Daily 6: Nothing | 580 words

Daily 7: How to Present Your Word Count to Mazasa The Polar Bear in The Main Cabin for Scratch Writing Camp (SWC): A (Somewhat) Comprehensive Guide to Communicating and Presenting to a Polar Bear | 1,156 words

Daily 8: Break a Leg! | 550 words

Weekly 1: Perspectives

Part 1: Passage of Time | 320 words

swapped with @Connyraerae of Gothic: The Summonings

My Scene:

A fine summer morning marked Val's first day at her family's new American home. She stood by the front yard wearing her pink and white tank top and black denim shorts, with her hair neatly kept in a high ponytail. She was amazed by the facade of her suburban home. The walls were painted white with a black roof. They had a front porch with two rocking chairs on either side, and the porch was surrounded by shrubs. The front yard of the house was fenced off with a gray fence. It was nothing like what Val had lived in during her stay in the Philippines. She was ecstatic. She ran to open the mahogany door, revealing the living room. To the right of the door was a gray polyester couch, with a glass coffee table in front of it. Across the couch was a wall-mounted flatscreen television, and either side of the living room walls had empty picture frames.

Conny’s Continuation:

Val remembers the nostalgia all over again after staring at a picture from her phone. She quickly turned it off after the glass office door opened, it was her boss. Years and years of torment by the same person; she hoped it would someday give her a well-deserved promotion. The coffee spilled all over the office’s white couch, her boss gave a satisfied grin knowing Val would be to blame if it were not cleaned up. She sighed out of exhaustion, she’s better than this—she won’t let her boss get under her skin. Her boss quickly enters his own office space, leaving Val with the scent of freshly spilled Americano from across the room. She goes home, hoping to find linen to replace the couch covers. She opens the chipped away gray fence to her badly maintained frontyard. Passing through the rustic wooden door and family pictures in frames, she lays on her couch. “That promotion better be worth it!” She exclaimed.

Conny’s Scene:

The nuclear war held on the planet of Nyxterium wiped out half the population of Astaria’s race. Plants would wilt from the radioactive atmosphere, animals would go hiding from the outside. Astaria and her two brothers held each other tightly in fear as more bombs were detonated by the attackers above, their bunker cramped, old-fashioned, and a gust away from collapsing. She was the eldest among her siblings,—they were too young to perish—she was too young to perish.

They’ve been underground for a few weeks already, their supplies are growing scarce. Blytharos; the youngest among the siblings, was the chosen Nyxteria Warrior by his father. Astaria took him inside the bunker despite his said destiny. He was far—too young. They have no choice but to send someone back up to get supplies. Blytharos volunteered but was immediately shut down by his sister. This led Blytharos to open the bunker door in the dead of night to escape and gather supplies.

My Continuation:

A decade passed, and the bunker that held Astaria's family together was reduced to ashes. The impact of endless warfare was too much for the bunker to handle. Blytharos had now grown to be the strongest of the three, yet Astaria's protectiveness of her youngest brother grew stronger. She didn't want to lose him. However, Blytharos was a stubborn man. He was the man of the house, he thought. He believed he no longer needed his sister's care. Blytharos persevered through the war, salvaging supplies for his siblings whenever he could. Animals were now extinct, and only a tenth of Astaria's race were alive. Astaria and her siblings had to rely on artificially grown plants for their food, and thoroughly cleansed water to drink. Astaria was now the smallest among her siblings, but she was still willing to do anything for the sake of her brothers' survival, despite their disagreement.

