Ok! We’re doing the lyric from francesca
“Do you think I'd give up
That this might've shook the love from me
Or that I was on the brink?
How could you think, darling, I'd scare so easily?”




Tw for homophobia

Eoin waited until the guards had fallen asleep and then he uncovered the tunnel he had been digging and he crawled in. He could barely move in it and he was completely and utterly blind, but it was his one chance at freedom. The rocks dug into him and his heart pounded in panic thinking he might be crushed but finally he made it outside the castle walls, covered in dirt and scratches, bruises on his ribs, his skull, everywhere. But he was free. Why then did he still feel trapped? It was that light that shone from Caoimhín’s bedroom way up in the tower. That light that reminded him of falling asleep together, of the taste of his k*sses, of the way he whispered his love to him. But a prince could not fall in love with a man and certainly not a criminal, and so he left because Caoimhín was better off with him far away. He would have to live in hiding from the king, and he never wanted to put Caoimhín through that.
Caoimhín lay on his bed, staring numbly at the place on his bed that Eoin had once occupied on those nights when he could sneak in. Faolan played with a strand of his black hair he had left behind and tears ran down his face. What had he done? The guilt of that night when Eoin was captured still tore at him, still consumed him. He should have been there to help him get in quicker, there had been a storm brewing that night, Eoin was always so afraid of storms. Caoimhín should have helped him into the tower and held him in his arms. But now he never would, because he had lied to Eoin. He had told him he would be there and instead he’d been with the woman his father wanted him to marry and her brother, a knight. Because he just wanted his father’s approval and perhaps deep down he was ashamed of Eoin. Those then must have been the reasons why when he found out what was happening, when Eoin was put before his father, Caoimhín stayed in the shadows. Because how could he admit in front of his father and his court that he loved this young bard? And now because of his fears he had lost the only person he’d ever truly loved. Enough was enough. He would go down to the prison, and he would beg for Eoin’s forgiveness. He would get himself thrown into the cell as well, he would be a criminal, shunned by his people, perhaps even k*lled for it. But he would give anything for another moment with Eoin.
But before he could the alarm bells were ringing and guards were running down into the dungeon. “What happened?” He kept asking and finally one of the guards grabbed him.
“You have to get back to your room, my prince. The man who tried to kill you last week has escaped.”
“Eoin?” Caoimhín whispered, hardly believing it.
“What?” the guard asked in confusion. “Sir, you have to go to your room. Guards will come soon to protect you.”
Caoimhín wasn’t sure if he was laughing or crying. “Let go of me. Let go of me now!” he shouted, shoving the guard away. He ran to the stables and mounted his horse Brighid and raced into the forest. He heard some knights coming after him, they thought they were trying to save him, but he had realized that he could not live without Eoin.
He searched for days without eating though he let Brighid stop often for food. The woods got too dense for a horse to travel through and so he crawled through the cold mud, searching for that light in Eoin’s eyes. And when he had finally found him, huddled in furs in a cave, he collapsed at Eoin’s feet and began to cry.
Eoin stirred, startled. “Caoimhín, what are you doing here? You should be home in the palace. Do you know what they’ll do if they find us together?” he asked, though he cupped his face and wiped the mud from it.
Caoimhín k*ssed his palm, breathing heavily and shivering. “Do you really think I’m afraid of what they think? Eoin, I’m sorry,” he cried. “I’m sorry I let them imprison you. I should have told them. I shouldn’t have been so afraid.”
Eoin pulled him into his arms, holding on tightly and shaking his head. “But you weren’t afraid. You risked everything for me. I shouldn’t have just left you like that. I thought you were better off without me. But I was dying without you.”
Caoimhín just buried his face in Eoin’s tunic. “I love you.”

Weekly #2
3/17/2024
1387 words

Part 1: Flowers
390 words

Over the years, Ana has collected the flowers she’s received and dried them. She loves the collection of dry petals that she has, each symbolizing a memory from the past. Childhood memories, friends of past and present, changing times… Each flower has its own story, but Ana also sees the nuggets of her own stories within them. Osmunda, periwinkle, magnolia, yellow roses…

Osmundas were from her past and reminded her of what she used to call home.
Ana grew up with them, played in forests with them growing wild. Her hands grazing the tops of the ferns as she ran with her friends. They reminded her of what could be out there in the world. She loved her home in the countryside, but she longed to see more of the world.

She got the periwinkles when she was out with her friends.
They’d been out on a walk, just the three of them, right before she moved. Elaine had spotted them in the fields, pointing them out for the vibrant color. Ana couldn’t resist picking a few, gifting half the petals to Elaine later. When she sees periwinkle blue, a smile crosses her face, in remembrance of her friends in England.

Ana loved the magnolias.
She’d seen them when she first moved to the US, the white petals curving in. She did enjoy one part of the move more than the rest, the difference in wildlife from the English countryside to the US East Coast. The plants, the animals, she was itching to learn more. So she started drying them, one new flower at a time…

She wasn't expecting the roses.
In fact, Ana wasn't expecting flowers from anyone. But there they were, yellow flowers in front of her, with a young man holding them. Of course she had to accept them, why shouldn't she? Derek's been so sweet, helping her get accustomed to this new country.

The dried flowers remind her of the journey she's taken, from her childhood home in England to her friends, to her first time living on her own and making a friend in America. Ana has learned the importance that flowers hold for her and others. She's learned that the memories that come with the flowers bring more to her work in preserving each petal with delicacy.

She's learned the meaning of the flowers.

Part 2: Blackout Poetry
381 words (total)
52 words (poem)
329 words (story)

I used part 1 of the weekly for this ^^

a memory of the past
each has it's own story
her past
what she used to call home
play in forests with her friends
she couldn't resist
a smile crosses her face
she'd seen them when she first moved
she wasn't expecting anyone
but there they were
so she's making a friend

Over the years, Ana has collected the flowers she’s received and dried them. She loves the collection of dry petals that she has, each symbolizing a memory of the past. Childhood memories, friends of past and present, changing times… Each flower has its own story, but Ana also sees the nuggets of her own stories within them. Osmunda, periwinkle, magnolia, yellow roses… Osmundas were from her past and reminded her of what she used to call home. Ana grew up with them, played in forests with them growing wild. Her hands grazing the tops of the ferns as she ran with her friends. They reminded her of what could be out there in the world. She loved her home in the countryside, but she longed to see more of the world. She got the periwinkles when she was out with her friends. They’d been out on a walk, just the three of them, right before she moved. Elaine had spotted them in the fields, pointing them out for the vibrant color. Ana couldn’t resist picking a few, gifting half the petals to Elaine later. When she sees periwinkle blue, a smile crosses her face, in remembrance of her friends in England. Ana loved the magnolias. She’d seen them when she first moved to the US, the white petals curving in. She did enjoy one part of the move more than the rest, the difference in wildlife from the English countryside to the US East Coast. The plants, the animals, she was itching to learn more. So she started drying them, one new flower at a time… She wasn't expecting the roses. In fact, Ana wasn't expecting flowers from anyone. But there they were, yellow flowers in front of her, with a young man holding them. Of course she had to accept them, why shouldn't she? Derek's been so sweet, helping her get accustomed to this new country. The dried flowers remind her of the journey she's taken, from her childhood home in England to her friends, to her first time living on her own and making a friend in America. Ana has learned the importance that flowers hold for her and others. She's learned that the memories that come with the flowers bring more to her work in preserving each petal with delicacy. She's learned the meaning of the flowers.

