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Hi! I’m Sunny!

Characters:

Amaryllis Lovesong

XxLion_PrincessxX wrote:

Characters:

Amaryllis Lovesong

i based my main character off of an amaryllis too aaa

*Note: I just want to say that I know it was supposed to be a short story, but I came up with this idea and just really loved it so if people like it maybe I'll continue? It was so long that I didn't add the preparation paragraphs here, but if anyone wants to see them I will happily post them.
Also, this may contain some themes of de@th. I tried to be extra careful here for anybody sensitive to the subject. If you have any ideas on how I can improve, please let me know directly!

Chapter 1: Will

Flames danced across the neighborhood; fiery ballerinas that gracefully bestowed chaos and destruction among the small, French coastal town. Those who were not running away in fear were victims of the scene. People were sprawled across the cobblestone road, burned and injured each one clinging onto what life remained. I stared at the scene in disbelief, only for someone to swiftly whip me around. I was considering rewarding them with some instant karma but paused when I saw that it was none other than my mother.
Mom. She was the only decent human being in my life; the only one that had been there for all fifteen years of my life, despite being ostracized for doing so. What would she think of me now? All the chaos and destruction, it was all my -
“Listen to me,” she said adamantly, trying to reach my eye level. (If the circumstances had been different, I would have been amused at her five-foot self trying to reach my six-foot height.) “This, Will, is not your fault. I should have told you sooner, but understand I was just trying to help. I love you, always and forever. But you must leave town, get as far away as you can. They’re com-”
She was interrupted by an approaching mob of men and women. There was a certain unsettling aura to them, and it wasn’t merely the fact that they weren't locals. They walked with their heads high, and an authoritative stride as if they owned the place. Though tempted I was to swing a fist or two at these strangers, something inside told me not to.
“Well, well, looks like we’ve finally found our boy, mes amies.” The frontmost man said with a sneer. It appeared that he was the leader of whatever group or demented cult this was. An unusual tattoo on his forearm became visible as he rolled up his sleeves. It was a red circle, with a smaller black circle in the center.
A tug at my sleeve snapped me back to reality. I looked down to see my mother, a new urgency in her eyes. The mob had begun to corner us; before long we would be trapped. “Do you remember what I told you earlier?” she whispered. I nodded. “Good.” Tears began to flood in her eyes as she grabbed my hand, slipping some unknown object into my grasp. She squeezed my hand one more time and then allowed her own to drop by her side.
At that moment, I knew that was the closest thing to a goodbye that I’d ever receive.
The strangers continued sneering. I observed with caution as the apparent leader of the group slowly reached for something in his back pocket. Before I could react, I faintly heard my mother’s whisper:
“Run.”
I sprinted, plowing through the mob and dashing for a nearby alley. Glancing behind, I witnessed the group ignore my mother and dart towards me.
I continued running, taking every turn and shortcut I knew around my little hometown of Vanquel that would lead to an escape.
I’d failed my mom. If only I had changed one thing, maybe it wouldn’t have come to this. Maybe I would see her again, hug her again if I just hadn’t -
Gasp!
I wake up in a cold sweat. Just another nightmare, Will, I tell myself repeatedly. It was three years ago, shouldn’t I have recovered from it by now?
I turn to my bedside table, to see my phone ringing. It’s an unknown number, with an area code from . . . Vanquel? It is my eighteenth birthday, could it be . . .?
“Hello?” I say in a monotone voice, trying not to give my hopes up.
“Is this Will LaQuesque? I’m Officer Drun, head of the hom!cide department that covers Vanquel. First off, let me tell you that we haven’t been able to find any leads, and it doesn’t look like we will.” He pauses and sighs heavily. “I’m very sorry to say it, but it appears that your mother has been-”
I hang up abruptly. I know precisely what was going to come out of his mouth, but I can’t bear to hear it. Because if those words had been left to float within the atmosphere, it would have hit me like a brick wall, and my worst fear would have come true.
It would mean that I had truly failed my mom. That I am a failure.
Throwing my phone against the floor, I clench my fists and allow a single tear to run down the side of my cheek. I never even got to say goodbye to her. Or tell her how special she was to me, or that she was the closest thing to a friend that I ever had.
It’s in that moment, with the grief and anger seizing control as I look around my small, cheap apartment, that I make a decision.
I will not sit here, sulking in my own pain, while the ruthless tyrant that escorted my mother to De@th’s door roams the earth freely. She may be gone from this planet, this cruel life, but I would not fail her again.
I cannot fail her again.
Leaping up from my bed, I hastily pack. I stuff a few changes of clothes in a tattered backpack I found at the flea market, then add in some toiletries, and all the cash I have. After I check to make sure it’s still functioning, I toss my phone and charger into my bag as well. Throwing on my leather jacket (also courtesy of the flea market), I walk over to a small mirror mounted near my pathetic excuse of a bathroom. I’m looking at a boy with tanned skin and black, shaggy hair; but I can’t honestly say that I know him. I stare at the mirror, his deep green eyes looking black. Glaring back. A faint, red flame seems to briefly flicker within them, but to no surprise.
Turning around with a sigh, I put on the dark sunglasses that my mother had slipped into my hands on that traumatic night. There’s not anything special or extraordinary about them, but I suppose they have sentimental value. Besides, it covers my eyes. I don’t want to risk leaving a trail of suspicious accidents wherever I go. I sling my bag over my shoulder and exit the small apartment, not even bothering to shut the door. As I step out into the hallway, I see Pablo, the owner of the building.
“You can rent my place out. I’m leaving.”
He gives a slight, unfazed nod. The old geezer’s too preoccupied reading the newspaper.
I half-run out of the building and quickly locate my motorcycle. Someone had carelessly thrown it in the dump yard a couple of years back. All it needed was a little tweak here and there - finder’s keepers, am I right?
I swing my leg around and start it up, speeding up surprisingly fast as I weave my way through roads. I had hoped I would never have to return to Vanquel, but if I’ve learned anything about the world it’s that it’s a dark place that only leads to pain and disappointment. I don’t mind it, though: That’s just the reality of life. After all, I’m not setting out to fix it; I’m here as an avenger, to exact justice.
I make my way onto the highway, each second reducing the distance between me and my destination. Nonetheless, it would be about a two to three-day journey.
Happy birthday to me, I guess.
Chapter 2: Morgan