Part 2: Dual Timelines | 660 words

Val groaned as her alarm clock went off. Warm sunlight peered through her bed sheets, signaling her to begin the day. She was too tired from her graveyard shift, yet she knew she had to make the most out of her absence from work.
Her usual routine was observed: shower, quick breakfast, skincare, a prayer, then meditation. She felt as if her world would collapse the moment she did not follow her routine.
Today, she was set on decluttering her apartment. Clothes were scattered across her floor, tissues were found in every nook and cranny, and surfaces were starting to gather dust. It had been months since Val had cleaned, and though she had been guilty of it for that duration, how could she possibly find time to clean with her demanding job?
She began sorting out her clothes - segregating the dirty from the clean, each one sorted by its kind. She placed the dirty clothes in her laundry basket and folded the clean clothes before placing them in her closet.
Once she was done sorting her wardrobe, Val moved on with sorting her storage boxes. The boxes were worn and covered in dust; they had not been touched since she moved to the apartment. She planned to replace the old boxes with new ones, making sure to label them to avoid disorganization.
She wiped off the dust of the first box with a rag and slowly removed the cover. The box contained a mix of papers and trinkets from her teenage years. A gallery of memories filled her head as she sifted through the papers, finding cards, journal entries, and letters from old friends. She had a tinge of embarrassment reading through some of them, yet she could not hide her amusement and nostalgia.
Eventually, Val came across a pink, glittery envelope that was addressed to her with cut-outs of letters in different fonts. This envelope felt familiar just like the rest, but she could not put a finger on what was inside.
She opened the flap of the envelope with a message written on it.
“For Valerie Kinaiya's eyes only! Do not open until you're 20 years old or older,” Val read, curling her lips into a smile whilst giving a chuckle. She was twenty-five, she thought, so she might as well open it.
Val unfolded the paper, revealing a letter.
She recognized the handwriting.

Dearest Val,

Hi Val! It's me, Val from 2010! I'm ten years old right now and in 5th grade! My favorite colors are pink and purple, and my favorite bands are One Direction and the Jonas Brothers. I'm writing this at 11:00 PM, even though my bed time is at 10:00 PM. I had to do boring math homework before writing this.

Anyways, we should be talking more about YOU! You're 20+ years old already! You must be living the life. I have a few questions to ask you too!

1. Are you a filmmaker?
2. Are you rich and living in New York with mom and dad?
3. Did you meet One Direction or the Jonas Brothers? Or both? (That would be even cooler!)
4. Have you worked with Anne Hathaway or Julia Roberts?
5. Do you have a boyfriend yet?
6. Do you have a golden retriever dog?

If you say yes to all five questions, I am super proud of you! If not, that's still okay, I'm still proud of you! I just hope you didn't forget our dream of becoming a famous filmmaker. Although, if you changed your mind, that's still okay too! I just hope that you're happy with mom, dad, and your boyfriend! (If you have one!)

It's so cool to meet you, future Val! Just remember to have fun and inspire people with everything you're doing, whether it's through your films, your jokes, or whatever you're up to right now!
I love you, my super cool, funny, and awesome Val!

Lots of love,
Val

Part 3: Pacing | 1,001 words

Prompt 1: Being chased by someone

My heart raced as I ran through the cracked roads under the dark skies of Manhattan, changing streets whenever I could.
“Faster, Thea,” I whispered under my short, quick breaths.
The footsteps of the tall, shadowy figure got faster and louder by the minute.
“Stop running, little girl,” The man taunts.
I continued to run, until I noticed I was no longer familiar with the area I was in.
My body started to ache.
“Come on, keep running,” I whisper once more.
But I could no longer take it.
My feet gave way. My knees crashed against the pavement.
The man slowed down.
I felt his coat brush my shoes.
“What do you want with me!” I shout.
Nobody was there.
The pupils of my eyes widened. I started hyperventilating.
The man covers my face with a cloth, and the world goes black.


