In-Cabin Challenge - Nov. 2! 225 words

If I could travel anywhere, I'd probably get really confused trying to figure out where to go at first. There's so many places on earth that I want to see and visit, and there's no way I'd be able to only chose one place! However, I think I'd eventually decide on going to Paris as my first destination – specifically, the Paris Catacombs.

It might sound a tad morbid if you think about it too hard, but personally? I've always found the Catacombs interesting, maybe even more so than Angkor Wat, another one of my ideal and dream destinations. Plus, I am and have always been very into tunnels (the New York Sewer System and the underground tunnels in London both compete with the Paris Catacombs in my head for most fascinating tunnels)!

I wouldn't even mind if I got a bit dirty exploring the Catacombs, as long as I actually got to be there in person. The amount of things that could have happened there, the people who have been in there both in the past and present… it's basically the perfect place to start off a journey if I really could travel anywhere I wanted. The Catacombs have inspired quite a few locations in my stories, actually!

Maybe from now on you could try keeping an eye out for any of those aforementioned locations…

Second MC Daily of November 2021!

Someone slid onto the stage, laughing in delight. Mist flowed through the air around them, emitting a sweet yet spicy smell that tickled your nostrils.
“Hello, hi, and welcome!” they bowed exaggeratedly. “Right now, I'm here to give you all 3 reasons why mini blueberry muffins are my favourite amazing dessert!”

They snapped their fingers, and a plate of mini muffins appeared in their other hand. Despite the mist snaking around it, it remained dry as they handed out the muffins to everyone in the audience – including you. You bite into it, and find a piece of sugary paper.

Reason number one!, it wrote.

The figure on the stage grinned the moment you read it. “That's right. Time for reason number one!” they spun around dramatically. “One: They're like normal blueberry muffins, but pocket sized. Which means…” they smiled and reached into their pockets. "You can bring more of them around – in your pockets!“

They snapped their fingers again, and this time dozens of little specks trailed through the air, forming the words ‘Reason number two’ before combining into a big blueberry muffin made up of hundreds of smaller mini muffins in the middle of the stage.
”Reason number two:“ chanted the figure, hopping up onto the giant muffin. ”They're just the right amount of sweet for me. I'm not a huge fan of sugar, but blueberry muffins – especially the mini ones – give me just the right amount of sweetness!“

A ribbon dropped down from the roof, ‘Reason number three’ emblazoned on it.

”And last but not least…“ they grinned brightly. ”They're juggle-able!“ grabbing three mini blueberry muffins from thin air, they tossed one up and began juggling.

”Thank you!" they shouted as the curtains dropped around them. You roll your eyes as you push yourself out of your seat. That last one was most definitely a joke.

SJE Entry 3: “”Morning, everyone! So, I hate to do this, but there is something I need to take care of. By myself. So, just hang tight here until noon, I should be back by then. You three! You're in charge. Just clear skies today - there there is a chance of Intensities. Just try to stay safe. We'll just go on a short mile hike when I get back. Good luck, guys!"
Words: 391

yawn. wait, did I seriously just type that out? I guess I did. today was… disappointing. if I'm honest, I'm starting to doubt there even is a treasure at the top of the mountain. barely any of us seem to care about it that much. we kept getting sidetracked too.

first, some of us wanted a toilet break, and a toilet break was what we got. second, Rella went… somewhere and made us wait until noon] before setting off again. I'm also a little suspicious of whatever she was doing. one moment, those Intensities start appearing, and the next, our leader is going off on solo adventures doing stuff no one knows about?

I brought this up with the others but no one seems to agree with me. clearly neither Rella or the Intensities mean us any harm, but that didn't mean it wasn't strange. they say I should cut her some slack and maybe I am being a little harsh, but I guess I'm just upset we haven't done anything exciting in the last three days.

really, the only good thing about today was that my ant bites managed to heal and my hands aren't aching anymore. it made the short one mile (only one mile? why?) hike much more bearable. our new campsite does look nice though. I found a good spot and instead of using my tent I put together a quick shelter with a couple of fallen logs, some twigs, and those bouncy, soft mushrooms I found my goat eating.

lucky the mushrooms weren't poisonous or anything. I'd be pretty lost without him. my goat, that is.

everyone looked at me weird when I said I wouldn't be sleeping in my tent. actually, maybe no, they weren't looking at me weird. I think they were just looking at all the twigs in my hair. there were a lot of those. making shelters isn't really a clean business, after all.

huh. is that another Intensity? what are they doing here again? they could have just said hi this morning if they wanted to. no reason to act all mysterious, isn't it? wait, there's more of them this time. I don't know why, but I have a feeling I shouldn't go out there right now. it's not like the Intensities are trying to hurt us or anything.

right?

Weekly 1, Nov 2021!

Part 1, 261 words

Thought Process:
SWC notes:
One character is rather jumpy, and prone to screaming. So I imagine they are always a little breathless, with short, stunted sentences being common. They hold a reserved but expressive personality, keeping private but talking a lot. They tend to use a lot of deflection and turn the attention off of themself.

The other character is thoughtful, so they tend to trail off in the middle of sentences and not tie their sentences together. They write in lowercase to save time and barely use grammar, and has a tendency to get off track and change subjects suddenly. I’m pretty sure they’d be likely to run off on an impulsive idea in the middle of a conversation too?

Dialogue:

“Why're we- why're we here again?” asked Jenn, flicking on their flashlight and illuminating the tunnel slightly.
“Because rumours say that the Visthene spirit… wait…” her eyes lit up. “Then- then that means…”
She yanked Jenn's hand, and pulled them with her as she ran off. “Wha-AAAAAT HEY, STOP- NO WAIT-”Jenn screamed. “MIU- SLOW DOOOWN!”


“So here's where it happened…” Miu breathed.
Jenn pulled their hand away. “What-” they paused to take a breath. "What're you- what're you talking about? What h- what happened here? Why are we at some- at some random dead end in the tunnel system?“
”We're here because… huh? Why isn't it… why…?“ she raised a hand, tracing the dust on the wall in front of her. ”Hm…“
”Miu! Stop- stop getting distracted! Just- just tell me why we're–“ waving a blatant hand at their surroundings, a frustrated noise making its way out of their mouth. ”You know- here!“

Miu raised an eyebrow. ”What's got you so… miffed?“ she smiled.
”Gee, I don't- I don't know!“ said Jenn. Their voice raised by several octaves. ”Maybe the- the fact you just– grabbed me and ran off to god knows where!“
Her attention was already diverted. ”Hang on… this isn't… this isn't right.“ she snapped towards Jenn. ”We shouldn't be here. I… took us to the wrong place. This is-“
”Is what? Would you explain something for- AAAAAH!“ they screeched as the ground gave way beneath the both of them.

-

”You- you really had to run off to investigate the Visthene spirit, didn't you?“
”… Sorry."

Part 2, 695 words

Jenn screamed. And screamed again. And again. And again. It felt like glass had been shattered in Miu's ears.
“Shh…” she shot a look at them, then turned to gaze at the hidden room they'd found themselves in. “Don't…”
They whipped towards her, finally cracking. “'Don't'?” said Jenn incredulously. "'Don't'? How- how can you expect me to- to not scream, Miu? A giant bug just appeared out of nowhere and threw us at a wall! I can't not scream at that!"

Miu waved absentmindedly, stalking off to inspect the dusty corners of the room in awe. It appeared to be some sort of records room, filled with knowledge in scrolls that had long been forgotten. And up there, written on a plaque, were the words:

The Collection of The Visthene Spirit

She gasped. “This is it… but… where's…? Oh!” Miu scrambled over to the opposite wall where a door. She pushed it open. Stepping in, she was led to a balcony overgrown with plants, and a salt ring around a scorch mark on the floor.
Jenn's heartbeat quickened. “W-ait!” they yelled at Miu, scampering over and cutting off her route to the salt ring. “Miu, you can't- you can't just walk into a random salt ring! What if it's- it's dangerous?”
“Mhm…” Miu hummed, turning and going around them instead. “Just curious… what if it's…?”
“Miu- it's probably nothing. We- we should go,”

It was too late. Miu shuffled into the salt ring. A flash and a spark later, it wasn't just Miu standing in the salt ring.
It was Miu and the Visthene spirit.

“What?” the Visthene spirit looked wildly around at his surroundings, shock leaking into his voice. “Why am I-”
Miu gasped. “It's… really you…the one who…” she backed up, and the spirit rolled his eyes.
“Yes, yes, the one who cursed your precious empire's capital. Trust me, mortal, that was simply a welcome accident. What I'm trying to do is much, much better. The rest of the pantheon will never know what's coming,”
Miu gaped. “….Accident?”
“Nevermind that,” The spirit brushed her off, then turned to Jenn. “You.” his voice reverberated with pure energy.

“M-me?” Jenn stammered.
“You were supposed to make sure no one came here,” the spirit growled.
Jenn shook in their shoes and shut their eyes. “I'm- I'm sorry,” they said. “I tried, but- but she was too insistent,”
“I trust you, Jenn… would you really betray my trust like this? By not doing your duty?”
“N-no! I would- I'd- I'd never!” they squeaked.
The spirit sighed. “Then maybe you can do me a favour by getting rid of this unfortunate girl. You can do it, I know you can,”

Miu stepped back. Her own betrayed eyes met Jenn's. “Jenn?” she questioned.
Jenn frowned as the small spirit hopped on their shoulder. Energy flowed between them - from the spirit and his satisfied grin to Jenn, whose fists were clenched and whose emotions flowed like an unsteady river.

“Miu- I'm sorry. I- I really am. Maybe if- if you paid more attention this wouldn't have had to happen,” they looked at her one last time then sighed.
She wavered, just for a second, and that was when the spirit urged Jenn to make their move. With a single tap of a foot, cracks spiderwebbed across the balcony, all reaching towards one point: Miu.