“Mom, can I go on a walk around town?” I yell up the stairs for permission, even though I’m already halfway out the door. She hesitates, as expected.
“Yeah, I suppose it would be best if you knew your way around. Just be extra cautious, ok Morgan? And don’t get lost.”
“Okay, I know, bye!” I shut the door and leap onto the cobblestone road. I was surprised my Mom had spoken to me that much, considering her distant behavior lately. It makes sense, though. Despite the fact that I’m eighteen, it’s a bit concerning when we just moved to Vanquel a month ago and there’s already yellow police tape decorating someone’s house. I’ll minimize the worrying, though. This town is supposed to be a fresh start, a way to move on from the grief of the past, from Dad’s de-
“Chirp!” I’m startled at first, but look down to see Chanceuse in my shirt pocket, right where I had tucked her in before leaving. I give the little bird a smile as I carefully bring her up to rest on my shoulder. I’ve already made plenty of new friends in this town: neighbors, store owners, or simply random children I’ve met on the streets. But this little yellow parakeet was by far the closest thing that I had to a best friend. Ever since I found her, just an unfortunate chick abandoned on the side of the road, the two of us have been inseparable. Through thick and thin she’s been with me, no matter the circumstances. I suppose that Mom was there, as well. It seems, however, that the past three years she has grown more distant and serious every day. I can’t help but suspect that her demeanor has something to do with Dad’s mysterious “business” trip three years ago: after a month, neighbors questioned if he would ever come back. We then received news that, due to some sort of accident, he never would or could.
It’s alright, though. Even if Mom chooses not to be there, with Chanceuse I won’t be alone.
“Chirp!” The parakeet gives me a little nudge and looks around.
“You're right. No more focusing on the past. It’s a fresh start.” I declare, maybe a bit too loud considering that the pedestrians nearby look over. Chanceuse responds with a pleased expression (at least I assume; it’s difficult to evaluate any emotions off of a bird’s face.) She spreads her wings and pushes off of my shoulder, flying slightly ahead of me.
Looking around, I take a moment to appreciate the quaint beauty of my new home. It’s as if this place forgot to age with the remaining world. Cobblestone roads line the way between houses and buildings. No matter, though, because the most modern transportation vehicle here was a Vespa. Partly because most of the streets and alleys are far too narrow for cars. All of the houses and buildings are huddled together. Though the facades still appear to be ripped out of an 18th-century novel, the interior of each building has been renovated to meet more modern standards. Which, as I’ve discovered, translates to “Habitable conditions where the floorboards are not rotting and there is central heating and air conditioning.” Nonetheless, it seems that a majority of the town’s small population still prefers the outdoors. Vendors tend to move their stores outside on warm summer days, such as today’s pleasant mid-June breeze and seventy-degree heat. Aspiring gardeners take advantage of every balcony they can find and ornament it with beautiful blossoms.
I smile and continue strolling down the street, weaving through alleys and corners and undiscovered blocks. A few passer-byers wave, and laugh when Chanceuse swoops around them in response. People are smiling, happy, glad to be alive.
I wish it was always like that.
Soon we find ourselves on the edge of town, where society meets the sea. A breeze shoots by as the briny water pulses, waves gently colliding with the rocky shore every few seconds. Nearby, an old, wooden dock restrains a few sailboats from aimlessly floating out of the bay. I gladly inhale the salty air, glad that there’s still some nature untouched by humanity’s destructive grasp.
Before continuing on my way, a small mass of land catches my eye from far away. Far out, beyond the bay’s limits, lies a small and rocky island. It reminds me of a mountain, some massive unknown submerged beneath the surface with just the peak hinting at its presence. Upon it rises a stone, castle-like structure. It appeared worn down by the ocean’s tolls of time; the most exposed sections had begun to crumble, leaving an ideal home for ivy to grow and thrive along the sides. Overall, there is some eerie and ominous factor to the place. Some subconscious instinct suggests to me that there’s more to this place than meets the eye. But that only encourages the part of me that wants to investigate the mysterious island.
Mom always told me that my curious, detective-like tendencies would one day get me in trouble. I didn’t quite disagree with her, but that never stopped me.
Meanwhile, Chanceuse impatiently pecks at my head. “Ok, ok, I’m coming,” I say, vainly trying to spare my cranium from the eager bird’s wrath. Once satisfied she ceases, and once again starts to fly in front of me as we leave to explore the farthest edges of town.
We find ourselves wandering through an unfamiliar part of town. Though I doubt I would ever admit it, I wasn’t sure of our position in relation to my house. That was until I saw it.
Yellow caution tape lined the building. Shattered glass was scattered across the street, and the broken-in door made an alarming entrance to the house. It was one thing to be aware of the crime scene’s existence, but another to see where someone's life was forcefully taken.
Suddenly, I notice movement from within the building. A dark figure is the most specific description I can come up with. Chanceuse seemed to notice it, as well. Carefully, I place her in my pocket (which she doesn’t seem to mind.) I don’t see any police cars around; just one black, beat-up motorcycle with a tattered backpack dangling from the side.
Slowly, I duck my head and cross the boundary line formed by the yellow tape. The figure’s identity is still concealed by the shadows, but it’s obvious that whoever it is, they’re searching for something.
Despite the voice in the back of my head threatening to strangle me if I did so, I ask “Hey, whatcha doing there?”