Prompt 2: Trapped in a room

My eyes opened, revealing a dark room. The door was behind me, containing 3 different bolts. In the corner stood a flickering lamp, emitting bursts of yellow light. Beside it was a work bench, containing a collection of tools unfamiliar to me. I was too focused on the tools that I didn’t see what was on the yellow walls.
Rows of pictures were plastered on all four sides of the room. Each one contained my face, and each one was taken in a different location. Park, mall, grocery, arcade, school. *My house.*
I tried to leave, but I fell, bringing the chair with me. My limbs were tied to the chair. I was stuck.
As my face was inches away from touching the floor, I heard a faint sound of keys, followed by the door bolts opening.
“Tsk, naughty girl. I wouldn’t just leave you free to wander my work room, would I, darling?” The man spoke in a posh accent.
“Put my chair upright now,” I demanded.
“I’m afraid I don’t cooperate well with brats.”
Rolling my eyes, I sighed in frustration. “Put my chair upright now, *please*.”
“Good girl.”
The chair I was in was lifted and repositioned upright.
I was face-to-face with my abductor. He was tall and lean. Faint wrinkles decorated his forehead. He had black hair mixed with gray white streaks. His brown eyes matched the brown suit he was wearing. He also had aviator glasses and a gold watch.
“I don’t know who you are, and I don’t know anything about this place. Now, what do you want with me?” I asked, maintaining eye contact with him.
Instead of a response, he pulled out his phone from his pocket. He began scrolling through whatever he had on his screen.
“Hey, look, I am totally not being a brat, so it would be real nice if you’d cooperate with me right now!” I raised my voice. I wanted to wave my hands at him, but I forgot I was tied up.
Eventually, the man put his phone back into his pocket before finally looking at me.
“I’m afraid I don’t have much time now, dear, if you can’t tell by my get-up. In the meantime, I’ll leave you here to wander with your eyes, and hopefully you’d wander enough for you to fancy this humble space of mine. Farewell!” The man left as he gave me a smile.
The door was shut once again, and the bolts were put back into place.
“I think I’ve wandered with my eyes long enough, and I hope you get caught by the police in your awful get-up! Farewell!” I shouted, hoping he would hear me.
My eyes wandered through the pictures on the walls. I tried making mental notes regarding any similarities in the pictures, hoping for a clue, but nothing seemed connected. They were all just pictures.
Each minute spent in the room started to feel longer. I slowly felt like I was going insane as I began entertaining myself by singing songs and creating stories in my head. I hope the man wasn’t secretly listening, or anyone at all, for that matter.
Once again, I heard the door being opened, except it was at a faster pace. Was the man caught? Is it the police?
The doors burst open, and a young man rushed in. He began untying the ropes holding me to the chair.
“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I asked, confused. Was he an accomplice?
“I’m getting you out of here. I’ll explain later. It’s up to you whether you trust me,” He said as the ropes were undone. I looked into his eyes—his eyes were of worry and pain. His blonde hair was ruffled, as if he had been in a fight with it. His clothes were slightly worn and ragged, too.
In the spur of the moment, I followed him.


Prompt 3: Escaping

We ran up flights of stairs, slowing down when I needed to breathe. We didn’t talk along the way, for our focus was on escaping.
Soon, we reached an exit door. I tried opening it
“It’s locked,” I said.
The young man pulled out a paperclip from his pocket and slid it through the lock. He moved it around until the door clicked.
We ran outside the exit door. I followed the man as we dashed through streets in broad daylight.
“My name’s Jordan,” He said as we ran.
“Thea,” I replied, struggling to form a sentence.
In the corner of my eye, I saw a tall man running after us.
He was wearing a brown suit.
Jordan and I ran faster, even if I felt my body couldn’t physically handle it.
Breathe. Run. Breathe.
We ran down stairs heading to a subway station, making our way through the crowded space.
“Look ahead!” Jordan shouted. There was a train about to close.
As if time froze, we barely made it into the train, squeezing ourselves through.
The tall man stood at a distance from the train, his eyes staring into my soul.

