♜ 20th-21st of March - Main Cabin Daily

Original Piece: here :D

Edited version:

Steadily, Myleth trekked up the mountain top, hands clenched and face stony even as his cheeks grew redder from the cold. Thoughts trailing back to his comrades, the elf shook his head. He'd been searching for five years. No one would stop him, not even them. It was for their own good anyway, he concluded, bracing against the cold. Raising his head to the freezing winds, Myleth continued onwards.

//

Delta groaned, leaning back in her seat. This meeting was horrible. Dragging her hands down her face, sneaky fingers tapped at her holographic visor, pulling up her favourite media to drown out her father's endless droning. Managing the business this, calculations and concepts and investments that - she'd much rather watch clips of baby robots.

Quietly slipping out of her chair, Delta hoped her father's business partners would keep him busy. A walk would cure her boredom.

//

Setting his pack down and spreading out his bed roll, Myleth took a deep gulp from his waterskin. Its near-frozen water slushed down his throat like chunks of mud and ice. It was all he had to stay hydrated. He leaned back against the brittle wall of his cave, meager rations staring up from beside him, stirring guilt. He sighed.

Taking out his map, Myleth began planning his next steps. The thing he searched for was inside the mountain. Just below the peak, in fact. So, if he continued along the upwards-rising tunnel at the back of the cave, he would be able to reach it in no time. Of course, that was only if… if… if he…………

“Huh?” Myleth murmured blearily, shaking the sleep out of his eyes. “Hm.”
His eyes closed once more.

//

The world of lights seemed to spin around her. Delta slumped.
“Okay,” she grumbled. “I am definitely lost,”

All around, the only thing she could see were flickery holograms advertising things from performances and plays to new products and the latest technology. The people gave her odd looks. Eventually, after hours wandering the area, Delta gave up. Clearly, she was in the old part of the city. Only older citizens still gave thought to plays about elves of all things. Those had gone extinct more than a thousand years ago.

Finger hovering over the ‘call Father’ button on her visor, Delta paused. A strange aura of light caught her eye. The cracks in the city's walls shone from something that was much, much deeper inside, beckoning.

Against her best instincts, Delta approached it.

//

The next morning, Myleth got up with determination, his face set and eyes hard. It was the day - he could feel it. The day he finally found it and brought greatness to him and his comrades down below. He snatched up his things. At last, taking a swig from the waterskin, Myleth began his journey.

Hours walking through the winding tunnels, listening for beasts and lighting a new torch every time one burnt out. Thinking. Watching. Forcing himself to press on.

And finally, he was there. In a large cavern filled with moss and shielded from the cold, Myleth found it at last.
A hole in the wall, vibrating with a strange crackle. Surrounded by metal tiles and carved rock, its centre a whirling pool of stars and colours. A gateway. A key.
Myleth grinned triumphantly. Putting one foot forward, he stepped towards glory.

//

As if drawn into a trance, Delta felt as if she was being pulled forward by a guiding force. Into the crevice she went. As she ran deeper down, the smooth metallic walls faded into more ancient materials, from concrete to strange maybe-ceramic tiles, and even plain stone, carved with prehistoric drawings.
The further she wandered, the stronger the light became, and the louder the humming grew. It crackled like used electronics and low quality holograms, clawing through the air.

Then, the call brought her to a halt where an eerie light shone upon her face. Delta finally shook herself to reality. Glancing down, she noticed the state her everything was in with a grimace, mourning her broken hoverboots. They had been state of the art, too…

As she brushed dirt out of her hair, Delta looked forward. Instantly, she was mesmerised. A machine stood before her, unlike any she had ever seen before. Circuitry and wires hidden just out of view. Beautiful designs etched into the metal, a dust-covered control panel filled with buttons, levers, and more screens than she could imagine. It was a technological marvel.

She edged closer. Delta's amazement only grew. In the centre of it all was a whirling void, devoid of anything but stars, with cold winds and garbled static. Colours shifted just out of view.

Glancing around, she inched towards the machine. A peek inside would be harmless.
Casting aside her final cautions, Delta walked through.

Reflection:
124 words

While editing, I noticed that a lot of the time some of my sentences trailed for quite a while, and that the sentence structure often stayed mostly the same (or at least repeated the same sequence of structures over and over again). Most of this editing was me fixing wording that may have sounded fine at the start, but as I read aloud it became clear that there were some bits that could be changed. I think I did well enough fixing up the flow a little, though there are still parts I'm not satisfied with. Overall, sentence structure and length seemed to be the biggest problem. I deleted quite a few things while looking this over. Reading it aloud also helped a ton.

♖ the pelican-things

One day, a sailor's boy walks out to the beach. The wind is strong, the sky is bright, and the yellow sand glitters in sunlight. It's a perfect day.
There's also a pelican standing at the shore. Fascinated, the sailor's boy walks closer, stepping lightly on his feet. Birds are awfully easy to scare away, after all.

The pelican turns towards him. It opens its mouth.
“Hello, young one.“ it says in a warble, then turns and flaps away down the beach. The sailor's boy watches curiously. For a moment, the pelican's form seems to waver into something larger, more distinct, more otherworldly.

His father always said to never trust the fae. But he'd never been good at following the rules.

The sailor's boy follows it down the beach. Down they go, feet shifting in the yellow sand, until he finds a cave in the cliffs. If he strains his ears slightly, and smells the salt of the sea air deeply, the boy can just imagine, faintly, the sound of stomping feet and music in a rhythm that sparks his heart and the wavering cheers of dancers.

”Come,“ says the pelican-thing, the King and Queen of those within the cave. ”Come, for wing to wing, we shall dance around.”
For a moment, the cave feels old. Ancient. The sailor's boy shivers, and follows the song of the then and the still and the forever-will-be.

His father always said to never trust fae. But he'd never been good at following the rules.

♜ 22nd of March - Main Cabin Daily
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Sequel to Randy Cunningham: 9th Grade Ninja

It had been a week since Randy had defeated the Sorcerer, and life was going great. McFist had eased up on all the robot attacks, there were no more student stankings (or stankings of anyone, really), and the lack of things to fight meant Randy didn't have to spend as much time

♜ 23rd of March - Main Cabin Daily
301 words

Continuation of: Last session's 4th Weekly

“Okay,” they said finally.
And promptly wrenched their hand out of Bronagh's, turning and running for her human friend. Her companions cried out.
“Ryan!” shouted Aisling, hurtling at him. "Ryan!“
”Ais-“ yelped Ryan, stumbling back from the sheer force into the wall. Slowly, he unstuck himself from hard wall behind him. ”-ling?“

Once the Aisling had stopped pacing nervously in front him and Ryan was back on his feet, the two finally got a look at each other. It was a surprise he had even recognised Aisling, under the disguises they had donned to survive in the human city. For one, a fine, shimmery glamour covered Aisling from head to toe, obscuring her antlers and more fae-like features. Then there was the outfit.

