We're hitting the road and going far away from Tulsa for this weekly…get ready, because we're rocketing into the intergalactic world of Sci-Fi! Complete this weekly by March 23rd at 11:59 PM UTC to claim 3000 points for your cabin.

Part 01ˊˎ-
⤿ Sci-Fi Element

The Time Spool
Forged in the Starlit laboratories, a palm-sized quantum filament holds the key of fate. When activated, the spool can subtly alter physical trajectories, changing something enough to be noticeable. This mechanic device is controlled by seamstresses, whoever holds the talent to be able to weave thread by the tips of their fingers. It is said that if one has control over this palm-sized coil of shimmering thread, they will be able to have the ability to bend fate. The individual, however, cannot actually determine fate, rather have the power to morph and twist it to however they'd like. This spool is created from spun moon-silk as well as pieces of stars broken from the purest of night sky. In the broad daylight, its appearance seems to be just a mundane silver spool with loops of shimmering thread. In the dark, each thread has a glow and practically beats like the thumping of the heart, curious like its alive itself. It can turn the direction of a missed arrow thrown recklessly, or guide a wayward man back home. Only practiced weavers can use this spool, as it needs delicate years of training from a master before use. Without the proper use or guidance, the thread can break and become out of control, using it's wonders as destructiveness however it likes by itself. When a seamstress hums a song while threading, the magic binds to their song and shifts the world around them to their wishes. The hum: An encoded vocal frequency passed down through underground networks acts as the spool's command key. In untrained hands, the spool becomes a glitch in the universe thus rewriting the world with no regard for consequence. In the right hands, it is nothing short of bringing miracles to the world.

Words: 298
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Part 02ˊˎ-
⤿ Worldbuilding

In the world of Silkmarrow, Seamstresses were known to be very popular among the people. Weaving tapestries of hope and blankets of destiny. Each creation sold at the daily market for all to gather round and watch before buying.
This place isn't that of a continent, a planet, or kingdom, rather it is a realm. A vast expansion woven by the threads of pure living magic. It includes a forest wound of silver moss; its trees clouded with translucent leaves that shimmer with hope. Some whisper that the forest itself dreams and that if one takes a nap beneath its welcoming canopy, may also dream with it. Gravel paths reweave themselves as trees bend and twist to listen. The rivers that stream throughout the realm do not act like water. Instead, of liquid thread that braids in any which direction it pleases. The rivers also creates its own bridges, weaving into solid thread like ice to create a solid surface. Every little thing in Silkmarrow is alive and aware. The society within consists of Knotbreakers, Fatescribes, Threadmenders, and The Warpborn.
Knotbreakers are the sort of people that break laws in order to “save” humanity. They do unjust things to help and free people of their destiny. Some say they are heroes, others say they try to take things too far and are dangerous.
Fatescribes are the archivists of destiny. They maintain the archives of all past weaves and manipulated fate.
Threadmenders is just a fancy word for Seamstress, the one who has the ability to use the spool to alter one's fate. It takes decades of training for threading perfection in order to prevent thread breaks which leads to chaos.
The Warpborn are the individuals affected by broken threads, weaving damaged abilities attached to them so that they live their lives warped and twisted, never the same again.
This world is a place of both beauty and strangeness intertwined by one singular spool of thread. Every traveler who's path becomes apart of this woven pattern becomes part of it himself, whether he or she likes it or not. Dangers are real. No matter how harmonic the melody.