With another tap, the floor under her gave way, sending her hurtling down, down, down into the deep depths…
and onto a ledge covered in moss. A sickening crack from her arm made her cry out, but if anyone could hear her, they didn't come.
Eyes watering from the pain, Miu looked up. Jenn's words echoed in her head.

Maybe if you paid more attention this wouldn't have had to happen.

She stared at the towering walls above her. Maybe Jenn was right. Maybe she really did have to pay more attention.
Maybe, maybe, maybe.
Maybe if she paid attention none of this would have happened.

Miu sighed and wiped her eyes.
If you want to start paying attention, she told herself. Then you can start with paying attention to your broken arm and getting out of here.

Part Three, 302 words

My villain is the Visthene spirit. He does have a name - Vieth - but he don't use it often. Thousands of years old, he’s a powerful but small and unnoticeable diety. Among his pantheon, he was one of the least known dieties out there, and often made fun of by other dieties and humans alike. For a few millenia, he endured, ignoring the laughs.

Vieth is small, around the size of a house cat, and he didn't look very powerful, or intimidating, but what did that matter? He just tried to do his job as a minor diety of the underground, and all the critters and animals that lived in it. Soil followed his lead, but only soil miles and miles below the surface. Animals listened to him, but only animals that burrowed deep down, too far down for anyone to see.

So, because of his (supposed) near-uselessness and funny look, he were usually ignored, and less and less people began offering them sacrifices, building them temples, believing in him. The more people forgot about him, the weaker Vieth became, until he was so weak that he had to beg the other dieties to bring attention to he issue.

Accused of being ungrateful, he were cast out of the pantheon, and with all the energy he had left, he buried underground and slipped into stasis, sadness and anger at the rest of the pantheon festering and building, and strength rebuilding, though he would never be as strong as before.

Now, Vieth is a ruthless and reckless diety on the verge of madness, relying mostly on strength and power, having long since given up on being remembered and considered a “proper” diety again. He’s faded into rumours and been renamed the Visthene spirit, and seeks to bring his ex-pantheon down to the ground as revenge.

Part 4, 1,351 words

Miu narrowed her eyes and pushed at the wall of the ledge she was on with her good arm. A groan of loosened rock later, the wall opened up with a deep earthy rumble. She stepped into the newly revealed tunnel.

“Is that…?” she mumbled under her breath. Things drowning in dust lined the walls, but all of them had one thing in common. Being clearly, explicitly, but vaguely reminiscent of the Visthene spirit.

Statues carved after his likeness. Poems, ballads, haikus about him. Paintings, plaques, and thousands of others. For hours, Miu wandered the halls, reading, observing, and wiping dust from them. When she finally reached the point where all the tunnels met, a question burned in her mind.

Who really was the Visthene spirit?

Soon enough, her question was answered when she stepped onto a etched-in circle in the middle of the floor. Inscribed in tiny lettering, the ground bore the words:

'Made for the Diety Vieth, Lord of the Deep Underground'

Miu paused as the pieces clicked in her brain. The Visthene spirit. A spirit that existed through rumours, rumours that had been around for so long no one knew when they came to be. And another topic that flowed only through gossip and hushed words in the backs of taverns. One that spoke of an old, forgotten, diety, outcast and fallen from the Gwydth Pantheon. One, that spoke of the areas deep below the surface of the earth falling into disorder and chaos.

One that was just as old of a rumour, but lined up. Earlier, the spirit had let slip something about a pantheon. And the artifacts that lined the walls were of them. Yet, this inscription spoke of a diety, one she'd never heard of before. One that Miu should have never known, if he really was banished from the Pantheon.

She sighed. All this information was a treasure trove, but she’d never actually be able to fix anything if she couldn’t get back up to the surface. Then again, this place was built by humans - surely there was a way out somewhere? There probably was, and if she could find it… Miu smiled. Finally she had a chance to do something.

And first, she would need to find the thing that would get her out of here.

.

It took her a while, but she eventually found it. There was a small, tiny button just outside the circle. Small enough to be unnoticeable, but not too small as to make it unfindable. With another earthy rumble, the ground launched up, up, up at speeds she didn’t even know was possible like an elevator on caffiene, until—
“Ugh…” she mumbled, shaking her head as she sat up. Apparently, she’d been dropped right outside of the city’s borders, somewhere among the wavy, grassy hills. There was absolutely no trace of the circle of ground that had brought her up.

With her good hand, she stood up, and began walking towards the city walls. There was no way the farmers around here would be able to help her, both help her injured arm, help her stop Vieth - or the Visthene spirit, whatever - and help her stop the curse. She didn’t even know how to stop the curse.

Except… her neighbourhood sorcerer had once told her curses could be stopped by eradicating the curser. Miu had gone for a future reading, then, and wasn’t entirely sure what he’d meant. But now it was abundantly clear. To stop the curse… she’d need to put an end to Vieth. Head reeling, she stumbled past the unguarded gates (a sure sign of the disaster coming) and to the closest hospital.

.

How would one kill a diety? Miu pondered that question in her head as she walked back out of the hospital, significantly better. Her pain had been numbed by a simple elixir, and what with the medicine-potion mix the city was known for, her arm would soon be healed completely in a few minutes.

She tried to review what she knew in her head. First, the Spirit had been outcast. Then, he was eventually forgotten. And she also knew that most dieties were stronger than the Visthene Spirit had appeared. Which meant that he was weaker than before. Perhaps he was weaker because he was forgotten?

Miu grinned. That had to be it. After being outcast, he had grown to be forgotten. The more he was forgotten, the weaker he got, until… now.

So if she made it so that no one believed in his existence anymore… he would probably be weak enough to take down. Maybe he’d even just poof out of the world once he was completely forgotten!

But first, she needed a plan. And she knew just what it was going to be. All she needed was two people - the spirit himself, and the person she was least excited about talking to.

.

The first thing Jenn did when Miu showed up at their house was scream. Which was fair, considering everything, but it still made her squirm. No one had said talking to the person who helped the Visthene Spirit try to kill you was going to be easy, but she knew she had severely underestimated just how uncomfortable it was.

“Mi- Miu?” They managed to gasp out once they were done. “But- I- I- you- I thought you- you died!”
Miu frowned. “…Not a very good way to say hi to the person you dropped down an insanely deep underground gorge,”
Jenn froze. “I’m sorry- I never meant- I never meant to do that. I take back everything I said, Miu, I pro- I promise, I didn’t—“
“Mean it, I know…but Jenn… sorry’s not enough,” she told them. Jenn bit their lip, then everything spilled out.

“He- he trusted me, Miu- he said so, he said so, and I know personally how hard it is to trust someone - what if they turn on you? What if they break your trust? - so I did it. I’m so, sorry Miu- it’s just that he’s been there for me since I was small, and-“
She held up a hand. “Jenn, stop making excuses. If you really want to make it up to me, you can do it by helping me now,”
Jenn nodded timidly. “What do you need help with?” They asked.

“We need to convince everyone the Visthene spirit was never real… I’ll explain later. For now, you need to trust me,”

.

Surprisingly, Jenn was good at gathering a crowd. All it took for them was a little shouting, favourite from their other friends, and soon enough, almost the whole city was there.

Jittering with nerves, Miu climbed up onto the fountain.
“Hello, Raodl City!” She shouted. Jenn gave her a thumbs up. “As you all know, I’ve been investigating the Visthene spirit,”
Several eye rolls and sighs followed.
“And I’m here to announce, that the spirit is in fact, not real!”

“I knew it!” Someone yelled, only to be cut off as someone appeared with a poof of dust. Vieth himself.
“How dare you!” He shouted. Miu ignored him.
“See! This is nothing but a man playing dress up - the latest in a line of many frauds!” She shouted. Murmurs of agreement rippled. The spirit didn’t look all that spirity, which helped served her purpose.

“For this I propose a punishment, for all of this cruel trickery!”
Jenn backed her up with a shout. “Execution!” They yelled.
The crowd chorused it again and again. “Execution!” They yelled too.

With each shout, the Visthene spirit drifted closer to the ground, until he was doubling over on his knees. Something close to read showed on their face.

“I’ll do the honors!” A woman piped up. One of the empire’s royal executioners, no doubt. A slim and needle sharp sword was in her hand, and as she approached, Miu noticed Jenn look away. She darted down next to them, and placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder.

It was over in moments.

Splat! Came the sound. No one found the remains.

—————————

This was very rushed XD

In-Cabin Challenge, Nov 3: Mountains, oceans, cities, meadows, forests - there's so many places to choose from! What type of place would you like to live in? Practice descriptions by writing 300 words about your location! Feel free to share in the comments!

I mean, ideally, I think I'd like to live somewhere in the mountainside! I like to hike, so living on a mountain would definitely make it easier for me to find a nice fun trail to hike on! I also imagine that it would be really nice to live in a nature-filled, perhaps slightly ethereal community living on a steep mountain, with mist snaking around for twenty-four hours a day and a nice cold air that makes being warm about ten times better.

The treetops would filter out the air and protect a little wooden cabin - one of my ideal homes - from the rain. One thing about this, though, is that I would never pick a mountain that's been mined. For one, it makes it more dangerous for me to live there, because of the potential landslides. Second, it absolutely ruins the view and would put a damper on the energy of the place.

I also wouldn't mind living somewhere near the beach. Going down and feeling the sand shifting beneath my toes every time I walked would be fun and therapeutic for my constantly itchy feet. Maybe I'd even try to make a seagull feeding zone next to my house, and wake up everyday to them.

Of course, living underground wouldn't be so bad either. Maybe in a deep, damp cavern filled with moss and with fairy lights strung up everywhere. I don't think that would be very practical, though. Pumping would be hard, I'd be in danger of the cavern collapsing on me, and I'd be pretty isolated from the world, both physically and digitally - I don't think there's any wifi underground.