Still, it was Aisling, and that was what mattered.
”I'm so glad you're all here,“ said Ryan, smiling ruefully as Bronagh and Seishin approached. ”Y-you saw what happened, right?“
Aisling clenched her fists. ”They took Erik away.“ They said. A dangerous glint shone in their eye.
”I-I still can't believe it.“ Ryan leaned against the wall shakily, a whirlpool of thoughts filling his mind. What would happen to Erik?

Yora placed a strong, calloused hand on his shoulder, looking down at him with eyes full of faith in them all.
”It'll be okay,“ they said. Ryan found comfort in the steadiness of their voice- it was something certain, something tangible and always present that he needed desperately amongst everything that had happened recently ”We'll get him back, kid.“

”Y-yeah,“ he echoed slowly. He looked up at the people surrounding him. Aisling with her sharp and vengeful loyalty, Bronagh with her gentle comfort, Seishin with her righteous fury, and Yora with her calm. All these people who cared. Who would help him get Erik back and reclaim their town.
”Yeah, we will."

♜ 4th Weekly
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Save code: 85996

1. For your activity, come up with at least three characters to participate in your story, then write at least 100 words each about who they are and at least one way they fit into and one way they subvert each of the traditional expectations of the archetypes above (or another archetype you can think of).
491 words

Sol Pereira is a college student and part-time worker at her parents' fruit shop. With years of customer service under her belt, she has perfected many of her social skills (though it came at the price of her patience). Despite her short fuse, she is dedicated and has a strong moral compass, leading to her frequently poking her nose into business that she deems suspicious. However, she sometimes lacks the ability to see the smaller details, and may jump to conclusions. Being our detective character, she is adept at solving practical puzzles (largely due to them being her childhood entertainment). She strives to do well in academics and is eager to learn.

Giselle Slipps may be Sol's companion, but is very much not her best friend or partner. She's prickly, isn't very experienced in socialising, definitely not a team player, and more than a little snappy, but nevertheless this investigation is important and perosnal to her, and she'll do what she can to solve the mystery. Having run around the streets since she was little, she has connections and knowledge on the criminal underworld, and also a decent amount of street smarts. She often utilises logic and common sense. Her sharp eyes and nimble footing also prove useful in the more physical dangers the investigation poses. Originally, she was one of Sol's suspects for the disappearance of Easton Ulpez.

The Nebula was a prominent figure of Sunstream City's underworld, and another one of Sol's suspects. Old records say that he is not on good terms and has unfortunate history with the current mayor, as well as a criminal record. While ruthless and a quick thinker on his feet, he isn't well known for planning ahead. Although the deeper the investigation goes, the more signs point to him hiding something - something big, that would change everything. Could there be a further potential motive besides petty revenge? Is there something else at play? Whatever it is, he's not eager to share.

Easton Ulpez is the nephew of Mayor Sun of Sunstream City, and a well known genius and child prodigy. Despite being as cheeky, immature, and oftentimes troublesome as any other child, he acts with a strategic and quick mind that never hesitates at all. He is close childhood friends with Giselle, having secretly met her when he got lost once, and is also really close to his uncle. He doesn't possess much situational awareness, and can seem a little sheltered at times (though it's covered up by his mischievous confidence). And if it's worth noting, he possesses a strangely adept ability to keep secrets.

2. Describe the mystery in your story in around 150 words! Make sure to give enough hints that the reader has an idea of what's going on, but doesn't know the full story.
165 words

At night time, approximately two hours after sundown on Tuesday exactly one week ago, Easton Ulpez disappeared off the face of the Earth. No one knew how, or even what had happened. One moment he was bidding his parents goodnight and retreating to his room, and the next day he had just… vanished. The blankets had been stuffed with a few pillows to make it look like he was still there. The window swung wide open. The bedroom door was locked and the key was gone.

Not a single person, whether it be the mayor, his parents, or anyone else knew how he'd disappeared, or when exactly, or why. It could be kidnapping. It could be a case of him running away. Nothing and no one was certain.
Sol Pereira was, though. She was certain it had to do with what she saw that exact same day, not far from the Ulpez house.

And she was going to find out exactly what the connection was.

3. During the next 350 words, give your characters and readers a few important clues that will be crucial to solving their mystery. Remember to keep the amount of information form overflowing.
369 words

“Hey!” yelled Sol, running after a girl with dark hair as sleek and black as midnight that weaved expertly through the streets. “Hey, please! I need to talk to you!”

This was how her investigation had started. Tracking down the girl she'd seen talk with Easton Ulpez at about midnight the same night he disappeared, chasing her through the alleys of Sunstream until her knees gave out beneath her. And now she was back at it again. Finding her had already taken a while - it was only through word of mouth that Sol had managed to locate the girl's usual haunts. Apparently, she had quite the reputation on the street.
All the more reason to be suspicious. Why would she interact with the Mayor's nephew, of all people?

Suddenly, the cries of shopkeepers angered at the commotion struck her ears. Whoops.
“Please, I just want to talk!” she shouted, wrenching herself back to reality. She'd go back to apologise to them all later.

Together, they rounded a corner, skidding around an old vendor selling pies. Sol hopped over the vendor's stool last minute, feet only grazing the very top. Her target wasn't so lucky. She ran straight into a telephone pole, crying out with a large “Ow!” and a curse. Sol winced.
“Are you okay?” she asked, pushing the investigation back for a moment. “That looked like it hurt.”
“* off.” the girl snapped.
“I don't think I will.” Sol sighed, crossing her arms and attempting to ignore all the looks they were garnering. She pulled them into a slightly more discrete alleyway. Away from everyone else. The girl protests, but Sol is stronger.

“What were you doing with Easton Ulpez in the backstreets the night he went missing?” she hissed, once they were out of eashot.
The girl stiffened. “How do you know that?” she said, then squinted. Her eyes widen. “It's you! You're the one who saw us that night!”
Sol nods. “Yes, it's me. Now-”
“Now mind your own business.” the younger girl sneered. She yanked her arm out of Sol's grip. “East and I were just hanging out. Besides, he disappeared after he went to go home.”

And, turning on her heel, she walked away.