Her past. She didn't like talking about her past.
Yulia hasn't had a good streak of living life the way she wants to.

She used to call her life with Mama and Papa, sorry, Sonia and Andrej, home. When she was little, she was allowed to play in the forest, because that wasn't going to corrupt her. The times where she felt like she was truly herself. Yulia could escape to be with her friends, away from her parents.

She knew the luxury wouldn't last long.

Before long, they were off, another assignment, another “mission”. Please, she wasn't naive. She knew the scandals her parents were up to, even if they concealed their actions with planned out alibis and sweet smiles to everyone around her.

Soon, they were up and moving, every other month, if they succeeded quick enough. Yulia grew more warry of her parents, separating herself emotionally and mentally from them, because God forbid Yulia escape the sight of her parents. She didn't question her parents and they wouldn't question her, simple as that. She knows the rules in her dysfunctional family.

She didn't know what to think when she had the chance to leave this life. She'd been old enough to be on her own for two years, but she didn't know life outside of her parents. Yulia didn't know how to survive without them. They'd taught her a lot, yes, but barely enough for her to get by on her own.

She took the chance. Anything would be better than to stay with them.

She didn't know how hard it would be, or how easy it would be to slip in with a group of friends who welcomed her instantly. Yulia didn't expect anyone to be there for her and she's lost the innocent ability to become friends with others.

So she's making a friend. More than one, actually. It isn't easy or quick. But they wait for her and she's healing too.


Part 3: Aesthetics

Based off of Part 1


Part 4: SWC Fanfiction
616 words

Yet another SWC fanfic of an SWC fanfic from the POV of a cow <3 Enjoy!!

I didn't mean to eat so many plants. Really, I didn't.
Though everyone in the group seems to enjoy me eating plants rather than attempt to eat the cabins or steal from the mango stash amongst other things… I may be on Eevee's good side, but she's still salty about me eating her fancy hairdryer.
Mistress said it gives me an interesting flair, the smell of the nature. I just mooed in response, because surely whatever she says is something I'm to agree with.

I had periwinkles near the start of the revolution, March ‘21. We’d retreated to Hi-fi for the time being and I couldn't resist being around Bakie's garden without taking a munch. What? We'd left and had no food, no resources, and a disappointing lack of mangoes and children.
Eevee started to bribe me with dry mango slices not too long after. She said something about not vandalizing property of other cabins when our very own has just been burnt down. I didn't really get what she said, but I enjoyed the dry mango slices.

I really enjoyed the osmudas. They worked surprisingly well with my tummy, considering how green they were. Lettuce is yucky and that's green too. Osmudas are way better than lettuce. They reminded me of the time I was pretending to be Tarzan with my lady, stuck in the trees. If only we could do that again…
But we've stayed away from the forests in our journey; it's been deemed ‘too dangerous’ and ‘a higher risk of getting caught’ because the hosts now have eyes and ears everywhere, according to Paige.
Now, I'm not trying to say that Paige is wrong, but I think all of them only have two of each…

I was hesitant to have the yellow roses at first.
Paige brought them back after being out with Pxl, and they were not in the best mood… They were grumbling about the meaning of yellow roses and how Peggy Schuyler used to have them around all the dang time. I took that as the okay for me to eat them. Peggy isn't on the best terms with Paige nowadays…
I think that was the first time Paige wasn't mad at me for eating anything. It's a stretch, but they may have even enjoyed the fact that I was eating the flowers. It didn't change the fact that Paige still hates me, but I was able to try the roses.
(Note to self: Don't. Ever. Try. Them. Again. The texture is icky and it tickled me the wrong way. Neighborhood kids are an infinitely better choice.)

Magnolias are such a treat.
My lady said that I like them too much. In my defense, Mistress has never tried magnolias before.
Ella had brought a few and they seriously freaked out Ara. Ara refused to turn into any of her cat forms until after I had eaten them all. Ella didn't understand what the big deal was, but given our two reactions, she sighed and moved along.
Apparently, Ara's tried one as a cat and she couldn't turn back into a human until after it had gotten out of her system.
The world was more beautiful when I ate magnolias. The sun was warmer, the sky was brighter, the flames were- wait no, I was just standing way too close to the fire.

I've eaten more plants that I'd like to admit. Though mangoes are also a plant, so where does that put me…?
I don't love plants, but I don't hate them either. (Except for lettuce. UGH!)
Maybe I should expand my diet from dried mangoes, neighborhood kids, fancy hairdryers, and cabins more often.

Then again, maybe not.

Where the stars shine bright
143 words

Where the stars shine bright,
Silky snouts tip to the moon,
Howling their plight,
An eerie yet beautiful tune.

Where the rivers run dry,
Pleading eyes seek waters blue,
The air splits with a guttural cry,
Desperately searching, an endless pursuit.

Where the flames climb high,
Gloved paws thunder from scorching tongues,
Ashes rain down from burning skies,
As mournful farewells are sung.

Where the storms rage strong,
Glossy fur loses its sheen,
Rain hammers, an unearthly song,
Crystal clear, from oceans serene.

Where the sun never sets,
Landscapes catch luminous light,
Casting shadowy silhouettes,
Mother Nature boasts her might.

Where the waves tower tall,
Crashes echo from pebbled shores.
Water envelopes you, a freezing shawl,
It’s like a lion, with a spine-tingling roar.

Where the stars shine bright,
Silky snouts tip to the moon,
Howling their plight,
An eerie yet beautiful tune.

Daily #18
3/18/2024
171+ words

You wake up in a mysterious forest. The sky is purple and the air is thick with the smell of pollen. The moss around you shifts as you get up. You wander around the forest, a subtle crunch underneath your footsteps. You come across a clearing with a small camp set up, near a dirt road.

Do you A) Find out where the dirt road leads to or B) stake out the camp?

B

You duck behind a tree, to stake out the camp, watching the clearing for a few moments until you're sure there's no one else there. You walk in slowly, careful of where you step. A loud snap of a branch causes you to glance down at your feet before flinching to look up. A cat stands a few feet in front of you, frozen and paw hovering over a broken branch. Upon eye contact, it scurries off, leaving you alone in the clearing.

Do you A) follow after the cat or B) take a look around the camp?

Mannnnn, the angst, I love it :’D This passage may be short, but you can really feel the weight of the situation and the characters’ strong relationship with each other. Not a lot of context is given as to how they ended up in this situation or what the broader storyline is about, but I don’t think it’s necessary in this passage. The main thing being communicated here is the emotion, and I think it comes across very well. Zayd’s actions perfectly portray his emotional state, and Prince seems more concerned for Zayd than themselves, even though they’re the one that’s apparently destined to die. Their devotion to each other seems very- for lack of a better word- urgent. Like it’s not quiet, contemplative sadness that we’re faced with in the passage, it’s loud and angry defiance of destiny, warmed by the passion of caring deeply for another person. Zayd is more outspoken about it in this piece, but Prince, too, isn’t resigned to their fate. They’re willing to fight and though they’re not as pushy about it, they seem determined to do what they can, based on their thoughts at the end of the passage. I would love to know more of their stories; this was reallygood.

Critique IDEK what number: 247 words, @Criminal-intent

Hello hello! Today I'm critiquing Crim's piece–all words in quotes are hers!
I like to do this paragraph-by-paragraph, so that's how I'll proceed lol.

Kieran shifted in the seat. His suit crinkled uncomfortably at his elbows, and it was hot in the conference hall. Above Kieran’s head was a magnificent light fixture, pouring warm light over the table. Unfortunately, it also made everything very hot. Kieran took a tiny sip of the water in front of him, which couldn’t be called “iced” anymore. (He didn’t want to have to use the restroom during the meeting, so he’d been strictly rationing it.) It helped a little.