So yeah, those are the ideal locations I'd want to live in! Smelling the beachy, salty ocean air every morning on the beach, seeing the dewdrops on various plants in the mountainside right after a rainy day, sleeping in a serene house deep underground like some mole, all of that! I probably do need to think more about practicality, though.

SJE Entry 4: “OKAY WAKE UP! Sorry ‘bout that! And that it’s 5 AM. Anyway, we're leaving immediately for a 10 mile hike. Great pace so far, but we can do better. Stick with a buddy, and let's get moving! Also there's gonna be lots of fog, so be careful. Also make sure the goats stay safe. All right, let's move!” {Write 400 words based on this to earn your steps!}
Words: 412

so! today was actually nice, for once! we went for about ten miles this time, not just the measly one mile we did before. there was a lot of complaining about sore legs. and sore arms. and sore backs. and sore goats. okay, there was a lot of complaining, really. but I could still see how refreshed everyone was after. and it makes sense! what's more exciting and refreshing then a nice morning hike? (according to my roommate back home coffee is a better alternative but I disagree. but coffee is still nice when I don't have time to go outside)

back to the hike. it started out slightly boring at first. just practically flat terrain - it was no where close to 90 degrees. but then the fog came (there was a lot of it) and our goats started freaking out. thankfully enough my goat was… pretty calm. until it stepped on something it didn't like and started bucking around like crazy. it took ages for everyone to get their goats to calm down properly in the mist what with not being able to see and a couple of us losing our goats, but we made it eventually. my buddy nearly came back without their goat, though.

then we went more and more uphill (which was a pretty good change from the last three days of disappointment) until we finally reached our camp. we were about to celebrate with marshmallows when we realised just how deep the cave we were going to be staying in tonight was, and how many night creatures could be in it. just in time, one of us threw a rock at the deepest, darkest part. as expected, they ran out screaming a second later with a giant centipede crawling behind them. we had to climb and tug on one of its antennae to make it stop screeching. at least we have a giant centipede pet now.

at least it's asleep while I'm writing this. I can tell it's given some of us nightmares for life. not me, though. who knew that this mountain would so amazing and full of wildlife and resources? I didn't. now that I've seen all this I'm pretty glad I came along for the ride. hopefully the next few days are like this. I don't think I'll be able to stand another one-mile-day.

if we get another one of those, I might ditch this trip. I'm not here for the treasure, after all.

MC Daily 4! “Take the last thing one of your family members or friends said (if you can’t remember, go talk to them!) and write a story out of it. Get creative with this! Maybe you talked about what you’re eating for dinner? Perhaps you’ll write about your characters making this dish and completely ruining it! 500 words for 800 points.
(The last thing my mother said to me today was ”Do you want some tea?")
Words: 1,858

The first thing the old woman did when she caught them breaking pieces off of her roof and eating them was invite them inside. Hansel and Gretel were still ignorant, then. Blissfully so. Neither were aware of the coming troubles.
“Would you like some tea?” asked the old woman, smiling with chipped teeth. Gretel would call it creepy. Hansel would simply say she was trying to be friendly. “You look oh so dreadfully thin and tired…”

“No thank you, we wouldn't want to trouble–”
“Yes, yes please.” Gretel interrupted, giving her brother a look. He'd been so worried about not finding anything to eat for today - they should take the offer while it lasted.
Hansel sighed. “Forgive my sister,” he said politely. “What she means is that we've been stuck these last few days wandering the forest with no food and no water, and we would greatly appreciate it if we could have some tea,”

“Well, then of course you shall have some tea!” said the old woman in that creaky, tingling voice of hers. She stood up to boil the water. “And if good food and a place to sleep are what you need, I would be welcome to let you stay! I have a spare room that should be perfect for the two of you,”
“Thank you,” Hansel bowed slightly.

It took a while for the old woman to set up soft beds that smell of liquorice and fluffy pillows that feel like marshmallows for them. The two of them tried to help, and they did, but Gretel couldn't help but look at the cold iron bars of a cage shoved into the corner of the kitchen. It was the only thing in the house not made from sweets or candy, apart from the oven. It smelled like murky red and drippy liquid that probably would have tasted metallic. But despite it all, they ignored it.

They shouldn't have. They should have caught on. Should have listened to their instincts. Should have ran, and ran, and ran far far away from the little cottage in the woods made of candy that never seemed to melt or go bad. But they didn't. Hansel and Gretel stayed, because the nice old woman who lived there had given them a place to sleep for the night, and food to eat, and clothes to wear. Who were they to refuse?

Dinner was a pleasant affair. Sweet smelling minced beef that didn't taste like beef and cabbages that felt more like hard sweets. Soup that smelled more like melted ice cream.
“How was it?” asked the old woman, putting out their dessert. Cake.
Gretel grinned. “It was amazing! I've never tasted food this good in my whole life!”
Hansel nodded, grabbing a small slice of cake. It really was the best food in the world. “I feel tired, though,” he said. “Is it okay if I go and rest?”
“Of course!” the old woman smiled that toothy smile once more.

Hansel fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow. It wasn't very like him, but Gretel supposed it was just because they finally had a bed to sleep in, after the last few days of makeshift leaf-pillows and tree roots digging into their backs.
“Good night, big brother,” she whispered, collapsing onto her own bed.

“Gretel?” Hansel rubbed his bleary eyes. “Gretel, wake up,”
Gretel swatted at him, missing by at least twenty centimetres. “Mhm…” she mumbled. Hansel smiled and rolled his eyes. Maybe some extra sleep would be good for her. It's not like they were in any immediate danger anyway.

Carefully opening the gingerbread door, Hansel raised his eyes at the sight in front of him. Magic. The old woman stood at her table, sorting through strange ingredients in little capped bottles. A couple of them floated in the air, and a ladle stirred the pot in the corner all by itself.
“Woah,” was all he said, despite the flurry of thoughts in his head.
She's a witch, his mind hissed. They're dangerous, you know that! Hansel shook the thoughts out of his head. What was he doing, thinking bad things about the one who'd given him shelter when he and Gretel were nearly on their knees in starvation? He should be more grateful.

“Hansel?” the witch questioned. Hansel tried not to think about how he'd never told her his name. “What brings you here this early in the morning?”
“Just.. just about to go for a morning walk,” he stammered. The witch caught him staring at the floating bottles.
“Impressed?” she smiled. For once, it reached her eyes. “I could teach you, if you want.”
Hansel nodded immediately. “I do! I do want to learn it! Magic, I mean,” he added at the end, flushing. If he had magic… Hansel marvelled at all the things he would be able to do if he had magic. He could get him and his sister a better life, he could get her food and shelter and a house to sleep in effortlessly. Though maybe he was thinking too far ahead.
“Then let's get started on a little potion,” said the witch. “It should be easy enough to make - and to slip into someone else's tea. And I can already tell you'd make a good warlock someday, with that enthusiasm,”

So they spent the morning collecting ingredients, stirring the pot, and pouring the potion into the morning's tea. It was just a rejuvenating potion, Hansel had been reassured. Nothing big just yet.
“Gretel!” Hansel exclaimed happily, practically bouncing over to his sister. She raised an eyebrow at his excitement, but didn't question it. “Do you want some tea? I made it, just for you,”
Gretel shook her head. “No thanks, I think I'd just like some water,” the witch nodded and handed her a cup, just as Hansel took a sip of his own tea.

And promptly collapsed on the floor, unconscious. Gretel followed soon after, only barely able to stay awake to grab a cup of real water and down it, all while hearing the witch throw Hansel in the cage in the dusty corner.
“Such a shame I'm about to eat you two,” the witch sighed. “The boy had such potential… but I'm so hungry…”

Those words triggered an alert in Gretel's brain so strong that the potion clouding it was pushed back with the help of the real water tat dampened the effects. “You're about to what?” she scrambled back, voice and nerves both high. Too late, she realised she was backing up near the oven. Which was already full of flames prepared a few minutes ago.

The witch frowned. “Don't fight the potion, silly girl,” she chided, creeping closer and closer until she was only a foot away from Gretel. “Just give in. The adrenaline won't last for long,”
Gretel shook her head madly. “Back off!” she warned, grabbing a ladle to try and holding it in front of her defensively.
The witch cackled. “I suppose I shall just be rid of you, then,” she grinned ferociously. Not a second later, she shoved Gretel at the oven.
Gretel spun away just in time, turned around, and pushed the witch at its searing hot fire.

The oven exploded.

.

“Huh?” Gretel awoke with a jolt. Her senses screamed at her to get up, but her aching joints refused to comply. “What… oh.” she said quietly, glancing around at the ruins of the candy house all around her. A few parts of it had caught fire from the oven, but the rest was a sweet, sticky mess.
Wait.
“Hansel!” she screamed, rushing at her brother, who too was awake, and was now rummaging through the leftovers of the candy house, as if searching for someone. Searching for her.
“Gretel?” he laughed in relief, worry draining from his face. “What happened? Where is she? Where is the witch?”

Gretel fell silent, looking away as she pointed to the remains of the oven.
“… What? What- Gretel, explain, why did you-”
“She was going to eat us, Hansel,” she whispered.
Hansel looked shocked. “J-just because she's a witch it doesn't mean she's going to eat us! There was no reason to–” he waved his hand around. “You just destroyed our only place to live!” he exclaimed.
“Hansel, please,” pleaded Gretel. “She tried to push me into the oven!”

Hansel drew back and turned away to rummage through the now-extinguished and destroyed oven.
“When did that happen? What gave you that idea, Gretel? And- and- where are you going to go now? Back to Father? The person who left us all alone in the woods to survive on our own in the first place? The one who abandoned us and left us to starve? She was just a nice old lady who knew magic, Gretel. She would never do any of that!”
This time, she clenched her fists. "At least I did something, instead of just- fawning over her witchcraft! At least going back to Father is safer than staying with a cannibal!“
”She never said anything about eating us, Gretel,“ there was a tone of finality - and maybe desperation - in his voice.