4. For the next 300 words, have the character(s) contend with an approaching deadline, threatening rival, or agonising wait.
564 words

The girl approached Sol the next morning. Her name was Giselle, but to everyone besides Easton, she was G. Sol learned a lot of things that same morning, spilled from G's mouth in reluctancy. First, that she had been largely raised collectively by her shady neighbourhood. Second, that she was close friends with Easton and had meant him no harm that night. Third, that she was now forcibly involving herself in her investigation because according to her, “Working separately makes us more stupid.” and “We're less likely to fail miserably if we join up.”. And fourth, that she had a lead.

“Okay, before we go in,” said G, pulling Sol to a stop near a ramshackle old building. “Leave the talking to me. Got it?”
Sol nodded, though hesitantly. “Got it. Anything else?”

G shook her head. The other girl still didn't seem all that trustworthy, but Sol would take whatever help she could get. She was going to solve this, one way or another. No child like Easton deserved to just… vanish. So she led G up the steps of the house, peering through the curtains for a moment. It seemed deserted aside from an empty box labeled ‘padlocks’, but anything could happen regarding G, apparently. Carefully, Sol pushed open the door.

“Who's there?” shouted a voice, harsh and raggedy. Sol flinched. G didn't.
“It's just me,” called G, wandering into the main room with soft steps. "We're going to ask you some questions, Nebula.“
A laugh echoed from the dilapidated armchair, and all at once Sol realised the room wasn't as empty as it looked. For there, nearly entirely swallowed by the armchair, lay a scrawny, spindly man in a pinstripe suit. Everything about him read as pathetic, but his eyes were sharp, and a cunning tingled from behind them.

So this was the Nebula. He'd been on Sol's suspect list since the very start, but she'd never thought to check his rumoured hideouts.

”Giselle?“ Nebula asked, in a creaky chuckle. ”You've come for the Ulpez boy, haven't you?“
G rolled her eyes. Sol glanced at her, wondering how she could be so at ease. But then she noticed the tautness of her shoulders, and how she stood on the very tips of her toes, ready to bolt at a moment's notice. She followed her gaze to the devilish man in the chair, and shivered.

Nebula leaned forwards. ”Well, you haven't got much time,“ he hissed smugly. ”About 72 hours. Sunday's the day.“
Sol stiffened. A time limit meant everything. It meant they needed to hurry, and they needed to get the answers. She decided to ignore G's warning.
”Where is he? What have you done?“ she said, breaking the silence with a sledgehammer. Vaguely, she thought she heard banging from downstairs. ”Tell us. Now.“
Nebula cast her a disinterested look.

”And who are you again?“ he asked, adjusting his position. The shine of a blade tingled below his pant leg. He paused thoughtfully. ”Hm. Maybe you have less than 72 hours, actually. If I decide you're being too nosy, like you are right now.“
G shot her a harsh glare. ”We were just leaving." she said, and grabbing Sol's hand, she stalked out of the house.

On the way, Sol snatched a sheet of paper from a table, trying not to think about the new timer they were on.
Tick tock.

5. For your next 300 words, withhold a piece of information from your characters, before revealing it right at the end. Have fun!
414 words

As it turned out, the sheet of paper was a to-do list, one that Sol found both strange and upsettingly normal. It was strange for a criminal, but also regular things a normal, upstanding citizen might need. That night, she sat in her apartment, hunched over her table and surrounded by messy, scribbled theories. Giselle had gone home hours ago.

Now, it was just her and her evidence. And Nebula's weird to-do list.
Maybe giving it another read would unlock its mysteries.

To-Do List:

• Buy a new lock for the basement

• Clean the basement

• Soundproof the basement

• Clean the house

• Live in it

• Get some pizza delivered (be here when it arrives)

• Write follow-up letter

• Meeting tomorrow morning

• Buy vegetables

Sol groaned. None of this was helping. Pizza deliveries and vegetable shopping were completely, frustratingly normal. Cleaning the house and living in it, as well as writing letters and whatever meeting Nebula had tomorrow morning were probably standard things he did as a criminal. She sighed. Everything she knew so far: the time range Easton had been (presumably) kidnapped in, the day it happened, potential culprits, the Mayor's response, Giselle, Nebula, all of it was useless in deciphering the to-do list, if it even had anything to be deciphered.

Aside from the strange basement-focused tasks, there was nothing- wait, basement-focused?
Sol straightened, gears grinding.
Why would Nebula want to soundproof the basement, if he was only living in it as a cover? Why would he buy a new lock just for it - what for? Why would they be at the top of his list? Unless there was something in it that was valuable. Unless he was keeping something there, something that would make a lot of noise and could escape if it wasn't locked. Something… or someone.

When she'd been there, the whole place had still been messy. The floor was dusty, armchair's legs splayed out brokenly on the ground, the lightbulb flickered and exploded, and the whole place smelled of mould. But there had been that box of padlocks on the ground, and the to-do list.
And the banging sound from below, Sol realised. The banging sound, from walls that hadn't been soundproofed yet.

She scrambled for her phone.
“G, listen to me,” Sol said, harsh but hushed.
A spindly shadow flickered at the rooftop across from her window. A gun raised. A knife glinted.

“Giselle,” she repeated into the voicemail. Faster, this time. "G, I think I know where Easton is."

6. In the next 300 words, drastically raise the stakes of the mission and get the emotional wheels involved.
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The shadow on the rooftop was gone. But with it, came Sol's certainty. Now, she mashed the buttons repeatedly on her phone, begging, pleading for G to pick up. Closing her window and locking it tight, she made her way to her living room, pacing worriedly.
“Come on G, come on,” she murmured. Still, the phone rang endlessly.
Then, a rapid knocking at the door.

Sol froze. She crept up to it, tucking her phone in a pocket and grabbing the nearest weapon she could - which happened to be a basket of fruits.
Slowly, she peeked through the gap in the door.
“G?” she said, sighing in relief. It was just her.

7. Outline the next scene of your story with at least four plot points in 100 words. Next, write out the scene itself in at least 300 words![/b
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Outline:
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♜ 24th of March - Main Cabin Daily
484 words

In hindsight, it was almost funny how she'd met her death. Her, a mighty hero of the people, felled by a mere falling rock. Granted, it was big, and sharp, and had pierced their heart, but it was a rock nonetheless. She'd learnt how to dodge those ages ago. Fate probably just wasn't feeling too kind that day, she concluded.

Still, the hero couldn't help but think of the ones she loved, waiting for her in the realm of the living. Her people, her children, left to mourn. She'd still had a whole life ahead of her. Things to do. People to take care of. Now, she'd never even get the chance to see her little boys grow up and go to school and get a job.

She'd always planned to die at a shrivelled old age when everything was over and done. When there were no more people to save. To watch over.
The hero sighed, tears welling up in her eyes. What was she going to do now? Everything was dark. There was nothing- no light to follow to the end of the tunnel, no bucket to kick, no figure beckoning her to the afterlife.

