swc megathread ⌘ july '24

BookHuggers2022

Daily for 7/16/24
567 words

You look around at the empty room and wonder when something is going to happen. You were put in this story for a reason, right?
A voice echoes through the room, making you jump. “Sorry, I’m stuck on what to put you in.”
Another second passes, and you begin to relax. What was that?
“Okay, sure. What archetype?” The voice asks again.
“Ummmm…” you start. “Are you talking to me?”
The voice doesn’t respond for a second, and then; “Okay.”
The empty room evaporates, and you are left in nothingness. You can see a blurry outline of a face in front of you. The voice is even louder now. “You are being placed in an Urban Fiction. Your name is Christina Lane, but you go by Chrissy. You are fourteen and an only child, but you have many friends at school.” It looks like the giant face is who’s talking, but you can’t tell.
“Okay.” you nod. Was this the story you were going to be a part of?
✧
You don’t know what The Voice (as you’ve come to start thinking of it) was thinking of, putting you in this story. You wanted to be part of the experiment specifically to get away from your mundane life. This story is even more mundane than your life.
“Hey, Chrissy!” You sigh. That would be Melissa, who is the only one who actually believes this sort of life could be exciting. You pray The Voice can tell what’s happening to you right now and think as hard as you can; MAKE SOMETHING INTERESTING HAPPEN!
“Do you know where Ally is?” Melissa asks. You are about to celebrate that The Voice heard you, when you remember that Ally is sick today and said that she wouldn’t be here today anyways.
“She said she was out sick today, remember?” Your voice is sharp with bitterness about this story. What if you are stuck here forever?
✧
Once you are alone, The Voice speaks again. Silently, you think, Finally!
“There has been an issue with the story generating machine, and the plot element has a bug. Nothing will happen in your story until we manage to fix it, and even then …” The Voice trails off.
“What!” You yell. You are tired of waiting in this boring, perfect town, and if there is something else, you want to know what it is.
You hear The Voice take a deep breath and continue. “It has already generated your story, so you might never get a plot. And we might not be able to get you out.”
You take a deep breath. This has to be a dream. You wanted adventure, only to be stuck in this town that will go on forever with nothing happening. You will grow old, and some people might be content with this life, but you most definitely aren’t. Perhaps you could try to find adventure, but will there ever be a conflict to overcome? That would mean there would be a plot. Your thoughts are circling, spiraling into a trap of darkness where none of this is real.
Your escape is interrupted by The Voice again. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t what you-”
“STOP!” you yell. “I’ve had enough of you.” You can feel The Voice leaving, like a monstrous presence that is now gone. You lost that annoyance, but you lost your safety net too.
You will find adventure in this perfect world somehow, you tell yourself. But you know it is a lie.

#Bi-FiFTW

Last edited by BookHuggers2022 (July 16, 2024 14:48:20)

Lirey

Another Random Thing I wrote (603 Words)

