my 1k intro :D

hey guys, welcome to my 1k word intro!!. i haven’t ever successfully made an intro longer than around 200 words, but i made up my mind this session and decided to do the 1k intro, so here goes–i suck at writing about myself, so hopefully i’ll be able to go off on enough tangents (calculus reference??) to make it through the thousand words. anyway, my name’s bee (buzz buzz), and i go by he/him. my nickname online used to be badowie, which i switched about a year ago to bee because i didn’t really like it and it was kind of long for just a nickname, despite not actually liking bees at all in real life. this july will be my eighth swc session (which is kind of hard to believe), and i guess i’ll go through all the sessions i’ve been in now cause they were all really fun and i need to use up a lot of words!!
my first swc session was in march 2022, in the mystery cabin with viara, birdi, and luka. that session was a blast, and remains one of my favorite sessions today; once it was over, i was absolutely sure i wanted to sign up for swc again–which leads into my next session, july 2022, in which i was a camper in the myth maze with moss, robin, and re (#tyranny!). this session was great as well, and i was also a lot more active than i had been in march (obviously, since it was over the summer). in my third session, november 2022, i co-led poetry’s isle of fame along with matty and viara. co-leading, although a very different experience from being a camper, was a blast as well; i loved having more of a voice–being able to help shape my cabin’s storyline and our campers’ experiences. my fourth swc session, in march 2023, was in the hi-fi battlegrounds, led by matty, cj, and wave. during this session, sadly, i wasn’t that active due to being a lot more busy in real life, and i even considered not signing up for the next swc session in july. thankfully, though, i made up my mind and decided to participate in yet another swc session–this one in the thriller cabin with cj and vi–which would end up being one of my favorite ones yet. in november, i was a co-leader once again, this time with the amazing soki and alex. finally, my most recent swc session was this march, in the thriller insect academy with cj, poppy, and rocky. sadly, i was once again not very active during that session. so now here i am this july: a camper in the awesome horror cabin with em, sarah, and silky, and i’m looking forward to another awesome month, full of friends and memories!
well, i guess i’ve expended all my swc-related writing, and i’m only halfway done, so i guess i’ll just have to talk more about myself again! i enjoy doing art (despite being absolutely terrible), reading and writing (obviously), piano, and grinding minecraft (too much). speaking of minecraft, last week i started another minecraft server with a few of my irl friends–and although it has had a fair share of destruction and mishaps, it’s been doing pretty well overall. and now i’m still only at 559 words, so i guess i’ll have to talk about myself even more!! some of my fandoms/current obsessions are undertale/deltarune (i love deals), celeste (pain), hollow knight (more pain), hazbin hotel (angel dust!!), helluva boss (new episodes were pretty saddening), and hamilton (i don’t have any funny thing to put in the parentheses this time). i also started playing omori recently (which is relevant cause i’m in the horror cabin this session!!) which is pretty cool and epic! some of my favorite books/series include the stormlight archive, babel, and the three-body problem (there are lots more but for some reason i’m blanking on them right now). i also have a weird obsession with making random personality quizzes; most of them are pretty terrible, but a few weeks ago i made a ‘pick seven things and i’ll psychoanalyze you’ quiz that i’m pretty sure is the best thing i’ve ever created (offering a wide range of results, from kendrick lamar to the chinese god of agriculture himself). i also absolutely butchered a ‘which swc-er are you’ quiz a few months ago, which i should probably remake now that i know most of you a lot better i also really enjoy board games–one of my favorites is probably russia simulator (aka risk), despite how hard it is to get most of my friends to play due to its length

as you can probably tell by now, i do not like writing about myself at all, and i don’t think i have the energy to do much more of that right now, which is why i’ll devote the rest of this intro to telling you all about my epic, cool, and amazing characters !!
i’ve accumulated a lot of really random and half-baked characters–most of them throughout various failed projects–but a lot of the ones i like most right now come from one specific story/show idea i have with my friend. this project (if you can call it that) focuses mostly on an eclectic society of grim reapers, who, as you can probably guess, spend their time reaping people. the main grim reaper we focus on is an epic and cool guy named funeb. his design is pretty simple, and was partially inspired by the party creators from the backrooms–he’s a small purple blob wearing a party hat and wielding a very oversized scythe. funeb is generally a happy, chill guy, accepted into the grim reaper society on account of his tremendous power, but often reluctant to carry out his job and kill people. on the subject of not doing his job, funeb often has disagreements with his boss, the angel of death (for lack of a better name), on account of his lackadaisical nature and reluctance to reap. funeb has two apprentices: chrome door (a red squid with a beanie who is a bit too obsessed with calculus), and dawn (a sweet little kid with a sun face who is strangely good at killing people). additionally, funeb has three companions in the form of souls–people who he saved and hid after not wanting to reap them–one perpetually angry, one perpetually sad, and one who just wants to cause the largest amount of chaos possible.
as much as i would love to regale you all with more tales of funeb and his squishy adventures, i’m afraid i’m running out of time and this will be the end of my first ever 1k word intro. if you made it this far, i hope you enjoyed reading, and i’m looking forward to having another awesome swc session this month i love ikea!!

1k word intro - July 1st (1056 words)

Whether you be friend or foe, lady or gentleman, chocolatier or poet, or anything in between… welcome! You may call me Rockie, and today, I will be attempting to talk about myself for approximately 1000 words. So quiet up and listen down as I share some fun facts about myself! Waitttt, scratch that. Reverse it >

First of all, I’m a 14-year-old girl going into high school next year, and I’m a little bit nervous about that. I’ve been going to the same small school for almost a decade, with the same friends, classmates, and teachers, and now, I’m going to a new school where I don’t know anybody. I’m obviously super excited for the new experiences and new friends I’ll make, but, in the meantime, I’m a little nervous.

I’m not the best with change, to be honest. Or decision-making. (Seriously. I once spent fifteen minutes deciding which ice cream flavor to get at this ice cream shop in Denmark, and, when I finally decided to order, I changed my choice at the last second. It was still delicious!)

Also, I’ve been a part of SWC for almost four years now. (Crazy, considering I only joined Scratch four and a half years ago!) I’ve participated in 10 sessions, and each has been an absolute blast <33 I’ve made so many friends within SWC, and the community is so supportive and welcoming, I really, honestly can’t see myself without SWC. Thank you guys <33

This session, I’ll be leading the incredible Fantasy cabin alongside the amazing Reese and the incredible Sienna! I promise, our cabin will be splendiferous ;D I’m honestly so excited for this session, and i think it could be my best one yet <33

Anywaysadoodle, outside of SWC, my interests include writing (obviously), reading, cooking + baking, speech and debate, listening to music, and traveling. I will now go into detail about each one so as to hopefully reach the word limit

Writing is really fun (i’m going to assume that anyone reading this knows that already bwahaha), and I honestly see it as my future. I have crazy plans for my life (go to college on the east coast, graduate school in Oxford, spend a year in London, and then move to California), but I’ve always known that writing was going to be a part of it. When I grow up, I want to be, first and foremost, an author, but I’d also like to hopefully become a Disney Imagineer.

Additionally, I really love listening to music and traveling! My favorite artists are Tate McRae (I’ll get to see her in concert this summer!!!), Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, and Benson Boone. My favorite albums include Folklore, Think Later, 1989, Speak Now, and I Used to Think I Could Fly. Music is somewhat of an escape for me, and sometimes, on plane rides (of which I’ve been on a lot lately), I simply put my headphones in (wire, since I lost my AirPods recently - I suppose that says something about me as well bwahaha) and stare out the window (if I’m lucky enough to snag a window seat).

Additionally, I love love love to travel! So far, I’ve been to a TON of national parks (my favorites have been Mount Rainer in Washington and Redwoods in California), and I would really like to visit Acadia and Great Smoky Mountains. In terms of international travel, I’ve been to the Cayman Islands numerous times (it’s sort of a family tradition), as well as England and Denmark. I absolutely fell in love with London and Oxford, and I hope to move there one day. I also really loved experiencing all of the different castles in Denmark (I think we went to five separate ones) and walking around Copenhagen. I absolutely love nature, but I think European cities are my true home.

I also really love reading. My favorite books include the Land of Stories series by Chris Colfer (these books will forever hold a special place in my heart — they’re what got me into writing), Six of Crows by Leigh Bardugo, the Caraval and Once Upon a Broken Heart series by Stephanie Garber (I’m rereading these right now and they’re SO good <33), and Little Thieves by Margaret Owen. I really love reading your book recommendations (I read Babel the other day because so many swcers were raving about it, and it’s amazing), so if you have any favorite books or songs that you think I would like, please let me know!

Also, I really enjoy watching movies. I’m a big fan of Disney and Pixar movies (I watched Inside Out 2 with my friend the other day - it was amazing! 9/10 bwahaha), and I also like other movies! My favorite TV shows include Top Chef, Andor, Never Have I Ever, and Dance Moms. An eclectic mix, don’t you think?

OOHH and I also love baking and cooking! I recently made a ton of homemade ice cream for a science project with my school, and I really enjoyed that! Otherwise, I really really love making fresh pasta and decorating cakes and cookies. (I’m not super good at that, though - it’s the thought that counts!)

In terms of what I like to eat, watermelon, apples, pasta, and any sort of Italian food takes the cake. (See what I did there?) I also love most Asian foods (not a big fan of sushi, though), and ice cream, of course! My favorite flavors are anything with caramel or cheesecake, but I really love Ben and Jerry’s ice cream, as well as Haagen Daz or however you spell it xD I’ve had a LOT of ice cream in my day, (when I was in Denmark, I made it my goal to have a different type of ice cream every day, which I completed - i was there for two weeks), and, I have to say, ice cream is definitely the best dessert on the planet.

Anywaysadoodle, I think the word limit is almost up! If you actually read all the way here, thank you and congrats for making it through my rambling chaos. Here’s to another amazing session of swc! love you all <3 OH AND A JOKE - what did the grape do when it was stepped on? it let out a little wine bwahaha

- rockie

Daily 1 - July First

He! My name's Anna and this is my first time im SWC so me exited UwU. (I~I'm bad attt making joke so UwU).

24 words in total

I am @florobbins — unfortunately can't use the forums yet but I'll convert everything when I can :'D

daily one | 1st july '24
1k intro

Good evening ladies and gentlemen *stares into your soul and tips top hat*. Welcome to a rushed 1k words ranting about thyself written by yours truly in precisely 23 minutes.

(Quick disclaimer: My sleep-deprived self makes just as much sense as my beloved maths teacher T.T )

Anyways I better introduce myself: I go by Flora (or Flo. Or… whatever. Literally. I don’t really care). Um um my pronouns are she/her and I’ve done swc approximately three times — including this time. So like 2.03 times. Is that right? Possibly not but that’s alrightio. (Did I mention my maths teacher?)

I’ve loved writing since forever really. I started properly getting into it when I was maybe 7 or 8 and I wrote a lot of mini stories that I love to look back on and cringe at ironically. It’s quite entertaining watching my tiny self (tiny?) attempt to use words like unequivocally and evocative and… you get the idea.

Shiitake mushrooms I’m running out of time ummmm I’m from the land down under in the best hemisphere (the south one) — we ride kangaroos to school and I have a pet wombat who loves dirty socks and its own toe fungi. Their names are Bingo and Ollie respectively :-) Note to travellers: stay away from any unnaturally large gumtrees as they have a predisposition to house drop bears *screams in past experiences*

Ok now we’re getting somewhere. I have a lot of hobbies cus I like trying new things which explains the plethora of unfinished novels I have in various stages. A few of them however are writing (duh), reading, drawing and I really love sports too. But some sports suck. I hate basketball. I don’t know why but I’m so terrible at it so yeah. On the contrary, I’m an athletic typa person so I do a lot of running, high jump, long jump, etcetera. Also I do long distance running. Ummm and my favourite actual sport if none of you gremlins classify athletics as one would have to be touch footy and afl (Aussie Football League). I go for the lions ifykyk.

I’m actually also really interested in psychology and why we think the things we do. So after school, I wanna go into neuropsychology. I just think it’s so cool and some of the things I’ve researched/learnt so far are really fascinating to me. And I’ve been reading a lot of psychology-type books (I love Oliver Sacks. I’ve been reading a lot of his books. Definitely recommend). This is probably so uninteresting to a lot of you but FUN FACT: People with schizophrenia are more likely to be able to tickle themselves because they can’t cancel out or differentiate their own actions from others. Also, unlike normal people, they are unable to predict the feeling of tickling before it happens (aka corollary discharge). Look at me go. Nearly half way. WOOHOO!