Gretel took one last look at him, and the grimoire he had recovered from the ashes, and said one thing before walked off. ”She did. Maybe you would have caught it too, Hansel, if you weren't so busy clinging to the first person who treated you better than Father and Step-Mother did,“
Hansel's glare morphed into sadness as she walked away.

”What have I done?“ he mumbled to himself. ”I really am all alone now. There's no way Gretel will be happy to see me at this point…“
Hansel looked back at the ruined candy house, then at the grimoire in his hands.
”Maybe… maybe I'll just try to do what the witch did. Or what I saw her doing. Maybe I can turn this into a safe place for the lost to live.“

.

Years later, a girl walked through the woods, following the light she'd seen from a distance. She was lost, and scared, and hungry. Her father had died years ago, and not too long before that day, her mother had done the same.

Finally, she emerged in a soft green clearing, filled with flowers and bees and a house made partially out of candy.
”It's not stealing if it's in self-preservation, right?“ she asked no one in particular, wandering closer to the house and snapping off a small biscuit from the window sill.

”Oh, hello!“ exclaimed a voice, startling the girl and her munching. ”You seem tired - and lonely, too,“
She turned to see a young man waving at her from the open door of the house. He seemed friendly, though, so when he offered her a hand and invited her in, she nervously followed.

”Hi,“ she squeaked.
The man smiled, and something flickered in his eyes. Care, perhaps? Or the feeling of missing someone you haven't seen in a long, long while?
”You can call me Hansel,“ he said. ”Do you want some tea?“

The girl grinned timidly. ”Yes, please,"

SJE Entry 5! "Hello, hello! Congrats! It's 7 AM! Anyway, it'll rain later today, we can already see the clouds rolling in. Expect lightning as well. We were gonna make a 15 mile trek, but that's being lowered to 3. Hey! Don't look so happy. It's all up a rocky hill. After that, we'll reach the rainforest! We'll set up camp earlier than usual, to prepare for the storm. {Write 400 words based on this to earn your steps!}
Words: 444

today started out pretty boring again. but then the rain started. we'd already seen the clouds hours before the rain actually started, but once it started, it never seemed to end. it wasn't even raining that hard. it wasn't light rain, but it wasn't a downpour either. it was just rain. the only thing that actually drove us back was the mist. it was everywhere. around us, behind us, in front of us, above us, every single place I looked the only thing I saw was more mist. and the mist and rain didn't just drive us back, it separated us.

we could barely move without stopping because of the risk of accidentally falling. it was pretty hard getting through all the fog and mist with both the whole group, ourselves, and our goats whole. fifteen minutes in, and some of us had already disappeared without a trace. we tried to find them. but we couldn't. so, we moved on to try and get to the decided campsite before the centre of the storm hit us. thankfully the rainforest gave us some shelter from the rain. but it gave us a new problem too. more things to trip over. a couple of the missing Survivalists caught up with us sometime during the day while we were in the forest.

our speed was more like a snail sprint than a goat's jumps. we barely made it to our campsite in time before the thunder started. we were all tired and miserable and too drained to set up our tents and a fire was impossible, so we just huddled as close as we could in our cave with our sleeping bags and goats nearby.

after a few hours of just talking and getting to know each other, some more of the missing Survivalists showed up. they were shivering and soaked to the core but alive. Rella was overjoyed to see them. the whole time we'd all been talking the subject of the people who got lost was mostly avoided, apart from the occasional outburst. none of us wanted to touch on that matter yet. not until they were really ready.

for once I'm glad we only did a 3 mile journey. it might have been exciting to try and get through the storm but now I know that it would have also been a death wish. it looked like everyone else knew too, considering how relieved they were when Rella announced we wouldn't be continuing the next 12 miles.

one other thing I realise though, is that not all of the lost Survivalists came back.

there were still one or two, all alone in the storm.

In-Cabin Daily, Nov. 5! “Think of a character you’ve written. What animal would they be? Describe why in 150 words!”
Words: 183

Hmm… well, I think my character Calle (from here, here, and here) would probably be a… (drumroll, please)…. koala! Frankly, they're just such a perfect fit! Calle is constantly sleepy and can act a little callous and blunt sometimes, but is also quite observant and analytical. What animal best fits these traits? A koala, of course! They cling to trees and look constantly sleepy, though they're not always asleep themselves.

Plus, have you seen koala claws? They're not particularly intimidating, but they sure do look sharp to me! They don't use them for offense, the same way Calle rarely uses his innate talent for analysis for offense, despite it having the potential to be very dangerous.

My last reason: do you ever wonder how many things koalas have witnessed, while looking asleep but not being asleep? How many things have they seen that weren't mean for prying eyes? How many things have they heard, all while staying quiet and inconspicuous? Sure sounds a lot like Calle's “lay low, go with the flow, and keep and eye and ear out just in case” tendencies!

1,469 words!

“I want you to give these to your grandmother, okay?” Little Red's mother smiled.
“Okay,” said Little Red Riding Hood. She was young, and naive, and knew not of the dangers of the forest. Perhaps if she had been less so, she would have asked for company, or protection. But she wasn't, so she said nothing else as she flounced onto the dirt path and into the forest.

As Little Red walked, she felt a prickle on her neck. She glanced around.
“Hm,” she commented, seeing no one. “Weird,”
And so she continued on walking, swinging the little hand-woven basket back and forth. One swing, two swings, three swings, four swings.

The second time she felt the prickle, Little Red Riding Hood saw a dash of coarse fur dart behind a tree. Her senses, tingled telling her to be careful.
“Probably a dog,” she said to herself, pinching the hem of her bright red cloak. It was more of a reassurance than a fact. “Probably just a dog,” she repeated for herself.
Then off she went, skipping and humming and swinging her cake filled basket. One swing, two swings, three swings, four swings. Back and forth, and back and forth.

The third time, she finally saw a dirty grey body crawl out of the bushes. Lips pulled back in a snarl, growling making its way out of its throat, hackles raised and ready; it was the picture of intimidation.
And yes, normally Little Red would have been scared. She would have run away, or screamed. But not now.

Now, she was too busy looking at the ribs that pressed against its skin, the patches were fur should be but weren't, and the shaking of its hind legs, ready to give out completely. It looked ready to pounce and swallow her whole despite its current state.

Little Red sighed. She couldn't help feeling sorry for the wolf. Most of the normal animals in this forest had long since been driven out, replaced by mythic creatures and monsters and witches and all sorts of others. She'd even heard tale of an enchanted house made of candy on the other side of the forest, inhabited by a cannibalistic witch. Only the strongest normal predators were able to survive, and even then they rarely thrived.

Like this wolf, for one.

“Here you go,” Little Red said, carefully pulling out a turkey leg from her little basket. Surely her grandmother could be spared one piece of food?
Yes, she could, she decided. Gently putting the thick turkey leg between her and the wolf, she smiled and watched as the wolf sniffed at it suspiciously.

It took it a few seconds, but after giving her one last wary look, it jumped in, demolishing the turkey leg in but a few bites.
“Awooo!” it howled, then scampered away. Little Red Riding Hood liked to think it was a thank you howl.

With that done, all she could do was pick up her quaint little basket (when had she put it down? was it when she gave some food to the wolf?) and set off once again on the winding dirt path through the trees. Swing, swing, swing, went her basket. One swing, two swings, three swings, four swings.

Soon enough, she had reached her grandmother's house. “Grandmother?” called Little Red, looking around the deserted porch. She tried to peak through the windows, but the curtains were drawn. The only other choice was to go in.

“Grandmother?” she called again. “Are you there?”
No reply.
Heart racing, Little Red ran through the house, opening door after door until she reached her grandmother's room. She steeled herself.

Raising a hand to knock, she called one last time. “Grandmother? It's me! Mother sent me to deliver you some food!”
This time, her grandmother answered. “Thank you, dear!” the voice from inside was garbled, unnatural. She paused. Was her grandmother sick? “Please, come in!”

Okay. Little Red pushed the door open gently, as to not startle her elder. There she lay, buried under the covers, her tousled grey hair just barely visible. “Grandmother! You're okay!” she grinned.

The lump under the blanket moved, and with it she caught something else moving, peeking out below the sheets. A furry brown… tail?
What?
“Of course, I'm okay, dearie,” said her grandmother. Up close, her voice sounded even more strange than ever. It barely even sounded human. “Please, come closer,”

Just as she moved to stand at her grandmother's side, something clicked. “Y-you're not my grandmother,” whispered Little Red. Her brain told her to run, or hide, but something else kept her tethered there, in her grandmother's room, with someone who wasn't the rightful owner of it. The thing under the sheets made a sound that sounded vaguely like a sigh.

“You're right,” it said, a growl rising in the back of its mouth. “I'm not. But your grandmother sure was tasty to eat,”

With that, it rose up, up, up towering over her with its hulking, wolf-man body (though more wolf than man). A werewolf. Little Red paled, then ducked and ran out of the room as he lunged for her.
“Help!” she screamed, though no one could hear her. The house was too far away from any other village or settlement, and any nearby hermits would be far enough out of hearing range. “Someone, please!”

No help came. And no matter how fast she ran, and how many corners she weaved through, and how many things she threw behind her to try and slow the werewolf down, he kept bearing on her, getting closer and closer until-

Chomp! Her momentum kept her going, but Little Red still screamed, tears streaming down her face as the bitten, slightly torn flesh on her right leg bled. Her vision grew spotty, and what felt like ice-cold fire spread through her veins, and the last thing she heard before collapsing on the floor was another wolf's angry howl and the gnashing of the werewolf's teeth.

.

Wet. Her face felt wet. Another drop of water fell on her face, before Little Red Riding Hood realised she was lying face up, halfway off of her grandmother's porch, with raindrops trickling onto her cheeks from the roof.
“Huh?” she mumbled, sitting up. “What ha-” before she could finish the sentence, everything came rushing back to her.