Just a miserable black that spanned all around her. Suffocating.

The last time she'd been in a place this dark was when her best friend died, ageing rapidly and withering from a curse placed on her. She'd never forget the look on her friend's face. That pure terror. Present in every line of her pained face, in the shine of her wide eyes, in the weak voice that died to nothing as the hero watched.

The same terror that she had seen on her youngest son's face when the fatal rock fell from above.
She hadn't even known where it came from. One moment, she was conversing with her adventuring partners, talking about what quest they'd take up next, and the next, a spike of volcanic rock had fallen from the rapidly darkening skies. Striking her chest and her heart.

Her son had screamed. Loud, shrill shriek, a frightening thing that brought every neighbour and every wanderer within miles come running. Breaths coming out in gasps, tears leaking down his face, spluttered cries of “Mama!” as he rushed to hold her crumpling body.
He didn't deserve this. Neither of her sons did.
They didn't deserve to live without their mother, to live with seeing that blasted rock tear her skin to pieces and watching as she bled out right then and there.

But what else could she do? She-


“Please stop that.” groaned the Game Master, swatting the pre-written inner death monologue out of her hands. “Quit being dramatic. Our time is running out and we still have stuff to do.”
“Sorry,” the player grinned sheepishly. “Guess I got a little carried away.”
“You've been talking for half an hour.” the Game Master deadpanned.
“Oops.”

One thing I've noticed while listening to two of my favourite musicals, is how similar I find Telemachus from EPIC: the Musical and Philip from Hamilton. The both of them give me the exact same vibes and energy. The melodies of their main songs aren't similar. But… it's not their looks either, or their role in the story (not really, anyway). To me, I think it's about their motivations. Their characters. Their desires, and wants, and dreams. That's what makes them similar, and why I've started to realise that. So to start off, we'll start this by analysing their songs (or in Telemachus' case, the bits of his song that have been released).

Telemachus' main song is Legendary. Legendary is Track 26 of EPIC, and details Telemachus at home in the kingdom of Ithaca. In it, Telemachus laments being helpless and unable to do anything, stuck alone and ‘in the world {Odysseus} left behind’. He talks about how he doesn't know his father Odysseus, not really. All he has are stories. In one line he says ‘If I fight those monsters, is it {Odysseus} I’ll find?'. Clearly, he admires his father, and misses him a lot. He talks about becoming as strong and legendary as Odysseus, so that he can actually do something and help his mother Penelope against the suitors.

Meanwhile in Philip's song ‘Blow Us All Away’, he also talks about aspiring to be greater, to ‘be {his} own man,’. According to Philip, Hamilton once said that he would ‘blow us all away’. Despite the song mainly telling us about Philip's death at the hands of George Eacker in a dueling match, we see certain similarities to Telemachus that make itself clear through the portrayal of his character. Before the duel, he feels nervous, but is determined not to show it, and uses said determination to get over his nerves. The song repeatedly stresses how he wants to make his father proud, and about the legacy of Hamilton being on Philip's shoulders.

Once we've looked closer at the main bits of the songs they're most present in, we can start to see why I think they're alike. Both have the legacies of their fathers (the main characters of their respective musicals) upon them. For Telemachus, it's Odysseus' legacy as both a war hero and a legendary (ha) fighter and chosen of Athena, the goddess of wisdom and battle. For Philip, it's Hamilton's legacy as also a war hero and one of the founding fathers of their nation, the United States of America, as well as his father having successfully risen from the lower class. Immediately, we can see how they respond to the legacies.

Both Philip and Telemachus hold them with pride, striving to be as great as, if not greater, than their fathers. They would do anything to help their family (for Philip, that's defending Hamilton's honour. For Telemachus, it's helping his mother against the icky suitors), and though in ‘Legendary’ it's not stated explicitly, we can probably tell that Telemachus wants to make Odysseus and Penelope proud, just like Philip does with his own parents. Other than that, they share the fact of being the main characters' young sons (the young part is evident through their songs and talk of them throughout the musicals).

However, despite their similarities, I've also noticed some key differences, particularly in the dynamics between Telemachus and Odysseus and Philip and Hamilton. Though both fathers have left very strong impressions for their sons, those impressions themselves are different, mostly due to the varying circumstances they're in. For example, Hamilton is very busy (as seen from the ‘Take a Break’ song), but he is still very present in Philip's life and has supported him a lot so far. This causes Philip's relationship with him to be a lot more personal, and makes Philip's motivation to make his father proud a lot stronger and clearer, because Hamilton has been there for him his entire life and he would likely feel worse about letting him down.

In contrast, Odysseus loves Telemachus very much, and his son is one of the main driving forces behind him doing the things he does in the musical, but he hasn't actually seen Telemachus in person since he was a wee baby, as seen by him reflecting that Astyanax, Prince Hector's baby son, is ‘as old as {Telemachus} was when {he} left for war’. And, judging by the lyrics of ‘Legendary’, he hasn't been able to send any letters or anything to his son either. So essentially, the only relationship Telemachus has with his father is the relationship he has with stories of his father, not the man himself. He's probably been told many great things about Odysseus, and believes it wholeheartedly, as such making his need to live up to his legacy (aside form helping Penelope) being more borne of a longing to know, meet, and get closer to him rather than a pride in him and a fear of letting him down.

For Telemachus, he's looking up to (caricatures) of his father from afar. For Philip, he's looking up to his father from up close. These are the key differences between them, that change how they act. They're two sides of the same coin. A similar result, different circumstances. Though somehow, these differences just make it clearer to me how alike they are. This also supports in my final thoughts regarding these two: that they're both precious adorable cinnamon rolls that need to be protected at all costs.

But we'll see - maybe my perspective on these two, especially Telemachus, will change after more EPIC sagas come out!
Nah, never mind. They'll always be pure beans to me. My canon now!

Miss Might is the city's hero. She's a paragon of strength, hope, justice, and everything else that a hero should be. She fights criminals and people looking to enslave, end, or take over the world, and she helps out in any other way she can. Whether that be helping out during particularly bad traffic jams, or volunteering at soup kitchens, or cleaning up the streets. But still, Miss Might is not infallible, and neither do the villains know her to be so. They know she has weaknesses, and they know when to pick and how to pick them so that it hurts.

But, and just like she always reminds the city to do, she stands back up again. She wipes away her tears and faces her opponent head on. It's the duty she chose to do when she first became a hero (and by the gods is she going to do it).