I should probably tell you about my reading tastes considering this is kinda relevant *clears throat* my favourite book of all time, without question, is The Fault in our Stars by John Green. If you haven’t read it, you are a menace to society (jokes, but please go read it). And no spoilers, but it’s the most heart wrenching and beautifully written story I think I’ve ever read. I think there’s just something in John Green’s writing style that I absolutely adore. I’ve literally read like all of his books and they are all so good. The characters are all so beautifully fleshed out and he makes it so hard to dislike them. He peppers a lot of metaphors throughout his work too which I love because I enjoy doing that a lot too. Hmmm… I really love Harry Potter, the Hunger Games, the Maze Runner, Divergent… all of those. They’re good but just so basic if you know what I mean lol. But yeah. As I said before, I really love reading non-fiction books about the sciences too but only when I have the brain power (which is rare T.T).

I'm a Christian at heart (and — frankly — at everywhere else). I love Jesus with my whole heart. I'm not gonna force him onto you or share my whole testimony but let me just say that this guy is a real g and he's got all we need in life. He’s my rock and my best friend. Seriously. He’s a great listener. So if you haven't met Jesus yet, ten out of ten recommend hehe.

Help I’m lowkey running out of things to say um ah umm (totally not using filler words to boost my word count ahaha). Uhh this holidays I’ve been pretty busy (idk about y’all but our school’s currently on a 2 week holiday so yayy). We went camping with family last week and literally just got back so that may explain the rambling. I’m going out to dinner with some friends tomorrow so that’ll be fun. Ha I have friends. I sometimes question that.

Anyways. I actually really love Outside with a capital O (go touch grass). I’ve gone exploring in caves, bike riding, abseiling, kayaking, etcetera. If any of y’all ever wanna go skydiving please inform me cus my friends are all scaredy cats *laughs maniacally*. But honestly going outside is like a way to refresh myself and I honestly love reading in trees. (Woah. Weirdo. I’m aware). No, seriously. Like– go climb a tree and sit in it and read a book. It is awesome.

UMM guys I’m so close *applause*. I’m so excited to meet y’all this session. Last session was so chaotic for me *hides in corner*. I guess we’re not off to a great start considering I don’t know if I’m even gonna finish this. But hey I’m like nearly done. This is so good. Yes. I can do this.

One last random fact about me: Once I may have perhaps acc-i-den-tal-ly dropped one of my airpods into la royal throne *coughs*

RIGHTIO I’VE DONE IT please be nice I know this isn’t the least bit coherent. Love you guys (what?) BYE!

(#DYSTOPIANFTW)

1016 words

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♩♬ || flora's table of contents . . .

Hey yall! I’m Hail, and this’ll be the second time I’m attempting the 1k intro challenge, so lets hope I can actually do it this time lol. I decided to try a different approach and throw a bunch of random facts at you since if I’m given free will to ramble, it’ll end up being about books and music So hold your horses, because this is going to be a gigantic forum post

50 facts about me

1. I just spent two hours catching up on comments and reading everyone else’s intros, so I only have two and a half hours to finish this.
2. My nickname, Hail, came from an old warrior cats fursona, Hailstorm, that my friends made up for me! Since I struggled with coming up with other ‘sonas, and I thought it would only be fitting that my online nickname was my character’s name, “Hail” ended up sticking.
3. I still think it’s weird that people only see me as “Hail” though.
4. I’m introverted and I’ve got a little social anxiety, especially when it comes to talking online. D: Luckily the SWC community has been so inviting and lovely, so I’m starting to get comfortable with talking more.
5. This is my fourth session, and thus my 1 year anniversary of being in swc!
6. I actually didn’t like writing as much as I do now before swc *gaspeth*
7. I’m super into dress/fashion history, my favorite periods being the Edwardian era (I’m a sucker for puffed sleeves; Anne was completely justified in wanting them), the 1920s (20s menswear is *chefs kiss*), and also the “traditional” clothing of northern and southeastern-ish Europe (like, 19th century Slovak, Romanian, and Norwegian clothes have no reason for being that epic)
8. My family recently got a Wii, our first gaming console ever, and I’m now in love with lego Batman and MarioKart, like-
9. I’m a rising senior in high school (scary)
10. I’m a chronic starter of languages in Duolingo (currently have Spanish, French, Greek, Italian, and German going ignored right now)
11. I listen to the radio a lot! I dunno, it feels like something no one does anymore D:
12. I love classic cars! I know little about them but I love them! (dream car would be a 70s ford f-150 :0 )
13. I like sewing, but I hate sewing machines because they’re big and scary and have a lot of buttons. I’m trying to fix up my grandmother's 70s-ish? Singer 834 (the serial number is nonexistent in the databases for some reason so I don’t know the manufacturing date) but she’s being unwieldy. I think at this point it’s a me problem and not the machine, but still, I like to stick to hand sewing!
14. I’ve been drawing since my elementary school years, but only up until a few years ago do I finally feel satisfied with my abilities and capability for improvement.
15. I have never tried pineapple on pizza, so I have no opinion. I have, however, had bacon on pizza, and let me just say, that was a heavenly combination.
16. My only memory of going to IKEA was from many, many moons ago, and all I remember was that it was a magical place I wanted to visit again and we got spoons.
17. I think “Truck Bed” by Hardy is one of the sassiest country songs which makes up for the fact that it’s not really that country lol
18. I keep wanting to use caps lock in this somewhere because it feels so stale, but I don’t know WHERE
19. I have a Maltese who likes licking her paws and us a lot. She is also the most adorable dog in the world and no one will change my mind >:0
20. rah, my sister, who is also on Scratch @thepooch145 , is uninterested in joining swc and also gets mad at me whenever I break out slang the kids these days use because I’m “copying” her and it's weird or something (apparently “freaky” isn’t a normal word to use anymore???)
21. I love Frank Sinatra’s music and “vintage” jazz. Like, just play me Olive Garden’s playlist and i'm chilling
22. Funnily enough, autocorrect only came after my lack of an apostrophe in the “i’m” above and not the lowercase i
23. When I get tired, I lose all ability to spell but that’s it
24. I’ve been told I’m pretty funny, but my sense of humor is pretty situational, so it can’t come out in its full glory on the interwebs sadly (listen, I’m not the funny one. Its everyone else around me who’s doing funny stuff, and I’m just taking the liberty to point it out)
25. I’m actually a huge chatterbox, oh my gosh-
26. “The one that got away” will always be this little knick-knack statue of an Edwardian lady kitted up to play tennis that I found in an antique store on a road trip (she was so cute ahhh)
27. My first love in music will always be Indie-folk, but I also like country, musicals (Hamilton, Anne of Green Gables, and The Lightning Thief <3 ), 80s rock, classical, celtic, and latin
28. I’m Catholic and an altar server at my church! (aah i love serving, highly recommend)
29. I recently got into learning more about dance history, and now I love styles like swing and lindy-hop as well as dance icons like Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly :00 I’d really love to learn swing one day.
30. My goal is to learn all the romance languages one day! (already got Spanish)
31. I’m Colombian-American
32. I’ve technically been to 8 other countries and my dream is to go to Ireland one day!
33. I’m so glad I now live somewhere that doesn’t have a lot of humidity so I can go outside and enjoy 90 to 100 degree temperatures without melting
34. Yeehaw yall, I really want to get into rodeo
35. Yeah, I can be somewhat of a Jack of all trades person, as I tend to want to learn and be good at everything
36. I read outdoor survival books for fun and then retain no information
37. I love middle grade fiction and fantasy and am allergic to most YA books
38. I’m sorry, yall, but I’m not a Swiftie or an enjoyer of the romance genre D: (I dunno, I feel like a lot of you are)
39. Even though I don’t watch or like a lot of superhero movies, Spiderman, the Flash, and Loki will always have my heart <3
40. I’m a classic literature lover (Anne of Green Gables, Narnia, LoTR, Pride and Prejudice, Wuthering Heights, I could go on)
41. I’ve been roller skating off and on my whole life, and I’m pretty good, if I don’t say so myself (roller skating is literally the best feeling once you get your balance - it’s like flying)
42. I want to be a pilot and aerospace engineer! (i love STEM and humanities)
43. My best (cough favorite cough) antique store finds have been: starched, detachable collars in their original packaging, a blackthorn shillelagh with a little leprechaun painted on it, a wool Soviet military overcoat (okay my dad found it but still), button suspenders <3, and an Underwood typewriter with a sticky x key (sob i miss staring at it)
44. I’m an academic weapon /hj
45. I’ve said “dranken” instead of “drunk” far too many times for someone who prides themselves on being grammatically correct
46. I also have found myself in the bad habit of saying “further” instead of “farther” at all times (AuGh, it sounds so much beTTEr)
47. Keeper of the Lost Cities was the first major book series in my life after Warrior Cats and Wings of Fire, and for that, I thank it because it helped me redirect my reading focus to more books that became equally as important to me. (now i’m a bookworm who actually knows the kind of books she likes lol)
48. I play the piano! (not exceedingly well, but I’m learning)
49. I love old houses hehe. They’re so prettyy
50. Fiftieth fact, hmmm. I love - The Silver Eye, a webcomic by Laura Hollingsworth, Goldfish, thinking about my characters while I go to sleep, talking to myself about stories and characters, barbecue, garlic bread, and books and reading and writing and stories and narrative; I love speeches and archaic language, Charles Lindbergh, but only at the beginning, Twist and Shout by the Beatles but when Ferris Bueller makes it something completely different, moments, thoughts, whimsy and romance, looking through the car window, the side of the highway glowing in the 6 o’clock sunlight, poppies and black-eyed-susans, even graveyards have a place in my heart; I love clutter, sand, math, things others do not (yes, I love things out of spite), the rise and fall of the ocean waves, current threatening to drag you away from everything you've ever known, the beach, gosh, I love the beach, so sometimes I think I’m made of sunlight and water and happy days but other times I’m a girl of flesh and bone who likes to dwell in her self-imposed misery but who still has room to love impressionism, submarines, and writing like this, fast, fast, fast, till the thoughts spill out on the page nearly but never as quick as they’re thought (it’s an attempt at stream of consciousness), but even so I will forever and always love everyone and swc and you, dear reader, so…

Hi, howdy, hey, hullo! My name is Hail, and it has been so lovely to meet you. <333

1573 words

1k word intro
7/1/24
1,337 (would've been longer if I had the time xD i'm not even halfway through my outline I /had/ for it xD)

And, we’re Live! Hello I’m Kenzie (she/her), your local scratch camp enthusiast and friendly homeschooler. Currently I reside in the timezone of CST, along with my Scratch Writing Camp bestie Ris. But you’ll hear more on that later.

Although my main nickname is Kenzie, I’ve also been called other nicknames such as Kenz (a personal favorite), Kumquat, A foodie name that I won’t even mention, Mac n’ cheese, and way more! I do love my nicknames hehe.

Other then being a Writer and a Scratch Camp Enthusiast, I’m also a Christian, bookworm, homeschooler, Coder, (soon to be) high schooler, and a big sister!

Currently in this session of July 2024, I’m in the cabin Fantasy. Aka the winning cabin of course! Our cabin is a wonderful mix of chocolate and very cool leaders (we love you Rockie, Reese, and Sienna!).

Unfortunately, I won’t be as active this session (more on that later). But I do still have a few goals! I’d like to complete at least 15 dailies, reach my word count goal, and make memories!

The reason for why I will be inactive most of the session is because I’m going to serve at Church Camp! I’ll be helping out as a volunteer from the 7th to the 12th and the 14th through the 19th! After that, I’ll be off to horse camp at the same place from the 21st through the 26th. Due to their no cell phone policy I won’t have access to scratch during those times, though luckily I’ll be back on the weekends for Cabin Wars!

Currently, the list of sessions I’ve been in is up to six, as of this session! I’ve been in Fan-fi Time Travel Agency November 2022, Thriller Escape Rooms March 2023, Dystopian Spy Society July 2023, Horror Funhouse November 2023, Dystopian Ruins March 2024, and finally this session, Fantasy Chocolate Shop July 2024.

For my first session of Scratch Writing Camp, I joined in November 2022, a session to remember in Fan Fiction Time Travel Agency. Although I may not have reached my word count goal, I still do have a few wonderful memories with first interactions and being silly Kenzie.

Out of all the sessions I’ve been in, my all time favorite session has so far been March 2023, since I have found that session to be memorable, whether it was the amazing cabin Thriller or wonderful post-session memories.

Although I have applied for a total of three sessions, I wasn’t accepted until the 3rd time applying. And that session was last session, March 2024! I led the wonderful (and still fun) cabin of Dystopian Ruins along with Mouse, Leo, and Allen! Mouse, you’ll always have a special spot in my heart for being the first person to have offered to me on that fateful afternoon. Next session, I plan on applying for leader so watch out for my application.

My favorite memory from Scratch Writing Camp would probably be making the We Love You, Birdi! collaboration (go check it out! https://scratch-mit-edu.ezproxy.canberra.edu.au/projects/835964026/ ). I bonded with quite a few people during that time, and learned partly what it meant to be a leader.