Her grandmother. The werewolf. Being bitten. Another, different wolf's howl. The hard wooden floor on her cheek right after she blacked out.

Her leg! Quickly glancing down, Little Red bit back a gasp. The bleeding, raw, recent bite on her leg - it was healed! It had only been a night, and yet now the only thing left of it was a faint pink outline. It didn't even hurt!

A small whimper caught her attention. Lying near her was a wolf. A normal one, if badly beaten up. Scars littered its body, its fur was messy, and blood pooled around a wound on its back leg. Something about it felt… familiar, somehow.

“Are you… the one I gave the turkey leg to?” Little Red asked, crawling over. The wolf gave another whimper, but she could feel that she was right in her bones. “And are you the one who saved me?” the wolf gave her another look, shifting its wounded leg. “Right. I should probably get you patched up,” Little Red stood up, and went over to the open door. “Wait here!”

A few seconds later, she was back, with two napkins she'd taken from the kitchen in her hands. It made her sad, taking things from her grandmother. But it was necessary. She couldn't just leave the wolf like that.

Little Red knelt beside the injured wolf. One napkin she used to dab and clean up the cuts - despite the warning growls - and the other she used to wrap around the wound on its back leg. “There,” she said. “I'm sorry I couldn't do more,” The wolf whined appreciatively. As she turned to leave, she felt a nuzzle nudging her hand.

“Aren't you still hurt?” she asked. The wolf shook its head, as if it understood what she meant. Maybe it did. Its eyes seemed to say:
'I trust you,'
“Okay then. Let's… go home, shall we?” It howled happily, and together, Little Red Riding Hood and the wolf trekked back to her house.

On cue, the wolf's tail swung back and forth, happily accompanying its new friend. One swing, two swings, four swings, three swings.
Red's cape followed suit, swishing as she moved. One swish, two swishes, three swishes, four swishes.

(That night, a new werewolf howled at the moon. No one knew who it was, except a girl in a bright red cloak with a bite mark on her right leg and the wolf that always followed her around.)

Main Cabin Daily for Nov. 6!
@codergirl125's words, “marble, gale, windchime, afterimage”
Words: 432

Windchimes chimed in the blank, white void. They chimed again, and again, and again. Aspen stood up, voice cracking as he looked again at the screen in front of him. The only thing in the void, aside from him and the chair.

“Mom?” he whispered. The figure on the screen nodded, despite how far she was from the camera. Aspen brightened. It really was her! But then the voice at the back of his mind brought his hopes crashing down. He was in the void. There was no way out. Except maybe… he scrambled closer to the screen.

“Mom!” he yelled. His mother smiled softly. Tears streaked down Aspen's slimy cheeks, and he touched the screen. His fingers slipped through it.

The windchimes chimed again.

He gasped. Maybe… maybe if he went through the screen completely, he'd be able to reach his mother! Taking a deep breath, he plunged through the screen, and into darkness.

“What?” Aspen's painfully tired voice broke. Where was he? Where was his mother? Why were there screens flickering on all around him, all showing her? He turned to the one in front of him. Maybe this one would take him back to his mom! Hopeful once more, he stepped towards it.

One step. Another step. And another. And another. The screen didn't get closer.

The windchimes chimed. Aspen tried again. He took one step, then another, then another. The screen only got further away with every step he took.

Again, the windchimes chimed. He started running - he had to get to his mother, he had to! He'd been without her for so long, and he knew it was only a few weeks, but it felt like decades, years, he missed her so much, he needed her, needed to see her-

A soft gale blew the scene on the screen away. There was no mother, now. Only an empty street. Perhaps she was never there in the first place - just an afterimage of someone who's been gone for years. He shook the thought out of his head. Where had it come frrom?

The gale blew harder, stronger, until Aspen dropped down, promptly passing through the floor and back onto the chair in the white void. There was something else there, this time. A bag of marbles. When he looked closely, he could see pictures of his mother in them. Aspen smiled, only to shout out as one by one, the marbles rolled away, tucked into crevices he couldn't find.

The screen flickered on again. It was his mother who was on it again.

And so the cycle repeated.

SJE Entry 6! “Well, that storm was interesting last night. It'll only get more interesting from here! Today marks the day we make way into the jungle. The trails will be covered in vines, rocks, bizarre animals, and all that. This terrain is difficult to get through, but we'll still just do 8 miles. Expect light rain all at noon, but nothing to much. We'll camp out in the open, seeing as there's not too much caves now.” {Write 300 words based on this to earn your steps!}
Words: 324

wow. today was… interesting. we finally found all of the missing Survivalists but then we had to immediately set off and go right into the thick part of the jungle. giant bugs that roared and weird little furry things were everywhere and I’m pretty sure they might have permanently traumatised some of us. I was a little freaked out of course but it turns out they’re not that different from those giant ants that bit me a few days ago. the furry things were actually kind of cute. my goat was terrified of them though. I could barely keep hold.

the rain today was light. and I mean really light. we could barely feel it. but it did disturb some of the animals. so we had to spend about half our trek running away from them screaming. who knew some animals were that sensitive to rain? I didn’t for one. maybe I should note that down somewhere. it might be useful for animal proofing an emergency shelter. the second half of the trek we just spent tripping on vines and rocks and the like. I have bruises on my bruises in places that shouldn’t even have bruises. and they ache so much.

to be honest I was reluctant to camp out in the open. since when was that a good idea? I did bring it up with Rella but she just gave me an “I’m the leader and there’s no more caves” look. so I backed down. I don’t even know why I was that intimidated by some girl two years younger than me. that’s fine though. I can make this work. just add a little camouflage on my tent here and there. some sticks and leaves and maybe bark. hopefully that way nothing will walk in on me sleeping and decide to eat me. that would be the worst possible way to go out.

the best way is while doing something actually exciting.

MC Daily, Nov 7: “Today’s National Hug A Bear Day! Think about your most vivid childhood memory and your favorite item from your childhood. Taking inspiration from these two things, create a scene where a character revisits their past. 400 words for 600 points! ”
Words: 487
Memory: Sneaking off to a playground without permission (to anyone else: pleasse don't do this)
Item: My first encyclopedia
Finished Late

Mordred winced, then stepped through the portal.

The world tipped, and turned, colours spinning and whirring, until he arrived at his destination. A smaller, much younger Mordred sat on the floor of his bedroom, reading the encyclopedia on humans he'd gotten for his existenary, somewhat similar to a human birthday. A moment or two later, past-Mordred landed on a page titled “Possession”.

Present-Mordred grinned. Now he knew why he'd been brought to this memory. It happened to be the start of his long time fascination with possessing humans. Maybe it would actually be helpful, considering his current predicament.

“Woah,” past-Mordred mumbled, staring so intensely at the page it wouldn't have been surprising if all five of his eyes popped out of their sockets. For a while, the tiny being just sat there, reading the chapter on human possession thoroughly. Present-Mordred sat down on the floor as he read, occasionally peeping a look at the book. It had been a long time since he'd read it.

It probably just laid forgotten somewhere in the dusty nooks of his room, moth-eaten and dusty.
'Maybe I should get it out and read it again sometime,' present-Mordred thought, then sighed. ‘Assuming I can even get home anytime soon,’

A knock on the bedroom door caught his attention. Stumbling over, past-Mordred opened the door to see his mother.
“Hi, Mother,” he said, tail flicking around like the embarrassing thing it was.
His mother smiled and ruffled the hair between his horns. Past-Mordred tidied it indignantly. “Yes, yes, hello Mordred. What's that you're reading?”

Present-Mordred laughed.

“I'm reading the book you gave me, Mother,” the younger him replied.
“Well, just remember to take a break for a while. Dinner will be ready in a few hours, okay?”
Past-Mordred nodded. “Okay,” he said. The door closed with a soft click.

As soon as he was sure he was alone, younger-Mordred's face split into a huge grin, an idea just beginning to form in his mind. Surely he wouldn't get into that much trouble if he went for a quick test-posession trip to the human realm, right?

The older Mordred rolled his eyes. Was he really that impulsive as a child?

With that, past-Mordred deftly climbed out of the window and into the lawn, right behind the family gateway to the human realm. Smiling brightly, he stepped through.

“I guess I'll come along for the ride, then,” the Mordred from the present said.

.

Not even five minutes later, the gateway spit a disgruntled young-Mordred out to face his mother.
“What do you think you're doing, young man?” she crossed her arms.
Young-Mordred pouted. “Going to possess a few humans,”

His mother pinched the bridge of her nose. “You're far too young for that, Mordred. For now, consider yourself grounded,”

Past-Mordred stalked off to the bathroom to sulk, at just the moment the memory-portal creeped at the edges of present-Mordred's vision, then swallowed him once again.

SJE Entry 7! "Did y'all enjoy the nice, little warm-up yesterday? Hopefully. We're gonna run three miles today. And walk ten more. Don't worry, don't worry. We'll have a break in between each run with an additional walking mile. Confused on how many we're doing? So am I. We might as well do five more. I honestly have no idea what the weather is going to be like. The forecast I memorized only went for seven days. The trees are too thick to see any clouds, so maybe it'll be sunny? Who knows. All right, let's get going!” {Write 300 words to earn your steps}
Words: 301 words

I definitely underestimated the sheer endurance our leader has. it's already the end of the day, and I feel ready to drop like a fly. I think even my goat is sweating. can goats sweat? I don't know, I never bothered to find out. everyone else is either lying on the ground panting or drinking as much water as they can while still leaving some for tomorrow. my legs feel so sore. and somehow Rella is still able to pace around our campsite. which is both admirable and concerning. even I'm tired, and I've been at this adventuring thing for longer than half the people here!

the weather was insane, too. one minute it was raining like someone had upturned thousands of galllons of water in the sky, and the next the heat was so hot a couple of us felt like taking off our clothes. this mountain is a waking nightmare.