Part 4: Tie It All Together | 2,251 words

inspired by the song Our Last Summer by ABBA

“Come on, dad! Tell me a bedtime story,” A bubbly, young Ivanna insists, tugging on her fluffy, cotton blanket whilst looking admiringly at Harry, her father.
“Are you gonna listen, sweetheart? You might fall asleep midway,” Harry jokingly replies, stroking Ivanna’s hair while sitting on the opposite side of her bed.
“I promise I won’t! Pretty please, dad? With a cherry on top?” Ivanna asks, her pleading eyes softening her father’s heart.
Harry smiles warmly at Ivanna, her pleading eyes reminding him of his first and only lover. He looks into the distance of the bedroom, reminiscing his youthful days. He looks back at Ivanna.
“Why don’t I tell you the story of the summer I met your mother?” Harry asks.
Ivanna’s face lights up, her eyes widening with excitement.
“Yes please!” She says with a grin, focusing her attention on Harry.
Harry returns his gaze to the opposite side of the bedroom, recollecting his fond memories.
“Well then, let’s start from the beginning.”

It was a warm summer night in Paris. Gentle airs blanketed the atmosphere as Harry strolled along the iconic Champs-Élysées. The trees rustled as vehicles passed by the Arc de Triomphe. The majestic view of the arc put Harry in a trance-like state as he slowly walked towards it, unknowingly bumping into another person.
“Oh dear, my sincerest apologies-” Harry was caught off-guard as he looked at the person. Her wavy, blonde hair fell to her chest, complimenting her deep brown eyes. She wore a white floral maxi dress accompanied by beige-colored heeled sandals. She was near Harry’s height, and they both shared light skin. Her features captivated Harry, as if he were greeted by a deity.
“Cat got your tongue, did it?” The amused woman replied.
Harry blinked, regaining his senses. “I suppose so,” He replied with a chuckle.
“The name’s Corinne,” She said, extending her hand.
“I’m Harry.”
The two shook hands, exchanging smiles. The soft, smooth touch of Corinne’s hand comforted an enthralled Harry in the foreign environment.*
“Would you like to stroll along the Élysées with me? Of course, if it’s not much trouble with you,” Harry asked, eager to know more about his new friend.*
“It would be a pleasure, Harry.”
The two continued walking along the avenue, stopping by different cafes to get drinks. They soon made it to the Arc de Triomphe, where they stood gazing at the stars. It had been a quiet stroll, Harry figured.
“So, what fancies your interest, Corinne?”
“Not much, though I do enjoy some politics and philosophy myself if you’re into that kind of shebang.”
“I indeed am into that kind of shebang.” Harry wasn’t too knowledgeable in either subject, but he was interested in whatever Corinne was interested in. He quietly listened with an intent expression as she talked about French politics and various philosophical topics, nodding and reacting when it was appropriate.
“What about you, Harry? You haven’t said much in the time I was talking,” Corinne asked with a curious expression.
Harry opened his mouth to reply, but closed it again out of doubt. He looked at his surroundings, hoping to gather ideas, but he was still left clueless.
”I’m sorry, Corinne, but to be honest, I lack knowledge in both of your fields of interest. It was a * move for me to lie to you, although I did eagerly listen to your political and philosophical discussions. I couldn’t say much about French politics either since I’m not even French. I can always try learning more about politics and philosophy myself so I’m able to talk with you about those matters better. Again, I’m terribly sorry,” Harry confessed, looking at the ground with a disappointed look in his face. He didn’t look at Corinne, waiting for her to leave or to insult him.
Instead, he felt a pat on the shoulder.
“Harry, I can easily tell when someone is absolutely clueless as to what I’m talking about. I just didn’t admit it to see if you’d tell the truth. Don’t worry, you’re fine,” Corinne affirmed, giving Harry a reassuring smile. Harry looked back to Corinne, nodding in gratitude.

“What happened after that, dad?” Ivanna asks, her eyes sleepy yet full of eagerness.
“I walked her home, and she asked me a question before leaving,” Harry answered.
“What question?”

There were hardly any people left in the street. It was past midnight. Harry and Corinne stood by the doorstep of Corinne’s house, exchanging contact numbers and saying their goodbyes.
“Can you choose to love someone?”
Harry was perplexed by the question, much more why Corinne had asked it.
“I don’t think I can answer that directly, Corinne,” Harry answered, shrugging.
"You don’t have to. It’s a philosophical question. Take time to ponder it,” Corinne responded.
“I will then. Goodnight, Corinne. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Goodnight, Harry.”
As Harry was about to cross the street, he heard Corinne’s call in the distance.
“I had fun today, Harry. Thank you.”
“Likewise, Corinne. Thank you.”
Harry returned to his hotel that night, his heart full and his spirits lifted.