Bria Landon is a geology major at her city's local college, a part time (or most time, according to some) hero, and the civilian identity of Miss Might. She's calm, and kind, and studious, but doesn't spend all her time holed up in a library. Bria Landon is also the exact kind of person that just blends into the background. She's nice, but isn't friends with everyone and has a track record of getting competitive. Her grades are good, but she isn't the best in class. When asked about things like villains or Miss Might, she merely gives a vacant-eyed look, as if she'd been living under a rock.

The only thing exceptional might be her obsession with golf. And the fact that sometimes, it seems like she's trying a little too hard to go unnoticed. Of course, there just isn't any other option for the city's hero.

If Bria Landon is too average and Miss Might is the city's most popular figure, then her mysterious sidekick the Mal Sprite (or Malsprite, no one can really decide on how it's spelled) is downright invisible. No one knows what they look like. No one knows where they operate from, what they do, and how they do it. In the shadows of their room, Malsprite watches with their eyes, guarding Miss Might's side with hacked cameras and aiding her with technological prowess and information coaxed from the hottest of firewalls.

Though some doubt their intentions, they're undeniably loyal to Miss Might, and very much so. Sometimes, they appear to be loyal to the city too, when scam victims mysteriously regain lost money and security cameras always seem to be working no matter what.

Esther Yaran is the ultimate student, but on the surface that's almost all they are. They're the top of their class, nay, the top of their college, and they attend the best, highest one there is. She spends nearly every day buried in either cables or books, and they barely seem to know that the outside world exists. Some of her classmates think they're snooty, and some think they're scatterbrained and antisocial. Still, they all flock to Esther for guidance, from anything regarding tests to homework to simple questions.

They give out the wrong answers out of mischief, and grin at how unaware they are of the things she gets up to as Malsprite.

Lord Evil Laugh is the city's local villain and proud title holder of the most villain attacks done in a day (setting a record of twenty-six). He's evil in all the ways that you'd expect a satuday morning cartoon villain to be - he robs banks, does petty crime, banters with Miss Might, and causes many, many annoying inconveniences. Somehow, he's amassed a massive army of henchmen, all hired from Hench Co., and all loyal to him and him only. Lord Evil Laugh is over eager, and competitive, and may not be the best villain but absolutely loves where he is at the moment, just causing chaos for the sake of it.

Saying there are villains better then him causes him to clam up, and after directly insulting his villain status comes a reply in the coldest voice you can imagine, a snap, and a quick shutdown. You almost wouldn't know it was the same drama queen that terrorizes the city.

Kail Igarashi is lonely where Evil Laugh is surrounded by henchmen. He spends his days mindlessly wandering through the city, through its parks, through its dark and dingy alleys at absurd hours of the night. When he's not doing that, he's holed up in his apartment binge watching his favourite shows, complaining over low grades to his wall, or manning one of his many jobs. These jobs can be anything from cleaning, customer service, to random music gigs. All his life, Kail seems to have been surrounded by items and not people, and yet he appears strangely happy and at peace with it.

Despite that, sometimes you can get so desperate that any way of ridding yourself of that lonely stillness (including villainy) feel worth it.

It's a good thing that he has his henchmen, then. Knight Hand is Lord Evil Laugh's right hand guard and henchperson. They're by his side no matter what, and only rarely seen absent. They're Evil Laugh's eyes and ears, the one who helps and carries out the majority of his schemes, and accompanies all the other henchmen. Top recommended in Hench Co., as caring as Miss Might, as dorky as his boss, and as loyal as Malsprite, Knight Hand is open and bright. A caretaker of dozens of Hench Co.'s emotional support puppies. He also has no qualms about doing everything asked of them by their superiors.

But, well, if Lord Evil Laugh is talked out of the more dangerous and serious schemes by his right (knight) hand occasionally, well who's to guess it was for Miss Might's sake, and not for self preservation as they said?

Owen Maddalon is a dog walker and Knight Hand. With a family history holding ties to Hench Co. that date back centuries, and a lot of connections in general that he doesn't want to take advantage of for himself, he is constantly tired and desperate to just be able to pay his college tuition and rent. What helps is how he is such a people person. He knows how people work. He can read how they tick and reply and his social skills are top notch. Everyone knows the reliable Owen Maddalon, who'll crease in sympathy no matter how busy he is and try his best to help.

This help (which could mean anything, really) extends to all, even strange juniors wanting to become supervillains, golf obsessed geology majors, and everything that comes with them.

Vicky Tensten is a reborn Victor Frankenstein. She realises this fact the first time she touches a science book, two days after her tenth birthday. At first, she thinks these memories are made up. Lies, from her getting a little too invested in her new book. But Vicky Tensten is smart, and she knows deep in her heart that these memories, that exploded into her mind on the day she touched her new science book, are true. She knows she was Victor Frankenstein. She knows she was a student at Ingolstadt, and the best friend of Henry Clerval and the brother and unwilling husband of Elizabeth Lavensa and the companion of one Robert Walton, and the creator of the famous Frankenstein's Creature.

(His name is Adam. He said so.

She pushes the painful memory away.)

She's not sure how she feels about the being reborn thing. On one hand, she /is/ Victor Frankenstein, and she knows that. She remembers what it was like to be him, she thinks of herself as him, and is him in everything but body. But she was raised with a different identity until she was ten years old. She is Victor Frankenstein, and would gladly go back to using that name for the rest of her life, but she knows that deep down, there's a part of her that's also Vicky Tensten.

And that, she thinks as she walks through the streets, towards a familiar animal shelter, is one of the things that scares her the most. Because if she's Victor Frankenstein, then can she really still be Vicky Tensten, who died inside her years ago?

At a certain house on Earth, a human and an alien stand hunched over a bed, with blankets soaked through with greenish-yellow blood signature to the other alien lying stock still on the bed, barely breathing through the oxygen mask on his mouth. The room feels cold despite Earth's hot temperature, and the human and alien cluster together, worry creasing both their faces.

“I can't believe he actually did this,” grits out the alien, clenching her smooth green fists. In certain surroundings, it would look just like a flower bulb. “And all just to catch me!”
The human sighs, placing the bottle of gaseous medicine on a table.
“Calm down, Stemni,” he says. He looks wistfully at the injured alien. “What matters is that Zyreph made it out okay. Now, we need to spend less time dwelling on Lumen and more on making sure Zyreph /stays/ okay.”
Stemni's shoulders droop.
“You're right, Arrett.” she says at last. “I'm- I'm sorry.”
“It's alright,” Arrett smiles, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder before turning back to Zyreph.

Carefully, he sets on changing the bedsheets. With Stemni's help, the two lift Zyreph up in the gentlest manner they can, and pull out the bloodstained blanket below him. Arrett slides a new, clean one in just as quickly. Together, they let their injured friend back down. Still, he doesn't wake. All three eyes remain shut, as if unable to bear the energy needed to open them.