I like the way this opens; really sets the scene for the piece. The only changes I'd suggest making is changing the “the” into “his,” to make it flow a little better, and finding a synonym for “hot” so that you don't use it twice in the same paragraph. Otherwise, this looks pretty good!
Moving on.

At the head of the table, a man droned on about business strategies for the company. Kieran wasn’t sure why his boss had asked him to come to this meeting. It didn’t seem to apply to him at all. Asking him would probably be seen as disrespectful, though.

Not much to say here, other than I like your use of “droning”–again, you're setting the tone nicely (boring business meeting).

Kieran couldn’t count the number of times he’d asked a teacher, a parent, a boss why. The rebukes had always been harsh. He’d learned to keep quiet instead.

Nice little snippet of backstory here, however, I'd suggest connecting it to the paragraph above instead of separating it, to make it more clear that they're supposed to be read together.

Reaching forward, Kieran tugged his suit jacket’s arm down, getting rid of some wrinkles. He clasped his hands together. Did that look professional?

His nails were getting a bit long. He’d have to trim them when he got back. If he could even find the clippers.

Did it look like he wasn’t listening? He’d probably been staring at his hands too long. Kieran glanced up, trying to pay attention. He focused on the back of the head of the man in front of him. That was suitably boring.

The man in front of Kieran was balding, several years older than him. A senior at the company. Why was Kieran here? He stifled a sigh as the speakers switched.

He tried to listen—he really did try—but all he could think about was that it was only his second week at the company, and he had to come to this meeting projecting the plan for the next five years.

Here, though, I like the disjointed sentences because they give the story that day-dreamy feel–I can really see his thoughts wandering. You did a nice job of showing, not telling, sometimes without even using words.

Another hour passed in much the same manner, but, blissfully, the meeting concluded at 5:15 pm.

Kieran waited for a few of the others to stand before getting to his feet. He stretched, a satisfied sigh slipping past his lips. He straightened, almost to military attention as his boss approached from the other side of the table.

“Hello, Mr. Aston,” Kieran said.

“Enjoy the meeting, did you?” Mr. Aston asked, dark eyes locking with Kieran’s. The eye-contact was a bit unnerving, but Kieran forced himself to maintain it. He didn’t want to be impolite.

“Well—” Kieran started, then cut himself off. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m joking, Kieran,” Mr. Aston said, straightfaced.

“Y-you are?”

“Of course, I don’t expect you to like these sorts of meetings. In fact, that’s part of why I invited you to this one.”

Kieran didn’t reply for a moment. He tilted his head with a small, incredulous chuckle. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir.”

Mr. Ashton smiled. “I thought your application was brilliant. You seem like a bright young mind, and that’s exactly what we need here if we’re to stay ahead of the competition. Meetings like this one are just formalities at this point. I want you to come up with alternatives, I believe you can help us to streamline things, to get us to a place where we don’t need things like this anymore.”

Kieran stared at Mr. Ashton. It took him a while to remember to say, “thank you, sir.”

“I’m only being truthful, son,” Mr. Ashton said, setting a hand on Kieran’s shoulder before walking away.

Bright young mind. An involuntary smile graced Kieran’s lips.

As he walked home, Kieran found he didn’t at all mind the thought of going back to work the next day.

You stopped at a good point and wrapped it up neatly, two important things for short stories. I liked your story a lot, and you did an excellent job of making it tidy, showing and not telling, and setting the scene. There weren't a whole lot of things to critique–which is good! It means you did a good job and there were only a few edits I'd suggest making.
Thanks for reading through this, and I hope it helped!

Daily 19
word count - 521 words

Original Words:
character - humble, caring, curious
setting - gloomy, sad, heartless

New Words (using forms of connotation):
character - sympathetic, soft-spoken, inquisitive
setting - funereal, somber, merciless

- - -

Just as a flower, my roots were strong from the start. With what seemed like constant nourishment, I was able to not only grow, but thrive. It was as if all aspects of my life were perfect. I had a loving family, a safe roof above my head, and above all, I got to do the thing I loved most, playing the piano. For some reason, pressing the keys gave me a sense of relief, a feeling calmness. I was just able to relax and be myself when playing or composing - I didn't have to doubt my abilities for even a second because I knew my self worth. From being exposed to it from a young age, I found that I had been able to build a strong bond with my dad. I'd say there were other factors helping us along to be honest, but I know that piano just helped that bond grow. Rather than being just a fully bloomed flower, we were a full bouquet - always finding the most random things to laugh at, and rarely getting mad at each other.

I'd consider myself to be quite soft-spoken. Outside the house, I'm sure people would tell you that they're surprised I even talk. I understand where there shock comes from, but I'd say that I get to take in more of the world by listening. Rather than having that constant need to speak my mind, I liked to hear what others had to say, in hopes of understand the different perspectives surrounding me. Though, that all changed less than a month ago. I had to do one of the toughest things I've ever done in my life - saying goodbye to the person who understood me the most.

Yes, I was somewhat close to my mom, but that special bond I had with my dad made us almost inseparable, which made saying goodbye even more difficult. After a few days of mourning, my mom seemed to let everything go. Clearing his clothes and belongings, it's as if she was trying to throw every remaining piece of him from out of the house. It hurt so bad to see, I could feel the weight on my chest as I gasped for breathes of air when trying to sleep. My eyes were all puffed up majority of the time because despite being a sympathetic person, I had little to none for a person who was trying to make me forget the only person that actually understood me. It was as if someone was forcing you to give up on one of your dreams just because they can't stand it.

As the days went by, I felt like the weather was responding to my emotions. Everything was growing somber and gloomy. The skies were turning to a dark, murky shade of gray, and meanwhile the rain continued pouring. It was as if my whole world was ending - simply collapsing onto me. What had I done to deserve this ending?