But in the top five, another one of my favorite SWC memories is making my @SWCmango account and saying hello with it to various cabins and people. I still have no idea how little Kenzie from 2022 had discovered all of the inside jokes so fast.

Onto my personality, although my online and offline personalities tend to be similar, they each have their own unique differences.

For similarities, both of them are Extroverted Introverts (sometimes my online leans more towards extroverted extrovert though). They both share many likes and dislikes, although my online persona really seems to enjoy causing chaos at the weirdest times.

Online, I can be very kind. Although I’m not really sure yet what kind of leader I am online, I still do have a lot of my offline leadership traits. It can be very hard to ‘listen’ to someone online though.

Offline, my personality changes entirely depending on who I’m around. If I’m around adults, I can be very serious and curious about lots of things - as I’ve discovered in various situations. But if there’s a little kid within 100 feet and I’m in a good mood (I’m happy and awake), I’ll most likely approach that little kid and interact with them, no matter their age.

But around friends, or kids my age that I know, I become my silly, kind, and loving self. I love giving hugs, checking up on friends, and surprise attacking them. I’m also a good listener.

Around a week ago, my youth group hosted a middle school campout and incoming freshmen (my friends and I) got the chance to lead the campout! In that campout, I discovered many ways how I could be a leader, and some of the traits that I show. It was a very eye opening experience and I’m very grateful I was given the opportunity

This month in July, I’ll be serving at a church camp I’ve been attending and I’ll get the chance to find out what it means to be a Servant Leader. I’m very excited for the opportunities I’ll get to understand teamwork and leadership.

Other ways that I’ve been a leader include VBS, a leader towards younger girls between the ages of 5 and 12, and more! I’ve also been serving at my church for a few years.

Away from that subject, before this word intro turns into a SWC leadership application, and onto my favorites!

Currently my favorite color is probably a soft and warm pink or a light blue. I’m not entirely sure. My favorite food for a while has always been mac n’ cheese, but other than that I have a major sweet tooth.

My favorite candy is most likely sour gummy worms or gummy nerd clusters (try them if you haven’t already! they’re very tasty). I love any ice cream flavor, buy some of my favorites include cotton candy and vanilla!

I love listening to music and I probably have listened to it for over a hundred hours this year alone. I mainly enjoy listening to Christian music, since it’s uplifting and most of the time the lyrics align with my beliefs. I enjoy all sorts of Christian sub genres, so if you asked which one was my favorite I probably wouldn’t be able to say.

My favorite music artist at the moment, and for a while now, is Relient K! The band is a Christian Rock band and their music is so much fun to listen to. I also enjoy other artists such as Forrest Frank, Steven Curtis Chapman, and Madison Ryann Ward!

As I’ve mentioned before, I’m a huge reader. I’ve been reading since kindergarten, and have loved it ever since. My favorite genre of reading would be Fantasy and Christian Fiction, since both of them have been the genres of some of my favorite books.

I love a lot of series, but some of my favorites include Keeper of the Lost Cities, The Belgariad and any other of the books in that universe, and Millie Maven. I have many Christian Fiction or Fantasy book series recommendations in case you’re in need of some, just leave a comment on my profile.

My favorite genre of writing is probably Fantasy or some other sort of fiction! I don’t know exactly since I’m still exploring

I had a whole outline planned out for this and all the stuff above is not even half of it and I have limited time to write this so, here’s my joke.

Q: What do you call a SWCer who likes mangos?
A: A Scratch Writgo Camper!

Very bad I know but uh- tired and stressed kenzie is struggling xD (the tiredness and stress happened after I wrote most of this so- lol if I wasn't tired and stressed i would've picked up where I left off but um not happening today!!)

uh oh im late to the party

the shark and the bear were going to go on an adventure, but then they decided another day would be better than today. so they did not. the next day, they felt the same way and said tomorrow will work better. on the third day, the shark said to the bear, why don’t we put it off indefinitely? and the bear, of course, agreed. so the two friends lived in peace and never went on an adventure, instead staying within the nicely decorated expanse of their home.
many visitors would go through their home each day, though they never spotted these two friends.
I think I have spotted them before, though. otherwise how would I know anything about their story? how would I be able to type it all out, hungry and tired and waiting for food at a Chinese restaurant. I am far from these two heroes now, and I have no memories of speaking to them ever. I honestly don’t know if I’ve even seen either while walking through their grand home.
and I for completely distracted by eating at the restaurant that I have forgotten what I was talking about maybe I should try remembering. so they did not go on an adventure.
oh dear this story is due soon. is this too meta? I really want to do every single daily this month but this week will be a big challenge because I have so little time to write and even less motivation due to the fact that I only have a phone to write on. I guess I could write by hand but that would not be the greatest either.
anyways back to the two friends, the shark and the bear whose names I cannot for the life of me remember even as everyone around me knows them both so well. they have continued to not go to adventures on the way to their times of having a good time. oh that made absolutely no sense. I suppose that is bound to happen when I am just hammering the words out. where do they come from, where do they go, where did you come from cotton eye joe?
oh where was I? was the thing about the bear and the shark even important in the first place? I cannot remember any longer. I think there must have been something important in the first place. oh well.

fall of the hero daily | 26 july

from the outside, keyes would appear the explorer between the two of them. compared to his chaos, clara appeared calm and content. she masked her curiosity far better than he did, keeping her cards to her chest, never revealing which strings she was pulling at. she has always loved knitting, crochet was her childhood escape, and now she spun from threads of secret.
trouble was, the house contained more threads than any one crafter could ever keep track of. this came back to bite her when keyes was off on a months-long expedition and she was left to her usual research.
generally, keyes stuck to the path that worked. why mess with something already so perfect? he would ask of the route she had drafted for him when they first moved to their rooms. she had done the same for herself, too, of course, but rarely did she follow that straight shot to the central stacks of the library. instead, she wandered, working on her recreational maps and noting interesting, possibly useful windows. she worried not for followers, for the routes passed through more populated areas and she always had plenty of resources to dispel attacks.
today, she was far from the library, far from the cozy rooms she shared with keyes, and far from any recognizable landmarks. clara atkinson was not lost in the middle of nowhere. this was where her knitting happened.
over her years studying and furthering understanding of the house, clara met with and gained the trust and support of many of its inhabitants. they told her their problems, their joys, their love of the house and for the life it gave them. then, she wrote them all down, mapped them all out, questioned and prodded at her own understandings, and generally brought together the greatest portait of life in the house ever conceived. it was her life’s work.
and it was burning.

end of the world daily | 25 july

my mom and i used to watch a lot of star wars. not different things, god knows she hated what disney did with the sequel trilogy. and i never much cared for any of the shows, animated or otherwise. but i was born as the prequel trilogy was coming out, and she had always been obsessed, and i remember those three movies better than i remember my preschool years and earlier. we watched them on repeat, it seemed, and always anakin or obi-wan was looking over our shoulders as we ate dinner or did puzzles. i knew revenge of the sith by heart before my fourth birthday.
my mom died before the end of the world, probably for the better, because the way it happened would have ended her itself. that line came to mind, and all the memes pointed it out too. i don’t have any special insight, i’m no special person, i just liked star wars. but i recognized the claps, i saw it. padme’s words rang in my ear.
“so this is how liberty dies: with thunderous applause.”
honestly, my life has been better since the collapse. obviously the event itself sucked. i have a lot of friends, now, and a lot of time. i helped repair a bunch of old tv sets and found functioning dvds and blue-ray discs. we never found any of the star wars films, but i would recite them when the power didn’t work.
the rise and fall of skywalker became our myths.

acronym daily | 24 july

solarpunk wants conquest

on the fifth day of the fortieth week of the seventh year of sundark, while clasping hands and spinning in the fashion of ring around a rosy, a coven of new mother witches had a vision. most of the words uttered from their then shared lips are nonsense, but one witch possessed true prescience. her chief contributions are found in the eighth stanza. the final line in the eighth stanza of the coven’s principal prophecy is only three words. solarpunk wants conquest.

sundark happened one day and the survivors could not agree on another name for the following era in human history. their lives were defined by the dampening of the sun, their history would as well.
the decades immediately after sundark, the early times as storytellers call them, were filled with mystics, small communities, and desperate efforts by surviving academics and experts to preserve their knowledge. some efforts were noble, others predicated on the destruction of competing fields of academia.
far north of the dancing witches and dubious fortunes of the elm coven, a town was reborn as dapple, for the way light pierces through even the densest of forest canopies. its people came from a diversity of backgrounds, and they counted in their numbers experts in electric grids, the languages of scandinavia, how epidemics spread, and other specialized areas. some skills were, no doubt, more applicable than others.
cooperatively, the townspeople of dapple sought a balance. for their efforts, they were rewarded joy and the promise of future generations when the first baby of the sundark generation was born.

she was the grandmother of today’s tyrant.
i do not leave my flowery language out of this part of the story without reason. there is no space for subtlety here. dapple was humble, at a time, in a time when an understanding of each human’s ability to decide for themself their fate was given. but that understanding is shared no longer.
dapple wishes to enforce their will on us all. we cannot stand for it.

weekly three: perspectives | 17-23 july

part one — 591 words

it was finals week and, for once, the university’s courtyards were empty. jay wandered alone through the twisting pathways, some lined with thorn bushes or ivy, others laid in ancient stone, and did not wish she was anywhere but here. that was a start. as the other students, silver tongued and not, studied deep into this moonless night, jay searched for peace in the gardens.
she could not find it. not peace, not quite, for even in the night’s quiet her inner voices continued their screaming. vis’ question still burned in her ears. a partnership would be mutually beneficial. but could she bear that much time around the top student? her feet led her to the private alcove of grape vines perpetually ripened by silver, where she let out a frustrated scream.
jay was not nearly as alone as she thought.

“aw, come on, you must know that coin doesn’t carry so far down here. even for a silver.” the wretched barkeep winked at vis, his smile displaying a— clearly false— silver tooth. “i know you’ve got the money for it.”
vis had to stop getting herself into these situations. she was better than this. lowly barkeepers should have no power to push her around. he seemed to know she had no other choice. and this is why i said we shouldn’t go out in our colors, she thought daggers in the direction of her so-called friends. the brats weren’t even trying to pay for their drinks. nevermind the fact that finals start tomorrow. nevermind the fact that her fate rested on whether a rhetoric student agreed to a partnership. nevermind the fact that no one even seemed to care, not really.
vis did not attempt to smooth her temper as she turned back to the man. just a boy, really, made old early by poverty. “aw, come on,” she mocked his accent. “either take this or take nothing. we won’t be coming back either way.” she hardly tasted the blood as a tiny cut split her lower lip.
her classmates did not realize when she left without paying their tabs.

by the time jay hauled herself up the too many staircases to the silver library, vis had already found, claimed, and set to properly stocking a study room for their— whatever this was. meeting, probably. why she insisted on meeting at three in the morning the night before finals week, jay would never know. vis was unreadable.
“hello,” vis greeted absently minutes after her arrival. a few more minutes passed in silence before she looked up, orange hair a storm of curls around her head. “glad the message made it. heard you gave b quite the scare.”
“what he gets for haunting my scream space.” jay was reading one of the several diagrams on silver that lined the walls. “surprised they let me in here, given—” she gestured towards the papers, then to the whole room “—i’m forbidden to see any of this.”
“oh, it’s nothing. you’re practically silver. stop gawking, jay, it’s unbecoming. and stop traipsing through the gardens at midnight, it makes you impossible to find.”
“you managed it.” she couldn’t take her eyes off any of it. this was what was denied her. “what, did you have to use silv—”
“look at me, jay,” vis said and she looked. because that was how silver worked. because it was truth that she looked when vis spoke like that. because silver was power, and vis had all of it. “do you have an answer to my question or not?”

part two — 301 words

traits causing unreliability:
affections for rejean
guilt around his own actions
anger and misunderstanding of the rojan church
age and clouded memories

I write this in the seventh century of the Rojan Church, whose name and number are entirely wrong, whose existence is a mistake I must take responsibility for myself. I remember the day I founded the church, I recall the first words I spoke in my very first sermons, I could sketch with perfect likeness every convert I shared a meal with in the years following. But I doubt now their deserving of my lord. I should have kept him to myself, worshiped alone on the cliffs, lived forever a poor hermit.
Rejean smiled, when I asked to join him. He was always so gentle with my desires, no matter how foolish they were. He asked me to stay. He referenced his parents, asked they get word, asked I do whatever in my power to ensure they knew he wasn’t dead, that they would never hear from again but he wou—
I am certain Rejean knew what he was doing then, even as now I still cannot see the full picture. I am certain the Church and the Empire and their many failings are thanks to my own misinterpretations of his will and his words.
I write this sitting at the same desk where, over the intervening centuries since I last shared a meal face to face with my friend, I have struggled over his writings. His letters to me and his sister, Penelope, only hint at the cliffs and caves and his great fate. It must have seemed so clear to him, but I have never been able to parse his every intention.
The Church acts as if they have it all correct, understand the man and the god Rojan perfectly, hoard power into an emperor and have all but pushed me out of it.
I will prove them wrong.