The two friends stay like that for a while, watching. Behind them, Zyreph's statistics shimmer on a screen. Everything in his body seems mostly stable, and yet for some reason he still doesn't wake. Then, Stemni speaks up.
“How is he going to fly now?” she asks weakly, as if the thought had just occurred to her. “You can't fly with two of your wings ripped out.”
Arrett shrugs. He runs a hand over the little box they'd put the bloody, torn out wings in. They'd lost their opalescent shine ages ago, and its transparency had dulled to a thick, semi-see through white. They'd deteriorate, soon enough. But neither of them could bear parting with it - at least not before Zyreph woke up.

“I don't know,” he says finally, after too much time gazing numbly at his friend's still body. “But we'll help him.”

Jackson Jekyll and Holt Hyde have been sitting in limbo for a long, long time.
Alone.

It wasn't so bad really, at first. When their universe had abruptly ended, everyone for monster high had gone to limbo with him. All of them. From students to teachers to citizens of New Salem and more, each and every person thrown into this blank white place that seemed to have no end. They'd adapted quickly enough, and made their home here.

Then, they'd vanished.
Only a few were left in limbo. The two of them, Spectra, and a few others.

They'd been so lost then. Who wouldn't, if you were a teenager who'd suddenly been left alone in an empty space when everyone you knew disappeared?
As it turned out, they'd all been reincarnated. And the ones left behind… hadn't.
It stayed like that for a few years, just the handful of them in that strange limbo, watching the lives of their reborn friends through floating windows. Gradually, their numbers dwindled, until it there were only a few of them left. The New Salem citizens had faded long ago, and the rest of the people that Jackson and Holt didn't know followed.

Somewhere into two years or so after everyone else faded, the world exploded once again. But this time, Jackson and Holt's old friends didn't reawaken back in limbo. No, instead they entered a stasis, preparing themselves for the next reincarnation. When it finally came, the two were alone again. Even Spectra had gone.

Their friends were so different this time, but Jackson and Holt still couldn't help but gaze at them with longing. Neither knew how long they'd been stuck in limbo, but both did know that the one thing they'd like more than anything else was to be able to join their friends in the reincarnation cycle. Together, they'd watched so many cycles pass by without them. Their longing only grew each day.

Plus, it had been so, so long since they'd talked to anyone but each other.
And you can only be isolated so long before it begins to take a toll on you.

(Somewhat sequel to previous post)

Frankie Stein feels like they're missing something. Like there's an empty space in the world where it (whatever it is) should be, but isn't. It's the same kind of feeling they get when they look at the mansters gathering together, or enter the Mad Science classroom, or go to a party. An intentional blank spot, subconsciously left behind for someone who doesn't exist.

It creeps them out, and not in the good way.
So they investigate. They're Frankie Stein after all - the child of Frankenstein's Monster and made up of multiple geniuses! Of course they'd try to find out more. The investigation ends up with a hypothesis: somewhere along the way, a person (or maybe two) was meant to exist. Except the universe forgot about him. And the places where they were supposed to be became empty as a result.

It's not very scientific, but it's the best Frankie's got.

In the end, they notice more things, more spots where the mystery person(s) should have been in. For one, at Deuce's side. Or in Heath's family photos (there's a funny story about that one really. Maybe they'll write it down someday). Or on the horror roll, as a top student.
Through it all, Frankie can't help but miss the mystery person(s), somehow.

Weird, right? How can you miss someone who doesn't even exist?

Jackson feels like he’s going insane. He’s been in limbo for so long with only Holt for company and it’s horrible. He misses his friends. He misses Deuce, and Clair and Chad, and Frankie, and Heath, and his parents. He misses sneaking out to his friends in New Salem and playing video games and casketball with the mansters and geeking out with Frankie and talking to Draculaura through their windows at night.

And he can’t do any of that. All he can do is sit here and wait. Wait, until the next cycle starts. Wait, until he’s not in it yet again.

Is this what insanity feels like? Is he going mad, just like his grandfather had all those years ago? Guess it runs in the family.

.

Holt feels extinguished. He feels damp, and dull, his former flame burnt down to embers after all this time waiting in this limbo. There’s just no spark here, nothing that lights up his mind and pumps his blood. Nothing whatsoever.

He doesn’t think Jackson is coping well either. He tends to find scribbles on all the notebooks lying around. Originally, he thinks they might have been for experiments. Now they’re just a way to spill his rapidly spiralling thoughts.

It’s not like he would know. They don’t talk much, these days.
Sometimes though, he thinks Jackson forgets that he’s stuck here too.

That he also misses their life, and their friends, and just being able to live. He misses Gill, and Clawd, and Operetta, and Heath and Frankie and his moms. He misses DJ-ing at parties and getting on the teachers’ nerves and jamming with Operetta and the other musicians at Monster High and writing poems and doing stupid challenges with Heath without anyone else knowing even though the challenges were dangerous.

He has an unlife, and he wants it back. To be able to grip the excitement and adrenaline with both hands and just… unlive.

Which he can’t do, stuck in this God forsaken limbo, wasting away as he watches all his friends find each other in this unlife time and every one that comes next.

Is this what fading feels like? Is he slowly shrivelling, fading into the nothingness, wasting away without anything or anyone to live for?

His iCoffin battery is endless.
He hates it.

.

Frankie feels lost. They’ve felt like this for a long time, ever since they stepped foot in Monster High. Every time they hear music at a party, something in their mind tells them there should be someone else playing it. Every time they step into Mad Science, something tells them there should be someone sitting in a seat beside them, using the equipment with ease of practice.

Heath says he feels the same, whenever he looks at old family photos or plays a casketball game with the team. He says there’s spaces where he feels like he should have aunts and cousins, or another player dunking the casketball in the basket with them.

It’s worrying, and scary, and the worst thing Frankie’s ever felt in their short life.

Lax steps in front of the Spell Masters, sweat trickling down their back. Their hands shake with nerves. Scattered at their feet are a few cut-up stalks of lemongrass, jars of jade and amber, and sprigs of parsley. A black cauldron filled with a base liquid stands to their left, with a mortar and pestle beside it.

This is their big moment. The day they perform a spell of his own making.
Steeling himself, Lax looks up at the Spell Masters from beneath his large hat.
They nod for him to start.

“Okay,” mutters Lax to himself, picking up a long wooden spoon. “Since this is mostly an illusion spell, I'll probably need to stir the base until it's all airy and like whisked egg whites.”
Inserting the wooden spoon in the cauldron, he murmurs a charm to make it stir faster. While it continues to spin on its own, they kneel down and grab the mortar and pestle. First, they grab the lemongrass, placing it inside and grinding it, carefully making sure he's still turned to the Spell Masters so they can see what he's doing.