for the critiquitaire
First comes the tingle in my spine.
I feel dislodged from the world spinning around me, hollow, a ghost in my own body. The body is human, dirty brown hair falling over its brown eyes, meant to blend in. It was mine. Its human hands grip the rickety iron table under my command, swaying on short, feeble legs, falling to the floor. Someone runs to the door of the house, flinging it open. The body’s eyes flick up and see a female human with blue eyes and red hair in a choppy bob. Its human heart fills with hope.
Josi grabs its hand. “You’re really hot. Have you got a fever?”
I can’t make the body speak.
“Are you-”
Its bones crack, the battery that held the body in place gone. It can’t feel the store of ice-cold liquid down its spine anymore, just a distinct emptiness. The body’s skin stretches over the bones, growing a bit taller, its arms a bit longer. Josi’s hand flies off my skin. My skin.
This body isn’t human. My body has proper strength a human can’t have. My skin is a deep, dull red, my hair short and green like leaves. I look at Josi with all four eyes, her features so clear: her angular face, each freckle, clear enough to count, every crease in her pale hands. Her mind is chaos; I can hear unusually disconnected thoughts splayed all over it. She stands on shaking legs, eyes running over me.
“What- what happened?” she whispers, her voice frail but clear to me.
Josi stands still, staring at my eyes, trying to find the old me in eyes bright yellow like the sun, in callused hands ending in short, brown claws, in the inhuman thing in front of her. Her mind pauses, ticking like a clock. Inhuman… inhuman-
Recognition hits her like a hammer.
She sprints out the door.
She shrieks through the street, but I don’t hear it. All I can focus on is the wave that hit her mind, her widening eyes and shrinking pupils, the sound that seemed to blast through the room. I can’t deny it. Terror, anger- hatred.
Hatred.
Next come the humans.
They stream in, pulsing with dark, dissonant hatred, eight hands on my arms, pulling me out of the room. I try to pull away, but I can barely pull off two hands before they’re on me again. As slowly as I can make them, they pull me to the door and outside. They drag me across the main dirt road in blinding sunlight, across multicoloured shops and past staring bystanders, the street becoming a cacophony. Josi stands back, but I hear her whisper above everything else.
“She’s a monster.”
Something tightens and seizes my chest. My friend. My comfort for years. Gone. It digs deeper, clawing into my heart, tearing my shred of hope to nothing.
I kick out at them. They didn’t expect it.
Their hands loosen. I seize the opportunity and break free, peeling from their grasp, turning and sprinting back. My legs, fuelled with fear, don’t burn when I run. My feet don’t feel the sharp rocks jabbing them. My lungs steal air without stopping, every muscle aware of the thrums in the dirt, footsteps of a growing stampede. I fling open the blue door to the house, slamming it shut and leaning on it. They’re close.
Just three metres away is the back door, smashed between two lime walls, the door to the van-sized spaceship in my backyard. So close. I have to move.
The village comes at the door, and I push myself off. I run the three metres, yanking the flimsy back door open. The humans collapse on it as I sprint into the backyard, their hatred compressing the air. My feet sink into hard, sandy soil, my legs brushing on knee-high grass as human shouts fill the air. Opening the door, I slide into the coal-black ship and push the acceleration pedal, my fingers leaping across buttons, Earth shrinking below me. Humans spill into the backyard, smaller than ants. The stars are flooding to meet me.
Last comes the feeling that I’m finally going home.

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Weekly #3
Weekly is the continuation from a previous weekly that I done exactly a year ago

Part 1: Plotting a Mystery

Introduction:
Mark was just trying to chill on a wonderful day. Suddenly, his watch started to ring, informing him that he has a case to solve. It turns out that the leader of the secret agency he's working for has been killed. And it's up to Mark to find who it is. Mark realized that it can only be an inside job. He pressed the button under his desk in his dorm which transformed into a passageway, heading down to interrogate the suspects. 82 words

Riding Action:
Mark begins to gather clues. Apparently, Luna and Weren were two of the three suspects. The third one was a prisoner, Security. Mark wanted to try his best to clear his friends' names. But everywhere he goes, it was hard to find clues. He can only rely on witnesses and security footage. And it appears the clues are leading towards one of his friends, to his horror. 67 words

Climax:
Mark managed to decipher all the clues. He managed to find out who the culprit was, but it turns out it was neither of the suspects, not his friends nor Security. It was Mark himself. Shocked, he kept his discovery a secret and started to investigate his room. It turns out all the evidence leads to him. Mark got anxious and remember the reason for the murder because the boss threatened to fire Mark for letting Martin escape in his previous case. One night when he got drunk, Mark accidentally murdered the leader by throwing him off the stairs. 99 words

Falling Action:
Mark started to isolate himself, afraid of what people may find out. But the news of Mark killing the leader had somehow spread out. Everyone started to berate him and distance themselves away from him in case he would murder them. They even wanted to send him to prison in the agency despite being a higher-up. But Mark didn't care, he was too depressed to bother about anything. 68 words

Resolution:
However, Weren and Luna wanted to cheer Mark up in his time in prison, Security wanted to help him, but Mark didn't bother them all. Soon he started to not care about anything. He didn't eat, talk or sleep. Eventually his mental and physical health got so bad he started to hallucinate the leader accusing him for killing him, making Mark feel more guilty. Eventually the agency freed Mark as they realized that the leader had actually committed many crimes which include murder and harassment, making Mark's case closed with him innocent. (With a year of community service of course) 100 words

416 words

Part 2: Clues and Red Herrings

Clue #1:
Mark found traces of muddy footprints in the house of the leader. It appears that someone came in when it was raining last night, which meant the time of the crime was midnight as it was raining at that time. It could also mean that the suspect isn't mindful about cleanliness as it intruded the house without taking off their shoes. 61 words

Clue #2:
Weren and Luna both said something strange. Security too, but his was somehow unhinged. What do they all mean by heavy footsteps and screams of a monster echoing down the corridor? Security somehow said that he noticed the beast fell down then stood up, leaving traces of blood on the ground. But the weirdest part was the fact the beast went into a portal and disappeared. Mark knew that asking what the suspects saw was entirely useless and decided not to pursue further. 83 words

Clue #3:
There's shock upon the leader's face. It appears he had been ambushed from the back. There's also blood prints all over the stairs, so Mark could deduce that the leader was pushed off the stairs and that was what killed him. But there was something else strange. The leader was putting his hands in his pocket. Mark tried to remove the hand, but it was just a bloodied hand. Why did he do this though? 75 words

Clue #4:
Strangely, there's a curious entity that Mark kept encountering. A dark shadow kept looming over him, distracting his mind from the case. Mark tried to hide away from it, but it keeps coming back to annoy him, whispering nasty things like calling Mark names and discouraging him. What exactly is it? Did the culprit sent it to distract Mark? 59 words

278 words

Part 3: Interview

I did the interview with Kat from my cabin and completed it with 275 words. She was the interviewer while I am the witness.

Part 4: Mystery

Ring.
“Argh, stupid alarm clock…” Mark muttered as he switched off the alarm. He sat up on his bed and snatched his watch. “It's just 8 in the morning… Weren must've set it for me. How adorable…” Mark said as he lay down on his pillow before proceeding to sleep again. “Agent 649, do you copy?” A voice suddenly said from Mark's watch. “Oh dear, what now?” Mark complained as he pressed a button hidden on the layer of his watch. “Sir, what do you want?” The voice on the other side replied blantly, “We've found the founder of the agency dead. We need your help to find the culprit.”

Mark dressed and started to activate the secret passageway by pressing a button underneath his desk. He ran down the hallway while thinking about the words his superior spoke as it resounded in his head, “The leader is dead. And two of your friends are the suspect. So we can't send Agent Purple to solve the case with you this time.” Luna… Weren… What did both of you do to get this… Mark thought as suddenly, a shadow erupted from behind him. Mark looked around. But no one was there. “That was weird…” “What was weird?” A fellow detective appeared suddenly by Mark. “Oh, hey Agent LY! It was nothing… I thought I saw something…” Mark said as his colleague replied, “Well, I'm here to take you to the suspects. Boss is already interrogating them.”

play sound [writing is life] until done

Daily 19th March
474 words

Six words

Inquisitive
Humourous
Positive
Eerie
Mysterious
Dangerous

Thesaurus

Prying
Whimsical
Optimistic
Unearthly
Secretive
Treacherous

Lottie skipped through the woods, mist swirling around her. It tangled in the spindly branches of the charred trees and wove through their drooping leaves. Despite her fluid and elated movement, on the inside she was shrivelled up and solemn, yearning for her family. Birds chirped shrieking alarm calls and fluttered away into the ominous skies. Leaves rustled on the peaty ground beneath her feet. Twigs snapped, the sound ringing out, strangely loud in the hushed woods.

Forcing herself to stay calm, Lottie took a deep breath and ventured further, her heart pounding in her heaving chest. She knew that she would be alright. How couldn't she be? Just the woods. Yet there was something that tugged at her curiosity and she knew that it couldn’t be good, whatever it was. She shook her head. It was just the woods!