Chapter 3: Will

I almost jump, I’m so startled by the voice.
For a split second, I think that it’s a cop. If that were the case, they would have gotten an unpleasant earful about how they aren’t doing their job, including some harsh and profane adjectives. (I’ve already learned my lesson about how cops handle being generously gifted a black eye, so a verbal fight would have been my preferred route.)
However, I'm a bit surprised when I turn around.
Some girl is standing there. She’s pale as a ghost and had blonde hair, styled into a long (ish) and messy pixie cut. Her brown eyes are shielded by a pair of aviator glasses, and she wears a baggy Nirvana shirt with loose jean shorts. Something seems to be moving in her shirt pocket, but I pay little attention to it.
“What do you want, kid?” I yell back, still standing in the back of the house.
That seems to vex her. “First off, I’m no kid. I’m an eighteen-year-old adult,” she pauses with a smirk as if she likes that title. “And my name is Morgan Allaire. They/them pronouns. And I want to know what you’re doing digging around like a rat, and in a crime scene of all places.”
A rat? Are they serious?
I step out of the shadows and into the sunlight, my temper rising. “Alright, Morgan. What if I’m the criminal who is responsible for this scene, here to collect my spoils?”
They’re quick with a response. “Well, if you were, it would be very stupid. It’s the middle of the day, and this is a relatively new crime scene - only four days old. Besides, the cops haven’t been here since the crime scene was first reported, which probably means they just gave up due immediately to their inability to find any leads. Or maybe they just don’t care. Nonetheless, if you were that good, you should have done this multiple times. Which would mean lots of ‘spoils’, as you say. That should have given you plenty of money to fix up that beat-up bike of yours: After all, you’d need a good getaway vehicle if that’s what you did for a living. And that's a bit damaged for a getaway bike, don’t you think?” They gesture towards my motorcycle: Though functional, it has dents, rust, and a missing headlight. It’s even leaning against the side of the building because the kickstand doesn’t work correctly.
I won’t lie; I can feel the pressure building up inside of me like a dormant volcano preparing to explode. But I see some potential in this “Morgan”. If they were observational enough to see through my bluff, they could surely help me with my search.
The only issue: They were observational enough to see through my bluff. I had to be honest.
With an annoyed sigh, I give the most forward summary I can produce on the spot. “My mom was the victim. Cops aren’t doing anything, and I’ve got a feeling this goes deeper than what people are saying. I could use your help finding something if you're up for it.” That last part was a bit of a stretch, but I didn’t have anything to lose.
Morgan looks at me with an unreadable expression, that is until they say “Sure.”
I’m not complaining, but who agrees to help a complete stranger search a crime scene in a secluded area? And with the town’s outcasted freak? Even for me, it appears a bit reckless.
They remove something from their shirt pocket - a bird, because everyone carries a bird around - and strut straight past me into the house.
“Weirdo,” I murmur under my breath, which in retrospect is a bit hypocritical.
Whether they heard me or not, I’m not sure. But the subject is quickly changed when they ask “So, what exactly are we looking for?” I have to contemplate the question because I honestly hadn’t really put much thought into that.
“Anything you think is weird, or out of the ordinary, I guess,” I say, walking over to the corner that I had yet to investigate. Morgan gives me a suspicious look but seems satisfied with my answer as they start inspecting the small kitchen in the rear of the house.
The two of us work in silence (which I’m glad about), except for the occasional chirping of Morgan’s bird. But the lack of conversation must have made them uncomfortable because after a few moments they yell “You never did tell me who you are.”
I’m a bit shocked at first. When I was growing up in Vanquel, locals typically avoided me, much less bothered to ask who I was. Partially because rumors had swirled around me like a hurricane, whispers of “I’ve seen flames in his eyes.” or “He’s got a death stare. Literally.” And, in part too, because most of their accusations weren’t false.
Not exactly sure how to respond, I decide on using the same format Morgan had used earlier. “I’m an eighteen-year-old adult,” I begin, putting emphasis on the word as they had done earlier. “And my name is Will LaQuesque. He/him pronouns.” They don’t say anything, but I’m not seeking a response anyway.
It’s not long after this when they walk over to me, a folded slip of paper in their hand. “What about this?” I take the paper then unfold it, and try to prevent my eyes from bulging when I see what’s hidden on the interior.
In the center of it is a large, red circle enclosing a smaller black one. I distinctly remember the symbol: it perfectly matches the tattoo on the stranger’s forearm from three years ago. At the bottom of the paper, in handwriting worse than mine (which is saying a lot), a message reads:
“Will, you didn’t really think we forgot about you, did you? We’re always watching, waiting for the right time to strike. Glad we were able to lure you back in Vanquel: If it makes you feel any better, your mother did put up a fight. Watch out, boy. Your death stare won’t get rid of us as easily as you think. Signed, L’oiel Rouge.”
Now, I don’t know how I was supposed to react to that, but I settled for kicking a hole into the wall.
“Whoah, buddy, let’s maybe not destroy the house. Today, at least. What did the paper say?” I’m not in the mood to deliver a verbal response, so I just hand over the paper.
They study it carefully, slightly squinting as they have difficulty reading the bottom portion of it. After studying it for a minute more, they say, “Ya know, my Mom has a tattoo just like this on her ankle.”
Now that really stuns me.
“How long have you and your parents lived in Vanquel?” I instinctively ask.
“My mom and I moved here a month ago. My dad . . . he passed away three years ago.” Morgan responds, a solemn expression spreading across her face.
It did, however, explain why they hadn’t run away at the mere sight of me: They didn’t even know who I was. “Have either of your parents visited here in the past?”
“Definitely not my mom. Not my dad, either.” They pause. “Actually, now that I think about it, my dad did go on a business trip three years ago. He never told me where he was going, and I never found out; I suppose that means the possibility isn’t ruled out. That’s actually, um, how . . .” They don’t speak about it any further. I can tell that my insensitivity has only made things worse, which is not good.
“Hey. I’m . . . um . . . sorry about your dad.” I give Morgan an awkward pat on the shoulder. I was really bad at this whole sympathy thing, but their half-hearted smile told me that my effort was sufficient. Whatever was going on, Morgan was somehow intertwined, and I wasn’t about to lose one of my two leads so quickly.
Suddenly, they gasp. “Oh my gosh! I’m here all sad about something that happened three years ago while your mother was assass!nated just days ago.” They throw their arms around me, forming the most suffocating hug that I have ever received
But now that I think about it, this is the only suffocating hug I had received, since Mom.
“I’m sorry.” They say as I stiffen up. While the uncomfortable awkwardness of the situation is starting to get to me, I come to three conclusions in my head:
One: Something was is, going on. Somehow, there was a mysterious connection between me and my supernatural stare, Morgan’s family, and the L’oiel Rouge that bound us all together.
Two: L’oiel Rouge had planned ahead; they knew I was here and were patiently waiting to attack. That was unless I attacked first.
And three: I do not like hugs.