part three — 416 words

right. so where do we begin? it was a dark and stormy night, as it always seemed to be in my brief and poorly considered existence, and i was once again pacing back and worth in front of a big glass window in the tower at the top of my very expensive, very old victorian mansion. is that good enough for you yet? are you checking off all of the boxes? anyways. i paced, a lot, several days straight in fact, except you would not know that it was a day because clouds and rain and smog and god himself kept the sun from shining all the hours that i paced there. yes, my feet were very tired, still are.
then came a knock at the door. at last! an inciting incident, let us get this plot off the ground! i raced down the carpeted stairs, all four hundred of them, in the time it might take a hungry child to eat a dinosaur-shaped chicken nugget. i know what those are, alright? just prefer my protein less processed than that. before me, the massive wooden door swung open, as if my presence was all it needed to be unlocked, and a tiny girl peered in.
oh dear, this is the sort of story you like? i fear my opinion of you, beloathed reader, grows more and more negative by the passing moment. why in the world would you want to read about a girl coming to an old vampire’s lair?
lightning cracked in the night behind her and she jumped, straight into my arms. now, i will clarify that i did not catch her. i was simply standing nearby. one would hate to see a young human pass due to fear, would one not? oh, are you expecting me to be cruel to the girl? i do hope my behavior surprises you and i do hope it does not please you. i cannot bear the thought of doing something to please the reader.
right, the girl. she quaked in my arms, no doubt shaking from the cold on top of the horror of my face. no, i am not a beautiful, young, perfect vampire. my transformation has turned me into an object of disgust, and even the kindest of little girls would shiver when faced with my— face. it is a fact i have no shame about. why hold further hatred for myself, when i must continue living? not that i would expect you to understand.

part four — 420 words

then, as the girl still lay shivering in my arms, a great light fell upon the two of us and stunned her. see, i was not the one to do it, but you were. because your complaints and your many letters to my author— do not let them know that i know their idenitity, because that would put me in a grand deal of danger— my author decided to come and see me in person. it simply had to be at a moment of heightened drama, because they are nothing if not dramatic. and they came in the form of an angel. obviously. what, did you think my author would be a fallen one? how dare you think so terribly of me?
the angel shone light onto the two of us, and the girl passed out in my arms.
“i was going to say, be not afraid, but it seems the time for that is too late,” the angel aid, blushing pink. besides the overwhelming light, they did not look much like other angels i have met. “well, don’t be afraid anyways.”
“wasn’t planning on it,” i responded in standard american english. yes, i will continue specifying my accent every time i speak, because otherwise you all do such awful and offensive stereotyped eastern european accents for me that i want to go as limp as that poor girl. “what are you doing here?”
“weren’t you expecting me? i have to keep up with those in my circle, you know!” the angel was too cheery. and i had no idea what in the world they were talking about. what did they mean by their circle? why would i want regular contact with them?
another knock sounded at the— not at the door, actually, because it was still open. strange. the knock came from the top floor, where i had previously been pacing. i frowned and did not wait for my companions before racing back up the stairs.
“hello?” i asked, calm and cool as a cucumber, my favorite food, to an empty room. a shadow hung in the window. someone floated out there. i pulled it open and asked once more “hello?”
there was my author, for real. the angel had been, most unsurprisingly, a red herring. a decoy. something to get me off my guard. they used this trick every time. “what do you want?” i asked, and just as they began to answer i slammed the window shut again. i had had enough of them for the night.

swc host daily | 23 july

lio wandered between the grand marble columns which stretched like trees towards a distant sky. was that the sky, or a ceiling painted to appear as the heavens? they did not know. nothing here, in the realm of the hosts, made very much sense to one newly promoted. so much was kept secret from those below, yet speculation held a period of adjustment was nessecary for new hosts. thus these halls. a museum of sorts, lio had garnered, each column colored softly after a cabin or leader of note. patterns of mangoes and book pages filled mosaics on the ground and the echoing sound of ripples told lio there was a pool or stream somewhere nearby. they sought it out the water.
light danced over the pillars and the stoney ground on the banks of a grand, deep twilight violet sea. waves peacefully lapped at the shore. columns stretched to the horizon in every direction. the absence of other people irked lio. they tried to set the thought aside, turning their attention instead to the mosaics beneath their feet. the ones here depicted polar bears, some in deep conversation and others hunched over canvases and still others celebrating. lio grinned, thinking of the activity team’s enthusiasm in the days leading up to the fourth weekly of the july 2024 session.
the question rose in lio’s mind. would the team continue to be called polar bears, even with shifting leadership? they were inclined towards the continuation of the title. it had much more swc to it— that mix of whimsy, silliness, and acronyms— than the team’s previous title. anyways, that name didn’t make sense! they worked on much more than just dailies; project weeklies were where they dedicated the most time, but they weren’t titled the project weekly team.
in the distance, a wave appeared, quickly approaching the shore where they stood.

madlib daily | 22 july

from gigi and nyx’s “Alright Aloysius we can't just snorkel. That's the kind of thing you.. you go to mango for!" Dara whisper shouted”

“Aloysius!” the little mortal cried after the already diving god. “I do not— I cannot just jump in, not without the proper equipment.” The sea god grumbled, waves around him thrashing with discontent, but he reemerged from the dark water.
“Thank you,” the mortal— Dara— said with a sigh. She had a name that reminded him of his youngest sister, though she was not at all like Driasa. He put thoughts of her aside. Through wordless means, he asked Dara how they could proceed with her terribly confining set of lungs. That got him a glare and no verbal reply. He conveyed apology and she relented. A moment passed as she stared towards the dark horizon. Only the lapping of waves filled the air before she whispered again. “The islands of the mango will have snorkel equipment. Scuba gear would be better, though.”
Aloysius considered. No, it would not do. Human waste was clogging the currents and shores and bottoms of his ceaseless seas, and he refused to contribute to that. In her thoughts, he said it would not work and offered to ferry her through the waters—
“What do you mean, use your gills as if they were mine?” Embarassment flowed over Aloysius in a great wave, washing away all his other thoughts. Of course it washed into her mind, too, linked as they were. “Oh!” And Dara went silent, the image of her mouth fixed to his no doubt slipping through the link as well. She shook herself out of it well before he did— humans, it seemed, were much better at putting aside fits of emotions than gods— and set to brainstorming other possibilities. In so many ways, she was a storm. Just like his mother had been. Just like his lover had been, but thoughts of Naberius while Dara remained linked to his mind would only push him further into embarrassment. He sent another apology in her direction; she waved it away.
“Might still be the only way,” she said from where she kneeled in the sand, tracing out a pair of runes. “Touch this, I want to hear you speak it. Feels weird when you just put the thoughts in my head.”
He obliged. Fingers brushed the expertly recalled runes and Aloysius felt his anatomy shift. He became more human, as long as he kept his hand pressed to the shapes in the sand. For now, his vocal cords resembled those of a human and his tongue moved like a human’s too. “I haven’t seen one of these in a long time,” he said quietly, awe a little too evident in his unpracticed voice.
“Yeah, well, they don’t send us on these missions entirely in the dark.” She laughed, looking at the dark night around them, but there was no humor in it. “Talk me through it.”

personification daily | 19 july (completed 18)

we’ve been waiting here for so long.
we, each of us, contain multitudes unknown even to ourselves. we, none of us, can grasp what any of it means alone. we can be immense, tiny, heartbreaking, uplifting, or utterly incomprehensible. we all, here, share in this waiting.
on occasional odd days, the lights flicker and the room hums with electricity and hands wander over our spines to pluck one eager confidant from their waiting place. this is the only time “we” becomes “i.” humans, in their limited time, wring individuality out of our collective, and we each scream “pick me!” we return to collective thought once the lucky one leaves and celebrate then. mourning occurs, too, but celebration runs much deeper.
more often than dwindling, our numbers grow. new confidants are wheeled in by the dozen, still remembering the feel of fingers flipping through their pages, still understanding traces of their contents. we welcome and share our memories, even as theirs fade into dull hums. then the knowledge is all simply ours and we are all the better for it.
today, the lights are on, the room buzzes with electricity and anticipation, and several sets of hands and eyes wander the many aisles of shelves. the carts are here, without new confidants to join us. various vibrations fill the air as the humans talk and deliberate and agree. movement ceases a moment. we are not individuals, we realize, for none of the humans intend to choose one of us. instead, the hands begin stacking all of us. the eyes care not for our contents or our covers. we are all tumbled together into carts.
excitement grows into a roar in our shared consciousness. we have not seen outside eyes in ages. we have not felt sunlight on our pages in longer than we can remember. wheels squeak on tile floors and we are on the move.
is this what we’ve been waiting for?

ghosts daily | 17 july

“i know,” and it’s as if they are fifteen again, running away from boarding school each weekend to escape in the city, ural’s kindness so unasked for, so necessary. he knows, of course he knows, they have always known each other so well. “i understand what happened to your fami—”
“it was my fault,” bjorn mutters into his raised cup. ural hears, of course he hears, and beckons for him to say more. a moment passes, then several. he sips from the coffee, just to prevent his mouth from being empty. finally, the words come. “i was there.”
ural’s eyes go wide, all semblance of smile drops from his face. he tugs their clasped hands towards him. “show me,” he says simply. “if you’ll have me.”
at a time, bjorn would’ve fought death himself for ural, would have gone to war with the sun and moon and stars, would relieve any of the most terrible moments of history for his truest friend. he finds, with slight shock, that he still would. “only if you’re sure,” he says, not looking away from their interlocked fingers.
ural doesn’t answer, but takes bjorn’s hand and brings it to his cheek. bjorn places his other hand opposite. he blushes, not that ural sees through his lightly shut eyelids. we used to do this with summer memories, bjorn thinks. we never wanted the other to have joys we couldn’t share. pain is so much more private.
“hurts me more to see you in it alone.” ural opens his warm brown eyes for a moment. “i can do it, bear. we can do it together.”
ural closes his eyes and bjorn remembers.
screams, clawing red and bright, metal and scraping and chants of the final days, none of it makes sense. this is how it has been before, ural reminds. we simply see memories differently.
here, there are faces. younger than bjorn knows his family’s were, so they are from ural. no better, that the soulless spirits now have faces. ural flinches away from something, and they’re both pulled out.
“‘here, there are faces’? you see them outside your memory?” ural is genuinely shaken by this reveal. at bjorn’s reluctant nod, concern flashes across ural’s features. “so you’re haunted.”
“that was how i first saw them. so that’s how they are,” bjorn explains helplessly. “it’s too wrapped up in grief to try and change. or escape. i deserve it anyways.”

weekly two: classics | 10-16 july

part one — 511 words + 45 words of three word stories
are you sure this is the story you want to hear? this, again, the tale of your papa’s foolish quest, instead of your mother’s grand council or anything about your magical aunts? i’m certain i’ve told mine enough for you to have it memorized by now. oh my little pepper, i’ll always tell it again. always, for as long as you want to listen. anything for you my love.
now, i was barely older than you, barely had earned my whiskers, when the signs started. in those days we had many ways of communicating with other colonies, a variety of signals for both positive and negative occurrences passed up and down the river’s path. we were one of many small communities that thrived in the excess here.
my father was still working as a messenger then, mainly between the coupled colonies downriver of us and the network upriver. right, we’re on the spot where several streams meet, and then that mattered a lot. my father taught me to read the subtler of the signs, the ones that were not always announced to the whole colony. he said reading them was a skill everyone needed, that would strengthen the colony, and i always believed every word he uttered. so i did.
but signs of the floods were not signals made by our kind. my great grandfather, also a messenger but by then long dead, had once resisted use of signals. he claimed, as many did so far back, that we would get so caught up in our own signals that we would forget to watch for signs. we would no longer speak the language of the river, the sky, and the forest. we would be as bad as the bountifuls, those monsters who lived entirely separate from their origins. he was, mostly, right.
atmosphere among the colony changed even with the first sign. i don’t know this because i remember it, i was never a popular nor even sociable pup, but my sisters say they knew from our activity before they knew from the color of the sky or streams. i did see the first sign, though, when the moon shone bright red an entire night through. i must have felt something amiss, for i climbed up from underground while everyone else slumbered peacefully, and i was the lone rat on the hill who watched the red moon rise.
some will say i sensed greater or deeper than others in the colony. i’ve heard a few tell the tale that a bird or fish spoke to me, as if such a thing were possible for one newly whiskered. no, really, my father had just taught me to read the signals and some instinct in him passed, too, the awareness of signs.
instinct describes that night, and every night following, better than awareness. i slept no longer, but stood vigil on the hill as the stars shifted and the clouds grew.
i was not lone for long. my sisters were the first to join, telling me then of the social changes they noticed.