Words: 357
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Part 03ˊˎ-
⤿ Modern Day

They told her to never cut an already made weave. Whispers of the Warpedfray which were now understood as corrupted reality anomalies. A proper Threadmaster could not guess, could not hesitate and most definitely could not improvise or panic. Vesper heard that too many times to count. Her head swiveled with so many interrupting thoughts, thoughts that were so loud it practically echoed out of her mind. She messed up. And then everything went wrong. The voices of The Warpedfray deep in her mind, a remembrance of broken threads snapped from creation. She shuddered. As did the slippery rocks under her boots. She should have called for help from Loombinder: teacher of Threadmasters as nearly ancient as the land itself. But she didn’t. Instead, she had pulled on the thread too tightly as she worked on the Tapestry. Her eyes widened with intense fear when that thread snapped. The forest let out a gasp and a ripple of environmental code began to destabilize. Paths began to unravel themselves, trees untwisted and blocked travelers. Then there was silence. A system crash. Error.
Vesper woke up at an undetermined time and location with a sound more jarring than the snap of a thread. A sharp mechanical hum like a system reboot. Her heart pounded like the pulse of her loom spooled by glowing thread at night. She sat up from…was that concrete? Her palm brushed against the cold stone that glittered with sunlight. She noticed the dullness and the unawareness of the ground. It wasn’t alive like she was used to. She let out a gasp herself as her hand then quickly sunk into her pocket, searching for her spool. Still there. Good. She let out a breath of relief and slowly stood up on her feet, eyes darting around for answers.
Towering structures loomed a thousand feet above her, piercing the broad daylight. Everything felt rather…mundane like static filled the air. She touched the spool again as she let her eyes scan the solid clouds. They dropped with gloom and disappointment. $Strange.$ The sound of a blaring car made her heart beat a million times faster. She’d heard about that sort of transportation and she still didn’t understand it. It was peculiar how different things were from what she was used to. And she was most certain she was indeed not in Silkmarrow anymore. Her fingertips brushed across the thread in her pockets, searching for something that should connect all of this. But there was nothing. No signal. No response. Her heart pounded faster and faster.
Voices of other people bustled around her and her mind hooked onto every word louder and louder. No one spoke of fate here, she realized. The people here moved freely, chaotically, and unbounded. Something inside her turned. Uncertainty. She watched people cross roads without caring, animals singing out of rhythm. She noticed the way people interacted with each other by pure chance, affecting the other’s lives unintentionally and by coincidences. No Threadmaster guided them, she figured. No Knotbreakers ruined their destiny. No Fatescribes keeping track of mistakes and outcomes of reality. She finally came to the conclusion that it was just simple here. Vesper noticed someone approaching her and she felt herself tense oddly. Her hand going back to touch the spool in her pocket.
“Hello there! You look lost.” The stranger pointed out cheerily. The voice wasn’t like anything Vesper had heard before. It wasn’t calculated or alive like she’d known.
She tried her best to act calm before she responded. “I’m just looking for something,” she replied. That was her usual remark, but it was all she had.
The stranger shrugged like that was a normal thing to say and pulled out some kind of device from their pocket, making Vesper alert with a jump. They didn’t notice and started talking to themselves on the device, completely blind to the world.
Vesper tilted her head and that was when she felt a tug at her fingers. She gasped softly, sensing that something was off. She could feel that the threads responded here too, although it was much quieter and thinner. She smiled to herself as she clutched the spool. Suddenly her eyes flicked up to the street right as a man was about to cross the road. She felt a pull from a thread, warning her in a way. Her eyes widened as she watched the man step forward as a car rolled up in lightning speed. She gasped and her feet picked up, chasing the man. She grabbed him and knocked him over as gently as she could to get him out of the way. When she looked at him, he appeared offended as if she was a stale croissant. “Sorry I was just…getting you out of the way from that car.”
The man grumbled, shuffling away from her in an unsatisfied huff.
“Well excuse me.” Vesper said under her own breath, brushing her clothes off as she stood back up. Perhaps she was sent here not because of her mistake. Not by her broken thread. Maybe she’d been sent bere to begin a new thread. A new creation.