Crack!
The air in front of her wavered, splintering and shattering before her very eyes. It was like a mirror into another world. She poked her head through the gradually widening gap. She was immediately pushed back by a pudgy hand. A small pale face stared at her, massive eyes embedded deep in his face. He could barely peer over the gap to look at her.

“Shhhh!”
Lottie snorted.
“We’re in the abandoned deserted woods! Or at least I am. No one’s going to me!” She scoffed, amusement glimmering in her eyes.
“Well - I’m not, okay? Just help me get out of this thing! Please!”
Now his voice was pleading and desperate, his forehead creasing. Lottie hauled him over into the leafy forest and dropped him to the ground, panting.
“Now, are my eyes deceiving me? Is this a dwarf? No, it can’t be. I must simply be mistaken.”
Lottie began to dance back through the twisted branches, humming an airy, bright tune.
“Come back! I need you! Don’t go!” He cried, his eyes swirling pits of longing at fury.
“I’m just teasing!” Lottie laughed. A smile grew on her face, glowing and radiant, like a forgotten memory. She had forgotten what it was like to smile, to laugh.

“What is it, anyway? I think I deserve an explanation? Don’t I?” She queried, her smile tilted.
The dwarf buried his head in his hands and closed his eyes. He lifted his head and began.
“My name is Erik. This means ‘absolute ruler.’”
“Wait, wait, wait - stop. You don’t look like an absolute ruler to me!”
“I only wish I was. Anyway, long story short there was an evil guy trying to kill me, so I escaped to Midgard. The evil guy was about to pull me back to his palace blah blah blah so I had to get you to be quick.”
“Ok. Tell me more.”

Night

My weary eyelids drooped as the train chugged through the patchwork of fields. The eerie moonlight lit up the rugged mountains, bruised with lilac heather. Spindly trees reached their branches up towards the ghostly moon, the pearly light bathing the harsh landscape in a soft silver glow. I sighed happily and a smile curled on my lips as my head tipped back and sleep beckoned me, warm and tempting.

Screech!
I lurched forwards, my heart pounding wildly in my chest as the train slowly came to a standstill. Bright amber lights flashed on, glary and blinding. I gently leaned back again into the coarse fabric of my seat. People filed out through the doors, eager to be outside, gulping in the pure, clean air. Fyrian, my feisty little dragon, wriggled impatiently in my pocket, his leathery scales rubbing against my smooth olive skin, velvety and silky.
“Can’t we get off?” He complained to me, plumes of smoke erupting from his nostrils.
I stroked his emerald head.
“Soon.” I promised him, my voice strong and confident. On the inside though, I was shrivelled up, the once-vibrant petals of my soul fading and drooping.
Exhaustion washed over me and tears brimmed in my swollen eyes. Once more, they flickered, spots clouding my vision. I clenched my fists to a piercing white, urging myself to stay awake. But I couldn’t resist. Then I saw something out of the corner of my eye.

I swivelled my head around swiftly, my breath catching in my throat But all I could see was the night sky, stars shimmering at me warmly. My brow furrowed in confusion. I knew something was there. But I didn’t know what. I turned my attention to Fyrian, who was now snoring, his chest heaving up and down. I smiled softly as the train shuddered back to life, its movement creaky and ancient.

This time I was wide awake, my eyes glinting jewels in the harsh light. My ears were alert and I could feel every vibration juddering beneath my feet. Every pinprick of light in the endless darkness was clear as day.
Night.
A voice echoed in my blank mind, ringing out loudly.
Night.
It was malicious and triumphant.
Night.
It was dark and wicked.
Look out of the corner of your eye.

I immediately snapped my eyes shut, willing myself not to open them. Don’t do it.
Do it.
Don’t. My eyes gradually fluttered open and flicked hurriedly to one side.
I am Night.
Elegant slender fingers stretched out towards me, blending in with the ebony sky. Night embraced me with a cold grip, my blood turning to ice. An unearthly sound tore through the air. I flinched, my breath catching in my throat. Then I realised it was me screaming. I was being thrusted into the air, my legs dangling over the rusty carriage.

The freezing air punched me and I was thrown back further into Night’s calloused clutch. Starlight tangled in my fingers as I was lifted steadily up, moonlight framing the edges. It ripped at my clothes and wove itself around my throat, further and further. The golden net enclosed my feeble figure, cocooning me in a soft trap. I spluttered and coughed, trying to get the air back into my lungs. My eyes rolled back into my head. I blacked out.

He stepped out of the shadows, a person in black, hat tipped over the eyes, cloak swishing behind him. Slowly, he lifted it up, eyes searching the crowd. The sounds around him seemed to swallow him up. He slipped through the crowds, who didn't know what was coming later that day. The paradise was filled with majestic beaches, drawing the crowed by the hundreds. The soft sand, and teal waters. It was a heaven, until night. At night, the water changed. He took a seat away from the sand, by a tree and tipped the hat back onto his eyes, taking a nap. As dusk approached, he stood up, a silent figure in the setting sun. He watched a young woman walk confidently into the water and vanish under the waves. He knew she was not returning. The water seemed to swirl with otherworldly light as the sun sank deeper into the sky. He waited. He knew it was going to happen soon, his mind turned. It wouldn't be long before he would be in the depths, never to return. Unfastening the cloak and removing the hat he took a set right by the edge of the water, letting the waves reach his shoes. The woman resurfaced, laughing. That's when he knew. She was the one. He stood up and walked over.
“Hey, aren't you worried?” He could barely get the words out of his mouth, as he felt the world fall onto him, as he sank down under the sharp bites. “All the people vanishing at dusk by going into the water.”
“Oh no,” she laughed.
She grabbed his hand and dragged him to a little stand and they got ice cream. He smirked, and watched her blush slightly. Then she looked at him, her green eyes sparkling, “Wanna go for a swim?”
“I- I'm scared of the water,” he lied, hoping it would cause her to charm him in return.
She smiled, “I can sing. That might help.”
“Your voice is enough to convince me,” He held her hand. “But, I would love to hear your voice.”
She opened her mouth and the most magical voice came out of it. He no longer knew what was happening, all feeling washed out of his body. All he wanted to do was follow whoever was singing. Her eyes glimmered, the shade of pink transferring to his eyes. She walked into the water, and he followed, almost flying after her. The moment he stepped into the water, she knew he was done for, so she stopped and watched the pink fade slightly from his eyes.
“W-what? What happened,” his voice vulnerable.
She laughs and resumes, singing. His eyes fill with fear and then it slides into a look of relaxation and they venture into deeper waters. After a point she turns into something else. A siren. He lays there and sinks into the depths, not struggling anymore. She smirks and pulls him away. She has her uses for him now. Forever.