part two — 52 + 262 words
abandoned by her mother—tricked by her mother—betrayed by her mother—snow white feels near nothing. now married to a prince she hardly knows, the young girl understands not her place nor herself. ladies from distant lands with similar circumstances come to her to offer aid, but will she accept it?

what do you do when your demons come back to haunt you? when bjorn's family are brutally ripped away from him in an uprising he orchestrated, he crumbles. fifteen years ago he was thrown in prison for something unspeakable, but no one knows what truly happened that night. after the disappearance, ancient skeletons start tumbling out of closets, journalists flood in, old friends emerge and time begins to run out. because it doesn't matter how far you flee, you'd still never be able to hide.

he remembers the screams. the faces of bjorn’s sisters, mother, and father have all been wiped clear from his mind, but their final, desperate words are burned there forever. faceless forms visit him each night and occupy every shadow in the days and their words are unintelligible. except that bjorn knows what they say, what they said that day, understands most deeply their pain. because his actions, his yearning for a proper place in the world, his resentment of their sending him away for ural’s nearness, his many mixed emotions directly brought their deaths. bjorn killed his family and now he will never live without them.
he is huddled over a too hot, too dark cup of coffee in a grimy diner he once would have stuck his nose up at. now this is the only place that will take his patronage, paperless as he is. its booths must have been teal, at one point, but now are a strange motley of yellows and browns from stains and sunspots. its other customers are as uninterested in one another as bjorn is in drinking his coffee. his mother stands by the jukebox, eyeless face watching mournfully as the record spins and skips. his sisters lay their heads in their crossed arms, one table over from him. his father is absent. bjorn dumps another spoonful of sugar into his cup.
“bjorn?” a familiar voice fills him with longing. he hadn’t let himself feel it before. he turns to the man—once boy, once joyful, magical boy—and can’t help but smile. it feels so good.
“ural?”

part three — 165 words
heat suffocates, pushing in from all sides, reaching for every point of contact,
clamoring to be the only sensation noticed, but above
a blue sky bleeds to gentle pink and golden light spills brilliant across the treetops
moon’s crooked silver smile laughs merrily in the southeast
step across the road and see her face framed in thin black threads of pure electricity

heat clogs the air and humidity slows the limbs, both work in tandem against the temper
surrender, head down or eyes up, shoes scuffing the sidewalk or shoulders straight,
resistance brings no relief.
splashes and giggles and the occasional whistle blow sound from the pool
what scenes of summertime bliss lie behind the tall fence can only be imagined
water, no doubt, brings relief.

in a loop’s completion, every previous step beneath this branch or balancing on this curb comes to mind, we’re gonna sing it again, where are you going to school, what’s up, are you okay?
it was never this hot

part four — 409 words
The temperature is constant, and Hokukoya is nowhere to be found, no matter where you touch it,
“Oh, that's not the plan, but it's more than that.
The sky was bright red, and a golden light shone on the trees.
The silver smile of the moon is crossed in the east
You walk down the street and you look into his eyes, a thin black wire full of electricity.

The heat warms the air and the humidity reduces leg movement and combustion
stretchy claws on mesh dresses and straight boots;
- Ole Hiki no Ko
I will laugh and laugh and I will laugh out loud
Behind the high walls, it is impossible to imagine any summer fun
Water is always handy.

At the end of the journey, the first step in this champion or the strengthening of this wall, we always sing, Where is the school, How are you?
It's not hot

bjorn might belong in such a dirty place now, today, with such darkness imprinted on his mind forever, but ural is still the perfect portrait of regal poise. he bows gracefully into the bench across from bjorn, smiling mystically and half-mindedly all the while. despite the expression, his eyes are sharp and searching. ural is pretending, as he always does. bjorn has only ever lied once. to someone besides himself, anyways.
he cannot think of that summer of sunsets and afternoons wasted swimming, running laps around the gardens, singing along to forbidden records ural’s cousins sent him. they knew themselves so well, when as kids there were no fears. they knew themselves, but bjorn couldn’t see the shadow of a future stretching before him, even as the setting sun of ural’s smile stretched it longer and longer. he only saw the golden light in the trees, the silver sliver of the moon above; he only laughed as the summer’s brightness fled.
“ural,” he says again, because these two syllables express so much. what else can he say? i thought you were dead, even though i never saw you? oh, i can see dead people now, did you know that my ploy for power tore my family’s spirits from their bodies as i watched? can you imagine the sound that makes? ural, if you would please, describe to me the faces of my sisters, because i cannot recall them and their faceless figures now stand before me filled with disgust. he is breathing too fast, too hard, he hasn’t blinked in too long.
ural grabs for his hand—not gracefully, not beautifully, but with all the despair bjorn feels himself, and this reflection is what finally makes him cry.
“oh, ural, it has been too much,” he says through sobs, because no words can contain what conflict he feels within himself. “it has been too much, my dear friend.”
tears slip steadily down ural’s still golden face—how has he kept his beauty all these years when bjorn’s rusts away? he squeezes his hand. “too much and too long,” came ural’s response. “but what can we do? nothing expect move on. we must, together, find a way to combat all of this.”
ural’s words surprise bjorn, before they sting him with their bluntness. no, his friend is not here to comfort him. not here for him, at all, just to use him as so many have already. “i’m not interested, in that.”

spinner daily | 16 july

are you sure this is the story you want to hear? this, again, the tale of your papa’s foolish quest, instead of your mother’s grand council or anything about your magical aunts? i’m certain i’ve told mine enough for you to have it memorized by now. oh my little pepper, i’ll always tell it again. always, for as long as you want to listen. anything for you my love.
now, i was barely older than you, barely had earned my whiskers, when the signs started. in those days we had many ways of communicating with other colonies, a variety of signals for both positive and negative occurrences passed up and down the river’s path. we were one of many small communities that thrived in the excess here.
my father was still working as a messenger then, mainly between the coupled colonies downriver of us and the network upriver. right, we’re on the spot where several streams meet, and then that mattered a lot. my father taught me to read the subtler of the signs, the ones that were not always announced to the whole colony. he said reading them was a skill everyone needed, that would strengthen the colony, and i always believed every word he uttered. so i did.
but signs of the floods were not signals made by our kind. my great grandfather, also a messenger but by then long dead, had once resisted use of signals. he claimed, as many did so far back, that we would get so caught up in our own signals that we would forget to watch for signs. we would no longer speak the language of the river, the sky, and the forest. we would be as bad as the bountifuls, those monsters who lived entirely separate from their origins. he was, mostly, right.
atmosphere among the colony changed even with the first sign. i don’t know this because i remember it, i was never a popular nor even sociable pup, but my sisters say they knew from our activity before they knew from the color of the sky or streams. i did see the first sign, though, when the moon shone bright red an entire night through. i must have felt something amiss, for i climbed up from underground while everyone else slumbered peacefully, and i was the lone rat on the hill who watched the red moon rise.
some will say i sensed greater or deeper than others in the colony. i’ve heard a few tell the tale that a bird or fish spoke to me, as if such a thing were possible for one newly whiskered. no, really, my father had just taught me to read the signals and some instinct in him passed, too, the awareness of signs.
instinct describes that night, and every night following, better than awareness. i slept no longer, but stood vigil on the hill as the stars shifted and the clouds grew.
i was not lone for long. my sisters were the first to join, telling me then of the social changes they noticed.

sleep daily | 14 july

“keyes, c’mon. you can’t stay up all night.” the again was unspoken, laying heavy like stench in the chamber’s cool air. moonlight streamed through the cracked windows— officially, the panes didn’t open, too dangerous, but clara had refused to sleep anywhere with stagnant air. keyes huddled over an atlas, cross referencing first hand accounts and songs riddled with hints at the answer that so eluded him. he didn’t even seem to hear her. “millie,” she pleaded.
he turned his head, silver light cutting across one dark eye. in that moment, he seemed a creature of the night, as foreign to the dawn as a fish was to the trees. then he was human again, exhaustion clear in the darkness under his eyes and the slowness— and subject— of his speech when he finally answered. “my mother called me millie,” keyes whispered and clara could see her figure in the room. his whole family seemed to materialize at the mention of the nickname. a summoning had not been her intention.
“so did i.” clara had risen from her bed and was now kneeling to face keyes across the low table. “millie, they’ll leave you be if you sleep.”
“no, no, no they won’t.” all emotion had abandoned his voice, and his eyes were blank now though he held contact with clara. she brushed the hair from his face, conjuring a smile for her face. he squinted at the sight.
“they will. they always calm when you do. i promise, you’ll be alright if you just sleep a peek. just a few hours. we can work our way up from there.” clara internally chastised herself for speaking to him as she would to a child, but she could think of nothing else to say to this automaton of a man. exhaustion wrought its way in keyes. “we must improve your habits, i thought you would know that by now.”
this line impacted him more greatly than even the apparitions; he stood rather abruptly and reached for her hand. “i should know better, i can never seem to tell myself to stop.” his voice was quiet still, but now twinged with embarrassment. he thought so well of himself, clara knew, that every time a flaw was pointed out there had to be a reckoning.
“we can think of that in the morning,” she spoke to the worry and crisis of identity. “for now, you need some sleep.”

hero’s journey bidaily | 10 july

morning finds jylethva, the one poisonmaster and vermincatcher in over one hundred miles, once again searching for soothing teas. the aging master has found, over the years, a peace and solitude in brewings that even her nighttime vigils and the race of her work cannot bring her. but recently, she has reached for the teas more and more often than she ever did before.
she refuses to give credence to the thought that she is growing older. yes, the years bring her new ails. yes, her parents are now near what she would have seen as ancient and her children the age ahe thinks herself. but jyle is young still, she has the energy in her yet. forget the bait she lost last night, forget the exhaustion which now smothers her through every hour of the day, forget the aching in her joints. jyle loves her work, and she will keep at it until she can no longer.
“i must take an apprentice,” she says to vile, the orange tabbycat who once chaced her children around the small yard, but now spent most of his time sleeping. sipping from the boiling mug, jyle considers the thought more deeply.
who could she trust to take up the trade? most of the families in this nameless town, and in the ones for hours in each direction, knew and believed in jyle and the importance of her work, but would they allow their child to take it up? and could jyle give it up, if she trusted the child well trained enough?
no. she strokes vile’s smooth fur and says to him, “we could never give this up, old boy.” for vile had been a hunting cat, before he was pampered in this warm room with shelter and regular meals and pets from a vermincatcher. he just huffs a breath. jyle looks out the window; the light is much brighter now and just beginning to warm. she must begin her tasks for the day.
she finishes the tea in one large swallow and sets to bundling the herbs she will need for the market. on marketday, jyle is a most sought after merchant, despite her illegitimacy in the stalls. tradition, after all these years, not to pay the permit even when she can afford it. she also brings with her the day’s list of farms to check in on, all of whom pay the fee for regular inspections. prevention, rather than treatment, is the most effective way to fight vermin.
as she leaves her small home, jyle thinks again of an apprentice and, oh so briefly, of retirement.
that can be no time soon.

weekly one: timelines | 3-9 july

part one — 514 words

probably it was the screams that alerted me how late i was. no, definitely.
as i turned the final corner into the bustling alleyway, far too busy for the time my watch and body were so helpfully telling me it was, the wails errupting from the open stained glass windows of the kindergarten only got louder. god, the lungs on those kids. eema would be so mad. i raced, or as close to it as i could manage in the crowded street, to the clay doorway proclaiming, in rough orange paint and misshappen letters, “learn.” such a contrast to the delicate green grape vines and soft swan’s feathers so beautifully captured in the glass windows, but then so was this raucous activity a contrast to all the fine buildings so squeezed around us. i banged on the door, less than once, before it swung open.
“you’re late!” sounded eema’s voice as i bowed inside. she was nowhere to be seen, but undoubtedly juggling several screeching toddlers even as she scolded me. i did not respond, rather stepped out of my boots and greatcoat and swapped my sunglasses for proper spectacles. a few pats around my pockets to ensure all the proper reading and writing materials were in place for the day, a final check in the mirror to check—everything still in rights—before heading into the first classroom.
“alright kids, ready for some learning?”

