Word War Proof
Ellie and Jessie were walking around the haunted, old mansion, looking for ghosts. They were off, running down hallways, flashlights in hand. It was almost midnight and neither of them dared to turn on the hallway lights because the shadows it cast would be too scary. However, neither of them was scared to set off looking for ghosts. They didn’t fully believe ghosts were real, so they had no reason to be scared. However, they were terrified out of their minds when they came across a floating shadow down in the basement where a door had led them. A door that didn’t lead to where it was supposed to go.
They went through this door, expecting not to turn up in the closet, but they did, as that was where the door led. But then the closet led to another door which brought them to the basement. Shinning their flashlights around, they weren’t afraid. Until they saw the shadow.
Once Ellie saw it, she pointed it out in a whispered voice, and once Jessica turned, noticing it too, she looked at Ellie, matching glares of terror etched on their faces. Then, all of a sudden, they both started sprinting. Holding their breath and sprinting, until they exited through a random door, which supposedly should have brought them outside. But it brought them to the kitchen. They exhaled in unison, glad to finally be safe.

SWC
March 8 ~ 208 words ~ 300 points
Dear my sixth grade teacher,
I know that we have not talked since that last day of sixth grade, and for that, I would like to apologize, and I would also like for my life. I didn’t appreciate you as much at the time, but I realize now, that knowing you is what made me want to write, what made me want to be an author, and for that I am grateful. You came and went too soon, you were the only thing that made sixth grade survivable, and now that you’re gone, I don’t think I will ever find as big of an inspiration for writing. You were also an artist, and that is also what inspired me. To thank you, whenever I write and publish my first novel, I will dedicate it to you, to thank you for your support and inspiration, because I am eternally grateful. You have been an amazing role model, and my favorite English teacher ever. Thank you for coming to sixth grade for that one year to teach my grade, and I’m sorry for all the hard times, I among other people put you through. Thank you so much my teacher for inspiring me to write, among other things.
Love, Toko

SWC
Myth Retelling ~ 257 words
Notes: The only reason I knew so much about Orpheus and Eurydice is because I was supposed to go watch Hadestown, but I couldn’t go on the day of the musical, so I learned a lot about them to cheer myself up.
“You may both go,” shouted Hades, his powerful voice reverberating across the underground tunnel, “There is one condition, however. Orpheus must walk first, at least ten steps in front of Eurydice. And, if either of you looks back, Eurydice will never see the light of day AGAIN!”
Smiling, Orpheus and Eurydice took off, into the distance, Orpheus walking in front of her. Occasionally, he called out to her, head pointed forward, to ask if she was okay. And each time, Eurydice responded cheerfully that she was great.
When Orpheus finally the River Styx, to stay ten steps in front of Eurydice, he had to cross the river on Charon’s boat first. With one last call to make sure Eurydice was okay, he boarded the boat. However, just when Orpheus got to the other side of the river and stepped foot in the land of the living, Hades swooped down in his chariot, cackling to himself.
Orpheus, staying true to his word, since Eurydice hadn’t crossed the river yet, called out to her, but he got no reply. He was truly worried now, with Hades’s maniac laughing, so he decided to risk a glance. And his risk was worth it. He discovered that Hades had gone back on his word and had stolen Eurydice away. Yelling at Hades and calling him a traitor wouldn’t have helped at all and Orpheus knew it but he tried anyway, kneeling on the floor praying to Zeus. But nothing would get his Eurydice back. She had been banished to the Underworld forever.

SWC
Hi-Fi: If These Walls Could Talk ~ 217 words
“Hey, Left Wall!” the Right one called out, “I heard Lizzie is coming home from college today!”
“Really!” the Left Wall exclaimed, “That’s amazing! We have so much to tell her! So many stories.”
“Remember when Lizzie first learned that we walls could talk?”
“Yep! It was back when she was seven, I think. She had just gotten back from her first day of first grade and someone’s made up story had gotten her curious whether walls could actually talk. She was so shocked and surprised that she just sat on the ground, eyes unblinking for a full five minutes before she got up and hugged both of us. Well, as best as she could hug a wall.”
“It was so cute! I’m so happy she’s coming home, though she’s not staying for very long. Only three or four days, I think. I heard her mom talking on the phone yesterday about Lizzie visiting… We’ll have to make the best of those three days! Having as much fun and as many adventures as we can.”
“Wait!” called out the North Wall, “Don’t get too ahead of yourself. College can change many people, making them mature and stuff, and losing their childhood imagination. She might have forgotten about us.”
“Oh, don’t be silly. I’m sure she remembers us!”