Character: tranquil, devotion, cherish
Setting: dreamy, halcyon, nostalgic
Related Words: serene, faithfulness, love, pensive, idyllic, sentimental

The night sky had never seemed so vast.
Perched atop the crown of a pine tree, Moss felt as though he was at the top of the entire world. He gazed into space, faced with an infinity so profound, so beautiful, that some part of him would surely be forever lost in those depths. He sensed it inside of him, deepening, a piece of his soul reaching out and connecting to the universe. Lit by the gentle twinkling of the stars above, the moment lingered.
With a slight effort, Moss pulled his gaze back from the sky, glancing at Wander beside him. Wander, too, sat transfixed, his mouth parted in a subtle smile, his eyes wide with wonder.
Moss’s heart swelled with affection. Wander never seemed more alive than when he daydreamed, staring off into space. There was something about his passion that was so pure, something that could never be replicated.
At any moment, Wander would turn his gaze and those clear, admiring eyes would land on Moss, seeing him exactly as he was, every contour, every emotion, every dream. And he would grin, accepting every bit of him.
Ruby rested against Moss’s other side, the warmth of her body seeping into the air all around them. She exuded a vitality that shone as bright as the sun, a love for life in every ripple of her muscles and every joyous note that came from her mouth.
Moss knew that her loyalty could never be doubted, and that she would fight through anything for them. There was no challenge she could not overcome. So much of Moss’s strength came from her.
Beneath the vast sky, where the darkness shone with such brilliant light, the three of them shared a breath of life, a piece of the wider universe belonging only to them.
In the years to come, their paths would diverge, their destinies set for different horizons. Yet no matter where his trails led him, Moss would never forget the pristine beauty of that night, the unending love that flowed between them and the sublimity of space. It would always bring them back home in the end. Someday, in the future, they would meet again, full of new stories and the same old dreams.
Along a glittering river, Moss trekked, the sun and stars guiding his direction. He smiled as the landscape grew familiar, the hills and valleys all falling right into place. The pine tree had long since fallen, but the stump remained, and under the steady light of the moon, every ring could clearly be seen. Moss closed his eyes and traced the history of those rings, remembering every detail just as it was.
He felt the tingling sensation of a familiar warmth, and knew that when he looked up they would be there. Ruby would stand in front of him, roughened by the passing of time, but only stronger for it. Wander’s brilliant eyes, still as full of wonder as they were all those years ago, would fall upon Moss and fill with fondness.
Moss opened his eyes. “Welcome home,” they said.

Daily 019: 401 words, Darkness

The night was dark and misty, the moon not yet risen from behind the horizon, giving the area a crepuscular mood. She sat alone in the tall grass, counting out a tall stack of golden coins.
“One, two, three hundred, this is boring, oops, I lost count again.”
She sighed and started over, trying to keep a firmer grasp on her wandering mind. But before she knew it, her fingers were shaping the pile into a quirky-looking ship of sorts, and she gave up with a sigh and cradled the coins in her hands greedily, looking as though she’d rather like to eat them if she could. The shadowy haziness of the night didn’t seem to bother her much, and neither did the overall gloominess. All that mattered were the coins, to her–stemming from her avariciousness. She’d always loved shiny things, after all. Even though others called her eccentric for her odd habits, she didn’t mind. People were just faces to her. Ways to collect more gold.
The mist swirled and coalesced, but she paid its eerie shifting no mind, beginning to count the coins again. “Forty five, sixty, fifty two–wait, no, that’s not right, that’s lower…”
Something rustled in the shadows, but she didn’t flinch or look over her shoulder. It didn’t matter to her. Life, for her, had no meaning beyond the material sunshine in her hands. Something screeched overhead, swooped over her head, but she didn’t so much as look up.
“One million, one million and two…are you supposed to count by twos? How many go in two, anyway?”
She paused to count on her fingers, brushing away a stray wing of some dark flying thing as it hummed by. Perhaps it was something cute and small. Perhaps it was something with large teeth and a nasty look. She didn’t care. It was dark–she couldn’t see it anyway, and very few things frightened her, which might explain why she was here in the first place.
“Twenty three, twenty five, twenty ten, no, no, that’s not quite right either. Counting is such a puzzle, I wonder who made it up…”
The air hummed and fizzed, the mist creeping closer, the creatures of night wriggling and writhing and reaching out to her, but she did no more than bat them away with authentic annoyance. No fear, no hesitation, no wide eyes and looking around. She was not afraid, only impatient.

Daily 3/19 || 445 words

(Small/Cute/Oblivious Crowded/Dark/Green)
Minuscule/Adorable/Inattentive Cramped/Shadowy/Verdant

Inch pushed her way through the leaves of the bush that she resided in. There was no way for her to get a few steps without having to dodge a branch or cluster or leaves, most of which she had difficulty seeing with the lack of light but she didn’t find herself bothered. She just had to get out, grab a few berries from the neighboring bush, and get back, something that she’d done tons of times before.
Instead of a branch, though, Inch found herself facing a huge snake, their tongue flickering in and out of their mouth as they investigated this possible snack. Inch just smiled, the poodle moth’s big eyes sparkling with innocent love as she waved one of her little arms. “Hello!” she chirped, before feeling her way around them, ignoring the snake slowly turning their head to watch her scoot by. She was far too adorable to eat today.
Finally, Inch stumbled out of the bush. There was only a couple of feet between her and the neighboring bush, but it was definitely going to be quite a walk for her. The moonlight shone upon the clearing, quite the contrast from the cramped bush full of shadows and leaves. She fluttered her wings, lifting off the ground a bit…before landing on the ground and happily beginning to make her way to the other bush, the red berries shining in the light. A lizard scurried past, pausing to watch the comedically small insect march over the bush and begin climbing up to the closest berry she could see. She was only a bundle of white fluff, two black antenna sticking up from her head, enough to melt the lizard’s heart as she came to help the tiny moth.
“Thank you!” called Inch, waving to the lizard as she put her down, barely visible behind the raspberry, before Inch began making her way back into the shadows of her home bush.
She waved to the snake again, even though she wasn’t able to see them, and after some effort, as she was now carrying a giant berry around leaves and bushes in pitch darkness, she made her way back to the little hollow in the bush that she called home. It was the only one of its kind, and Inch was its only resident. Some other bugs and creatures had tried to take it for themselves, but when they see this tiny little bean looking up at them with her massive eyes, twinkling with all the kindness in the world, they couldn’t bring themselves to take that away from her.
So Inch was alone. In the crowded dark. And she was happy!

added daily

(The Three Little Pigs, but it’s existentialist horror, hooray! xD)

Once upon a time, there were three pigs, a trio of brothers who set out into the world to leave their mark upon it. However, the world was a vast place, making the three pigs seem extraordinarily little in comparison. To shelter themselves from the terrifying unknown, the three pigs each decided they must first build a house.
The first little pig built a house out of straw. It was hastily-assembled and not intended to last. “Why bother with effort,” he thought, “when in the end, we all fade into nothingness? We must spend our time achieving happiness in the moment, not laboring in pursuit of efforts that will ultimately be futile!”
This pig lived his life one day at a time, never thinking far ahead. He joked, he sang, he danced, he laughed at others’ entertainment. He jumped from one pursuit to the next, not sticking to any one thing long enough to accomplish anything of note. It was true, that he felt transitory happiness, which transcended it all, if for but a moment. However, in the lull between one hedonistic activity and the next, or late at night, when he lay awake in his bed of straw, he couldn’t shake the sense of unfulfillment hanging over him. “Nothing I’ve done has been of worth,” he worried. “Is this really all there is?”
When the wolf came to blow his house down in a single breath, the pig had nothing left to defend himself. He had never bothered to prolong the end, after all. He disappeared from the world as the remains of his straw house were scattered by the wind, the fragility of his home mirroring the fragility of his existence. His memory quickly was forgotten.
The second little pig built a house out of sticks. It wasn’t the strongest, but it felt like the right thing to do. “Sticks are the most righteous material to use,” he nodded solemnly. “It does no one any harm to build a house of sticks, and a pig needs nothing but his own trotters to construct it. Through kindness and hard work, I will live a worthwhile life.”
This pig was active in his community, always being there to help others, even at his own expense.
The third pig, grappling with the absurdity of existence, labored tirelessly to build a house of bricks. “Perhaps resilience is the key,” he pondered, “But even then, can we ever truly escape our inevitable demise?” Despite his efforts, however, the relentless march of time wore down his fortress until it too succumbed to the ravages of entropy.
And so, as the wolf of existential dread bore down upon them, each pig's futile struggle against the void was laid bare. Their houses crumbled, their hopes shattered, and in the end, their memories were wiped into oblivion, lost to the vast expanse of nothingness that awaited them all.
In the darkness of their final moments, the pigs realized the true horror of their existence: that in a universe devoid of meaning, their efforts were ultimately meaningless, their struggles insignificant, and their lives fleeting whispers in the void. And as the curtain fell on their tale, the echo of their despair reverberated through the emptiness of eternity.