(in response to cj)
Silence welcomes him when he returns. Once graceful, reaching stands of screaming crowds now are hollowed and hungry, starved of the spectacle they once promised all who stepped foot through the grand gilt gates. They will have built a new arena by now—perhaps several—leaving this one to slumber. Osora’s footfalls are the only noise now, each step echoing through the dark space. He no longer cares to keep himself clean or handsomely dressed, he never polishes the bands of gold which keep him tethered here, certainly he cares not whether this holy space is kept hallowed; he will not dampen the stomping of his boots.
The rhythm of his walking reminds of that last day here. The stomping fans. That final fight. The subsequent revelations. The ceremony. Ascension.
No one says, aloud, no one ever tells you when you’re young, what being the best means. You can study, and fight, and earn every acolade given you, and you can give every bead of sweat and every drop of blood, and still they never tell the whole truth. Not until the commitment is too great and the process is half done, anyways.
Osora thinks of Arias. He sees him, swinging his axe, full of the delight and dance of a fight, strong and sure and alive. Then, crumpled as Osora could only watch. Muscle had withered on his bones, youth fled his body. All told the ceremony took little more than seconds.
Osora does not breathe. He hasn’t needed to, since they—those evil, scheming, unknowable forces—gifted him with all Arias’ strength.
He thinks, as he had for every moment of the past seven centuries, that it should have been him. “Oh, Arias.”

part two — 447 words

lightning cracked across the sky, spilling white across the world as a yolk spills from a broken egg. i savored it, for those moments, drinking in all the shapes i could see illuminated by the great unsettlement, before darkness again took my sight away. still, i was clueless to my location. i had no idea where i was going, either. only that the lightning, here, functioned nothing as it did at home. and i could never go back there.

“peet! get in here now!” hardly audible above the clamor of the morning rush were my mother’s words, calling me to the kitchen. breakfast would be ready, the most important meal of the day.
“coming!” i shoved my book back under the pillow and grabbed for my tunic. in the open courtyard, multiuse but mostly referred to as “kitchen,” i gazed on tiptoes as my mother finished cooking the eggs. i’d missed my favorite part, but the rumbling in my stomach was a greater concern than seeing the orange first spill from a mottled brown shell.
“your father will be here soon,” said my mother softly. “with your cousins. are you ready to see them?”

i huddled my body close to the rough, dry sand of the ground beneath me. always shifting, never steady, we said of lands like these that they must contain the most untrustworthy people of all. now i was the one who lived on shifting sand.
lightning again opened up the sky, this time several bolts in succession allowed my eyes a moment of rest from their desperate searching. for i saw what i needed, and in the state that i wanted.
“i’m coming!” i called in triumph. then a bolt bit down, and all went white.

my cousins were not truly cousins, in the blood sense. their parents were my parents’ cousins in the same way i was theirs, and the same relationship formed between our grandparents, and on and on and on back through the ages. no familial ties—no marriages, no adoptions, no otherwise binding arrangements—occurred between these two parallel lines.
their line were smugglers, and mine was sanctuaries. but even as a youth, i only ever wanted the rush of an illegal trek. i never wanted to be the safe light at the end.

i woke in danger, but such was my life then. now, all is the same. many siblings, blood cousins, aunts and uncles of my line will claim they wanted, at a point, to lead a trek. but i’ll never believe it, because i’m the only one who ever did.
and for all my troubles, they’ve never trusted me since.

part three — 402 words

3. i: wedding epilogue (slow)
1. ii: discovery of a prophecy (slow)
4. iii: chase (fast)
2. iv: training montage (fast)

word of advice: if you ever decide to become a prophet, remember these for your chamber: rippling water, light droplets falling periodically, a chill cutting right to the bone. then it will fit right in with the other prophet’s chambers at the quarterly conference for being creepy and making everyone around you uncomfortable. i’m sure those are mighty good times.
actually, word of advice: never go looking for a prophecy.
my team and i were soaked to the bone by the time we found the teal-lit room, all echoes and watery lighting and breezes smelling of death. poor rebecca, she didn’t stop sneezing for weeks. in that moment, though, we were all silent. awe, and shock, and maybe a bit of relief that it was real, washed over the whole lot of us. finally. the exhibition would be complete.
i had not been the one to first read the particular prophecy of importance, the one we all know by heart by now. or maybe i had been? ah, well. we all know how it goes, so i shouldn’t repeat myself here.

the days immediately following that terrible cave of a library was full of marvelous cozy cabins of libraries. they hold my heart, and most of my funding. we bounced from university to university, center to center, talked to experts in all variety of fields from linguistics to archaeology to engineering to microbiology. we needed to be experts in everything, it seemed, just to make one dent in translating the stones and scrolls stored in that cold. it was all more trouble than it was worth. but still, the business, the hope, the bussing activity of those weeks, those months, even stretching into years afterwards…
almost enough to make me want to come out of retirement.

i will not do that, for i’ve reached my happily ever after in this life i now have. dr hean, who had in those years of activity been a colleague, a confidant, a secret subject of pining, became far more important when i told her of my personal feelings. she had laughed, actually, saying that by then she’d half convinced herself i was straight.
we wed on new year’s eve, surrounded by experts and friends and the laughter tasted better than the champagne that night.

so don’t go looking for prophecies. the present is so much better.

part four — 513 words

My clearest memories are all from that day. The shine in his eyes, as we said goodbye in the light of the dawn. The way his hands rested in his lap, as I struggled, in vain, to talk him off of it. The curl of his lip, the disgust in his voice, as he denounced my confession. The final words he ever spoke to me were of hatred. I will never think of Rejean in that way, but still the images are sharper than any others.
We had aged so terribly by the time he finally stepped into the mythic cave. I did not recognize the man who stared back at me from the reflective waters or from city’s pounded panes of glass. I felt a boy, whenever in his presence. At a time, for a time, Rejean took the same joy in my presence. By that day, that morning, everything of that joy had burned away. He resented me, I am sure.
I have not let that be how he is remembered. The Roja spoken of, prayed to, sung about all across this grand Empire, is the Rejean of my childhood. The happy little lordling, the welcoming and brilliant spot of sunlight in our mountain life. He had no canon, no mythical sayings, no flawless traits never defeated in testing. I have given him, through my priesthood, far more than he could ever grasp for himself. On this plane, that is.
I often wonder. Whether he did ascend. Whether I could have followed him into the caves. Whether he wanted me to follow. Whether he really did hate me or really did love me or really did not regret our quest together. What terrible things they are to wonder. I must set my mind away from them, for I fear they are what will drive my insanity further.
I do not deny my insanity already feeds at the edge of my brain. I feel things slip daily. I feel images—his eyes, his hands, his lips—burn into my eyes. I see him everywhere. So I make proclamation, that our god is all around us, that one only needs to look and listen and pay attention to see it too. I ramble on, as I do now, trying to make connections somewhere, anywhere, that I have not made already. Is this all there is to the life of a religion’s founding priest?
That day was the birth of a god, and the death of a boy, and the death of two men’s friendship. For this, whatever I share with Roja, whatever I share with whatever god who I claim to praise, is no friendship. It has nothing I loved of Rejean. I fear I have failed, in attempting to keep his memory alive forever. In spinning gold from his life, my has crumbled to ash between my fingers.
Yet I cannot lie down and let it all pass me over. I cannot join my Rejean, wherever he is now. Cursed, I am, to forever remember and never move on.

idiom taken literally daily | 8 july

“once in a blue moon”
spectacular as the view of an orange sliver in the sky is, we take it as an ill omen. pink tinted craters on the surface of our dear neighbor means bountiful harvests, in the spring, or thick snow coats coming, in autumn. the many varying shades of whites, greys, and blacks all mean different things in each new town, village, or hamlet one might pass through, though the general sentiment of lighter shades holding darker meanings is spread far and high across the meadowed plains. a green moon is a most auspicious time, signaling a time of great fertility and of great illness. many midwives and cowmaids and other particularly devoted sisters of the dawn stand vigil all night beneath green moons. some of my most eye opening conversations have occurred in those nights, and many life changing decisions are made in the days immediately following them. other colors hold varying significance. most posess at least one temple or church of devotees. but, of every tint or shade, no matter where one might travel, the most revered moon is blue.
beyond their rarity, happening only once every other year at the most, a blue moon’s nature is of power. an opening of the world seems occuring under its glow; a welcoming of magic. the whole world breaths, and our kind cannot help but find strength, or weakness, as the world does too.
as with other hues, the lighter shades are more common, those feared rather than welcomed with joy. when a sky blue light rises at the end of the day, hurried panic sets above the whole country. shepherds will pen their sheep on even the calmest of nights, fishermen dare not set out in the morning, and every mother and father rushes about to locate their children. such a bright yawning hole in the sky could mean anything, only in the coming months will a narrative be put to it.
on the other hand, deeper blues see erruptions of feasting that can last for months afterwards, if the moon is darker than the starlit sky around it. we light up the streets with bright yellow lanterns and fill the towns with singing and dancing and eating and merriment all around. for the world has opened up and poured out blessing upon us and we will be greatful and joyful even when the nature of the blessing is yet unknown.

instrumental inspiration daily | 4 july

inspired by the album music for the starling girl by lord huron
as the sun sets each night, we gather around a circle of stones and light a fire. someone— kier, usually— gets the cast iron out and starts on the bacon. will gets water from whatever nearby stream we’re by for the night, then i start on the coffee. ollie hitches the horses and kneads dough for frybread. dinner takes less than half an hour, all told, even when we celebrate with whatever liquor will’s managed to swindle some shop owner out of. and, even exhausted as we are most nights, none of us can sleep before total dark. so, we sit around the campfire, watch sparks find the coming dark of the sky, and try a new song.
i remember the look on ollie’s face when kier started singing that first night after we met him. he was just dumbstruck. god, what a funny time. kier has the voice of an angel, you’d never know it from looking at him, but once we got ollie doing duets with him— man. will joins on guitar, i bring out my grandpa’s fiddle, and oh man it is something special.
it’s something just for us. we’ve never performed, not for an audience or really for anyone else either, but we still practice every night. each night is a new song; some melodies come back— i suspect kier is classically trained and knows all this fancy stuff about leitmotifs and the like— and of course our instruments never change much. we take turns, nothing formal, telling a story from our lives and starting the song from that. i won’t say much about any of them, they’re ephemeral type things, only in the moment do they mean anything. special, i swear.
these moments around the campfire color our days with meaning. i’d do anything, to keep having them with me each night beneath the stars.

kingdom throughout passing time daily | 3 july

where cloudless deep cerulean skies reflect wine red seas, golden rocks cut up through salty mist. twisting groves carve a hold into the rock where softest and welcome buzzing bees and butterflies to pollinate their fruits. sweetness sharpens into sour on the tongue of early inhabitants, spurring strange pallets for native rodentia, avians, and reptilia. fish fill coral reefs all around the island’s shoreline. hidden far within the tangled trees, a lone ephemeral blossom shines, dies, and through some unknowable means travels upon the winds to distant settlements as a story. in its bittersweet scent, the whisper of a promise: any who drink of the spring will be granted—

this paradise remains untouched in a sea of merchants, navies, and zealots of the spring, for a time. all passes in sameness, sunrise to midnight, continuing if not in harmony, if not towards one shared goal, at least in shifting balance. mists and afternoon rains nourish trees, whose flowers and fruits feed animals of all sizes, whose decaying bodies renew nutrients in the rocky soil. the cycle repeats, unimpeded, for time unknown.

the first ship is red-lacquered wood, masterfully crafted to glide upon the violent sea. she shores on a sliver of sand, the only cove on the cliffed island. her crews are neither merchants nor navymen nor zealots, but runaways seeking asylum in a stolen ship. they searched, not for this particular storied place, but for anywhere that would accept them. the island is no easy paradise; its plentiful fruits sting their tongues and turn their stomachs, its many animals are too quick to catch and too clever to trap. even the colorful fish darting all about prove impossible to latch, turning their proverbial noses up at the worms attached to the fishhooks. but this group receives the island’s blessing, it seems, when they reach the grove’s center and drink from the bubbling spring. its waters are cold and clean and taste like home.

when next a ship arrives, all trace of the visitors is gone. this vessel is bleached white, all curves and finery, but worn to near nothing with many years riding the waves. the crew does not dock, but circles the island slowly. strange sounds wash across the island. they chant, they pray, they bind themselves to its service. no flora nor fauna pay it any bother, but something in the golden cliffs seems to breathe in on their final notes. they leave, too, never setting foot on their holiest of islands.

heretics, is what the white-shipped zealots would declare the next to find the island. in intervening years, the zealots have returned again and again, but they cannot bear witness to the foundation of the first town. these settlers come in simple wooden boats, fishing things really, they cannot have come far, and build their first lodgings from the scraps of their smallest boats. they insist on learning the island and never impose their own will. soon, tiny wood structures dot the cliffs, clinging to whatever ledge they can fit. the people, who may one day call themselves islanders, drink of the spring and recognize the welcome in its taste.

letter to future self daily | 2 july

to my dear thirty plus days in the future self,
hi! how’s it going? ready for school to start back up again? enjoying camp in new york? has this session been everything you hoped it would be? i do hope you are doing better than i, but life is a rollercoaster. i am sure there will be both highs and lows between today, the second of july, and whatever date you read this from. for that is how it happens. every time i think i could never smile again, hope peeks through. every time i know the depth and intensity of my love for the world, some evil comes to tear my joy away.
today has not been very good, nor was yesterday, but tomorrow is a promise. every next tomorrow is opportunity, and you, and i, we must take that opportunity with hope and excitement. no one can ever abandon hope, what is life without it?
this is maybe a little too deep for a silly little letter. what do i want to do this july?
write a lot, at least one thing i really like
engage with activities and participants in swc
introduce my brother to swc!
thanks for reading this, if you do. if not?
thanks for continuing to hope.