I can hear my elbows and knees creaking. this is both embarrassing and huge relief, since I think if I even try to run anymore my legs might as well drop off. I might need to get up soon though, since everyone's calling me down for dinner and tonight's moaning-about-the-amount-of-miles-we-did festival.

it'll have to wait, though. my goat made a huge mess of my things and now I need to tidy them up before he pees on them. which he most definitely will. or will try to. in fact, he's butting his head at me right now. it's starting to get annoying.

okay my goat is gone now. off trying to impress another goat again, I'd guess. he's a hopeless romantic.

(I wouldn't tell anyone, but it's actually a little cute when he does that. but I'm still not going to help him do romantic goat things. it's disgusting)

In-Cabin Challenge, Nov. 8! “Do you listen to music while you write? Write at least 100 words about why you think it's helpful/unhelpful. Share your recommendations in the comments!”
Words: 160

Well, it really depends on your mood, your preferred music genre, and the music you end up listening to! It's usually helpful for me, but only regarding certain music. Songs with vocals - non instrumental songs - are usually just played when I need background noise, something to hear aside from silence, or when I'm not writing in a hurry. When I need inspiration or to give me more motivation, I play instrumental traditional asian music, and when I need help with giving a scene the right energy or feel, I play instrumental music that corresponds with it. For example, I listen to mournful violin music when I'm writing a sad scene, and so on.

All in all, I'll say it's pretty helpful, as long as you know what music distracts you and what doesn't!

I usually listen to Medieval Tavern Music for non-plot stories, any songs by Alec Benjamin for angst or sad scenes, and Survivor by 2WEI for fight scenes.

SJE Entry 8! “Gotta say, guys, wow! No one died! First of all, that was some crazy weather - but y'all handled it! I mean some of you had some trouble handling the terrain, but that's to be expected. Today we'll just be going on a ten mile hike with plenty of breaks. Expect some spectacular view points! As for the weather, I don't see any clouds yet, so maybe clear skies? Not sure. Well, we're gonna head in about hour so you can have a bit of time to eat a second breakfast or whatever." {Write 300 words based on this to earn your steps!}
Words: 325

the views were amazing today. the sky was clear (thankfully) and there was barely any fog around. we passed a ton of great views that would definitely be social media worthy. a shame not many people climb this mountain. we had a lot of breaks, too, and the people who brought cameras took a lot of pictures. after a while, though, we had to get moving, since we dawdled for a bit too long on our last break. one poor kid had a big stomach ache though, because they ate too much breakfast. I guess that's what happens when an adventurer has seconds.

everyone seemed really glad when we got to the campsite. since today was a break day, we spread out our most campfire worthy snacks and exchanged funny stories. who knew that Liin used to be really clumsy? I don't know her that well, but she's always been one of our fastest and best hikers. apparently she wasn't always like that. according to my usual “buddy”, she once tripped over her own feet while on a flat floor with nothing in the way. in front of a crowd. while she was supposed to be opening a school ceremony. talk about embarrassing.

I was actually surprised when my goat didn't decide to misbehave today. he usually does. I think it's his way of showing he cares about me. which sounds sappy and dumb, I know. but even some of the others have said it. right now he's not even doing much. just staring at a tree. is he in shock? what happened?

oh well. as long as he can still function, that's fine. I should probably give him a name. I'm not really sure what, though. something funny probably, to get back at him for messing with me these last few days. maybe I'll go ask some of the other Survivalists for ideas. I'll get back to this when I find a good one.

SJE Entry 9! “Hmm, so apparently some of you think this is getting too easy? Well I got new for you, all y'alls endurance is NOTHING compared to what it should be! So today, fifteen miles! Many of them will be up steep and rocky hills. And if I feel like it, there may even be running intervals! Anyway, besides that, I'm so proud of you! We've come so far. Weather is chilly right now, but who knows what it'll be later. Let's head!' {Write 200 words based on this to earn your steps}
Words: 223

right. so we had a little endurance test today. fifteen miles, with running intervals in between, up a rocky terrain. I think my endurance has gotten better, but it definitely did not prepare me for this. I'm now winded and tired and I feel like I'm about to collapse. thankfully I'm not in as bad condition as some of the others. I think I even heard someone puke all over the ground just now. which is fair, considering everything. half the goats are lying on the ground and moaning (who knew goats could moan?). I feel a little sorry for them, actually.

my tent looks pretty unstable right now, but I don't feel like getting up and fixing it. I'm just going to… uh let my limbs rest a bit. hm. actually, nevermind. my tent looks like it wants to cave in on me sometime soon and it's probably better to just fix it before it happens, tiredness be darned.

okay, it's fixed now. I can finally lie down in peace without the constant fear of being hit with a pole and just be content with being poked at by my goat.

Rella's endurance is unbelievable. the worst condition she's been in is being sore, and even that didn't last long.

maybe I should get her to teach me her secret to it.

In-Cabin Challenge, Nov. 9! “What’s your favorite book? Put your main character into the story! What would happen? 300 words, and be sure to state which book you use! Feel free to share it in the comments!”
Words: 347
Book used: Keeper Of The Lost Cities: Neverseen
Character used: Erik

“Uhm,” said Erik as he popped into this particular dimension, bobbing up and down in the middle of Alluveterre.

Everyone screamed.

.

He bit his lip strong enough to draw blood - if he had any left to begin with. Not that he did. “…Hi?” he began, staring at everyone around him. They were all cautious and ready, melders drawn, gadgets in hand, hands forward, inflicting prepared to be unleashed at the slightest moment. Not that Erik was worried. Ghosts weren't effected by most attacks - especially physical ones.

The first person to back down was a bloated, elderly-looking man, he rubbed his temples, as if he was having a headache. “Alright,” he said. “Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Erik paused. “Oh, I wait! I think I stepped in some mutilated fairy ring,” he laughed. “Not much of a big deal, though! I can hop back easy enough with one of the tanuki guys' little trinkets,”

Another girl, blonde with brown eyes, stepped forward, since clearly no one else had understood. “Fairies and fae aren't real, right?” she asked the others. The old man shook his head. She turned back to Erik. “Are you… what are you?” she questioned.

He raised an eyebrow (not that anyone could see it, under his mask), then floated backwards slightly. This conversation was beginning to go to places he would really prefer not to talk about. Maybe he should just…

“Wait!” one of the people shouted, immediately noting his hand, which was reaching towards his pocket. It was both a little too late and not. Just as Erik grabbed the tanuki-made trinket and activated it, the person tried to grab his arm, only to fall through it. Gaping, he watched as Erik popped out of the dimension as suddenly as he had popped into it.

The person who tried to grab Erik's arm looked positively shellshocked. Though it was hard to tell through his rocky disguise, an expression of utter confusion passed his face.

“You're not supposed to be able to light leap here without a special crystal…” he muttered.

Erik either avoids confrontation with things he doesn't like, or explodes in anger at it, so he wouldn't stay long XD

Goldilocks, an SWC Writing Comp entry

Goldilocks was prim and proper. Her back stood straight, her clothes polite, and her words perfectly eloquent. Her cheeks rosy, her touch was dainty. The perfect picture of a lady.

That wasn't all true, however. She might have loved tea parties and dresses. But she also loved running through the outdoors. A secret wild side, one might call it. Thrice did her “wild side” shine through. Thrice she was lectured on being ladylike. And thrice Goldilocks considered escaping.

She'd read books on how to survive in the wild. She didn't have much to lose - surely she could manage until she reached the next kingdom over?

Except she never did get away. Not until the third time, at least.

The first time she acted “unladylike” was an accident. She'd never meant to do it, only meant to help. Her mother's hat had gotten caught on a tree branch, and now hung from it. No one had noticed yet. So, planning to hand it back to her proud Mother, Goldilocks shifted her dress and scrambled up the tree.

This, of course, was much more noticed.

Shouts enveloped her, followed by an aghast face she cowered at. Goldilocks jumped down.
“Young lady, what were you doing?” hissed Mother, gripping her arm. She flinched.
“B-but your hat, Mother,” she cried. “It was stuck on the tree!”
Her mother pulled her to her room. “That was no concern to you, Goldilocks. You could have told me, for heaven's sake! For now, you're grounded until you realise what you did wrong,”

Goldilocks sucked in a breath as her mother closed the door with a soft click. What did she do? All she had wanted was to help!


The second time she acted “unladylike”, it was in public.

With her mother busy having tea with the other ladies in town, Goldilocks could only grow bored as they chittered about subjects she had no care for. Slowly, an idea formed in her mind. Perhaps she could get out of here!
“Mother?” she piped up. Her mother nodded. “May I go outside for a stroll?” A charming smile made its way onto her face.
Mother raised her eyebrows, pleased at the way she had asked her question. Back straight, hands folded, Goldilocks held herself perfectly. “Of course,” she said.

Goldilocks stood up, excused herself, and calmly walked outside. The moment she was out of view, however, she laughed delightedly and ran for the flower fields. The sweet aroma snuck through her nose, making her giggle. Now this was fun. The opposite of the mind-numbing boredom from moments earlier.

Hours passed while Goldilocks played. Digging little hole, she replanted flowers, weaved daisy crowns, swung from tree to tree. All while having the time of her life. Unfortunately, as all fun things do, it did not last.
“Goldielocks!” came a voice. She whipped around.
Oh no.
“H-hello, Mother,” stammered Goldielocks, eyes darting towards her furious mother.
Mother frowned at her dirty face. She wrinkled her nose even further when she caught sight of her daughter's dress as Goldie stood up. “We,” she said finally, pulling Goldilocks along and saying hurried goodbyes to her friends. “Are going to have a long talk about this, Goldilocks.”


The third time she did something “unladylike” was on purpose.