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Hanabi panted, running away from the crime scene while looking up to the sky. The moon shone brightly, as though illuminating her mistakes. “No, just let go. You can still fix this.” Hanabi muttered to herself as she ran towards the shrine of the Scarlet Shadow.

Earlier that night, before the battle, before anything happened, Hayabusa was sitting under a cherry blossom tree, sharpening his weapons before the war that night. Kagura on the other hand was resting above the tree branches, moving around expertly like swans while practising combat with her Seimei umbrella. “Hayabusa, are you nervous for tonight? I can’t believe this whole thing is ending soon…” Kagura spoke, entirely mindless on what she was speaking about. Hayabusa seemed to feel the same, as he was just staring at the sakura petals slowly falling off the cherry blossom tree, “Hey, Kagura? Do you remember our very first encounter under this tree?” Kagura stopped her movements and replied, “Of course I do!”

15 years ago, when the disciples of the Scarlet Shadow were paying visits to the shrine, Hayabusa, who was just a young child, noticed a girl around his age climbing up a tree. “Hey, girl! Come down! It’s dangerous up there!” Some elders called out. But the stubborn girl just replied, “I heard a voice call my name, I think it’s in the shrine…” Suddenly, the branch underneath her feet snapped and she plummeted towards the ground. Hayabusa’s instincts snapped, jumping above the crowd to swiftly catch the girl in between his arms. Right then, a bright blue parasol appeared out of nowhere, surrounding both Hayabusa and the girl, rotating slowly as though it was being displayed in a shop. “Amazing! It’s the legendary Seimei Umbrella!” The girl reached out towards the umbrella and grasped the handle. At once, it stopped rotating and glowed bright in the girl’s hand. “So you were the one calling me…” Hayabusa helped her to her feet and said, “Hey, what you did was very dangerous. You could’ve entered the normal way…” He smiled and continued, “But it appears that the long lost Seimei umbrella has chosen you. What’s your name? I’m Hayabusa of the Scarlet Shadow.” The girl blushed and said, “My name is Kagura.”

Dusk was approaching. The final war was in the night. Kagura and Hayabusa sat on the tree, thinking about their journey so far.

Hayabusa packed his bags, preparing to avenge his brother who was killed by the strongest ninja of the Scarlet Shadow, who turned his soul to the dark side. “Hanzo, I will kill you. For my brother and the Scarlet Shadow!” With that he left his house, suddenly to be blocked by a bright blue parasol. “Hayabusa, let me come with you.” Kagura said as Hayabusa turned his head to find her sitting atop of a tree branch. “No, you can’t! It’s too dangerous! And how will you find a disciple to continue the teachings of the Seimei arts if you’re gone?” “It doesn’t matter.” Kagura replied, floating down gracefully like a sakura petal in the wind. “You know that was what people said to me on the day I discovered the Seimei Umbrella? Listen, I’m going with you. The Seimei Umbrella actually asked me to!” Kagura replied, as thunder started to sound, causing the umbrella to protect both of them under the rain, in the same form when Kagura first received her parasol. Abruptly, a loud anguish yell could be heard as Hayabusa noticed a figure who stormed away from the bushes. “Is that Hanabi? Why don’t we ask her to join us?” Kagura asked, clearly unaware of the seriousness. “Hanabi is probably just jealous. Let’s go.”

“I can’t believe it’s been 7 months since we departed…” Kagura mumbled, staring into the sunset as the sky started to darken. The stars were awakening their sleepy eyes, opening them slowly to reveal the brightness behind their eyelids. “Hey, Hayabusa? Have you seen the Moon?” Kagura asked abruptly. “Hmm? What do you mean?” Hayabusa asked, looking towards the sky, “It’s so beautiful tonight.” Hayabusa stared at the tranquilised Kagura. Calling him just for that? “Well, we shouldn’t waste more time. Hanzo could be arriving at the shrine soon.” Hayabusa said as he leapt from the tree, with Kagura following in his wake.

Night fell upon them as they made their way to the battlefield. Hayabusa was nervous, but ready. Suddenly, a shadow pounced onto them, frightening Kagura. “Who’s that?” She asked, “Our foe.” Hayabusa replied as the shadow laughed, “Right, you are, Hayabusa. It seems you’re here to avenge your brother? How pitiful… It appears you haven’t realised that defeating me is impossible?” Hanzo cackled, revealing his form. He was a ninja, but now he is a ninja without conscience as he was united with a dark force. His teeth were replaced with fangs and his weapons also consist of fangs. “Hayabusa, is this our enemy?” Kagura whimpered, trying to block Hanzo’s silhouette using her umbrella. “Oh dear, how could I forget my newly found ally? May I introduce you to – Hanabi.” “Wh-What?” Hayabusa exclaimed as a shinobi entered the battlefield, her face screwed up with jealousy and disgust.

“H-Hanabi… why?” The edge of Hanabi’s mouth twitched, “Why? You dare ask me that? It’s all your fault Hayabusa! You made me like this!” Hanabi yelled as Hayabusa refused to make eye contact. “I-I… Is this all because you wanted us to be together? Snap out of it, Hanabi! The future our parents fabricated doesn’t exist!” Hayabusa yelled, “Fine, I’ll guess this is my revenge then.” Hanabi said as she launched her petal blades towards him, officially starting the war. “Hayabusa, look out!” Kagura yelled as she unleashed her umbrella towards Hanzo, who was trying to sabotage him. “Thanks Kagura!” The way Hayabusa called Kagura had angered Hanabi; it filled her heart for more vengeance. “Hanabi, control yourself. You know this is a huge offence against the Scarlet Shadow? Betraying us just because of a measly relationship?” But Hanabi just laughed it off, “Oh, Hayabusa. You never fail to make me laugh… You see, Hanzo offered me more than a relationship. He offered me power. And with that power I can take down Kagura so we can live the way our parents wanted us!” Hayabusa dodged another petal blade by disappearing into the shadows and replied, “Well, you are quite wrong…” He looked towards Kagura, who was fighting so well with her techniques of the Seimei Umbrella. “We can truly be happy together if we have free will, Hanabi. Or do your parents not teach you that at all?” Suddenly, Hanabi pounced upon him, “Don’t you dare insult my family!” Caught off guard, Hayabusa skidded away from her, but his troubles are far from gone. Hanzo appeared once again, this time eyes on the target, aiming for the kill. “How pitiful… Dying just like your brother did… only this time for vain and not for revenge…” Hanzo struck the victim, as she fell to the ground. “K-Kagura!”

Kagura was panting upon the battlefield, Hayabusa cradling her in his arms. Everyone fled the arena, brutally injured. “Hayabusa, it’s okay. I saved you, that's all that matters…”

Just before Hanzo struck Hayabusa, Kagura released her Seimei Umbrella and teleported towards it to take the hit. At once, everyone in the region was blinded by her ultimate move. Her sacrifice. Everyone fled immediately except Hayabusa who stared at his admirer who was severely wounded.

