clothing was tossed all over, and her schoolwork lay in a cluttered mess over her desk.
“Bri?” Hanna called out, happy when her sister walked into the room. But Brianna didn’t look her way. “…Bri?”
Still, her sister didn’t respond.
“Oh.” Hanna said to herself. “I can see the people who were important to me, but they can’t see me ever again.”
It was a blessing and a curse.

Furry Sleuth
249
Trilli ducked into the woods, a briefcase in her hand -er… mouth- as she opened it up using the fine motor skills picking all those pantry locks had gained her.
Inside, there was a tiny holographic globe, projecting in a circle. Trilli used her nose to twirl it around, examining it from every angle.
It was a planet. Not Terra, Trilli knew that. The planet wasn’t colored right for it to be Terra.
But Trilli knew of this planet. She had seen the shape on her owner’s wall. What planet had Vinny been studying last?
The cat clicked a button, and the name of the planet illuminated. Gilia IV.
This was the planet that the cooperation was targeting.
But why?
And how was Trilli going to stop it?
She may not know exactly how right at the moment, but she knew she wasn’t going to do it alone. Trilli needed help.
“Heeeey Trilli!”
Well, better annoying help than no help at all. Trilli thought, turning to see the small bluebird that had intruded on her peace.
“Hello Viola.” She said, giving a feral smile to the small bird.
The bird chirped and smiled.
“Okay, so here is what we have to do.”
Trilli explained the plan, and Viola nodded along.
Eventually, Trilli sent Viola to the planet.
Viola crept along, and found the thing that was supposed to detonate, destroying the entire planet.
She retrieved it and sent it to the empty abyss of space.
The planet was safe.

Utopia
265
Zallia spent at least a hundred dollars on a hairpin.
It didn’t matter, she had as much money as she could ever want.
Gilia IV was the perfect utopia. Everybody was treated fairly, and everybody was given money, all the money they could possibly want.
There were no social classes. Everybody was equal.
There were a million songs about it.
Even though this place was far better than Terra, I still would rather be there with Bri and all the animals.
Oh, yeah. Gilia IV didn’t have any animals either. None were allowed to travel with you from Terra, and none were bred on the planet either.
But I mean…
There were a lot of good things about Gilia.
Everybody was at peace, and there were no bullies.
So, there was so much about this place that was perfect. So why did Zallia still not feel like she belonged?
Zallia stepped out into the orange-ridden land of Gilia IV. The skies glowed a pale orange, and bright blue trees and pink flowers sprouted from the ground, in resemblance to spring.
The metropolis of her city was glowing, with tall steel skyscrapers with wide blue windows, plants growing everywhere.
Everything operated on solar power, and hovercrafts zoomed down lanes as she weaved back and forth.
She eventually arrived at the town hall, where there were all kinds of people -and aliens- going into a huge building made of stone, glittering in the orange light.
Zallia sat in one of the seats and looked up to where the sun should be.
Why did she feel so uneasy?

Spy-Fi

Zallia’s jaw dropped when she saw what was in front of her.
This thing could possibly destroy all of Galia’s government.
The fact that they were keeping aliens captive, torturing them because of who they are, that was a crime.
She turned to one of her friends on this planet, Gil, and they made scared eye contact.
“This… this could be bad.” Gil said softly.
Then the alarms started blaring.
“Intruders. Intruders in docking bay 17C.”
Gil and Zallia bolted.
The two started looking at the… less desirable parts of town. They knew what they would find, what they wanted to find.
A rebellion.
They found it, and trained to become top spies.
Three months later, they returned to the docking bay.
They were both clad in Stealth Suits, with shoes that muffled their footsteps and the coloring of the suit could change to blend in with the environment.
They had electronic grapples that could get them off.
And, only because it was required, they had weapons strapped to their waists.
Neither of them wanted to use them. They both knew how, and they both knew that they might not have another choice, if they wanted to stay alive.
And so they found the aliens, sick and starving, who were trapped in the hold.
Women and children, grandparents too.
Gil and Zallia quickly used their gear to free them.
Mission accomplished.