one-kay intro daily | 1 july

alright it is currently twenty four minutes to midnight utc let’s see if i can do anything about getting this one thousand word intro in. i missed it last session and i have only written about eighty words so far this session, but i think if i just sprint through the whole thing in rambles it will work out. even just as an injection into my word count, that is worth it right? or should i be going for more quality words rather than jumping in on the grand tradition of introducing yourself in one thousand words. i mean, i have done it several times in the past, and though i have changed since those sessions months ago, i do not feel i have significantly changed. but perhaps that is what makes the one thousand word into interesting. how does each person approach it? do they just ramble on for one big paragraph (as this could be — but will not, it would give me quite the headache) or do they explain their interests in one hundred words each or maybe they give an in depth look at their personality or they themself have a tradition of writing about themself for around half, then switching to write about their swc persona for the rest. yes, the final one is me.

hello! wow, did you actually read that up there? that’s crazy. (this line will get funnier as the session goes on and more dailies and weeklies are added to this post hehe.) well, i suppose you will want to learn something about me. i’m lio, user of they/them and inhabitant of edt, coleader of gothic and thirteenth sessioner. that’s right, i’m now an swc teenager! i win! i have written so many lists of my interests over the course of my time writing about mes and intros in swc but here’s a basic rundown: i like reading, writing, worldbuilding, drawing, geography, linguistics, rockclimbing, and much much much more. obviously. one’s whole self cannot be summarized in only one thousand words. though my tendency for tangents and rambling can be conveyed here.

would you like to take a wild guess at the word count i have achieved thusfar? before the immediately previous sentence, i was at just one 350 words. oh dear do i have a far way to go in less than fifteen minutes. i must write faster! speed, i need speed!

that line reminds me of a large influence in my life i do not believe i have spoken much of in the past in swc. which is disney! i am, unfortunately, against my better judgement, a giant disney fan. the disney parks have greatly influenced my passion for urban planning and walkability and environmental storytelling and worldbuilding (wow that’s a lot!) while the disney movies made me fall in love with storytelling and art. my first ever short story i wrote, not as a school assignment but out of enjoyment, starred the disney princesses (and featured most of them being devoured by maleficent’s various hungry creatures, as well as a final folkloric takeaway of “this is why there are no princesses in the united states”).

isn’t that interesting? i do not think that i will be able to finish this before the daily changes. i guess that tells you something else about me; i am very good at procrastinating on even the things that i want to do. i am a perfectionist, and a worrier, and i always need what i do to be the best possible. which is unproductive, i know, and i know that i am being too hard on myself, but!! that is not what i wanted to write about. none of this is, really, entertaining or, more likely, boring as it may be to any potential reader. i must continue though because i will not allow myself to go two sessions in a row without partaking in such a lovely tradition! so many people have done it already and i would like to join them in continuing this marvelous act started by finch and faer (i believe?). so that is probably just over 600 words, in fact just under 700 so i think i can maybe do it if i write without thinking just a few more words! wow is this bad.

i did actually have reasons for not doing this earlier in the day. i did not do it at midnight in my time because there was a massive cockroach flying around my room and freaking me out so i could not focus on anything but staying away from it. yuck! i could not do it in the morning because my brother was going to camp and i had to see him off, then my mom and a bunch of other adults talked for a while. then i had to go to work, boring! i worked only for five hours today but during that i dropped my phone and it completely shattered. so i could not write it on my phone while on the way home. once home, i worked on some of my in cabin duties (badges coming soon to a gothic near you!) and tried to calm down from the events of the day (i dont know about you but the recent scotus decisions, today;s and the chevron one in particular, have got me FULL OF DREAD), then had dinner and chores. so here i am, with three minutes left, and definitely over one hundred words to go. it has been a nice go, but i doubt that i have finished the race. oh, i am so very close yet at the same time so unthinkably far. what a shame, i hope next session i will not do this again because then it would be a whole year in a row of not completing the one thousand word challenge. i will have to make it up somehow. oh dear oh my

Hello me.
Are you feeling well? Did you make some progress in that story you’ve been aching to do until procrastination takes over and you feel numb and don’t want to do it? How are you going at school? How did that drama thing go? Is Ms Watson an okay teacher?
Maybe that’s too many questions.
Just an update for you in case you forgot exactly what position I’m in now (and let’s be honest, you probably did): I’m sitting at my grandparents’ house doing the SWC daily for the 2nd of July. Everything is going pretty well. I’m researching crochet before I’ve even got a hook- speaking of which, did you try it? Are you making a jumper or something, going back three hundred pages to this old thing and reminiscing over SWC-me? Or did you give up? Maybe you didn’t bother looking for crochet hooks. Fair enough.
But back to me.
I’m also trying bullet journalling. Are you enjoying it, or did you give up? Oh – another thing I should be doing (but can’t do because my notebook is elsewhere) is drawing that picture of my friend – well, a lot of pictures really. How did that go? Did you finish it?
Oh, and how did the sleepover go? Was it fun? Did you (just a-few-days-away me) clean everything up in time?
If there's one thing I should tell you, it's to not give up.
Kind regards,
Juice.

Daily 2: Letter to Future Self
word count - 349 words

Dear future Alana,

Writing this today, on July 1st to be exact, I have a lot of things that I want to tell you. Maybe it's that our life is about to get crazy or that you should probably start packing ahah- whatever it may be, I want you to know that you've got this, and you're going to make it through whatever struggles you're going through <3

I know you're volunteering at a picnic this week which sounds amazing! Face painting for the first time must be a dream come true, if I don't say so myself. Please take lots of pictures and enjoy your time running the prize booth (AHH the event is going to be amazing- I already know it)! You're going to absolutely slay the community.

Aside from this, I also want to remind you to keep practicing your dances. I know we just started the 35 minute one, and it's definitely tedious :sobs: But just think about the end goal - how much you're going to be able to improve simply by working towards this performance. I know you definitely hold yourself to a high standard, so please remember that it's ok to take a break at the same time <3 (but also keep pushing for stamina purposes ahah ;D)

I know you're probably reading this halfway across the world by now, but I hope this serves as a reminder that you are so incredible! History over the summer must've been fun - but think about all those amazing courses you're taking next year! You're definitely in for a treat <3 Although you may not be in the same classes as your friends, you're going to meet a lot of new amazing people that will always be there to support you.

With that, keep living your life to the fullest and never let anyone let you sparkle falter! You deserve to own the world, so go and reach for it while you still have the chance!

With lots of love,
Present Alana ♡

Dear Future Bea,

How are you? I sure hope you are doing well. I am doing great if you were wondering. Did you make it to (y)our word goal? And did you/we join the writing competition?

Even if you/we didn't, I'm sure it's fine, life gets in the way sometimes.

Anyways, I hope all of the trips you have gone to were fun as well, I'm hoping they are. We've sure been traveling a lot recently, haven't we? Feels like I can't stay in one place.

I mean, you have already experienced this, but today is good right now, even if I haven't done much other than draw or write. (And procrastinate)

I'm sort of excited for tomorrow, even if it's just going to the Lego store. But, hey, Lego's are cool. (At least to me)

Ooh, you will be a lot closer to doing our dance in August. We've been practicing a lot and I hope all goes well!

Oh, have our allergies gotten any better? I really hope they do, they are bullying me extra today.

But neither of us have ever been good at writing letters, have we? At least this is good practice.

Signing off, Past Bea

(note to (future) self, you need to work on not procrastinating.)

02: Letter to Future Self

283 Words

Dear future Celes,

Hellooo, unfortunately, if you're reading this, the july 2024 session has come to an end. Hopefully, you've actually remembered to come back and read this because knowing myself you probably haven't. If by some miracle you did remember to read this then I'm impressed and congratulations. <3 First of all, how are you? I hope the month went well for you! This should have been a really exciting month with swc and the other plans you had and I'm hoping everything went well.
How did the session go? Did you meet your word goal? Did you complete all/majority of the dailies and weeklies? Did you pull any *cough* all nighters *cough*? Hopefully not considering my sleep schedule is already bad enough at the moment. More importantly, did you have a fun time? Make any new friends?
Now aside from swc, how did moving go? I hope you were able to settle in nicely. Also, probably the most pressing matter, did you get to go to the Eras Tour? At the moment, things are looking a bit iffy, but I do believe there is some hope! If you were able to go you might have been a bit inactive towards the end of the month, but hopefully you were still able to participate in swc at least a decent bit!
Also, how was Reckless? I'm assuming you've read it by now. I'm hoping it was as promising as I was expecting it to be! I must have written over 200 words now so I think I'll wrap this up, I hope you're having an amazing day and go on to have an amazing rest of your year! <3

- Past Celes

(Daily - sci-fi - 205 words - 200 points)

Dear not-so-far-into-the-future self,

First: did you remember to post DOTJ this week, or were you procrastinating again? If not, GO DO THAT.

Back to business, though.

How far have you gotten on your new book? Have you thought of anything that could happen to Lily Winters in that other book you want to write? Most importantly, look back on this session of SWC! I know you had fun- it’s only 2 days into this session and I already have. But did you meet your goal? Did you meet new people, maybe even become friends with those people? I hope so.

Now, some more personal questions. Have you gotten your schedule yet? Are you in classes with your friends? Do you have art or PLTW for encores? Did you finish that huge drawing you were doing? How does it look? Are there any more questions I want to ask you?

Of course there are- for you, and further-future you, and even more into the future you. But I guess I won’t know all the answers until I get there, right? Or maybe I’ll never even get all the answers. But that’s just life, isn’t it?

Adios for now. And stop procrastinating. It’s a bad habit.

when green flag clicked
say [EVERYONE GIVE IT UP FOR AMERICA’S FAVORITE FIGHTING FRENCHMAN, LAFAYETTE]

daily two - letter to your future self - 220/200 words

dear pepper,
how is my least favorite vegetable doing? /lh /ily
did you meet any of your goal this month? was bi fi what you dreamed it would be? ah why am i even asking that, i’m sure it was absolutely incredible!! i mean, bi fi alongside a brilliant leadership team, great campers, a thrilling storyline with awesome graphic design, what’s more to ask? hopefully you met some of your goals, your word goal, daily and weekly completion goals, maybe even some novel work? as i’m writing this, i know i wanted future me to end the session with three completed weeklies, a couple won word wars, entered in the writing comp, and met my word goal of 12k. with a success last session of doing every single daily, i can tell you right now the drive to do it again is bubbling, but i’m not sure i’d like to try again… though, i suppose it isn’t up to me! we’ll see where the future takes me and you, or just me i guess? adjakfkshf talking to you i’d rather difficult so i’ll end it off by saying thank you. thanks for a great session. thanks for connecting with whoever you connected with. thanks for being my favorite pepper (because the vegetables are nasty) <3
sincerely, pepper from the past!

⸝⸝ ──────────────── ィ
⌗ ┆wlcm to ☄︎
ʬ Cider's Hideaway ⤸

→ Dailies ☆
01. in main cabin comms somewhere
02. letter to future self
03. skipped
04. deviltown :>

→ Weeklies ★
01.
02.
03.
04.

→ Other ᰋ
01.

────────── ⸝⸝

daily 07.01 | introduction | 1119 words
(i fell asleep while writing this so i ended up not posting it on time, but i still want the words for my goal, so i'm posting it anyways lol)

Hi there! It's intro time. I'm Wave, she/her, longtime scratcher and lifelong writer, and I am very happy to be here. It's currently 4:47 a.m. where I am (Australia) and I'm in a small room with four extended family members, so we will see how this goes.

Personal details first, I guess. I'm ethnically Bengali and my parents are from Bangladesh (and Bangla was my first language), but I was born in Canada (happy Canada Day!), and I've lived in the U.S. for nearly ten years now. As soon as I upgrade from permanent resident to citizen, I'll be a citizen of three countries.

I learned English as a toddler in daycare and kindergarten, and as soon as I was made literate, I became a monster of this language. I consumed books and books and books without satiation, and I frankly owe an awful lot of who I am as a person to that childhood hunger. It was particularly ingrained in me due to instability when I was young — my family moved around a lot during the first decade of my life, and being an extrovert doesn’t change the fact that having to make new friends and adjust to a whole new lifestyle every year or two isn’t easy as a child. Books, pardon my corniness, were the only consistent friends I had across continents and countries and states and cities. It’s no wonder that I turned to trying to create them in no time at all.

There’s more to me than literature, I swear. I suppose I can talk about my other truest passion — astronomy.