SWC
Fairy Tales: Mixing in a Little Magic ~ 205 words
“Rapunzel, Rapunzel, let down your hair,” I called out, trying to sound as much like Mother Gothel as I could. I was wearing a long, hooded cape, with my cropped blond hair covered with a wig of black curls. Perched on my wrist was a basket with a false bottom, with the supplies I would need for later if the first part of my plan worked. And that meant I had to disguise myself as Mother Gothel for Rapunzel to let me into her tower.
From close up, my disguise wouldn’t be enough, but from afar, I must have appeared similar enough to Mother Gothel because Rapunzel’s hair came waterfalling down. As soon as I grabbed on, she whisked me up to the top of her tower.
When Rapunzel first saw me, she gasped. “You’re not Mother Gothel! Who are you and why have you come to my tower?”
“Well,” I said calmly hoping my plan would work, “I gladly can introduce myself. I’m Toko. I know it’s an unusual name, but it’s because I’m not from around here. However, I would like to help you escape this tower and Mother Gothel’s wrath. What do you say? Are you willing to let me help you?”

SWC
Folklore: Oral Retelling ~ 263 words
It was our first night at the campground, and as soon as the sun set, and the stars lit up the sky, we went for a small hike up a rock face. Once we were all situated, my sister and I begged our father for a story.
“Long, long ago, when my father was a young boy, and he served in the military, he and his group were walking through the forest. This forest was a mysterious one, which many shadows, and creatures darting all over the place. Out of the corner of his eye, my papa thought he saw something. And when he turned around…”
We gasped, the suspense held high as he continued.
“When he turned, he saw, this great beast marching after him, like a bear or a wolf, and the menacing creature came closer, and closer, and leaned in, while my papa was frozen from fear, couldn’t move, couldn’t hear. However, just when the creature could have taken a bite, my dad could once again move, realizing what he had to do, but it turned out that it was a creature, wasn’t a beast, it was merely someone in his group that they had accidentally left behind. And while my was frozen in shock, he didn’t hear, so he didn’t know that this boy was checking to make sure my dad was okay.”
With the suspense building so high, but turning into nothing, my sister and I burst into giggles. Smiling from remembering this memory, I decide, that’s what I’m going to tell my kids tonight at their bedtime.

SWC
Fairy Tales 2: Using Sparks from the Past ~ 495 words
I’d been climbing this beanstalk for over two hours. My arms were so tired and stiff, and my legs were so sore. I desperately needed a break. I took one more step, and my head burst through a layer of clouds. I was in so much shock that I almost let go. Peering up, I looked around. I saw a castle, far in the distance. Maybe there would be food there. After pulling myself up onto that cloud, I learned that they were pretty solid, as long as I didn’t jump or stomp, so I started making my way to the castle.
Around twenty minutes later, I had finally made it. Distances look a lot smaller than they are when the light is warped. Being above the clouds, the sunlight was definitely different than below. I was about to knock on the door of the castle when I realized how big it was. There was a crack under the door that looked like its height was my width, and its length was my height. Perfect! Large enough for me to fit through. I laid down on my side, next to the door, and rolled through. I was in the castle! Now I needed to figure out how to get food when everything was ten times my size.
Walking through the halls, I found myself in what appeared to be a dining room. I was about to step inside when I heard noises. A stern, gruff voice said, “Why do those tiny kids keep breaking into my house and stealing my stuff? Don’t they know how rude it is? When no one responded, I assumed he was talking to himself. Then I took a moment to think about what he said. Was he talking about me? How did he know I was here?
I decided that I should get out of this castle before he saw me, but the dining room looked like it led into the kitchen. I spent a few minutes walking around the hallways, but that seemed to be the only way in. I decided going through the dining room was I risk I had to take. I started tip-toeing down the room, under the table, when some kind of bird squawked.
“Little child, I know you’re there under the table,” the voice said. “I don’t want to hurt you, I just want to know why you’re in my house.” What was I supposed to do? What was I supposed to say?
Quickly, but cautiously I made my way out from under the table. “I’m sorry mister uh,” I trailed off.
“Giant is fine.”
“I’m sorry Mister Giant. I didn’t know this was your home. I was just trying to find some kind of food for my mum and me.”
“It’s okay. I have some food here you can have.”
“Thank you so much!”
The Giant and I talked for a little while, and it turned out, he was very considerate and kind!