The statue towered over its surroundings, making the buildings pale in comparison. The almost hundred feet tall houses were but a stepping stone in comparison to what they surrounded. The merchant stalls were but blades of grass nestling around the tree which was the statue of the maglaxies’ deity. Throughout all of the lands most species would celebrate and worship the deity of the beginning. The one that created all life and all to interact with. The one who spilled its tears into the rivers to let its children play in the refreshing water and to stay clean and healthy. The one who personally shaped each mountain so future painters and archaeologists could marvel at its glory. The one who breathed life into the valleys and meadows to accompany the plants. The one that filled each corner of the main lands with special gifts to help every animal thrive. The one that keeps constant watch over them to ensure its creations are never in direct harm. The deity of the beginning was what everyone loved, what everyone worshiped. The deity of the end was the opposite. If everything had a beginning it ensured that everything would have an end. It gave moments a perfection to it, not everything lasts forever, and one had to take all it in before the deity of the end took it away. It was something everyone looked down upon, just a necessary force to balance everything out. It made everything a gift, something special. It breathed meaning in every action as nothing could last forever. Kingdoms could rise and fall, friendships and truces could come and go. The deity of the end gave everything meaning as it could never last forever, making people strive for perfection or plead for a moment longer with the deity of the beginning.
Nothing would last forever, which made every moment special. Nothing, except the maglaxies that was. The only thing the deity of the end created, it ended nothing and out came maglaxies. The maglaxian reign started before time was created and wouldn’t end even after time itself breathed its final breath. The only thing the deity of the end sought to protect was them. One of its only creations, its favorite child. Maglaxians contained the DNA of life, the code to the universe. Their powers were not drawn from simple magic or alchemic means, but from the endless void that was the deity of the end. It had no real form, often imagined to look similar to a maglaxy. The most common statues of it that were scattered around the Maglaxy Kingdom often depicted it to have three eyes, one for the Maglaxies, another for the deity of the beginning, and another for all other things that must eventually end. It had a pair of wings like every other maglaxy, but the tails weren’t commonly agreed upon; however. Some showed it with five tails, some with four, even some with one. Maglaxians would pray to it everyday, unlike everyone else who’d pray to the deity of the beginning. The castle had special statues dedicated to it, and the royals considered their depictions of it to be more accurate, as it was rumored that the queen could directly talk to the deity of the end. These statues would have two pairs of wings, the same three eyes, and five huge tails. The tails were bigger than any other maglaxy, and tended to wrap around its figure instead of being its own separate part. Perhaps that was to conserve materials or symbolize and show the mystery that was the deity of the end.

icebunny11

Name: Ava
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Content: July 16th Daily
Wordcount: 540/500
Topic: Spin and write

Jester
Hi-Fi
Business hub
Plot Twist

Liam ran the souvenir shop for the empress herself. I know right, how weird is it that a queen has a souvenir shop? Liam couldn't question because she was, you know, the queen, but he could still think about it in herself. How famous was she that she had fridge magnets of her face on sale?

Every time a customer walked in, he tried to guess what they were. They were one of the three- a super emotional pregnant woman, a giant and probably unhealthy republican fan, or someone with a lot of money. Sometimes they were all three, and that was when Liam knew he hit the jackpot. That day, three people of all three types walked in, and he knew that soon his drawers would be filling up with notes of crisp money soon enough.

“Had a little too much of sun, have you?” he said jokingly, noting their tired faces, their necks covered with sweat. One of them slightly glared at him while the other woman smiled politely at his joke and the last one sat down wearily on the leather stool. Liam took it as his sign to shut up and offered glasses of water to each one of them

“So, what would you ladies like to buy today?” he asked, leaning on the glass displays with his forearms. They eyed the different items in the display with eager eyes, the water successfully cooling them down. Though the magnets and cups were a bit tacky, they had tiny diamonds inlaid inside them. That's why most of the time Liam was alone in the shop- nobody could ever afford a black cup with the queen's family picture on it if it cost four hundred and thirty dollars, even if it did have three diamonds where her crown was. Her smiling face was on every single object in the store- Liam was lucky it wasn't printed on his forehead.

The women in the shop that day, however, seemed to value money as much as they valued the sole of a shoe.

“We'll take three cups, three magnets, three tapestries-” the first woman started to say, pointing at the things she wanted while her friends nodded behind her. He could only stand with his mouth slightly ajar while she listed out pretty much everything around him.

“Sooo… Do you want to buy the shop?” he asked, trying to crack a joke to forget about his shocked state just a few moments before.

The woman looked at him with a straight face and answered, “Yes.”

There was a short silence. Liam blinked at her, and she blinked at him back.

He turned his body in a full circle to observe the shop. “That'll be more than a million pounds. You're joking, right?”