Halting the spoon's stirring, they throw in the bits of lemongrass, infused with the essence of the world. The air shimmers, and greenish smoke curls up from the gaping mouth of the cauldron. Next, he opens the jar of jade. It shines brightly, but grows duller as he uses the pestle to turn it into a fine dust. Lax sprinkles half of it inside the cauldron, and puts the other half away. An overarching theme always helps tie spells together, and using them sparsely throughout is recommended.

The smoke begins to smell sharp, almost crystal like as he then dunks the chunks of amber in whole. Lax wrinkles their nose.

“I should have worn a mask for this…” they groan. He shakes his head. No use regretting things now.
As the amber falls in, it splits into pieces among the foamy no-longer-just-a-base, changing it from a deep green to a more yellowish, grassy colour. Vaguely, you can see visions, snippets and images flickering in the foam. Cut-off words like ‘I’, and ‘they’, and ‘you’.

Hoping against all else that that was the right colour for it to be, Lax grabs the sprigs of parsley, to push the spell into its final stage. With a massive, resounding gloop sound, the foam swells upwards, turning into a fine mist with a golden sheen, blanketing the air. Quickly sprinkling in the last of the jade dust, he stands back, channeling the magic from the ingredients and twisting the mist until it thickens into the centre.

“And for my final trick,” he grins, tipping his hat at the Spell Masters. “I present my spell: Painted Scenes!”
He lets go of the mist. It stands still for a moment, as if holding its breath, and-!

An ethereal scene explodes out from the centre, playing disconnected bits of the universe's stories, wrapping itself into an illusion so thick no one would see the person behind it. Then, it condenses at a flick of his hand, floating towards a potion bottle, where the foam-like spell curls up dormant, waiting for future use.
The bottle closes.

Lax bows.

♖ 2nd of July - Main Cabin Daily
963 words

Words: frost, ocean, galaxy, cube, necklace

It's a normal night on the Clerlit ship-system. Cio reclines in her chair, idly twirling a wire around her fingers. She heaves a contented sigh.
Bzzt.
She bolts upright. “Deo?” she asks, staring at the communications system in the centre of the room.
“I have news from Lumen,” says Deo, flickering to life on the screen. “Our targets have split up. One is running around on Earth somewhere. The others are-”
“You're making us work on our day off again.” She interrupts, crossing her arms.
Deo rolls his eyes. “-The others are hiding on Glace, a barren, icy planet about a galaxy away. You'll take care of them, I'll take care of the one on Earth- Clear?”

Cio stands up, all eight fingers already flying away at the control panel. Just outside the pod, her ship whirrs, engines sparking bright against the void of space. “Clear and ready to go,” she says, turning back to her colony-kin.
Deo nods. “Be careful. They're armed.”

“Please, Deo.” she says, making her way out of the small pod and stepping inside the waiting ship. “We're Filosan. A bug and a human have nothing against us.”
“Just make sure your bite is as good as your bark.” Deo hums from the ship's comms.
Cio grins and taps her beak, its edges sharp to a deadly point. “See you soon, brother,” she says. “Let's hope it'll be with all our targets,”
And with that the ship blasts off towards its destination.

.

After half an hour of stars and planets whizzing past her window, taking many illegal shortcuts and hopping through wormhole after wormhole, Cio skids to a halt above a vast ocean of frozen ice. Cold air seeps up from the cracks, snaking through into the ship's cockpit. She shrugs on a warm coat, readying herself.
Crack!
The ice splinters in every direction, the midnight sea below akin to veins spreading along pale white flesh. In the centre are two beings, sprinting towards the nearest landmass. It's still a long, long way away.

Cio clicks her fingers on the controls, bringing the ship down in front of the two. The door slides open as she hops out.
Her beak snaps open in a predatory smile. “Hello, targets.”

.

Her prey freeze, staring up at her. One is an Earthling, with tanned skin and curly hair and an oxygen mask strapped to his face. The other is a bug-like alien from an inter-galactic Trading Hub, his own breathing device attached to his neck. Different in all ways but one - both have fear in their wide eyes. It's delicious.

The moment passes. Reaching into her pockets, Cio pulls out a small metal cube no larger than her palm.
“Now,” she says. “You two are coming with me,”
The human and the Trader share a look. Before they can say anything, the metal cube lands with a clink at their feet.
It explodes.

Boom! The Trader - Zyreph, if her files are to be believed - darts into the air, wings buzzing loudly. Smoke rises, crackling with electricity. The loud screech of boots against ice tear through the air, its source skidding back on the ice, arms still up in defence. Then, another slip, a crack and a stifled scream. Zyreph exclaims in fright as the human falls, his right leg bent at an odd angle.

Cio allows herself a single second of satisfaction before turning to her remaining target. “Not surrendering?” she asks, grabbing another cube. “It's usually a lot- where did you get that?” she gapes.
This time, it's Zyreph who laughs, plucking a cube of his own off of a necklace strung with them. “You'd be surprised what you can find at a trading hub,” he says, a flings one right at her.

Just as she jumps up, hands closing around his foot, the cube erupts into a flurry of frost on her shoulder. Shards of glimmering ice erupt from it, crawling up to her neck, then to her face. Cio clenches her teeth, fighting the deep, deep sting. She begins to feel the ice weighing them down, and before they know it, the two tumble down onto the slippery, frozen ocean.

Crack. She shoves herself and Zyreph away from the gaping hole where they had landed, panting. The Trader tries to escape, flaps his wings, uses all four hands to wrench her off, but she only pulls him closer, grabbing his necklace and tearing it off with a loud twang, sending it and all its little cube charms flying into the ocean before he can even think to use it again.

Zyreph gasps, and tries to reach out for it, but- Cio is standing up now, holding his arms in her tight, hard grip, and he knows it's fruitless to resist. The fight is over. His human companion Terrance has a broken leg and is passed out and he's out of weapons and he can feel frostbite creeping upon him. He sighs, and lets himself be bound and tied up.

.

“I told you you should have surrendered,” Cio grumbles later, dragging a limp, whimpering human to her ship. Beside her stumbles Zyreph, shivering endlessly.
“Y-you di-didn't even g-give us a cha-chance,” he snipes, following her to the back and wincing as she tosses Terrance into the small holding cell in the back of the ship. Eyeing the ship's thrusters, Zyreph ducks, then reluctantly climbs inside behind him.
Locking the door shut, Cio hops into the cockpit. Uploading the coordinates of her and Deo's rendezvous point onto the system, she lifts off the with her targets.