SWC
Folklore 2: Magical Realism ~ 238 words
“When the end of the world comes, seek out the tree,” whispered a voice to me, in my sleep every night. There was no need to clarify because there was only one tree the voice could have been talking about. And today was the day the world ended, the voice had told me it would when I was sleeping.
Yawning, I pulled myself out of bed, ready to go find this tree. It was deep in the forest, but this one was the only magical tree. It would be easy to tell which one it was. Packing a few necessities into a bag, I left my home and made my way to the forest. To The Forbidden Forest. I had no other choice though. I had to enter the forest.
I thought to myself as I entered, ducking under the gate, that it wasn’t so bad. No monsters or other things were trying to kill me, and I soon found my way to the magical tree I was looking for. Tapping once on the wood and twisting the lowest branch on the left as the voice had told me to do, a piercing light came shooting out of a newly formed slit in the tree. As the tree opened itself up to me, I gasped realizing that it was a portal. After one last breath in the human world, I jumped through, wondering where it would take me.

SWC
March 11 ~ 233 words ~ 500 points
Note: The thing I picked to write about was procrastination.
“Hey Lucy, you’re almost done with your homework, right? Once you finish, Mom said we can go get ice cream!” my little sister called through my door.
“Yes. I should be done soon,” I tell her. That was a lie. This whole time when I should have been doing my homework, I was playing games and stuff. I need to finish, but I really want that ice cream. I set the ice cream out in front of me as a goal. Once I finish my bucketloads of homework, I get ice cream, I tell myself. Time to get to work.
Slowly but surely, I make it through my homework, taking a few small breaks. Finally, finally, I type the last word, and submit the last thing, and I run downstairs excited for ice cream. Giving a quick apology to my sister for taking so long, I skip around the house looking for my mother, and we’re off to the store! Taking those first few licks of ice cream was completely worth it doing all my homework, for my starving and tired body, but I wish that I hadn’t spent so long playing games so I could have gotten here sooner. I set this moment to memory, hoping that next time I have a lot of homework to do, I won’t procrastinate as much so the ice cream won’t have to wait as long.

SWC
March 12 ~ 130 words ~ 0 points
Eda Mae, a sweet playwright and author writer falls into her story and struggles to find her way out. As she manages to escape, Eda Mae learns that an evil villain trapped her in that story for reasons unknown, so she plots a way to seek revenge. The writer travels into other stories to gather an army of fairy tale characters, princesses and knights alike to destroy this villain who is much greater than ultimately thought of. Along the way, Eda Mae runs into the ghost of her dead older brother, the one who inspired her to start writing. Because of him, Eda Mae is a published author, and her newest novel is dedicated to him, so she finds it necessary to avenge Camillo as she vanquishes the evil villain.

SWC
March 13 ~ 355 words ~ 450 points
Note: I picked “Two shadows, reaching through / the hopeless, heavy dark" from Alia ( @–tranquility ) ‘s profile
Two shadows, reaching through the hopeless, heavy dark, striving to meet each other in the middle. One on the left, one on the right, nearing each other, hands stretched out, inch by inch.
“They will make it, eventually,” my sister told me, connecting with the story, while I didn’t see the point of it. It was just some words scattered across the page, but somehow my younger sister saw more meaning in it than I did. I was trying to be more like her, noticing the big inside the little, trying to stay optimistic, but it took so much work. It was so hard to be a little bubble of joy like her, but somehow, Sarah was good at her job, good at cheering my mother up after, after … the hard times. That’s all I can really say, without making anyone sad. No context, no explanation, just positive thoughts.
I’m not supposed to even be thinking about our family as two shadows, two halves, but I have nothing better to do if I don’t want to start breaking into tears like my mother, wishing to go back and change the past, chastising myself for not doing anything even when I didn’t have control. That’s why Sarah’s so positive, I think, so she doesn’t have to face this guilt and doubt.
I suppose those two shadows reaching through the dark are like me and my family, broken from something out of our control, at least I tell myself it was out of my control. One family broken in two by something they couldn’t control, a wall placed between them, a wall of darkness. The family, urging to be whole again, but sadly, they stay split, but slowly, they come together. Each day, one little step closer to becoming one. It was optimism.
Even if it was unlikely, that we would be whole again, we could hope. One day, our family could be back together. This wall of darkness could be removed, lifted up to the sky, and our family wouldn’t be its prisoners anymore, we could be back together. No shadows, no darkness. One family.