“No,” she said again with the straightest face ever seen in mankind. Her other friends seemed to be uninterested as if this had happened several times that day. He looked at her with wide eyes. “But ma'am, the majesty will gut me if I sell everything in this shop to you and just quit my-”

Safe to say, Liam walked out that day with a briefcase that was filled with cash instead of his usual working items.

Go back

Last edited by icebunny11 (July 19, 2024 16:28:20)

silverlynx-

Daily 16

Warning: Mentions of blood, death and gore. If you are uncomfortable with this, I suggest you don’t read any further.

Pain tore through my lungs and I cried out, my voice raw and earth-shattering. My best friend gazed down at me, his eyes filled with tears. He grabbed hold of my hand gently.
“I don’t want you to go, Yan,” He sobbed, tears splashing onto my blood-soaked chest.
I breathed in shakily, and I knew it would be one of my last. The gash in my chest seared and burned; my hand was gripping Alfie’s as tight as I could. I saw him wince in pain as I clutched onto him desperately.
“I don't want to leave you.” I whispered.
For a moment our eyes locked and I saw love pulsing in his face, warm and hopeful. And yet it was cold and dark, the cruellest kind of love battering his soul. I smiled one last time, hurt rushing through my cheeks. Then, a dizziness came over me and everything came unfocused. I breathed in slowly, for the last time, as the world slipped out of my grip and I saw the sun one last time beneath my fluttering lids and gave in to Death. They closed and all my breath went out of me. The pain was gone. I was dead.

I woke up on a gravelly slope, strange, strangled noises echoing in the back of my head.
I’m alive.
But I couldn’t be, I was dead, I had to be. This place couldn’t be heaven. All the terrible sounds that filled my head, and hacked at my skull. This couldn’t be heaven. Curiosity overcame my fear and I opened my eyes.

Complete utter darkness enveloped me straight away, I was cloaked in a freezing shawl. The air around me was cruel and harsh, a wind biting at my face. It slapped my flushed cheeks until I felt stripped raw of anything left of me. I shivered violently and waited. All around me, I felt other presences, though, like me, they were deadly silent. There was a hush in the air, as if we all knew something was going to happen.

That was when I heard a terrible screeching above me and saw a flash in the air. Something sharp and cold brushed my face, and squawking filled the air. Then there was another light, a lantern, lighting up where I was.

I was sitting on a riverbank, dark swirling water threatening to swallow me up. A boat glided over the smooth water, and in it, a hooded figure. It beached on the shore with a crunching noise.
“Come on then, I haven't all day! The dead can’t be kept waiting!”
The dead?
I glanced around me nervously. Other curled-up people lay on the shore, their faces concealed with dark cloaks. I lifted up my hand. So was I.
One-by-one, everyone began to file onto the boat, shuffling anxiously. Some fought back, their voices laced with fury and anger.
“I’m not dead!”
“Send me back!”
“Get me out of here!”
I covered my ears, tears running down my cheeks.
“Come on, dear.”
I felt a cold arm around me and I shied away. Then I saw an old woman leaning on a wooden stick. I smiled at her warmly.
“Thank you.”
Another girl brushed past me, just as cold, her skin pale and taut. I went after her, and when I stepped on the boat, I sat next to her. I looked down into the water fearfully. Rubbish polluted the water and a plastic bottle jumped into the air. It was strange to see something so human in a place so ghostly.
I shook my head. I had more important things to worry about.