Robinsonade
264
Hanna clutched her arm. Why could she feel it again? She had been watching her parents, then all of a sudden she had been transported here.
Trilli and Viola arrived on the desolate planet with skies of pale pink, quickly followed by Vinny and Brianna.
Brianna saw Hanna, and her jaw dropped.
“Sis?” She asked, and Hanna turned to her sister.
“Wha- you can see me?”
Brianna nodded vigorously, her eyes wide. “How…”
Hanna shrugged. “I guess something went wrong in the underworld, allowing my body to reincarnate at its previous state.”
“Does that mean… your body is still buried somewhere?”
Hanna shrugged again. “I would assume so.”
Vinny saw Trilli, who trotted over to join him.
Then they realized they were stranded on a planet with no way to get off.
Vinny was the tech guy, so he looked around to see if there was anything he could use to send a signal.
He started assembling stuff, and the rest braved the crip, cold weather of the planet to gather food.
That night, they huddled around a small fire they had been able to start, as Vinny put the finishing touches on the comm system.
That night, there was a terrible storm. Everything blew away, including the communications system.
The group knew they had to work fast. So they sent the animals off to collect food while they helped Vinny.
By late night, they were able to put the system up again and send off a message to a nearby planet to rescue them.
Finally, the spaceship touched down, and they were saved.

Part Two
885 Words
I am very proud of this story, enjoy!
TW- c@r @ccident, d3@th, gr!ef

Reagan arrived at the forest, there for three nights to study trees. She had also come to get away from the grief chasing her like a shadow.

If she had been there that night, if she had stopped her sister…
Reagan shook her head, cleared the thoughts away. She was here because she wanted to get away from her problems, not confront them.

But the petrified trees reminded her of tall, haunting ghosts, and she was a little nervous at spending the night here alone…

There was a soft purr at her feet, and she reminded herself that she wasn’t alone. She had

Peony, her cat.

Peony was a golden tabby, with pale yellow stripes running down her back, and bright green eyes that seemed to always sparkle with mischief.

Reagan looked around, deciding to find a place to set up camp for the night.

She eventually found a small clearing, with moss that was springy and comfortable, and started pitching her tent. She knew almost nothing about camping except what was taught to
her when she was preparing for this mission, but she was ready for almost anything it threw at her (she hoped).

Eventually, she went out to the trees. She knew they had become petrified because of an earthquake. When the earthquake had sunk the ground, saltwater from the sea had crept into the tree’s roots, causing them to get ‘petrified.’

She wanted to make sure that there were going to be no long-term consequences in the environment from this patch of trees. She had only taken this mission because she had needed something to do after…

But it was oddly eerie, the patch of dead trees in the middle of a thriving forest.

Peony quickly scaled one of the trees, and Reagan laughed, forgetting everything for a second.

Eventually, night fell, and Reagan crawled into her tent, getting ready to sleep for the night.

She was awoken by a call in the woods. She opened her eyes, and blinked a couple of times.

It was still night.

“Help!”

It was a voice. The voice of a teenager, female. The voice seemed oddly familiar, but she wasn’t sure why.

“Reagan, help!”

So they know her name… odd.

Reagan walked out of the tent, following the sound.

She saw a dark shadow, and her heart pounded in her chest.

There was a girl, sitting there.

The girl paused, and looked up at Reagan.

The eyes, such a bright, unforgettable shade of blinding blue, made Reagan jump.

“Nellie?” Reagan asked softly to the girl.

But then there were blinding lights, the sound of an engine roaring and a scream, and then

Nellie was gone.

But then she heard the same voice -her sister's voice- call out from another side of the forest.

She crossed it, swallowing when the same scene confronted her again.


If she had only…

Reagan refused to let herself think it.

Peony was nowhere to be seen, neither was her tent.

Reagan followed it as the same scene repeated over and over. She didn’t want to watch, yet
she couldn’t help but watch her sister as she lived her final moments.