Goldilocks was fed up. Every day felt the same for her. Get up, act like a proper lady for the world's approval, go to bed. Play clean, play obedient. She loved tea parties, and she loved dresses, but the days she was forced to ignore how she loved playing in the fields just as much as tea parties were beginning to pile up.

So this time, she channeled her frustration into a boiling feeling in her veins, ran outside, and scrambled to the wheat fields, running through them until muddy earth clung to her shoes and her dress was soggy with excess water, dirt marking it like a target (because that's what it would be, to her mother). Goldilocks smiled.

That should be enough, she thought.

It went without saying that the moment she stepped on the threshold of her house, her mother pounced on her.
“Goldilocks! I thought you'd grown out of this!” she chided. Goldilocks sighed with mock regret.
“Sorry, Mother,”
Her mother frowned and gestured upstairs. “Consider yourself grounded,” she said. “Now clean up and go to your room,”
She looked up at her room. "Yes, Mother, said the girl.
Perfect. Everything is going according to plan.
Once she was inside, Goldilocks got busy. Changing out of her dress would be useless - it would get dirty again anyway. Grabbing as many essentials as she could without making any noise, she stuffed some bread, a change of clothes, some rope she'd bribed from horse boy, and some money in a satchel.

Gingerly walking over to her window, she climbed out and slid quietly onto the roof.
“Thank goodness I'm wearing boots,” Goldilocks told herself as she jumped to the ground.
Goldilocks looked around to make sure no one was watching, then tiptoed over to the edge of the forest backing her mansion.

In three…
She cast one last glance at her soon to be old house. It was the place she'd grown up in, yes, but it had never really felt like home to Goldie. No, it never was or had.
Two…
She turned towards the forest. Growls and crickets exploded outwards from it. And though It might have been dangerous, it was a chance for her to find a new life, away from her mother. A life where she could have as much fun roughhousing as she did trying on new dresses. A life where she could be free.
One.
Goldilocks ran. She ran as fast as she could, running, running, only accompanied by the chirp chirp chirp of birds and crunch crunch crunch of twigs under her boots. She ran, and ran, and ran, laughing, giggling, hardly able to believe that this was it, that she really had just escaped, that this was really, really it, that her new life had just started. Vines and roots didn't slow her down; instead, they made her faster.
She jumped, leaped, and hopped over them, never stopping in momentum.

Eventually, of course, she slowed down. Running at high speeds in a dress, no matter the fact she'd chosen her least frilly, easiest to walk in one, took its toll on you after a while.
Goldilocks looked back, and only saw more thick trees. No trace in sight of the bold mansion she'd been in only half an hour before. She smiled and sat down, taking her bread out. Munch, munch, munch, she went. The little wood sprites around her giggled and snatched up the crumbs.

A week went by, and progress slowed. Her food began to have to be rationed, her dress was torn and dirty, and she hadn't had a clean face in days. The forest couldn't be that thick, could it? Apparently it was.
One day, Goldilocks was at her limit. She should have reached the edge of the forest by now - but somehow, the only thing ahead of her were trees, trees, and more trees.

Retracing her steps was futile. It only led to getting lost even further. The longer she walked, the more the trees seemed to stretch out. These woods weren't normal, she realised. The sprites, the howls, the plants; none of it was normal. She wasn't supposed to be here. It wasn't her territory, at least not yet, and the forest didn't like it.

By the third week, Goldilocks was out of both water and food. The dawn sun woke up on her back as she stumbled through the boughs, barely conscious enough to see the faint lights of a house not far away.
Wait, lights? A house?
A house! Food, water, clean clothes- she gasped, mind running nearly as fast as her legs as she sprinted over, not caring how wild she must have looked at that moment, torn dress and muddy face and all. She slammed open the door.

The house was deserted. Even in her state, Goldilocks could sense the quietness that came from a house that would, normally, have been filled with noise. She sighed in relief, then came inside, tripping on her own feet. A warm, nose tingling smell wafted to her nostrils.
What…? She sniffed, following it to a well-lit dining room. There, sitting innocently on the high table, were three whole bowls full of porridge.
She paused. Surely the owner of the house wouldn't mind if she ate only one, bowl, right?
Yes, she decided. The owner would surely be alright with it.

The first bowl Goldilocks tried was too hot. It steamed and made her tongue burn until she couldn't taste it anymore.

So she moved on to the next one. This one was too cold, and it barely registered on her taste buds before she tried the last.

Finally, this one was just right. Warm, but neither too hot nor too cold. Perfect. Goldilocks smiled and lapped it up.

Full, but with her joints still aching terribly, she searched around, trying to find some place to sit.
There should be a living room somewhere, right? Goldilocks laughed to herself. Of course there is, she smiled, entering a room with three chairs. And this should be it.

As she sat in the grand chair, she found it to be too big, and too hard. Her back was sore and she couldn't relax.

The next one was just as bad, though this time it was too soft, swallowing her whole.

The last felt just right, but broke into pieces the moment she rocked it. Goldilocks gasped. Biting her lip, she scrambled upstairs in search of something to clean the mess up. Oh no, oh no, she couldn't let the owner see this!

Unfortunately, nothing was upstairs except for three beds. The first, as she found out, was too hard. The second was too again, too soft. The final one, however, was just right. Goldilocks sighed, mind beginning to drift. Perhaps she could lay down here for a minute… no, no! She shook her head. She needed to clean up downstairs. But oh, she was just so tired…


“Hello?” someone asked, shaking Goldilocks awake with a furry paw.
Wait- her mind halted. Furry paw?
Goldilocks screamed and darted back up against the headboard. “W-who are you?” she asked. “What are- what are you doing here?”
The fully-clothed three bears in front of her looked at one another. “We live here,” the smallest said.
Her eyes widened and she pressed her back against the headboard even more. “I'm so sorry for coming in, I didn't mean to break your chair, I- please don't eat me!” cried Goldilocks.

“We won't,” assured a bigger one. Its, no, her, voice felt… right, somehow. Motherly. “Honey, are you alright?”
Goldilocks relaxed slightly. “I-i'm fine,” she said. “Just… a little tired. I'm sorry,”
“Do you want us to take you to your home?”
She shook her head. “No, no! Please don't, I'm not going back!”

The two biggest ones gave each other another look, while the smallest trudged downstairs to get something. “Alright,” the female one relented. “I suppose you can come live with us, then. Only if you want to, of course,”
She sat back down on the bed. “Are- are you sure?”
This time, the biggest bear spoke up. “Very sure, kiddo,”

“Thank you so, so much!” she smiled, no longer scared.
The fatherly bear grinned right back, and gestured downstairs. “Don't worry about it. Now come on, let's go find Cub downstairs and have a proper breakfast. By the way, what's your name, kiddo?”

Goldilocks stepped down from the bed, feeling strangely fresh.
“You can call me Goldie,” she chirped.
Both bears laid a paw on her shoulders.

“Welcome to the family, Goldie,” they said.

Wohoo! Time for the second weekly of this session!

Warmups

Activity 1: "Without planning or thinking beforehand, write 100 words as you design a character based on the prompt “secret origami expert”
Words: 136

Well, the secret part makes me feel like the character comes from somewhere that doesn't let her do origami. In turn, maybe that means her main character motivation is self expression - particularly expressing her talent and passion for origami folding? I'd imagine her to appear a little quiet and repressed, afraid that the slightest slip up, the slightest word might tip others off an alert them to her hobby. She probably acts more upbeat after her character arc, and after she's truly able to do origami freely.

I'd imagine she would also love other arts and crafts, especially weaving. Her speech is short and careful, the words deliberately and cautiously picked. She wears gloves to hide the papercuts she gets from origami, and is good at finding little nooks and crannies to hide her paper in.

Activity 2: “Pick a genre you don’t write in often and write a 100 word scene in that genre, then rewrite the same scene in your favourite genre - another 100 words for 200 words total. (remember that you are not limited to genres that have SWC cabins - romance, drama, and humour, just to name a few, are all valid genres too despite not having cabins!)”
Words in Total: 332

Genre 1: Sci-Fi (162 words)

Lightning shoots across the sky. Sharp, thin crystals rain down on the spaceship, and it takes everything for the captain to not give in to the buffeting winds. The door slides open with a hiss, and her second in command runs in, huffing.
“Ma'am!” he shouts. “The sheilds - they're at fifteen percent! We can't hold out much longer!”
The captain doesn't look away from the holographic controls in front of her. She clicks, and swipes, and slides, sweating in concentration. The moment his warning registers in her brain, she makes a choice.
“Tell the rest of the crew to put up their oxygen fields and meet up at the emergency pods. We're going in for a rough landing on the planet below us. Whatever happens, get away the moment I give my signal,” she pauses.

“Even if I'm not there to join you. The ship needs someone to steer it, after all,” the captain smiles mournfully, and her second in command salutes.

Genre 2: Adventure (170 words)

“Captain!” someone shouts, voice barely rising above the loud drums of thunder. It's her right hand, ready as ever and by her side. A creaky door slams shut in the distance. “The- the hull's leaking, Captain! If we don't do something within the next few minutes, the ship will sink,”
The captain spins the wheel hard, gritting her teeth. Then, she turns to him.
“How long do we have until then?” she asks. Waves crash against the weak wooden ship.
Her right hand glances around nervously. “Five minutes at most,” he whispers.
She spins the wheel again and sighs, steeling herself. “Tell-” she breathes in, then out. “Tell everyone else to ready the lifeboats, and get there as soon as you can. When we get close enough to the island, I'll try to dock. But if I tell you to go, go,”
“But-” he starts.

“Go, whether I'm there or not,” The captain dares a chance to look her right hand- no, her friend, in the eye. “Please,”
He nods.