I moved closer to the girl.
“Hi,” I breathed, “I’m Yana. You can call me Yan. What’s yours?”
She looked at me coldly, then her expression wavered. She gave me a small smile.
“I’m… Ami. You can call me Ami.”
I giggled and everyone turned to look at me. A man gave me a fierce look.
“How can you laugh in such a haunted place? This is the Underworld, girl!”
And then I realised where I was. The place I had learned about in my history lesson. The dreaded Underworld. A nightmare for most, paradise for a lucky few. I would probably be taken to the Fields of Asphodel, where people who hadn’t done anything terrible or special in their lives withered away bit-by-bit.
“Ami?”
“Yeah.”
“Can I stick with you… for now, I mean? I’m all alone here, and so are you, and I’d like a friend.”
She nodded shyly. I grinned.
“Now don’t touch the water.” The boatmaster warned us sternly. “It gives you immortal powers that can be…”
He trailed off as he saw me run my fingers through the thick black water. It was heavy on my hands, but as soon as I touched it, an incredible tingle rushed through me.
“Get away from that!” He yelled, his face contorted with anger. I smiled smugly.
“I don’t want to be dead. I’ll find a way back. And having immortal fingers might just help a little bit for my Great Escape, huh?”
I wiggled my fingers at him.
He sighed.
“Don’t mess with me. You don’t want me to send you to Hades himself, do you?”
I flinched.
“Now why would you do that?”
Inside of me, I felt fear writhing around, coiled around me. This was just a cover. All I wanted was Alfie. I just wanted to feel the warm touch of his hand once more, and look up at him and never let go of him.
The boatmaster turned back to his rowing and tutted.
“Can’t ever get enough of ‘em. Don’t even get paid much. I ain’t an idiot.” He muttered.

“Ami?”
She turned around slowly.
“We have to get back. My boyfriend is up there, and I swear he’s gonna do something awful. Like… kill himself. I have to stop him. And I need you to help. We need to get to Hades and I’ll come up with a way to persuade him. But I need you to annoy the boatmaster with me. Do anything. Splash water in his face. Call him names. Just little things. Then we need to do something awful. To make us get an audience Hades. Ok?”
A mischievous sparkle lit up her eyes. “Sure.”

“Hey… BoatyMcBoatFace? Thirsty?” She called out.
She flung the freezing water onto his face and they cascaded down like tears raining from the sky. They scattered on the other passengers as well and they grinned (well, most of them).
He shuddered.
“These waters can be extremely dangerous. You could drown in them!”
I raised my eyebrows.
“I’m pretty sure you can drown in most rivers, sir.”
He turned away again. I pressed a finger to my lips and I slowly crept up behind him.
“Boo!” I shouted. Hu jumped suddenly and turned around, the boat suddenly veering off course.
“Get away from me, child!” He screamed.
I raised up my hands in mock surrender and backed off slowly. Ami gave me a meaningful look and raised her hand.

“Ahem.”
No response.
“Ahem!”
“If you carry on -”
His face softened as he saw Ami’s trembling face.
“I’m sorry, sir, but may I go to the toilet?”
“I’m sorry, but the only toilets here are in Elysium or in the Palace of Hades.”
“May I enter there then?”
He closed his eyes gently.
“I knew working here would be difficult…” He murmured. “No one may enter the Palace of Hades unless under serious circumstances. Understand?”
“Yes, sir. Although… Could I go by that rock when we’ve arrived?”
“No.”
“Please?”
“I said, no!”
Ami glanced at me quickly, her lips curving into a smile.
“But, sir, I think I’m about to wet myself.”
“No.”
She stood up now, clutching her bladder dramatically.
“But sir, I really need to go!”
“Leave. Me. Alone!”
Ami folded her arms. By now we were docking. The boat hit the wooden post and jerked and everyone cried out. Ami, unperturbed by this, started to jump about making the boat rock even more. I clutched the side quickly.
“I really need to go!” She repeated.
The boatmaster turned around in exasperation.
“Seeing as I have no choice, go in behind there. And be quick.”
“Please, sir, my friend needs to come with me. Please?”
He clenched his fists.
“Whatever.”

Ami grabbed my hand and dragged me behind a large rock.
“That bought us some time. Any plans?”
I nodded.
“We need to do something really bad. Like, really bad. I was thinking maybe we could punch him in the face?”
Ami snorted.
“His face looks as hard as iron. Anyways, that’s not bad enough. We could… push him in the Styx?”
“We couldn’t!” I exclaimed in horror.
“This is your boyfriend, right? And he seems like a real brat. He deserves it for a bit. Maybe it will soften him, being immortal. We would pull him out.”
“Ok.” I nodded.