Maybe this forest…

No. There was no other explanation. This forest was haunted by ghosts.

Reagan had no idea how much time was passing, but she found it odd that no matter how many times she watched the scene, the sky never grew lighter. Just the same shining star that had been there when her sister had died.

When Reagan had been too preoccupied with a party, she forgot to pick her sister up from practice.

And while she had been laughing and having fun with friends, her sister had been forced to walk home, in the dark.

And the car hadn’t seen her, she was so small. She had always been very short, for her age.

And her sister had been d**ng in a hospital bed as her parents struggled to figure out why their daughter hadn’t been there to pick Nellie up from practice, why Nellie had been forced to walk home.

The entire time, Reagan had been having fun doing karaoke with her friends.

When her parents had finally received word of where Reagan was, they were furious with her.

It was Reagan's fault, after all.

Reagan sank to her knees. “It’s my fault.” She whispered, her voice barely audible above the screech of tires as the scene replayed over and over again.

Tears streamed down her cheeks, thick and fast. “Stop!” She yelled at the scene. “STOP!”

But when she looked up, the entire grove seemed to hold its breath as she made eye contact with the ghost of her sister.

Her sister’s ghost smiled softly, crossed her hands over her heart. The symbol Reagan and

Nellie had used since they were little to say, without words, ‘I love you.’

Then, Nellie mouthed four words. Four words may seem insignificant, but they meant everything to Reagan.

“It’s not your fault.”

Reagan nodded, then stood, smiling one last time at her sister. She knew that she could have done so many things better, but Nellie didn’t blame her. That was the important thing. And she would be better from now on, she knew that.

The darkness faded from the woods, and light returned to Reagan’s eyes.

Thank you notes!

To Everybody in SWC:
Wow, you guys. It’s… over. But this has been such an amazing session, and you are part of the reason that it has been so fun. It was kind of strange, waking up this morning for school and not being able to hop onto the main cabin and see the new daily. There was a little bit of a jolt, actually, reminding me that I have to wait until March to do a daily again here! But I will always remember how kind and supportive everybody was, and I want to thank all of you for making this session so special <3

To Fantasy:
Guys, we did it! We wrote thousands of words, and let our dragons soar in the sky. It has been such an honor to be a viking with all of you, I was so incredibly blessed to be able to be in such an amazing cabin, with amazing leaders and fellow campers! I regret not getting to know all of you better, but I really hope to see you around in the Big House and next session as well! <3

Moonlit:
There aren’t words for how helpful you have been this session. Always there to send an encouraging and uplifting message, your support has really been what made this cabin so special. Thank you for everything you have done.

Summer:
Thank you so much for being an amazing co-leader to Fantasy this session! I have been so grateful for you, hanging around and spreading your boundless energy upon all of us. Thank you for flying with me and the rest of fantasy this session, and I hope to see you next session!

Pixie:
I know -and regret- that we didn’t get to know each other very well this session, but your energy and enthusiasm while approaching writing and everything to do with SWC has helped me keep going and writing a bunch of words. Thank you so much for that! <3

Conclusion:
I know for sure I will be in the Big House and in the next session, so I hope to see a lot of you back here, so I can hang out in such an amazing community again! Thank you guys for everything, and happy flying!

Love,
Kiara ( @Strawberry-Lemon )

Daily 1/3/24

Hi! I’m Kiara, I use the she/her pronouns. I love to read, write, sing, act, dance, and read, along with participating in theater. My goals for this session are to get at least the 2nd draft of revision done for my novel, hopefully start planning for my next novel, and get done with a (quite lengthy) writing competition entry for a writing comp. here on scratch!

monthly (0/5):
- Go to bed before 12:00 a.m. 3 days in a row (1/3) (1.3.24)
- Complete 15 dailies (1/15)
- RP with someone from your cabin (If you roleplayed for a daily and earned points for it, you can't count it for the monthly challenge) (0/1)
- Complete 2 weeklies (0/2)
- Enter the MB Cover contest (0/1)