SWC
March 14 ~ 544 words ~ 500 points

I was falling, but it was just in my head, just my emotions. I could feel the anger pounding through my skull, the fear churning through my stomach. Trying to stabilize myself, I took deep breaths, in and out. Once I was calm, I opened my eyes, throwing myself back into reality. Letting myself smile so I would appear to be okay, I walked back into the boisterous cafeteria. It wasn’t the first time I’d had a panic attack, and it surely wouldn’t be the last, but at least this time, I knew how to handle it.
“Hey, Lia, are you okay?” my friend Dani asked, “You were gone for quite a while.”
“All good,” I lied to her, emphasizing my fake smile, as I quickly gulped down the rest of my lunch, and the two of us walked out to the playground to join my other friends. The rest of lunch passed faster than expected with all the drama from earlier, and I whizzed through my last two classes. Before I knew it, the day was over, and I packed up my backpack to walk home.
I honestly did not mind having to walk to and from school, other than the few days when my mom drove me, except when it rained. I took a nice path through the woods, so it was quiet and relaxing on most days. However, sometimes it could be a bit dangerous with all the creatures and poisonous nature around, but it was a short walk, barely over ten minutes, so I couldn’t be trapped there for too long with all the things that were trying to kill me.
Walking through the woods, I maintained a fast pace, with my focus on my surroundings, but I accidentally let my thoughts drift away, to lunch, and why I had that panic attack. It wasn’t my fault that I was an easy target for bullying. It wasn’t my fault that those boys just loved picking on me. But still, even if there was nothing I could do, I felt guilty for every bad thing those boys did to everyone who wasn’t me.
A crack dragged me back to the present, as my foot stepped down, accidentally breaking a stick in two. I picked up my pace after that incident, knowing it could draw creatures toward me.
I was right. Only a minute later, I found myself running from something. I did not know what it was, and I did not care to look, as those glances would only tell me that the creature was gaining on me. Keeping my attention on the ground so as not to break any more branches, I kept running, dodging trees and bushes. I took a quick look up to see if I could spot the light marking the end of the forest, but while my focus wasn’t on the forest floor, I tripped over a root, and it sent me flying. I landed sprawled on the bumpy path, but my momentum kept me moving, rolling through the woods. As I tried to stop myself, I kept tumbling down the incline, and eventually, I plummeted off the cliff, fear and adrenaline coursing through my veins. I was falling, but this time, it was for real.

Word War Proof
Every time I close my eyes, I see the fire. And I see her, destroyed by the fire. And every time I close my eyes, I wish I could go back, but there’s not much I can do now. Still, the guilt envelopes me, like the fire enveloped her, and I wish so hard, that her ending had been mine.
Exactly three years, five days, and nine hours ago, a fire began in the park. It started out small, just a homeless man’s campfire, but it merged with another fire, and soon it burnt countless trees, raging across the whole park, until there was nothing but charred bits and pieces, and smoke. And the only thing that survived, was the notebook that we shared. Still, three years, five days, and nine hours later, the pages of our notebook smell like the fire, smoke and ash, and all they do is continue to remind me that her death, was my fault. Something that I could have prevented it. I know in my heart, that if I tried hard enough, I could have stopped it, even when I replay the scene in my head, and find no other outcome.
She was so young when she passed, eaten by the smoke. And this notebook is all I have left of her. I know I need to keep the book, but every time I look at it, every time I see the notebook, I want to destroy it, tear it to pieces, because all it does is make me think of how much of a failure I am, that I wasn’t able to save her. That I wasn’t able to save our memories.
Sure, I have my side of the memories, but that isn’t the same as the undamaged, whole ones that we shared together.