“How long did you stay in France?”
”Initially, I was to stay for only two weeks, but I had my stay extended to a month.”
“Was it because of mom?”
“Because of her,” Harry echoed, a wistful expression across his face.

The weeks passed by as Harry and Corinne explored Paris.
“Today was a blast, wasn’t it?” Corinne asked, laughing as they went home from their stroll along the Seine, both of them soaking wet from the unexpected rain. Their hands intertwined as they strolled, cautious of the slippery sidewalks. Corinne began to fall for Harry’s charm and honesty, while Harry has fallen in deep enough for Corinne’s knowledge and humor.
“I could not agree more, especially the part where a certain someone burned their tongue on a freshly baked croissant,” Harry teased, adding to the laughter.
“Hey! I was hungry. It took you long enough to get ready for breakfast at the restaurant,” Corinne teased back.
They walked to Harry’s hotel room, for it was nearer than Corinne’s house. They spent the afternoon there as they waited for the rain to settle down, listening to music and sipping on hot chocolate.
“I have an idea for tomorrow’s activity,” Harry announced, walking out of the bathroom, changed in a fresh pair of clothes.
“What is it?” Corinne asked, getting up from the couch. She was wearing Harry’s spare shirt and shorts, for they had both taken showers to cleanse themselves of the rainwater.
“Tomorrow morning, we have a picnic by the Eiffel tower. You’ll bring the blanket, and I’ll bring the food. We’ll also take pictures and talk about anything under the sun. How does that sound?”
Corinne jumps from the couch and gives Harry a warm hug. “It’s perfect, Harry.”
Harry is flustered from the hug, but hugs Corinne back. It was an impromptu yet intimate moment for the both of them. They both loved each other, and they were both aware of that.
Hours after, the rain stopped. Harry walked Corinne back to her house. Once again, they bid farewell, hugging each other dearly.

“Dad, why are you crying?” Ivanna asked, worried about her father’s expression. She sits upright to hug Harry.
“Oh, it’s nothing darling,” Harry responds, hugging her back. “I just feel quite nostalgic. And I’m not crying, I’m just tearing up. Don’t worry about me, sweetheart. Would you still like to continue the story?”
“Of course, dad! I wanna hear the whole thing.”

The sun rose as Harry got ready for his picnic date with Corinne. He buttons down his white top to match his khaki shorts and sandals, and neatly styles his hair after. He packs a basket with fruit and sandwiches, along with his favorite pair of sunglasses. A while later, he grabs his wallet and keys before setting off.
“Right on time, I see,” Corinne said as she opened the door, giving Harry a hug.
“Specially for you,” Harry replied, pulling out a bouquet of dahlias, dandelions, orchids, and roses. He picked this up at a flower shop near Corinne’s house as a surprise.
Corinne cups her hands over her mouth, shocked and warmed by the surprise. She slowly takes the bouquet from Harry’s hands, admiring each flower’s unique beauty.
“I love it, Harry,” She whispers with a grin, looking fondly at Harry.
“And I love you, Corinne,” Harry whispers back.
Corinne kisses Harry softly on the cheek before grabbing his hand and running.
“Come on, let’s go have our picnic date!” She exclaims, looking back at Harry as they joyfully ran to the Eiffel tower.
The morning was a perfect dream come true for the starstruck young love birds. They conversed over a multitude of topics under the summer sun and gentle breeze, enjoying the beauty of Paris. The setting was simple, but what mattered to them was each other’s company.
“Do you remember when you asked me, ‘can you choose to love someone?’” Harry asked, looking into the distance. The conversation quieted down as they began to enjoy the scenery and the food.
“Yeah, that was the day we met. Why?” Corinne replied, observing Harry’s wandering gaze.
“Well, I think I have an answer to that now.”
“And?”
*Harry turns to Corinne, immersing himself in her eager eyes.
“I came here to Paris on a vacation alone before formally inheriting my father’s business in England. That night, I was simply enjoying myself and seeing what scenery Paris had to offer when I unexpectedly bumped into you. I was enchanted by the Arc de Triomphe at that moment, but I was enthralled by your beauty. I could’ve just apologized and moved on with my life, but I chose to befriend you and know you better. With that being said, my answer is yes, you can choose to love someone. To love someone is a choice, and I chose to love you, Corinne. I choose you.”
Harry gets down on his knees with his arms open, inviting Corinne for a hug.
“From then until now and the future to come, I choose you, Corinne. I will always choose you. Only you.”
Time stops for the moment. The two hearts beat passionately in unison.
Corinne rushes into Harry’s arms. Their lips touch.
“I choose you too, Harry."