Swish. Something hit Hayabusa straight into his abdomen. He plucked out the weapon, now filled with his blood. A bouncing petal blade. “This is what you get, Hayabusa. For abandoning me, with a lowly Seimei disciple! Both of you will perish together under the bright full moon!” Hanabi rejoiced, but Hayabusa wasn’t done. “Hanabi, how long will you turn a blind eye towards all this? You killed so many innocent lives tonight, which includes the final descendant of the Seimei Arts.” Hayabusa pointed to Kagura, unconscious. It was hard to tell if she was still alive. “You have one more chance to save us, Hanabi. Go home. Tell your parents what happened. Everything you did and what Hanzo will plan for his next attack on the Scarlet Shadow. Gather reinforcements to stop him. Please, Hanabi. You’re our only hope now.” Hayabusa smiled and said, “And I’m pretty sure someone else out there will be able to look after you, just not me.” Hanabi stood in shock, “What.. have… I done?” She said, finally realising her mistakes, “Like I said, Hanabi, you must go get our parents and call for reinforcements! Or else Hanzo will not only destroy the shrine of the Scarlet Shadow, but the whole Cadia Riverlands as well! Do you want that to happen? Do you want to endanger your parents?” Hayabusa asked, looking at Hanabi, who looked terrified. “Listen, only you can do this because you are part of Hanzo’s plan. You know when and where his next ambush is. So you have to tell the others. Go, quickly!” Hanabi nodded, but before she left, she said softly, “Hayabusa, I’m sorry. I destroyed that chance of the pleasure you’ll get for killing Hanzo…” Hayabusa smiled weakly, “It’s okay, Hanabi. Now go, we don’t have much time!”

Hanabi left immediately, she was soon out of Hayabusa’s range of sight. “H-Hayabusa…” A soft voice spoke. Hayabusa stared at Kagura, who slowly opened her eyes. “Kagura? How are you still alive?” Kagura coughed out blood while saying, “I-I don’t… know… I think the umbrella is keeping me alive… If it runs out of magic, I’ll die with it…” She started to weep, “I can’t believe I’m going to die. I thought I’ll see the end of it with you…” Hayabusa started to tear, “Kagura, it’s okay… We’ll see each other in paradise…” With that, he embraced her as he started to cry too. “It’s all going to end soon. I promise…” Hayabusa whispered before hearing a faint, “I love you.” He smiled and replied, “I love you too…” With that, the Seimei Umbrella stopped rotating and fell down, as it was just a useless parasol. Hayabusa fell on his back, his injury worsened as the blood continued to ceaselessly leak. Hayabusa’s eyes faced the Moon, who looked down upon the battlegrounds, witnessing everything that happened, but yet couldn’t do anything to stop it. Its light shined upon the grounds, illuminating everyone who died in battle. Hayabusa wanted so desperately for something to end, as though the light of the Moon was driving him insane. Tonight’s Moon is bright and round. Tonight’s the final night to see the beauty of the Moon. “You know, Kagura’s right about one thing…

“The moon is beautiful tonight.”

Writer's Note:
This story is actually from a video game called Mobile Legends. There is only some minor lore about the characters but it's my favorite among the other character lore so yeah…

1789 words (excluding writer's note)

play sound [writing is life] until done

Daily #19
2/19/2024
404 words

Original words: bubbly, larger than life, vibrant, unpredictable, refreshing, majestic
List: perky, fearless, dynamic, whimsical, exhilarating, splendid

Stella rushes to the boardwalk with a skip in her step, as the wind blows through her golden locks. The taste of salt lingers in the air. Her skirt billows behind her and she grabs the metal railing looking out towards the beach. Her face splits into a toothy grin.

Stella loves the ocean. She loves feeling the sand underneath her toes. She loves the salty breeze and how the wind blows. She loves the lapping waves as the tide comes in and out. She loves the ocean, because it feels like home.

Stella hears her name called and two figures waving at her from the sand. She waves back and walks to the steps, taking off her sandals to sink her toes into the sand. It's evening and the grains are cool against her bare feet. Her hand tightens around her sandals as she jogs over to her friends.

They've already set up ‘camp’, Charlie and Winston. It's nothing special, just time to relax after a long week. They do this weekly and Stella looks forward to the end of every week. Nothing like kicking back and laughing with your friends.

Stella's met with hugs and a cup of punch, which she gladly takes with a laugh. She closes her eyes as another breeze meets her, letting the air wash over her. She glances over at Charlie and nods towards the ocean.

Wordlessly, the two take off running for the waves, kicking at the water and shrieking at the cold sensation. It doesn't take Winston long to join them, causing even louder yelps, but it's joyful.

Stella loves being here. The rush of adrenaline when new waves come crashing down and not knowing what Charlie would pull, because she's full of pranks and she's bound to do something. She loves seeing Winston rub his glasses and grumble, but his face lights up with the cookies she always brings shortly after. She loves being herself around them and feeling free.

The ocean doesn't judge her, and neither does her friends. She can just be. The waves are ever moving, the tides ever changing, the sand ever shifting, but she's got one thing that she knows will be the same. These moments with her friends.

She knows the uncertainty that lies in their lives, especially when they are so young. But she knows that what they have will last. It's always here at the ocean.

Daily March 20th

My hand gently traced the button, its smooth, smooth surface luxurious to the touch. It was perfect, meticulously crafted by a flawless machine in an ideal factory. It represented everything I was going to destroy.
The world was too far gone. It had to start over again, and this was the only way to do it.
I gazed out the window at the city. The eternal city. Made of metal and efficiency, it was an insult to what the world had once been. This was too polished. This was too new.
I hated that I had to wait. I hated that I had to make myself wait for the sake of closure. I hated that I cared so much whether she was here or not.
The door burst open. She was here. “Stop right there!” she exclaimed, pointing a vicious, pointed finger at me. “Don’t you dare press that button!”
I turned around, letting out a sly and confident chuckle. “What makes you think I’ll listen to you?”
“You just did, didn’t you? Technically speaking.”
“I won’t listen to you long-term,” I amended.
She advanced forward, her steps certain and righteous. “Why do you even want to do this? Why do you want to ruin everything?”
“Because everything deserves to be ruined,” I said. “It’s horrible.”
“It’s horrible, but it doesn’t deserve this. Please. Think about what you’re doing.”
“Do you even know what I’m doing?”
“…Not exactly. But I know it’s bad.”
I wheezed out a laugh. “You’re trying to stop me but you don’t even know what I’m doing?”
“I’ve heard a lot of bad things about you, and that’s enough!”
“Why don’t you try to hear my side of the story for a moment,” I said, stepping forward and laying a hand on her shoulder. She glared at my hand, but she didn’t push it off.
“When I push that button, a potted plant will appear in every house around the world.”
She stared at me for a moment, her eyes wide. “That’s all?”
“Yeah.”
She started laughing. “That’s - that’s hilarious!” she exclaimed. “I’m sorry for trying to stop you. Yeah, you can push the button. That’s okay.”
I smirked. “Do you want to push it with me?” I asked, guiding her hand onto the flat surface in question. She nodded.
I began the countdown, and she joined in with me. “Three…two…one!” And just like that, potted plants appeared in every home around the world.
A chorus of shouts floated up to the window.
“WHERE DID THAT PLANT COME FROM?!”