17 minutes later…

I scrunched my eyes shut as me and Ami shoved him off the steep bank. I heard a blood-curdling shriek and a lot of splashing. Next thing I knew he was standing next to me, dripping wet and very angry.
“Oops!” I laughed.
“Furies!”
There was a screeching and lots of flapping in the air, and three strange woman-like creatures landed next to me, their amber eyes glowing brightly in the dark.
“What is it you seek?” One of them asked, their voice papery and dry.
“These two brats have been harassing me ever since we started the journey and just pushed me into the Styx! I demand that you take them to Hades this instance!”
“We cannot grant this. Our lord only requires the presence of those most cruel and evil.”
“These spirits are cruel and evil!”
“As you wish, sir.”
One of them sniggered and there was a dangerous glint in their eyes.

All of a sudden, I was being lifted off my feet up into the air, I scrambled for a grip on anything. I suddenly saw the world ( well, Underworld) spinning around me and I screamed, swallowing nervously. Then I blacked out.

“Go back to whichever terrible place you come from!” A deep voice resonated from far away.
My eyes flickered open. I was in a dark yawning cavern with dim lights flickering around me. Before me sat a huge figure, robed in black. Hades.
I hauled myself to my feet and addressed the Lord of the Dead. I fell to my knees, shaking.
“Lord.” I whispered.
“On your feet. Now!”He ordered fiercely.
“I don’t know what possessed you to come to this place, but it shall be the last place you shall ever see, insolent children. Furies!”
The creatures stood up to their commander.
“Feed these children to Cerberus.”
They nodded dutifully and advanced on us. Then, I had a flashback.

“Orpheus, in Hades’ dark palace, was filled with love for Eurydice and won over the Lord of the Dead with his beautiful music and the deepest love Hades had ever seen.” My teacher carried on, her voice monotonous and boring…

That was it! I would play music!
I pulled out the little wooden flute that I kept on a string around my neck, and started playing. It was a song full of sadness and grief, and yet the greatest love ever known. My fingers moved swiftly along the worn holes and the tune rang out clear and sweet.

1 hour later

I climbed the last of the steps, hand-in-hand with Ami and shielded my face as the sun smiled down on me. I bathed in its warmth and fell onto warm sweet grass, smiling softly. A familiar face peered over me, creased with worry.
“Alfie!”

Last edited by silverlynx- (July 16, 2024 18:44:12)

Cobalt_Titan

JULY 16th DAILY

Reeve and I lie on the roof of our palace. He holds his hands up, aligning the stars with his fingers. “Do you see them?” he asks. I look over at him. “You know I don’t.” “The constellations, Ryn. There are so many of them. You’re telling me you don’t see any?” “They’re just stars, Reeve,” I argue. He sighs, letting his hand fall. “Okay, Aevryn.” I sit up. “What do you see?” A wistful smile spreads across his face. “I see cities. Nations. Empires. Eons before and eons after.” I give him a dubious look. “I think Faze gave you a little too much redeye.” He rolls his eyes. “You just don’t have an imagination.” “I have an imagination!” I exclaim defensively. He turns to look at me. “Really?” “Yes,” I reply. “Then why can’t you see the constellations?” he asks, raising an eyebrow. “Because they’re not there!” I say. He gazes back up at the stars. “If you say so, Ryn.”

My mother looks distastefully at the throngs of people pushing their way through the Diamond. Then she lets out a long sigh. “Aevryn, darling, isn’t this detestable? Our beautiful city marred by the sight and—” she takes in a breath and immediately covers her nose — “stench of these horrible Low.” I don’t answer. I’ve spent the last decade trying not to have an opinion. I certainly am not going to start now — not even at the 50th Symposium.