More tears flow from Harry’s nostalgic eyes. He is embraced tightly by Ivanna, who has her head leaned against Harry’s hip. Harry wraps an arm around her, the other wiping his tears.
“It was a trial for us both when I returned to England,” Harry continued to narrate. “We would send each other letters every week or two, and I’d come back to France every month. I proposed to her with an engagement ring in front of Notre Dame cathedral, and we had an intimate wedding in a small church in her neighborhood. Soon after, she migrated to England to live with me, and then we were pregnant with you. It was an exciting journey for us both. There were challenges that came along with it, but we were both ready to take on the next chapter.”
Harry paused for a while, taking deep breaths as he shifted his glance from Ivanna to the bedroom wall.
“She… she had complications during the pregnancy. The doctors advised her to abort you, but she refused. She loved you, Ivanna. She gave you her life because she chose you. She chose to love you, and you should always remember that.”
Harry and Ivanna exchanged tearful smiles, hugging each other as comfort.
“Ah, darling, could you please excuse me for a bit? I’ll just get something,” Harry said as he left the room. He came back shortly with a piece of paper in his hand. He sat on the bed again, handing the paper to Ivanna.
“Before she left, your mother wrote this and asked me to give it to you when you’re old enough to understand. You can read it whenever you’re ready to.”
Ivanna examined the paper. It was yellowish due to exposure to the elements, and it had Ivanna’s name written on it. She carefully unfolded the paper, revealing a letter.

August 10, 2000

Dearest Ivanna,

You are reading this because you’re old enough to understand where I am, and also because your father has already told you the story of how we met.
I named you Ivanna, meaning “God is gracious.” Indeed, God has been gracious, for He blessed me with a partner who was willing to choose me each day, and a baby girl who your father and I both choose to love eternally. The way your father and I met might seem like something straight out of a novel or a movie, but I see it as God’s blessing.
Whenever you feel down, always remember that there is at least one person out there who chooses you. When you get a partner, make sure that he doesn’t just love you—make sure he chooses to love you. Even in your darkest moments, make sure that person still chooses you.
Please be kind and understanding of your father. He may seem strong, but I know he is hurting in my absence.
See every moment in your life as a blessing and opportunity. Ask God to guide you, and always take on challenges with a growth mindset.
Respect everyone you meet in life. You never know how you would grow from your relationships.

Take care always, my chosen one.

Forever yours,
Mom

Vetch- shyness
Elder blossom- compassion
Indian Pink- I die if neglected

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Dedicated to- bookworms

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Idiom- Hit the Hay

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Status- Win

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Status- Win

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Part 1

Topic- write a scene including descriptions of the setting, characters etc. After completing this, swap your writing with someone else's, and write about their passage ten years in the future.

Part 2

Topic- write dual timelines

Part 3

Topic- Connect story prompts together.
Prompts- Drowning, Sinking // Bullying, Hatred // Overbearing emotions

Part 4
Topic- Use 2 out of 3 concepts in the previous parts and make a story

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