I don’t think I properly read the plant generator part (I assumed each trait had to be from a different plant), but I still got the general idea right. I hope this counts, because it took a really long time to do. I figured this out before I did the second character, so I did that one correctly.
Character one:
Doesn't understand personal space: Asparagus ferns “it can be invasive”
Adventurous: Species rose“If you favor a slightly wilder look in your garden”
Animal lover: Valerian “Cats also find the plant attractive and may rub against the foliage as they do with catnip.”
Loves bright/bold colors and clothing: Peruvian daffodil “Its bold green foliage and exotic flowers give this flower a tropical vibe”
Easily makes friends, but doesn't let anyone too close to their heart: Fuchsia flowering gooseberry “hummingbirds will love this easy-to-grow shrub – as long as you don't have to get too close to it
Stands out in a crowd: Fan palms “Stately fan palms really stand out in the landscape”
Loves sunlight and outdoors: Canary island daisy ”It grows best in full sun“
Unique/creative: Stock ”wonderfully spicy, distinctive scent"
Likes to explore: Yellow strawflower “Because of its trailing habit, it's perfect to spill over the side of a container”
Loves attention: Bleeding heart “flowers beg to be admired”

Character two: (sensitive fern)
Shy
Night owl
Sensitive
Likes to swim
Works well alone
Prefers to blend in
Likes animals
Likes darker colors
Polite





Character one description in depth:
Jax loves nothing more than exploring. After school most days, he’ll go outside with a camera and some supplies, looking for adventure. He’s found quite a few stray cats and dogs this way, and even a fox once. Most of them get returned to a shelter or the owner they wandered off from, though the fox ran away far before Jax could get close to it. When Jax comes across new animals, he always wants to keep them as pets, but seeing as how he already has a menagerie at home (two cats, a dog, and a parakeet), this is a no-go.
Aside from exploring, Jax loves bright colors, bold clothing, and trying new things, especially ones that sound exciting. Over the years, he’s tried archery, cooking, playing a variety of instruments (the main one being the drums), and boating.
One thing that Jax isn’t so great at is finishing what he starts. Staying on one thing for more than a few months quickly bores him, and he’ll often begin looking for a new, exciting project before finishing the last. Additionally, Jax won’t devote his time to anything he deems unimportant. If something bores him, he’ll probably find a way out of it, even if doing so means consequences in the long run.

Character two description in depth
Coral is the definition of introverted. A sophomore in high school, she spends most of her time playing with her cat, practicing guitar, or studying. She generally likes school, especially music class, but hates having to work in groups or present in front of the class (one time she faked a case of the flu just to get out of it.)
One day, her dream is to become a musician. She hasn’t told her parents about this, though, as she knows they expect her to take over the family restaurant instead. For now, she practices mostly alone, following youtube tutorials and what she’s learned from school.
As far as clothing goes, she normally wears darker, nondescript clothes. She prefers comfort over style, but avoids wearing anything that would stick out too much. Considering that her younger sister does everything she can to be noticed, and is known by just about everyone in the town, this is hard to do.


Fear generated: fear of speaking publicly (Glossophobia)
Plot/prompt generated: “She’d only given in because she was lonely”



I got glossophobia, the same as in the example. For my story, however, I think I might go more in the realistic fiction genre. Perhaps the first character and second character team up for a group project. (and since my plot was “she’d only given in because she was lonely”, maybe Jax asks Coral to work together, and since that’s never happened before, she agrees.) I’ll probably assign the fear to the second character, Coral, as it seems to go along more with her personality than it would for Jax. So maybe Coral plans to do the research for the project, while Jax does the presenting, but at the last minute, she’s forced to confront her fear (maybe Jax faces a fear of his own, that prevents him from presenting)?



Setting

I chose the vanilla caramel swirl for the setting. For this one, I was thinking most of the story could happen at night. This is because of the chocolate exterior of the ice cream, and how its dark shade seems to mimic a night sky. The two main characters could be inside some sort of building for most of the story during this night, probably one with lots of artificial lighting, to represent the vanilla interior of the ice cream. So what would the main characters be doing in a brightly lit room at nighttime? I figured that the most likely reason they’d both be in a brightly lit room in the evening was to work on the group project, and it fits nicely with the plot I’d already planned, so that’s what I’m going with. This would probably be in either a library or one of their houses, because those locations make the most sense to be working on a school project at. The vanilla ice cream shown in the picture isn’t pure white; it’s swirled with streaks of caramel throughout. I chose to represent this with books and other items present in the room. Because the caramel appears randomly, rather than in an orderly line, it’s probably an unorganized room. For this reason, I chose the story to take place in Jax’s house, because he’d probably be the most likely one to have a lot of random things lying around his home, and probably doesn’t feel the need to clean up as much as somebody more organized, like Coral, or a place like the library would.