SWC
March 15 ~ 421 words ~ 500 points
When the cloaked man appeared on my porch, knocking one, two three, times on my door, to tell me that this was my last day to live, I didn’t expect that he was serious, but he must have been, because this morning, two other cloaked men came barging into my house, taking me captive.
I sure wish that I had believed the first cloaked man because at least I could have done something meaningful with my last day of life, other than laying here being lazy. I should have done something important, something to help others and to leave a long lasting impression, to have a memory, an imprint, a mark, that would outlive me.
As these two cloaked men kidnapped me, I remained calm. I knew what was happening, and there was nothing I could do to prevent it. However, what happened next was not what I expected. They didn’t kill me. Nothing of the sort. Sure, after they took me, I didn’t see the light of day for a few weeks, trapped in a basement, but it was just part of their plan to induct me into the cult of the cloaked men, appearing on doorsteps to let people know that that was their last day to live, whether it was true or not.
It was a fun job sometimes, gory other times when people refused to accept their fate. But one day, it happened again to me. I finally returned home from living in this basement, and the next more, I received three more knocks on my door. As I was going to open it, I realized that my time was up. The cloaked man was going to tell me that for real this time, this was my last day to live. And I was right.
For my last day on this earth, I decided to go knocking on people’s doors, once again, but this time, I would give them inspirational messages instead of negative, “you’re going to die tomorrow,” ones.
Pulling a pen out of a drawer along with a stack of index cards, I started writing positive messages on them. Once I ran out of cards, I shoved the completed ones in my pocket, heading out the door. I picked a few houses on each block, sliding a card under their door or pushing it through the mail slot. This way, when I died, I would feel accomplished and as though I had done something to help my community, making people feel happier on bad days.

SWC
Part 1: Flowers ~ 332 words
“I need to show you something,” was the only warning I got before I was whisked off into madness. This morning, my friend, Lily came barging into my house shouting those words at me. Pulling me out of bed, she dragged me to her car. After driving for about an hour with no hint of where we were going, we finally made it to what looked like a garden.
Row upon row was planted with flowers, all the same type it seemed, but I still got no hint of what was happening. Lily took me to a picnic basket laid out with lunch and told me the surprise would come after we ate. And boy was I surprised when I realized why she had brought me here.
Eating my food as fast as possible so I could unravel the mystery sooner, I gulped down the lemonade and limited myself to eating just one cookie for now. When the time came, Lily took me to the top of the hill overlooking the garden and finally, finally explained what we were doing there.
“Every row and column in this garden,” she said, gesturing to the flowers below us, “is filled with one type of flower, and one type of flower only. The Lily of the Incas, what I’m named after.” She paused to let that sink in while I nodded for her to continue. “Below each flower, there may or may not be a hint to a scavenger hunt, created for me to solve when I was born. Only one of the hints will help us. And I need your devotion and friendship to help me find the answer that will explain everything to me. Everything.”
I gasped, amazed by what was happening as we set to work, digging underneath flowers side by side until finally we came across the hint. Immediately, we both knew this was the one. The only hint that would help us, one out of the many we had found.

SWC
Part 2: Constellations ~ 340 words
Note: This is fiction heavily inspired by non-fiction, and it takes place in a specific desert area that I did not name for privacy reasons.
After sitting in an RV for over two hours, my patience starts to finally reach its limit. But I know, that if I want to see the wonders of the desert landscape, I have to wait. It isn’t about the hiking and rock climbing, it is about the magnificent night sky.
When my family had come to this destination last year, I had not been so excited about being in this baren landscape, or the number of mosquitoes roaming around. I hadn’t been excited at all. Until our first night.
After my first dinner around the campfire, with bugs buzzing around, annoying my ears off, my dad decided it was time to go on a night hike just as the sun was setting. I didn’t love hiking during the day, so I didn’t see why it would be any better at night; it would be harder to see all the branches and rocks trying to trip you. However, I decided to give it a shot, and to stay as positive as I could be.
I followed the rest of my family up a short rock, scrambling up like a mountain goat, sticking my feet in whatever little crevasses they would fit in. And when we finally got to the top of the rock, I immediately took back my regrets. Leaning back against the rock, eyes to the sky, I breathed in the glorious view. There was stars everywhere, dotting the sky, like paint that had been splattered across a canvas, and I started looking for whatever constellations I could find. First, I found the moon, and used that as my guide point, which brought me to the Big Dipper, and from there, I found Cassiopeia. I sighed with relief as I found the star I loved. There wasn’t any reason in particular, but Cassiopeia was my favorite constellation, and I thought about its power to light up the sky and I realized that maybe I could get through the rest of this trip with the power of Cassiopeia helping me.