Words: 857
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Part 04ˊˎ-
⤿ Story: An Infinite Paradox

“Never cut an already made weave.” A calm voice spoke through the translucent light.
Vesper’s hands shook as she held scissors in between the palm of her hand. Her breath was rapid. An incomplete tapestry hovered before her. Encoded light, threads of blue and gold data-streams cascading in midair stared at her. It was a work in progress, she knew that. But she’d messed up. So she wanted to snip away her mistakes. “But it’s ruined.” She told the man.
The man wore dull, analog fabrics, seemingly untouched by any augmentation or Threadmaster tech. His clothes were unadorned, stubbornly ordinary in a world of luminous design. He stepped forward and the echo of his black shimmery shoes shuffled around. “Ruined…or unfinished? There is a difference you know. You’re overthinking too much.” He told her.
The walls of the workshop were not walls at all but tightly braided strands of living fiber-optic thread, pulsing with bioluminescent current. They hummed softly, as if whispering encouragement through a shared network. Outside, the silver-moss forest leaned close, its translucent leaves chimed faintly through the air around them in promise.
Vesper sighed, setting the tapestry down with a grunt of frustration. “Look at it. The pattern breaks right here where the gold overlaps the blue. I added more gold than it needed.”
The man let out a low chuckle of amusement to Vespe’s surprise who looked up at him in shock.
“This isn’t funny,” she retorted.
“No it’s not. But it doesn’t “need” less gold. You want it to be perfect. Nothing is perfect.”
Every Threadmaster such as Vesper is trained under the hands of a Loombinder, who was the man. He was wise above his looks, like the thread shuttered to each command he gave.
“I can fix it if I just—” She raised the scissors that were still in her hand closer to the loose thread.
“Vesper, you are impatient. Doing that you will untie more thread than you wish. I’ve done it before.” He admitted, his eyes showing much shame. “Broken thread creates a Warppedfray—a sentient anomaly with fractured abilities that can destabilize reality itself. I made that mistake once. I will teach you not to. Don’t cut the thread. Do you understand?” He harshly warned.
Vesper had always thought her work had to be perfect otherwise the people would feel disappointed. She basically granted miracles so an imperfect tapestry was worth nothing to her. She could hear the gasps when a tapestry shimmered and revealed a glimpse of someone’s possible future when she showed off her completed work. The awe-filled breath of a child when she promised happiness. This tapestry wouldn’t satisfy her or anyone else. Perhaps she was too harsh on herself like the Loombinder insisted. “Yes I understand.” She placed the scissors back onto a container on the desk where they had belonged. Vesper glanced back down at the tapestry with a sigh. The blue strand flickered erratically, then twisted through the gold chaotically and disobeying. “It’s wrong.” She quietly spoke.
“Or you’re trying to control something that’s alive. What happens when you try to cut off a Hydra’s head?”
“It regrows and another one forms.”
The Loombinder nodded, lifting a cup of synthesized oolong, steam curling like coded mist. “Exactly. Maybe threads aren’t made to be changed, rather followed.”
“Alright,” she whispered. “Show me.”
The Loombinder nodded once again, setting the mug down on the desk beside the two of them. He grabbed a needle and thread, inching closer to the tapestry. He inhaled slowly, syncing his breathing with the hum of the system. The gold flickered. Then it moved. Not by his design, instead with his guidance. It listened to him. Every hum that escaped his lips, the thread obeyed. The room fell utterly hushed. He weaved in and out, his fingers danced along to the sound of his own voice. And so did the thread. When he tied the last knot and held the tapestry in his hands, it shimmered with multiple futures. Multiple destinies.
Vesper held her breath at the sight, “woah. But uhm…that wasn’t how it was supposed to be.” She quietly added under her breath.
He heard her words and shook his head. “No, it’s better.”
“You changed it.”
“Vesper, I continued what was already started, going with the flow. You can’t expect everything to be perfect because then you’re blinded by the possibilities of what would be imperfect. And that’s precisely what this is.” He said, his words breathed with confidence. The tapestry pulsed, its light extending outward beyond the workshop, linking into distant networks of stars and unseen systems.

Words: 768

Words written for each part
⤿ Part 01: 298
⤿ Part 02: 357
⤿ Part 03: 857
⤿ Part 04: 768
☽‧₊˚ Total parts -> 2,280 ☽‧₊˚