Writing the story
Coral Cook couldn’t believe what she’d gotten herself into. For one thing, rather than spending the evening at home, she was here, in one of her classmate’s houses, to work on a school project. This wouldn’t be too bad if it weren’t for the fact that she’d only talked to this classmate, a guy named Jax, about two times before, and one of those times was when he asked her to cover for him when he wanted to cut class. The complete disorganization of the room didn’t help at all, either. Books, papers, and even dirty dishes were scattered randomly across every surface. It didn’t make the best area to work on a book report. As if this weren’t all bad enough, as Coral had learned so far this evening, he was completely impossible to work with.
She wasn’t sure which fact about him was the worst. Was it the fact that he didn’t seem to read The Great Gatsby, the book they were supposed to be doing the project on? Or was it the way he currently seemed to be dozing off rather than doing any actual work? And what about the way he hadn’t done any work over the weekend, even though the project was due tomorrow morning? Coral wasn’t sure, but these were all reasons she tended to avoid working with people in group projects. Or, quite frankly, interacting with people in general. She obviously couldn’t say any of this out loud, though. Instead, she sat still, waiting for him to remember what they were actually supposed to be working on.
“Oh, sorry,” Jax said eventually. “You probably want me to help, right?”
Coral nodded. If she was braver, she probably would have said something like ‘that’s the literal point of a group project, so obviously, yes.’ What she said instead was, “I took notes on the book over the weekend, so we’ve probably got enough research. We still need to write the actual report, though.”
Jax nodded. “Okay. How do we do that?”
That was it, Coral couldn’t take it anymore.
“This is for English class. An English honors class. Are you seriously telling me you don’t know how to write a speech?”
Seemingly eager the conversation shifted somewhere other than The Great Gatsby, Jax grinned. “Nah, writing’s never been my thing. Learned a bunch of word roots through my crazy English professor parents, though, so I usually pass all the tests you need to get into the higher classes.”
It was becoming clear why Jax had wanted to work with Coral on this project in the first place. At the time, she hadn’t asked, mostly because she was excited somebody wanted to work with her at all. But now, she was much more convinced that the real reason he wanted to pair up was to use her to get an easy A.
If there was one perk to working with him as opposed to alone, like she’d planned, though, it was that she wouldn’t have to present in front of the class. She’d been fearing doing that for weeks, thinking of any possible way to get out of it. She even considered faking the flu again, though her mother might have been more skeptical this time, because Coral had tried the same trick a few months earlier. Now, none of that would be necessary. She’d just get Jax to do it instead.
“Here, I’ll show you the notes I took at the beginning of the year. It’s all about how to write an essay.” all things you would know if you’d ever bothered to actually pay attention in class, thought Coral, though she didn’t say this part aloud. She brought her notebook out of her backpack, opened it to the page with her essay writing notes, and slid it to Jax across the table.
Jax’s eyes scanned the essay notes for a few seconds before turning to the page beside it.
“What’s this?” he asked.
Coral had to lean across the table in order to find out what it was he was talking about. When she did, she immediately regretted showing him the notebook. “Oh, that’s a song I was writing a few months ago. It’s really bad, though. Never meant for anyone else to see it.”
Jax didn’t mock the song, though, like she’d expected. Instead, he said, “cool. You play an instrument?”
“Guitar,” she replied.
“Oh, nice,” said Jax. “I played an instrument once. Drums. I was on this band and everything. Called ourselves the Screaming Hyenas”
“What happened?” asked Coral.
Jax shrugged. “I dunno. Got bored with it.”
Coral couldn’t imagine getting into an instrument enough to join a band, only to give it up, but nodded. She didn’t want to be rude.
“So what do you do with your freetime now instead?” Coral asked. With her own freetime, she usually read, played guitar, or spent time with her cat. Since Jax had given up playing an instrument, she couldn’t imagine him enjoying reading much, and Jax didn’t exactly seem like a cat person, she was curious what he did when he wasn’t dozing off. And, okay, maybe she was also a tad bit desperate for people to talk to.
“A lot of things. I mean, I’ve tried tons of stuff over the years. Sports, music, creative stuff, basically everything.”
Wow, he clearly didn’t commit to things for long. “Anything you’ve kept up with for a while?” asked Coral.
Jax paused, considering. “I mean, exploring, I guess. And animals. I mean, I have a few pets, and I love to play with them.”
For as many differences Coral and Jax may have had, at least they had one thing in common. Coral considered bringing up her own cat, Miso, and maybe even tell a story or two about all the shenanigans that he could get up to sometimes, but thought the better of it. They were supposed to be working on the group project right now, after all, and she had a feeling that if she didn’t motivate the both of them to work on it, it would never get done at all. So Coral searched internally for any way to segue back to the project they were supposed to be working on. Finding none, she decided the direct approach would have to do. “We should get back to working on the report. I shared a doc with you on my phone, and I also shared one with the notes I took for the book, so writing it should be easy.”
“Okay,” shrugged Jax, finally, miraculously, getting to work.
When it came down to it, Jax was far less terrible at working with than Coral had expected. Sure, he’d been annoying at first, but when they actually started working, he was a pretty hard worker. And he clearly wasn’t kidding about the English professor parent thing. For how little he seemed to use words that were more than two syllables long, he had a pretty big vocabulary, and Coral was pretty sure their teacher would be impressed when they presented tomorrow. Right, presenting. Coral figured she’d have to ask Jax about that at some point, and there was no better time than now, when the project was done and they were actually getting along, right?
“So, can you be the one to present for us in front of the class tomorrow?”
“Oh, yeah, sure,” said Jax.
“Really?” Coral had thought it would be harder to convince him than that. Huh, maybe working with this guy really was a good idea. Not only that, but maybe, finally, she was getting closer to making an actual friend.
“Yeah. I mean, you took all the notes, so it’s only fair, right?”
“I guess so. I really appreciate it, though. I mean, I’ve always been terrified of presenting in front of people, so this means a lot.”
“Really?” Jax asked, as if he couldn’t fathom ever not wanting to be watched by dozens of people simultaneously.
“Yeah. I mean, I faked the flu once just to get out of it.”
“I’ve done that a few times, too,” said Jax. School absolutely sucks, so I’ll take any chance to get out of it. Barely ever works,though. When they take my temperature, I’m busted every time.”
“That’s why you’ve got to run the thermometer under hot water. Using a spray bottle to make your face look clammy helps a lot, too.”
“Huh.” Jax seemed to brighten up at this, sitting up a bit taller. “Never thought of that…”
“Thanks again for helping me out,” said Coral.
Like before, Jax barely seemed to be paying attention. “Oh, yeah. Sure. No problem.”
Well, there went the single minute that the two of them were getting along. At least they’d have a great presentation tomorrow, and, most importantly, Coral wouldn’t be the one to have to do it.
When she arrived in English class the next morning, Coral sat down eagerly at her desk. For once, she was excited for a presentation day. Her and Jax had written a solid report last night, and now she could just sit back and relax as he presented it to the class. The only problem with this plan was that Jax’s desk was still empty. This sort of made sense, though. Jax usually arrived a few minutes late, which Casey usually chalked up to him simply not caring. What did get Coral worried, though, was when their teacher started reading off names of presenters.
“Okay, the first person presenting their book report is Coral Cook,” said the teacher.
Coral felt her heartbeat speed up, but reminded herself to stay calm. This was simply a mistake. All she needed to do was explain to the teacher that Jax was arriving soon, and when he did, he’d be the one to present. So Coral took a deep breath and said, “actually, Jax is going to present for our group.”
The teacher shook her head. “Sorry, Jax isn’t here today.”
“What? Why not?” asked Coral, feeling a sudden sinking feeling in her stomach.
The teacher looked down at her computer, reading off of it before looking back to Coral. “He has the flu.”