We sit on the balcony of our palace in the city of the Crown: Risewick. Today marks the beginning of the Symposium — a weeklong gathering of the leaders of all the Echelons. Low, Coin, and Nobel alike all arrive in Risewick, thrilled to get a taste of the life of the Crown. My life.

My mother turns to see behind her. “Dee-mus.” Deimos Sophia stands behind us with an untouched tray of tennil tea. He inclines his head respectfully to my mother. “Yes, my lady?” “Does your kind spend their entire lives waiting for this moment?” I twist in my seat to catch his reaction. His jaw clenches for a split second, but his temperate demeanor soon returns, though I catch what I suspect to be a flicker of anger in his dark brown eyes. “I wouldn’t know, my lady. I’ve spent my entire life in this palace.” His voice is calm, serene. My mother dismisses his statement with a wave of her hand. “Yes, yes, but don’t you know?” Deimos doesn’t respond, only extends the tray. “Would you like some tea, Lady Peyeros?” My mother ignores him, looking back toward the Diamond. “Aevryn, won’t you go and see if our…guests have arrived?” I rise to my feet without a word, eager to get away from my mother and her superciliousness. I sidestep Deimos, giving him my best look of apology, and walk inside.

I take the stairs down to the antechamber, my pale blue dress trailing behind me. To my surprise, I come face-to-face with someone clearly not a Low. He’s clad in the silver armor of a Peace, to my surprise. Immediately, he gets down on one knee, bowing his head. “My lady.” I step back in surprise. “Oh, no, you don’t have to—” “Who are you?” I suck in a breath at the sound of my mother’s sharp voice. The Peace rises. “Soren Charlotte. I’ve been reassigned to protect you and your family for the duration of the Symposium.” My mother steps forward, arching an eyebrow. “I see.” She looks him up and down and to my surprise, Soren maintains eye contact. “Lady Peyeros?” he prompts after several moments of silence. “Yes.” “If you don’t mind, can you direct me to the soldiers’ quarters?” “Aevryn will do it.” “Mother,” I start to protest, but she cuts me off with a harsh glare. “I don’t trust any of the servants to do it without filling his head with any of that Contracrown propaganda. You know where the quarters are. I expect you won’t delay yourself.” With that, she whisks away to some private but lavish corner of our palace. Soren and I look at each other. “I’m sorry—” He shakes his head. “My lady, I’d really just like to get to my room and prepare for the coming days.” I nod. “Of course.”

I lead him to the entrance of the soldiers’ quarters where the captain is waiting for us. She gives me a brusque nod and they both disappear into the rooms, leaving me in the hallway. I go back upstairs where my mother launches into another soliloquy about the beggarly Lows making our way through our city — no doubt plotting to take down the entire thing. I sit back down and let my gaze sweep over the city, tuning my mother out. My eyes land on one woman among the hundreds of people walking throughout the Diamond. Her face is tired as she tries to keep her three children from getting away from her. Somehow, her gaze flicks up to our balcony and I’m sure I must be imagining it, but our eyes meet and hers narrow. Her nose wrinkles in disgust and she looks away. “Aevryn?” My mother breaks into my thoughts. “What do you think?” I freeze.

I haven't had an opinion for ten years and now she asks?

silverlynx-

Critique for @Sandy-Dunes

First of all, I really enjoyed reading through this. It was very cleverly written and I liked how it swapped between the two character’s points of view! I also liked reading through something that was in the romance genre, as I’ve never really read or written that sort of theme!

In general, I think you could have made it flow a bit more smoothly, as the piece seemed almost quite jagged. This was due mainly to the fact that there were lots of gaps between each line and lots of short paragraphs. These can work really well when trying to create suspense, but too many makes it too difficult to read clearly and makes it harder to understand.