My seventh birthday passed less than two months before we were due to move across the country, so my family was quite busy and celebration was minimal. For that birthday, one of my best friends in that small town gifted me a giant book on the history of the Earth (geological and biological), and that book made me want to be a paleontologist for a while, but that’s besides the point. Besides that field of science, the one that I was most immersed at when I was six was, of course, astronomy. I was never really an “I wanna be an astronaut!” kid, which was completely because I never thought it was a realistic career aspiration, even though it was really the most amazing-sounding job in the world to little me. Nonetheless, I was absolutely a space kid (the killer combo of a space kid and a dinosaur kid in one little girl). I loved the sky and the stars and constellations, and I loved supernovas and nebulae and the idea of spaghettification, and I loved learning about the parts of a rocket and the roles they played in bringing humankind to the stars. So, after we’d moved and settled into our new apartment in a new city over a thousand miles away, my dad bought me a giant telescope to watch and photograph the night sky with. Since that day, I have spent years of my life deepening my knowledge of and love for astronomy and astrophysics. I’ve competed in national competitions for it, written articles and hundreds of thousands of words of notes on it, and even helped my eighth grade science teacher with assignments and infographics for the astronomy unit. Twelve-year-old me was a riot.

I still have that telescope, despite it being many, many years old now. It’s an irreplaceable part of my childhood. It’s as much of a core memory as the first time an adult told me that my poetry was good, or the day my little sister was born, or the first times that I understood my own fragile mortality — on a mountain in British Columbia and in the waters of a Barbados beach.

I’m not sure what to talk about next. My history on Scratch, perhaps. I’ve been here a good long time. I first used the site during my fourth grade tech lesson, and at some point after I made my own account, and thus Wavecolor was born. The username was entirely invented because I liked those two words, and I never expected the nickname Wave to follow me for over half a decade to come, but that’s the beauty of life, I guess. Always surprising. I didn’t do anything much from 2018-2019, though I roleplayed a ridiculous amount, and I only gained a couple hundred followers at most over that time. But, like most Scratchers of my generation, COVID-19 changed everything. Overnight, it feels like, Scratch became more of my life than the real world actually was. When I didn’t leave my house for months straight in vital years of my adolescence, I forged the necessary social connections and interests in the world through the Internet, and Scratch above all. I started drawing and animating in spring of 2020 and somehow deluded myself into doing it all the time, even though I was a silly kid who had no idea what she was doing. A bit of a luck and a bit of charisma later, I found myself spending all day texting and calling talented friends I met on this website, and with a relatively big account. It’s kind of amusing to look back on, because I really was a kid trying to be bigger and older, but it shaped so much of my life that I can’t say I’d change anything. I met my best friend on Scratch in 2018, and last summer he visited me (from another continent!) for the first time. Growing up with this website has definitely been something.

I’m a vibrantly passionate activist, the kind of person that gets called an SJW, and shamelessly so. As I’ve matured, particularly in the last year, I’ve noticed and learned the flaws of the world and particularly American society intimately, and I’ve become someone who is not afraid to make people uncomfortable or lose friends in the name of what is only right and moral. It’s free occupied territories, justice for indigenous peoples, LGBTQ+ rights, black lives matter, long live the victims of genocide, down with neocolonialism, and end violent nationalism all day every day, now and forever. I love learning about the issues of human civilization in every sense, ancient and modern, political and social, minimal and massive — more so, I love learning how I can apply them to my life and the passage of time as we’re watching it, and I always want to know how I can make a difference.

That's about it for now. Bye!

Daily #2 233/200
______________________

Dear future me,

Hello! How are you? I really hope you’re doing well, because I’d hate to see you sad. By the time you’ll be reading this, you’ll be quite older! A whole new age, and though it may seem different now, in sorts, it probably doesn’t seem like a huge change. After all, how much can change in a mere month, hey?

But I mustn’t get ahead of myself, it is true that huge, lifechanging events can happen in short amounts of time. Who knows? Your family might win the lottery, you might break a bone, all sorts of things can happen. All that matters is that you’re ok right now, because if you’re ok, that means I’m ok, and we can do this if we’re in it together.

What’s something that you’re really looking forward to? I’m sure there’s some bright sparkly beacon of hope somewhere for you to shift your focus to after the previous one. There always is. Perhaps it’s a huge basketball game that you’re looking forward to, if you still play, or maybe a concert.

Try not to put too much of a burden on yourself, you’re only human and perfection is impossible (even though it may seem like it needs to be possible). You’re doing awesome and you should never give up.

Please stay strong, you can do this.

Lots of love,
Your past self xx
______________________

return to the lagoon?

Daily 2 ) 245 words ) 200 points for script

heya sparrow! how’s your summer homework going? you didn’t start it yet?? please. please go do that. right now. anyways, hope you had a super awesome very cool scrawling written conversations session, because- boy do i know i’m excited. did you meet any other scratchers in your cabin? i had a great time getting to know people in epistolary lol. maybe you’ll even buy that new forum signature you wanted because you have know idea how to make them at all! oh, i wonder if gurtle or the balrog will return to terrorize the civilians of ikea (that phrase would have frightened a small victorian child). just so you know future robin, past cider will always be here for you to remind you to stay fresh out there. Be sure to slow down on your writing pieces and really enjoy the process too. um, and here are some vpos affirmations for you. austin, you can do this, you’re a hard worker and i just know you’ll keep script on top! keep your head in the game, but take breaks when you need too, without getting all angry at yourself for it. oh yeah, and you better grind for that snaxolotl hoodie in the catalog, because that thing looks sick. I honestly don’t care too much about the gear and decorations past that, i’d be real stoked if you just got to level 50. that pretty much wraps this up, so uh, yeah, good luck buddy.

daily 07.02 | letter to future self | 226 words | 200 points

Dear myself-very-very-soon,

I hope you’ve actually been doing your godforsaken chemistry work. It’s embarrassing how far behind we are on that, but at least our excuse is pretty solid so far. In a month though? You better be 62% done with the whole class. Specifically sixty-two.

In other news, I hope you’re also actually doing all the work you’ve set for yourself this month. Busy July for us and if you procrastinated the whole way through — unforgivable. Those various Google Docs and other websites had better be teeming with ideation and preparation. At the same time though, don’t beat yourself up too much. Just do it little by little. I’m great at advising myself, huh.

Did you meet your SWC word goal? How much of that was new poetry? Did you enter all the contests with July deadlines that you swore up and down that you would? The Foyle deadline must’ve passed already, I hope you submitted something good for that. And you definitely should’ve started preparing for YoungArts again, so make sure to work on that portfolio if it’s been a bit since you have.

Regardless of all this, I hope you’re well and that nothing drastic has happened in the last month or so. Keep going, don’t give up, live up. You got this (probably) (if you try hard enough).

Sincerely,
Past Wave

★ churro's dailies. 02
july 2st.

Dear.. Future Churro.
Not sure how to begin this letter. I will say hopefully your writing has grown miraculously over the month of July in SWC. Not sure what you'll think of me now. Did I improve? Even a little bit?
Hopefully by the time you see this letter I'll have finished the historical au. And hopefully I would've done at least two weeklies, what with the two trips during July (so annoying!). Hopefully my writing pieces have more depth to them and more ambiguous endings (what I'm trying to achieve. I explain everything so clear the reader feels bored, you know?). Hopefully I would've gotten an honorary mention in the writing competition, like I did first session. And I really hope I find more inspiration from every day things, because life feels so plain. Perhaps I'm looking too widely; maybe there's beauty tucked away in a corner somewhere that I'm missing. Focusing on the details are very important too. And hopefully I'll be able to convey it through writing.
Also did you participate in cabin wars more? I hope so.
Anyway I hope you had fun this session, and feel stronger, feel prouder, and just a little bit braver when it comes to experimentation and style in writing.
Sincerely, Current Churro.

Posting for @maddie-mangoes because that's my alt and it's a new scratcher heh-

Dear Scratch Writing Camp,
Hey there all my fellow mangoes out there! Maddie here, still your ever-enthusiastic fangirling cowgirl author from the land down under.

As the chill of the Aussie winter wraps around us, I'm bundled up and brimming with excitement to dive into this session of SWC with you all. My cabin, Folklore, stands tall and proud, and we're ready to cheer on our sister cabin, Solarpunk, as we embark on this adventure together! (hey there Horror and Script, our friendies!) (and I’m sorry, Gothic, Poetry, Sci-Fi and Fantasy, you are going DOWN this sesh! (though I still love you guys and would be more than happy to hand you some friendly mangoes)) Non-Fi, Mystery, Bi-Fi, Thriller and Dystopian, I am super excited to be friends with you guys!

When I'm not cozied up indoors, you can find me indulging in my myriad of hobbies. Whether it's belting out tunes, crafting new songs, twirling in dance, grappling in jiu-jitsu, soaring with the air force cadets, or exploring the great outdoors on my bike, I'm always on the move. And let's not forget the simple joys of a good run, a leisurely walk, getting lost in music, or diving into the worlds created by reading and writing. It's true, I'm a bit of a shocker with my love for the written word!

Life as a 15-year-old Christian homeschooler in Australia is never dull, especially with a treasure trove of besties and a passion for volunteering at a riding camp during the school holidays. Horses have a special place in my heart, and nothing beats the connection you feel while riding.

I’m the youngest child in the family, with a much older brother named Kenzie, you can go say hi on @madkenz! He’s a great sibling and I love playing on our PS or Minecraft with him, or playing with our dog together, or pillow fights, or nerf fights! (at this point, literally anything lol)

But let's talk geek for a moment. My mind is a playground for all things random, from music to an array of fandoms that would take an eternity to list. LOTR, HP, WoF, KOTLC, BTTF—you name it, I'm probably geeking out over it. And the music! For King + Country, Taylor Swift, Denvah, Guy Sebastian, Dean Lewis, Imagine Dragons, Jenna Davis, Olivia Rodrigo, Sabrina Carpenter, Kevin Quinn—I have wayyyy too many playlists for each of them haha

Musicals are my guilty pleasure, with ‘A Week Away’ currently topping my charts. And yes, I solemnly swear that I will watch High School Musical soon—it's a promise!

Now, let's whisk into the kitchen where my baking adventures come to life. From cookies to cakes, muffins to divine desserts, my culinary creations are a testament to my sweet tooth. And who could resist my signature ‘maple-berry’ dessert? It's a symphony of raspberries, maple syrup, chocolate mousse, ice cream, and a sprinkle of magic—all in a mug!

Carnelian, that mesmerizing shade of red, captures my heart every time. But my love for color doesn't stop there—blue, white, turquoise, black, navy, orange, and select greens also paint my world vibrant. And while key lime might not make the cut, the spectrum of hues in my life is as diverse as the flavors in my kitchen.

Back at my Aussie abode, my three budgies—Buddy, Oliver, and Dinky—fill the air with their chirps and charm. And let's not forget Solomon, my cavoodle companion, who's always by my side. Pet-sitting has become more than a job; it's a journey through the animal world!. Dogs, cats, horses, ponies, lizards, birds—I cherish every moment with these creatures. Snakes, though? Well, they're an occasional part of the gig, but let's just say they're not my favorite! (yes, I’m an aussie, doesn’t mean I have to like snakes bleugh)

As for Taylor Swift, I may not be a swiftie, but I'm a fan through and through. Being sorted into Folklore was like a dream come true, and now I'm streaming her album nonstop. Go team Folklore! And to my fellow TS enthusiasts, here's a little nod: our cabin is destined to be ‘the 1’! I can't wait to meet each and every one of you. So come on over, say hi, and let's get to know each other. And remember, if you're ever in need of some free mangoes, just give me a shout—I'll be there with a HUGE basket!

I'm here to add a splash of color to our already vibrant tapestry of cabins, the entirety of Scratch Writing Camp! Now, if you thought my hobbies were diverse, just wait until you hear about my wardrobe—it's like a kaleidoscope of style and self-expression! On any given day, you might catch me sporting a classic Top-Gun t-shirt paired with the comfiest jeans, or perhaps I'll be decked out in jewelry that I've lovingly crafted with my own hands. My collection is as unique as the songs I write, each piece telling its own story. And let's not forget the quintessential cowgirl flair - hats, flannels, and an array of other random treasures that make up my daily ensemble.

I'm probably one of the most chaotic, random, and fangirly individuals you'll ever encounter!

So, my dear friends, buckle up and grab a handful of mangoes because we're about to embark on a wild ride! With every twist and turn, I'll be right there with you, sharing laughs, stories, and maybe even a few fashion tips along the way. As I weave these new threads into our ‘megathread’ (see what I did there?), let's celebrate the quirks that make us unique. From the melodies that move us to the outfits that define us, every aspect of our lives is a piece of the puzzle that is us – and remember me fondly as Maddie, the cowgirl author with a heart as big as her imagination. So here's to the chaos, the creativity, and the mangoes that fuel our journey. Let's make this session of SWC one for the books!

Yours lovingly, Maddie
@maddie-mangoes