Characters:

Mint/Morgan: unrestrained, laid back, fun, not needy, loyal, detective tendencies, does not like being annoyed, a bit reckless at times, likes nature, very likable, unique
This non binary eighteen year old lives in a world of their own. A free spirit, Morgan tends to ignore society’s rules and standards. They’re laid back and not needy, yet like to play around and enjoy life. They moved here with their single mother just over a month ago, but made friends quite quickly. Though they like to execute even the simplest of things in their own unique way, they still stay loyal to their friends and those that they are close to. They like to find the best in people, but don’t put up with those that annoy them or hurt their family. They like spending time outdoors, and just enjoying the beauty of life surrounding them. Their detective tendencies can sometimes get them in trouble and lead to reckless decisions, but they try to stay safe.They have a pet parakeet (her name is Chanceuse). They always keep Chanceuse close, partly due to their autophobia.

Wolfsbane/Will: feared, temperamental, can be merciless, tall, likes dark colors, gets easily annoyed, rumors tend to follow him, helpful and nice to those who he likes, “death stare”
The odd one out. This boy is the epitome of such an expression. Even from a young teen, people seemed to avoid him like the plague. With reason, of course; he had always been tall for his age, and was more physically competent than most would assume. Once upon a time, of course, he was a sweet child who could not harm a fly. But the mistreatment and judgement only callused this bit of him, until his personality had twisted around. He got annoyed easily, and though he always made an attempt at patience, was mercilessly hostile towards those that crossed his path. One wrong glance and the boy would have you leaving the premises with a black eye or two. The fierceness would ratidate from him as he walked down streets in dark clothing, and civilians scattered in fear. Rumors only increased, most of the speaking of his most unsettling feature of all; his stare. Intimidating, his deep green eyes seemed to shoot daggers. Some witnesses even claim to see flames dancing in the fifteen year old’s eyes. After a series of mysterious incidents, Will was forced to leave town. He has atychiphobia.

Plot:

Fears: autophobia (fear of being alone) and atychiphobia (fear of failure)
Prompt: He was going back to a place he’d hoped he’d never see again.
Three years ago, a series of mysterious incidents, accidents, and de@ths in Will’s hometown forced him to leave. Now, after recieving news of his beloved mother’s demise, Will is forced to return and question whether this was coincidence, or something more. While investigating if this occurrence is connected to the incidents three years ago, and the peculiar deadly gaze he was cursed with, he runs into Morgan, who seems to be more entwined with these events than first thought. Together, the two will embark on a journey that will unveil the secrets of the past, but put the two in even more danger than they could have ever predicted.

Setting:

Ice cream: salted caramel
This story takes place in modern day within a small coastal town located on the southern border of France, southwest of Monaco, called Vanquel. It seems to be a place that forgot to age with the remaining world; cobblestone roads still line the path between buildings. Though some of the more up-to-date citizens have cars, most people just walk, ride bikes, or even Vespa scooters. It does not present any inconvenience, due to the size and layout of the town. (The cars, however, are barely used because most streets are not wide enough.) A majority of the boats docked are wooden, either with oars or a sail to accompany them. Some of the people that prefer to travel far outside the bay have added motors to their boats, but maintain its wooden structure. Outside of the bay is a small island, on which a monastery stands. The building’s ancient and ominous facade alone is enough to ward off any mischievous civilians. Returning to the main town, the buildings are old, but not crumbling. In fact, they are quite nice (seeing that most of them have had the inside renovated.) Each home, shop, and business is packed tightly with the surrounding buildings. But the colorful facades and designs of each building makes it difficult to hold a grudge. With little to no yard, most people have flowers or decorative plants that simply hang out of their windows or balconies. Most people in the town are friendly and open minded.

Caramel was invented in France, and since the flavor was specifically salted caramel, I decided to put it by the sea due to the oceans salinity. At first, I read that the first records of caramel being made was about 17th-18th century, and therefore decided to make the town look similar to the time period. But then by the time I had written it, I also read something about Arabs using it in 1000 AD. My bad if it’s historically inaccurate.

The first weekly has endedddd

weekly is kil :pensive:

aa omg omg please count this it's 8:57pm pst where i am rn and my wifi is being extremely laggy idk if it's the scratch servers or me PLEASE TRUST ME LKSDVSKGH I DID THIS ON TIME I HAD TO GO EAT DINNER AND NOW MY COMPUTER/WIFI/SCRATCH IS LAGGING WHICH IS WHY THIS IS LATE I'VE TRIED TO SEND THE FORUM POST A BUNCH OF TIMES SO TIME TO WAIT FOR IT TO LOAD ;w; PLEASE LET THIS COUNT

PLANT DESCRIPTIONS
Plant: lavender
“Lavender fills the early-summer garden with sensory delights: beautiful purple-tone blooms atop foliage that emanates its fresh scent on a sunny afternoon. Every part of the plant is infused with aromatic oil, making this a choice herb to place along pathways or near outdoor seating areas so you can experience the pleasant fragrance. Lavender varieties abound: The darker the flower, the more intense the aroma as well as the flavor in cooking.”
Plant: Jade Plant
“A branched, succulent shrub commonly grown indoors, the jade plant features thick, woody stems and glossy green, fleshy, oblong leaves up to two inches long. Happily, this low-maintenance plant lives a long time, taking on the appearance of a miniature tree as it ages. And it’s very easy to propagate. Just stick its leaves (stem end down) into the soil, where new roots will grow.”
(This is the description from the plant site, not part of the word count xD)


CHARACTERS
- Yuri
- Japanese
- Shy
- Introverted
- Like lavender, she prefers the outdoors
- Not talkative
- Sweet
- Likes hiking
- Like lavender, which doesn't like high humidity, Yuri does not like rain
- Has a cat named Snuffles
My first character's name is Yuri, which means lily in Japanese. Her favorite color is lavender (obviously heh). Though she is often very shy, especially with strangers or acquaintances, she is very easygoing and sweet once you get to know her. She has an extremely vibrant personality - even if she doesn't always like to show it - and is always willing to help others in her own special way. She has a cat named Snuffles, who is her pride, joy, and most importantly, best friend. Lastly, Yuri loves exploring the outdoors and photography. She can often be seen hiking on a variety of trails and mountains, occasionally stopping to take a picture or two along the way. “Though it is drought-, heat-, and wind-tolerant, lavender doesn't like poor drainage, waterlogged soil, or high humidity.” As a result, Yuri doesn't particularly like rain. Instead, she prefers to hike in sunny conditions. (151 words)