SWC
Part 4: SWC Fanfiction ~ 611 words
Toko was on the run again, fleeing from the old lady with poisonous apples. It wasn’t the first time this had happened, but Toko was trying to stay in front of the war this old lady would bring. Apples on one side, poisonous or not, it was all the same, or toads which were unlikely to be poisoned, but it was possible.
Toko ducked to dodge a flaming apple that had been thrown in their direction and realized that they were too late. This branch of the war had already started. Looking back, Toko saw that the apple had been thrown by Mouse, but she must have been aiming for Herm on the toad side of the war, who was standing nearby. Then came a flying toad from Herm, aimed at Mouse. Toko ran over to Herm, dodging another apple, and tried to convince her to stop being so harsh with the toad throwing. Even though they weren’t in the same cabin, they could still all work together instead of causing this terror strewn across the camp. Toko was devoted to this idea that everyone could work together, but sadly, no one else agreed.
After dodging another apple, Toko ran over to Mouse and tried to convince her of the same thing Toko tried with Herm, but there was no change. Everyone wanted to stay at war, and Toko was caught in between. Well, everyone was on one side of the war, except Lily.
Toko kept running, trying to stay away from the old lady who was still chasing them. On their way back to the cabins to avoid all the dangerous things being thrown, Toko met up with Lily, and together they ran to the cabins. However, right in the middle of their path, was a goat. Trying their best to avoid the goat, Toko ran around the goat, but like the old lady, the goat started chasing them.
Thankfully, Lily was willing to help lead the goat off Toko’s trail, catching an apple out of the air and using it to draw the goat in the other direction, away from Toko and out of harm’s way. But there was still the old lady with poisonous apples chasing Toko and she would not stop.
Toko wondered where the old lady had come from. Everyone knew that the Fairy Tale Cabin had a portal into a few fairy tales, so the old lady must have accidentally followed someone from a fairy tale back to Camp. But she was fast and annoying. Once Toko was safe, they vowed to think of a plan to stop her from harassing everyone with poisonous apples. It was she and her apples who caused this apple-toad war in the first place. Toko was devoted to making camp a safe place again, without this old lady, without all the apple and toad war. The only wars that would remain were harmless word wars and cabin wars, which, for the most part, were fun, filled with spirit, and not too dangerous.
Lily met back up with Toko and they kept running away from the old lady. With one glance back, Toko could tell that she was gaining on them. Luckily, Toko and Lily were almost at the circle of cabins, and the closest one to them where they could hide was Script, Toko’s cabin. Using teamwork, with Toko fending off the old lady while Lily ran ahead, prepared to slam the cabin door after Toko ran inside, they made it to Script’s cabin.
Breathing deeply to catch their breath, Toko tried to calm themselves. They were safe now. Well, first Toko had to finish the daily on time.

SWC
March 16 ~ 311 words ~ 300 points
I yawned, covering my mouth to remain as silent as possible, and I continued to listen, occasionally shifting my weight from one leg to the other. I was at rehearsal for a play, but my lines were at the beginning of the play because my character died, and that was what we had practiced earlier. Technically, I was free to go, but I needed to wait for my friend.
All of a sudden, I realized that it was almost five o’clock, what midnight UTC was in my time zone, and that I hadn’t done the daily yet. Squeezing past a few boxes, I walked outside to the fresh air and better internet connection of the bleachers, my laptop in its case, strung over my right shoulder.
I checked the time on my phone, 4:47, only thirteen minutes to speedrun this daily. I sighed getting to work, my fingers typing at a lightning pace. I already had an idea of what to write, and I had started it, writing the first sentence at lunch before I had to meet with a teacher.
Finally, I submitted the daily with two minutes to spare, and while I was on Scratch, I went through my mailbox, responding to my five notifications. Suddenly I glanced down at the time on my phone, realizing that it was almost five thirty. How had I spent so much time browsing through Scratch?
Packing up my laptop as quickly as I could, I rushed inside just in time to watch my friend announce the final line of the play. Once she was done, she met me in the left wing of the stage, our usual meeting point, and we walked out to the parking lot to find her dad, ready for him to drive us home so we could begin the bucketload of homework assigned to each of us today.