Exploring Fiction

Activity 1: “Use a random number generator from 1 to the age of your character. Write about a memory your character has from when they were this age. If your character’s more than, say, 50, you can split their life into periods of 5 or 10 years and write about a memory from that period of their life instead of a specific year if you want.”
Number Generated: 11
Actual Age of Character: 21
Words: 390

A young, eleven-year-old Skyes sat at his school desk, listening to his teacher drone on and on about something. Except he wasn't really listening, not at all. The loud clamour of the birds and bees outside the window was too noisy, too distracting. They were always buzzing and tweeting and chirping, and at this point he wasn't sure if he would ever be able to escape it. A loud voice jolted the boy out of his thoughts.
“Mrs. Till!” someone yelled. “Skyes is zoning out again!”
He glanced abashedly at his teacher.
“Mr. Awlenn, would you mind telling me what's got all of your attention?” she asked, looking down through her glasses.
He flushed. “Uh, the birds, Mrs. Till,” said Skyes, smiling nervously. “They're loud,”

“Well, from now on, promise me you'll focus on my lesson,” rubbing the bridge of her nose, the teacher stalked back to the whiteboard and began outlining a map of the dimension they were learning about that day. He nodded, trying his hardest to refocus.

And he was focusing, until not even a minute later, a cat slinked up to the window sill, staring through the glass at Skyes.
“Please don't say anything,” he meowed at it. “I'm trying to listen,”
The cat seemed to roll its eyes, a low purr making its way out of its mouth.
“I'm not going to ditch class! This stuff is important!” yowled Skyes, absolutely shocked at it for even suggesting it.

Someone cleared their throat.

Mrs. Till came up to him again, disappointment clear in her usually flat features. She took a deep breath.
“Mr. Awlenn, I know very well that you cannot help hearing everything you do, but I'm afraid if this continues, you might need to be sent to Ability Counseling,”
He looked around at his snickering classmates, the cat in all its disdain, his teacher, then his hands. “Sorry, Mrs. TIll,” he said.
His teacher softened, and seemed to consider something.
“I suppose for now you can go to the regular school Counselor,” she suggested.
He loked up in relief. Ability Counseling was a social nightmare - he'd never live it down. “Thank you, Mrs. Till!” he laughed.
Mrs. Till went back to the wire. “You better hurry along,” she told him.

Skyes smiled appreciatively and took a calming breath. He stepped out of the classroom.

Activity 2: “Write a 300 word memoir / reflection piece from the POV of one of your characters. Think about their style of speaking/writing, what they would find it important to mention and the tone/mood that they’d use (how do they feel about the course of events?)”
Words: 351

So much has happened these last few centuries. Time's passed so, so fast. It feels like one moment, I'm a new vampire, just having been woken up by the one who turned me. I remember how scared I felt at that moment. My body felt so strange, so unnatural. I was all alone, with a stranger by my bedside and veins that burned like cold, freezing fire. I remember passing out again when I felt for my pulse and found none. But most of all, I remember discovering the paranormal world behind humanity's eyes.

Then it feels like I'm not that young, naive vampire anymore. I'd seen the wonders and problems of the paranormal world, and it just… felt hopeless. There were so many issues that had been ignored for millenia, so many people suffering because our leaders were more bent on hiding from humans than fixing the flaws in our world. I was so tired, back then. I ended up giving up, retreating into my coffin for a long, long rest. But it was so draining, and it eventually caught up to me. I woke up hungry and alone, and with no knowledge of the world anymore.

But now I'm here. It took a while, of course, but I managed to get through it. I came out with a new friend and a new resolve. The two of us click together like we're each other's missing pieces. We decided to steal the Book of Worlds to use as leverage to make the our world's leaders finally see all the problems and try to fix them. It didn't end up well, not at all. But we got their attention, and that was enough. We're not the happiest in our new living conditions.

We're satisfied enough, though, for now. And I hope that sometime, in the future, someone will find this. I hope they'll remind our world's rulers, once again, of what they might not see behind the riches and status. I hope that someday, someone will remember us, Moira and I, and our stories will be found and known.

Signed, Alaric.

Exploring Non-Fiction

Activity 1: “Write a̶n̶ ̶e̶s̶s̶a̶y̶ a few paragraphs discussing the pros and cons of quality > quantity OR arguing your opinion on whether quality or quantity is more important in writing, for 600 words.”
Words: 601

Personally, I value both to varying degrees, though I do prefer quality slightly more than the other option. I wouldn't mind coming across and reading a lower quality but long story, as long as it's my preferred style of story and is only being done for light reading, or to pass time. For example, maybe a story with lots of chapters but with a few grammar mistakes, would be better for light reading than a high quality piece that's only a few hundred words and is barely long enough to classify as a story and not standalone paragraph.

However, as I said, in most cases I'm of the opinion that quality matters more than quantity. Quality is what makes books good: it's what lets you truly feel like you've just been pushed right into the story. It's what makes you feel not for, but with the characters, what makes you smile and cry and experience the fictional world inside as if it's reality. Before we get to more reasons why I think quality is more important/matters more than quality, I need to dive into what reading is to me, what it means, and et cetera.

To me, reading is an escape from stress. It's a coping mechanism, to immerse myself in another reality and to become part of it. The moment I read of a particularly good book, or good piece of writing, it's like I'm opening the gates to that small, solitary area in my mind where I can lie down forever and rest when things get too intense - when things become a little too much. When I start reading, when the I start becoming really invested in it, it's like all the worries and anger and confusing feelings are washed away. The only things left are me, the characters, and the plot or story.

To me, reading is a break and a breather. And for that to work, I need it - the writing - to be good. I need it to be written well and written carefully. I need it to be so that it draws in me, the reader, right away. I need it to be at a high quality. If it's not? If the quality isn't high? Then it won't work. If the sentences don't flow, if the phrasing is choppy, if the plot is wonky, if the characters are flat or one dimensional, if the emotions don't make me feel, if they just doesn't quite hit right, then the effect doesn't work, and I can't really use it as an escape.

And that's why I value and think quality is more important than quantity. I wouldn't enjoy thoroughly reading something that is low quality or something that the author just felt too lazy too write. That's why I leave quantity books for light reading. They're mostly just mind-numbers for me, acting as a way to make time go faster, to read if I have nothing else to do, or to read if I don't feel like reading any heavy and/or quality writing at the moment. Not that I hate quantity books, of course. I actually like reading low quality but high quantity books when it's clear that the author really did try hard at it.

In conclusion, I think quality is usually (keyword: usually) more important than quantity, especially for serious reading. But, I don't mind occasionally reading quantity high pieces of writing. Forgive me if I went on a short tangent or if I seemed picky, haha. I can just get really passionate sometimes, more so if I'm talking about my opinion.

Activity 2: “Write a 600 word piece (an information report, if you will) all about something! You can pick any topic (e.g. frogs). Include facts and lots of information, but keep your opinion out of it!”
Words: 671

Frankenstein's Monster is a character from Mary Shelley's 1818 science fiction book titled The Modern Prometheus (more well known as Frankenstein by most people). A classic piece of literature, it is known worldwide, though as of now the character's (Frankenstein's Monster) reputation and fame might as well succeed the media it originally came from. Frankenstein's Monster has become a cultural icon, and is often included in roundups of popular Halloween monsters, alongside vampires (usually based on Dracula), ghosts, witches, zombies, werewolves, and sometimes mummies. There is one most popular iteration of the Monster - played by Boris Karloff (a.k.a. William Henry Pratt) - that will be explored later.

There have been many iterations and interpretations of the character, but all share one characteristic: having been made and created by Victor Frankenstein, the titular main character of the story. Though the way he was created differs occasionally, the typical view is that it was by stitching together several body parts into a whole human body and then jolting it with electricity (followed by some variation of “It lives!” from the Doctor Frankenstein himself). However, if we look at the original book and reference it, Victor Frankenstein made the creature in the attic of his boarding house after discovering a scientific principle that lets him craft life from non-living matter.

As stated before, there is once again a wide difference between the common stereotype of the Monster and the Monster who appears in Shelley's book. While most will remember him as a hulking, towering green skinned man with staples and stitches in his skin, short cropped hair on top of an elongated forehead, disproportionate limbs, bolts in his neck, and halting, brutish speech, that is in fact nearly the opposite of the Monster from the book. In The Modern Prometheus, Frankenstein's monster is described as having pearly white teeth, long, lustrous black hair, and well proportioned limbs that contrasted horrifyingly with the yellow skin that barely covered his muscles and arteries, watery eyes, a shrivelled complexion, straight black lips, and well mannered, elegant speech.

In fact, the only thing the two versions have in common are their great height, far larger than any human being. Of course, those are not the only versions of the Monster (who has very rarely been called Adam) that exist - there are in fact, many, many more. Among those are Christopher Lee's Frankenstein's Monster (from the film The Curse of Frankenstein made in 1957), the twenty feet tall creature from the 1965 Toho film Frankenstein Conquers the World, the cyborg-esque version from Van Helsing, and the portrayal played by Robert De Niro in 1994's Mary Shelley's Frankenstein.

The Monster's personality in the book is surprisingly contrary to his “monster” title. He is smart, very smart. He is so much so that only eleven months after his creation (birth?), he is able to dress himself, move and walk normally, and speak both German and French, after having hidden out at an old blind man's home to teach himself a whole manner of things. He longs for the love and affection he doesn't receive merely because of his appearance, and gets vengeful and angry when he is repeatedly denied that. The Monster is vegetarian, believing that eating meat and killing a living being solely for food is immoral.

Several versions of Frankenstein's Monster decide to express him in a more sympathetic light (albeit in different ways), while others do not. Since his first introduction to the world through The Modern Prometheus, there have not only been various iterations of the character, but also many other characters based on him, or those that share a similar origin or species. All in all, it is now very rare to find anyone that has not seen, heard of, or read about him or a depiction of him. The character has now made various cameos and appearances in popular, mainstream, or iconic pieces of media in all age ranges, from shows intended for young children to adult movies and books.