- Daiyu
- Chinese
- Prefers indoors, just like jade plants
- Creative & enjoys the arts
- Ambiverted
- Talkative
- Painting (watercolor & acrylic)
- Mature
- “Low maintenance” (independent)
- Perfectionist
My second character's name is Daiyu, which means black jade in Chinese. Much like jade plants, which normally grow indoors, Daiyu is a very indoorsy person. She is very creative and loves expressing herself through art - specifically, painting in watercolor or acrylic. Daiyu is an ambivert - she has many friends and likes talking, but also appreciates quiet time to draw or paint once in a while - very mature for her age, and loves being around people. However, just like jade plants, which are low-maintenance, Daiyu does not like getting help from others and instead prefers to be more independent in things, like her art - she absolutely will not let anyone give suggestions to or even see her artwork until it is completely finished. In addition, Daiyu is a bit of a perfectionist. As a result, her paintings usually take over a week to complete - or, at least, until Daiyu is completely satisfied. (151 words)


PLOT
I got aviatophobia, the fear of flying. My prompt was “so far, the disease had cropped up in five different towns.” My plot will be that my main character, Yuri, and her family are caught in the middle of an epidemic. Things keep getting worse and worse, and the disease starts affecting Yuri's everyday life. With no other option, her family decides to immigrate to America from their current home in Japan. Yuri is forced to leave behind her friends, teachers, and most importantly - her cat, Snuffles. With the help of her accidental friend, Daiyu, and of course her faithful cat by her side, Yuri must face - and conquer - her greatest fear of all when they make the treacherous journey: they will be making the trip on an airplane. *DUNDUNDUN* (131 words)


SETTING
A soft summer breeze blows past, ruffling the leaves on each and every strawberry plant, whether fully blossomed or just beginning to sprout fruit. The air smelled faintly of strawberries, with a hint of cinnamon from the nearby churro concession stand.
I chose the strawberry matcha latte from the boba website for my setting. The colors vaguely remind me of strawberry fields, so I will choose that as my setting. In addition to this, it will be on the day of the Strawberry Festival in Japan. This is a monthly-occurring event, where all residents of nearby towns gather together to pick and eat strawberries, exchange gossip about the latest news, and generally have a good time. A wide range of ages of people attend the festival, but the majority is of children, waving kites and laughing. It is not only a chance to pick the most delicious strawberries in town, but also to socialize with neighbors and get to know everyone in town.
It is a cloudless day - absolutely perfect for going outdoors. The temperature is more than ideal as well - the air is warm but not humid, windy but not cold. On this particular day, the crowd that shows up to the festival has dwindled down by almost a fourth of the normal showup rate - almost like a disease has infected the town (SPOILER ALERT!!). The strawberry field seems empty (Yuri half expected a tumbleweed to start rolling past), but nevertheless there is no doubt everyone is having fun. (250 words)


STORY
Yuri leaned back on the leather cushion of the airplane, fear - pure terror - racing through her heart. The flight hadn’t even begun yet, but her hands were nearly shaking at the prospect of being in the air. She suddenly recalled Daiyu's advice - to recall one of her memories, sink into them, and forget everything else. Yuri flicked through the chapters in the movie of her life. Her mind rested, finally, on a particular film. The old stuffed bunny from her childhood tucked into the pocket of the plane seat in front, suitcases, and all others around her flickered hazily and soon disappeared altogether as she flashbacked to her last happy day in Japan…

The sun blazed in the cloudless sky, while birds chirped and wind blew. It was a common tradition in Japan to hold a Strawberry Festival on the first Saturday of every month, so Yuri viewed this one like any other. She and her brother ran giddily along the winding paths, passing other tourists taking walks down the rows of fresh juicy strawberry plants and newly-blossomed green strawberry sprouts, bursting at the seam with leaves.

She was just reaching for a particularly large, ripe, bright red strawberry when she heard another girl complaining a few rows down. “Ugh! Why did we have to come here? I wish I was inside with my paints or with one of my friends!” Yuri peeked curiously at the speaker, who was a girl and looked around her age. She took a few seconds to muster up the courage, then bravely walked up to the girl.
“You know, the outdoors aren’t so bad! Think of it like a scavenger hunt, where the winner is whoever picks the best strawberries. You’re looking through strawberries, trying to find the ripest to present!” She offered.
“Wow, when you put it that way…that actually sounds pretty fun! I’m Daiyu, by the way. I’m new in town - I just moved here from China last week. What’s your name?” The new girl replied.
“I’m Yuri, nice to meet you!” Yuri exclaimed.
And just like that, the two girls became quick friends. Though they had just met each other, it seemed like they had known each other forever. They fit together perfectly - almost like two peas in a pod.
They had just been starting to talk, Yuri filling Daiyu in on the town gossip, Daiyu describing to Yuri the wonders of China, when suddenly Yuri heard her and her brother's name shouted from a few rows down. Recognizing her parents’ voices, she promised Daiyu that she’d return in no time and quickly maneuvered through the winding rows of plants and towards her parents. Once next to them, she discovered her mom and dad staring intently at their phones, looking oddly grim. Because they were typically cheerful people, Yuri found this quite strange. Nevertheless, she obliged.
Yuri’s mom gestured gravely at her phone, and Yuri stared down at a headline - “EPIDEMIC OVERTAKES FIVE TOWNS IN OKINAWA, JAPAN. RESIDENTS ARE ADVISED TO TAKE TEMPORARY OR PERMANENT LEAVE AS TO AVOID ATTRACTING OR GETTING INFECTED BY THE DISEASE.” So that was why, Yuri realized, the showup rate for this month’s festival had been so low! Her mom took a deep breath, and announced the most devastating news Yuri had ever heard in her entire life: in just a few weeks, her entire family would be immigrating to America and staying there. Immediately, Yuri’s heart dropped down to her stomach, and she felt like she was about to throw up. She didn’t care that there would be better education in America, or better opportunities, or better anything. Nothing could replace the magic of Japan - her friends, her teachers, the seemingly ubiquitous light-pink cherry blossoms. It was her home. No matter how many times she pinched herself, wanting it to be a dream, her reality stayed just as disastrous as she feared: within a month, they would be leaving Japan. Forever…
Even from a distance, Daiyu could see and sense her new friend’s discomfort, and came over curiously to see if she could be of any help.
“…Hey! What’s up?” Daiyu approached the family apprehensively, nodding to Yuri’s parents by way of introduction. A tear trickled down Yuri’s cheek as she explained to Daiyu about the virus and the impacts of it on her family. She then leaned in and whispered in Daiyu’s ear - “I’m not telling my parents, but… I have aviophobia, which is why I’m so scared to board the plane.”
She didn’t care that there would be better education, or better opportunities, or better anything. Nothing could replace the magic of Japan - her friends, her teachers, the seemingly ubiquitous light-pink cherry blossoms. It was her home. No matter how many times she pinched herself, wanting it to be a dream, her reality stayed just as disastrous as she feared: within a month, they would be leaving Japan. Forever…
Yuri’s memory fast-forwarded to the trip to the airport. Dragging her suitcase, Yuri walked with her and Daiyu’s family with Daiyu at her side, who occasionally reached over to give Yuri’s hand a reassuring squeeze, all while shivering violently whenever she considered the prospect of going on an airplane. She recalled Daiyu’s words of comfort, her bright smile. She hung onto those moments and let them wrap around her fear like a blanket, until all of her worries were smothered by the sweetness of her memories with Daiyu.
Yuri woke up with a jolt. Peering outside the window, expecting to see fluffy clouds and blue skies, she instead discovered that the runway was approaching - they had officially landed in America! It felt like just a quick second - Daiyu’s wisdom had prevailed, after all! Although Yuri had been somewhat reluctant for the big move at first, she couldn’t help but feel enticed by the seemingly magical glow of her new home…