SWC
March 17 ~ 319 words ~ 450 points
Note: The lyric I chose was “All you have is your fire.”
In this world, words are given and taken, free of risk, free of cost, but what happens when you only have one word left is a peculiar and rare circumstance.
Gasping, she awoke, her world on fire. Annelise tried to calm herself but the only thing she could think about was her dream, or rather, her nightmare. In the sleep-induced landscape, Annelise’s world was burning, her only remaining word, fire, gone, but before all that was left was merely smoke, her eyes opened, tearing this horrid slumber to pieces.
Once her heart rate was normal – as much as it could be with thoughts of the dreamscape still fresh in her mind – Annelise pulled herself out of bed, starting her daily routine.
This type of nightmare wasn’t abnormal for the few with few words, rather it was pretty common; the fear of losing your only word, and turning into dust, perishing leaving no trace, no memory behind, and everyone who ever knew you wouldn’t remember.
For Annelise, those fears were real, what she lived with every night, her subconscious self battling against the monsters, who yearned for her one remaining word. Fire. And with that fire, she burnt to a crisp, and her world came tumbling down with it.
Every night when Annelise pulled the covers up to her neck, the greatest shield she could have, she slept with terror, her eyelids heavy, but unwilling to close, until finally she drifted off, uneasy, and would awake only a few hours later, stifling the screams, so as not to harm anyone else with her fire.
She tried her best to stay calm whenever morning came, but it wasn’t enough. Her neighbors, up and down the streets on either side, knew about Annelise’s fire, and so they steered clear, but sometimes, it wasn’t enough. When Annelise burned, her neighbors were enveloped in the smoke and flame, burning with her, until nothing remained.

SWC
March 20 ~ 425 words ~ 450 points
It wasn’t my fault I was born this way. I just was. According to some people, words are genetic. If my parents had happy words, I would too. But when I was born with unfriendly, backstabbing, and vengeance as some of mine, my parents took that as a sign that I would become a villain in their story. A villain in everyone’s story. Because, of course, in every story, there has to be a villain for something to happen.
I was born the eldest of two other sisters, who came unwillingly. My parents didn’t want to have other children and put them at risk of my supposed villainy intentions, but fate had other ideas. Since my two sisters were born, I’ve tried to protect them with my life, but they don’t want me either, most likely my parents putting bad thoughts into their minds.
Growing up feeling unwanted wasn’t a pleasant experience, and if my parents were still alive today, I would laugh at them, right in their faces. If they saw me now, they would see, I’m not the villain. Sure, a few of my thousands of words are evil ones, but I don’t use them in that way. And I’m also not one of those, up in your face type, flaunting my thousands of words. I, like my sisters, try to help those in need, but with their fewer words, it’s much easier. Easier to be liked, easier to be trusted. So, my parents should be proud of me for persevering through the hard circumstances. Well, to be fair, persevering is the wrong word because it’s my sister’s. Determined, would be a better one. However, determined could also be used in the way of a villain who is determined to assassinate her victim so maybe that won’t work. But words aside, I’m proud of myself. Through all the hardships and trauma I endured as a child, I’m still me, and still not a villain.
Actually, I guess I could classify myself as a villain, just not a bad guy. It’s all in the words. Sure, I have some evil ones, and villain is one, but bad is not. I’m not cruel or harmful to anyone, I just want to seek revenge on those who have wronged me, misinterpreting me because of my words. See, whoever gave us these words gave it to us as a curse, not a blessing, and everyone around is taking it too far. It’s destiny, not fate. You can pick what you want to be based on your words.