Cio hums, satisfied at another job well done. Soon, she'd finally return to her day off.

(Unbeknownst to her, a single small cube clings desperately to the ship's thrusters, thick frost spreading slowly across it.)

♖ 3rd of July - Main Cabin Daily
184 words

Dare: Watch a random video of your choosing then write a story inspired by it for 10 minutes.
Video watched: ‘Pigstep but it’s Overworld Music'

“To cement our peace treaty between your bastion and our village, we've decided to give you all a performance,” says the village leader, standing tall atop the blackened stone of the platform. A sea of piglins and villagers fan out before her. “It will be performed by the best musicians of both our people, and is inspired by a very popular piglin folk tune.”

Beside her, the bastion general turns behind to face the musicians. “All of you ready?” he grunts. They nod, placing down their noteblocks and readying their instruments. “Go for it.”
The performance begins.

The music itself is simply soul-binding. A slow, calming mix of noteblocks carefully being tapped at with experienced fingers, stringed with the elegant sounds of Overworld music, with that signature Nether touch threaded throughout. When it finishes, the crowd explodes into applause, both piglin and villagers alike crying out with wonder and joy.

The village leader smiles, links hands with the bastion general, and raises both high in the air.
“May our peace be everlasting,” they both declare. “And our bonds stronger than any player could break!”

♖ 4th of July - Main Cabin Daily
711 words

Scene: The ending cutscene of Five Nights at Freddy's 4 - aka the Crying Child's birthday party.

Twists:
A character that's crucial to the scene suddenly teleports to another room mid-sentence.
The world is quite literally upside down - but the character/s are not.

Not even a second after clambering up the wall, pushing the entrance doors to Fredbear's Family Diner open, and tumbling down onto the ceiling, Evan spotted his older brother and his friends, strutting around like they owned the place. Gasping, he searched around frantically for a place to hide, only to find none. Inexplicably, that morning the world had been turned upside down - literally. The tables he'd usually hide under to escape them were on the ceiling, and Evan had nowhere to hide.

Feeling more tears begin to form, he scrubbed at them furiously. Why couldn't Father have let him bring Fredbear? Fredbear made everything better. Fredbear was his friend.

“Wow, your brother is kind of a baby, isn't he?” said a voice, snapping him out of his thoughts. It's one of his brother's friends. The one in the Bonnie mask. The four of them towered around him like walls, trapping him in the corner he'd resigned himself to. Evan sniffled, wishing for the courage to speak up for once; a courage that he didn't have.
“It's hilarious,” his brother Michael said, laughing behind that stupid, stupid Foxy mask. “Why don't we help him get a closer look at Fredbear, guys? He'll love it!”

Evan stiffened. No, no, no, not them! Not after what he'd seen! He knew what would happen if they caught him, if they got him.
“No!” he cried out, sobbing as the four of them stepped closer, the darkened eyes of their horrid masks staring down. “Please!”
Michael rolled his eyes, smirking. “Come on, let's give this little man a lift,” he said, taking hold of Evan's arm and turning to his friends. “Sounds like he wants to get up close and personal!”

One by one, they all grabbed him. Ignoring the poor boy's screams and cries, they dragged him from room to room, past the kitchen where workers tried to catch pizzas and toast falling from their toasters and ovens on the floor-ceiling, to the party rooms where other kids grabbed at balloons hanging from the ceiling.

“No!” wailed Evan, kicking his feet and twisting his arms and trying so hard not to cry despite the thick, pearly tears streaming down his face. “I don't want to go!”
“You heard the little man!” his brother said to his friends as they laughed. “He wants to get even closer!”

Finally, they arrived in the upside-down main room, where Fredbear and Springbonnie stood on the stage, their feet planted onto it and their bodies hanging down from above. Slowly, the four bullies pulled him closer and closer.
Evan tried with all his might, fighting against their grip as hard as he could, but he could do nothing against four teenagers almost twice his size.
“No, no, no!” he protested, though much of it was slurred by his messy sobbing.

He didn't want to go near them. That wasn't his Fredbear, his dearest friend and toy. That was the horrifying animatronic that haunted his nightmares, especially after what he'd witnessed it do. That didn't seem to stop Michael, though.

“What was that?” said his older brother, eyes alight behind the Foxy mask. “Hey guys, I think the little man said he wants to give Fredbear a big kiss!”
Michael's friends cackled.
“On three!” he declared, lifting Evan up with Bonnie-mask's help. “One…”
Slowly, they brought him up to Fredbear's mouth, bringing him closer…

“Two…”
And closer…

“Three!”
And closer. Until his head was sitting snugly inside Fredbear's ghastly maw, right atop its upper jaw. Evan screwed his eyes shut, trying to stop the tears from flowing. This was it. This was how he'd go, bitten to death by the machines in his father's diner. Just as he felt the animatronic's jaw beginning to close, and braced himself for the bite…

It never came. Suddenly, he could no longer feel Michael and Bonnie-mask's hands lifting him up like a prize. No, Evan was on the ground. Alone.
In the… storage room?

.

Meanwhile in the main room, Fredbear's mouth clanged shut with a deafening crash.
“What?” said Michael, squinting. “Where did he go?” Evan had just… disappeared. He turned, combing the room for him, but his little brother was nowhere to be seen. It was like he was never even there.

♜ Level 1 Task 2/3
231 words

Write 200 words.

“Erik?” asked Brighid one dreary day in the town of Town. The weather had been miserable for days on end; fog crept through the alleys and a light rain came and went every five or so minutes. Now, the two of them sat together at the steps of the town hall, waiting for the rain to stop.
“Hm?” said Erik, not looking up from the stick figure he was drawing in the mud.
His friend shifted uncomfortably, looking up at him behind her curtain of silvery hair.

“You're a ghost, right?” she asked slowly. Erik nodded. “Could- can I ask how? How did you die?”
Erik shrugged.
“I dunno,” he said. “Don't care, though. You and the others are all I need. The afterlife is for losers!”
She laughed, a full-bodied laugh that shook her whole being and felt like sunshine and warmth. Then, grabbing the little pouch that sat at her side, Brighid placed it on her lap.

“I just remembered,” she said, digging through it carefully. She pulled out a small bundle of wrapped sandwiches and held one out. “Seishin made us these. Do you want one?”
Erik pushed it away, laughing. “I don't eat, remember?”
Brighid froze.
“Oh,” she said, cheeks flaming and half hiding behind her own sandwich. “O-oh, yes… right. I'll just… eat all these myself, then. Uhm.”

Cracking a shy smile, she began to eat.