EPILOGUE
A huddle of happy people. An exuberant reunion of friends and family. Vibrant colors everywhere, once familiar but now nostalgic.
Yuri was excited beyond imagination when her parents announced, eight months after their move to America, that their family would be returning to Japan for a month-long vacation. This time when they had boarded the plane, the air seemed to be almost buzzing with anticipation from both Yuri and her parents. Now, they were back in the place she had dreamed about for every second of those eight months - the festival.
A few weeks later, Yuri’s parents reminded her that their stay was soon coming to an end and that they would have to board the plane to America the very next day.
Yuri found that she was not at all disappointed.

-Sweet_Cake- wrote:

Do we need to make a forum post or make a project?

i think you can do both, but it'd be better to do it in a forum so more people can see it? i don't know, but i use the forums for swc (yeah sorry that was not helpful i know *facepalm*)

winter-doodles wrote:

-Sweet_Cake- wrote:

Do we need to make a forum post or make a project?

i think you can do both, but it'd be better to do it in a forum so more people can see it? i don't know, but i use the forums for swc (yeah sorry that was not helpful i know *facepalm*)

I think what @winter-doodles is saying that you can do both

XxLion_PrincessxX wrote:

winter-doodles wrote:

-Sweet_Cake- wrote:

Do we need to make a forum post or make a project?

i think you can do both, but it'd be better to do it in a forum so more people can see it? i don't know, but i use the forums for swc (yeah sorry that was not helpful i know *facepalm*)

I think what @winter-doodles is saying that you can do both

basically yeah

aa so long but i can do it *ish*

yetrop wrote:

Coral Cook couldn’t believe what she’d gotten herself into. For one thing, rather than spending the evening at home, she was here, in one of her classmate’s houses, to work on a school project. This wouldn’t be too bad if it weren’t for the fact that she’d only talked to this classmate, a guy named Jax, about two times before, and one of those times was when he asked her to cover for him when he wanted to cut class. The complete disorganization of the room didn’t help at all, either. Books, papers, and even dirty dishes were scattered randomly across every surface. It didn’t make the best area to work on a book report. As if this weren’t all bad enough, as Coral had learned so far this evening, he was completely impossible to work with.
She wasn’t sure which fact about him was the worst. Was it the fact that he didn’t seem to read The Great Gatsby, the book they were supposed to be doing the project on? Or was it the way he currently seemed to be dozing off rather than doing any actual work? And what about the way he hadn’t done any work over the weekend, even though the project was due tomorrow morning? Coral wasn’t sure, but these were all reasons she tended to avoid working with people in group projects. Or, quite frankly, interacting with people in general. She obviously couldn’t say any of this out loud, though. Instead, she sat still, waiting for him to remember what they were actually supposed to be working on.
“Oh, sorry,” Jax said eventually. “You probably want me to help, right?”
Coral nodded. If she was braver, she probably would have said something like ‘that’s the literal point of a group project, so obviously, yes.’ What she said instead was, “I took notes on the book over the weekend, so we’ve probably got enough research. We still need to write the actual report, though.”
Jax nodded. “Okay. How do we do that?”

so i'll be critiquing this part (which is 337 words):

firstly, i like the general way that the story starts! it shows us what she's feeling, what she's seeing, and what she's thinking, which is nice i especially like the little detail about him asking her to cover for his skipping class - i think that sort of small detail is what makes characters really human.

i think an issue with some of your sentences is that there are too many commas? for example, in the sentence “For one thing, rather than spending the evening at home, she was here, in one of her classmate’s houses, to work on a school project.”, there are… 4 commas. i don't think this is necessarily a problem, but i feel like you don't need the last two commas - “she was here in one of her classmate's houses to work on a school project”. actually, it might be better if it was “she was here, working on a project at her classmate's house”. uhh that's not really that good and i bet you could do it better - anyways, what i'm trying to get at is some of the rhythms feel weird. i think the solution for that would be reading some sentences out loud and see if they sound nice - i think that would help! (this also goes for the sentence after lol)

also i know i already said this, but i love the way you show coral's personality! her reaction to the dirty dishes tells me that she's generally well groomed, the way she talks about his being behind on work shows that she's not a procrasinator and she gets ahead on her work, and her refusal to say any of that shows that she's polite and/or awkward with people. honestly i wish more stories established this much personality at the beginning lol

same goes for jax, too! his way of speaking is pretty distinct from coral's, which is really good! a lot of people (including me) tend to make all our characters sound the same, which is… bad. i like how his voice conveys that he's kinda clueless? also, his willingness to ask questions shows that he's pretty courageous, or that he doesn't care - either way, good showing of personality.

this is just a piece of advice for this piece in general - i think you could insert some more description while coral is waiting. right now, the amount of time waited doesn't really come across, and i think that adding a bit of what's going on would help show that time is passing, while visually conveying the space between those events.

all in all, though, great writing!!! it was super fun to read through and critique - good luck with the rest of your writing!