I also don’t get the line ‘So Simon didn’t respond to the question’ because there wasn’t any question. However, this was quite a minor detail, and I didn’t notice until I’d read it a few times

I think at the part when it says ‘Germain returned to a warm welcome’ you could have a little bit of context to where he’s returning to because it can be a bit confusing for your reader and it’s easier if you can picture the place in your mind when reading!

I think for the characters, to make your reader connect with them more, you should add a little emotional moment for one of them e.g they’re crying, or maybe just add something that makes your reader know them more, because it can help to make the story a bit clearer.

After the timeskip, I honestly get quite confused because I don’t really understand what is going on in that paragraph so maybe add a bit of context again

Again, I really enjoyed reading through this and loved getting to understand the story and the way the start and finish were the same as it adds some nice suspense hehe I hope this critique helped! <3

Last edited by silverlynx- (July 16, 2024 19:37:24)

silverlynx-

Part 2
2154 words

I relaxed back in my hammock as the droplets of rain trickled down my face. Everywhere shone in emerald colours, damp and moist. Hummingbirds flitted from tree to tree, their sweet song carrying on the warm breeze. I gazed up at the marbled pink sky.

“Atlas! Atlas!”
I flinched, startled.
“Hey, it’s only me, Rhea.”
I sighed.
“You really scared me, you know!” I laughed.
I grinned at her. Her raven black hair fell in braids to her waist and her rich brown skin shone out. She looked at me with solemn amber eyes. My brow furrowed in confusion. Rhea was such a happy, light person. And yet her eyes were like pits of darkness that drew me in.
“What is it, Rhea?”
She shook her head slowly and grabbed hold of my hand. Her touch was surprisingly cool and soft.
“Atlas… your dad… he’s missing, Attie.”
Her voice cracked in the middle of her sentence. I shook off her hand.
“No, it can’t be. Surely, it has to be someone else. This is a joke, isn’t it? Rhea?”
She breathed in shakily and looked at me sympathetically.
“It’s not. He’s missing.”
“But, Rhea…”
“I’m sorry, Attie. But everyone has losses. I’ve lost so many people in my life. Mama. Rhena. Rhate. And look at me. I’m 15 and I’m perfectly healthy and happy. He may still be alive. I understand you were close to him… but you have to carry on.”
I felt a burning anger rush through me.
“How could you? Don’t you even care about him? He was my father, Rhea, my father!”
Rhea smiled softly.
“He is your father.”
I clenched my fists.
“You don’t know that!”
She stared right into my eyes. “He’s alive in your heart, Atlas. Forever.”
“Leave me alone!” I yelled.
Rhea stepped back, tears forming in her eyes.
“Rhea, I’m-”
“Forget it.”
“Seriously, Rhea, please!”
“I said, forget it!”
She stormed off, her eyes glinting dangerously. I made after her, but she turned back, a ferocious anger lighting up her face. I had never seen her behave like this before. Never.
Help me, God. I need her. Help me.

I sat motionless at the dinner table, my lemongrass-flavoured chicken forgotten on my plate. All I could think of was Father. Where was he? Was he safe? Was he dead? Was he still fighting? Why had he ever agreed - chosen - to fight in this stupid war. I fingered the woven mat my plate was sat on. The coarse fabric scratched my fingers. I buried my head in my hands. I felt like the world was ending. I had made my best friend abandon me. My father was lost in the midst of a terrible war. I myself was lost. My mind was its own battle.
“Atlas?”
I looked up, my tear-streaked face making my mother gasp.
“Atlas, we all have grief in our lives. Sometimes we just need to go over the obstacles in life and look back with happiness at the person they were, instead of sadness for who they could have been. Your father was a great man. He had a good life. Now you need the courage to have a good one too. Be strong for me.”
I recalled Rhea’s comforting words.
He is your father.

“He’s still alive, Mama. Stop making it sound like he’s dead! He’s going to come back, just you see!” I choked out.
“Atlas, he’s dead. I know he is.”
“He’s missing, not dead! You’ve just betrayed him, that’s all. I’m going to find him and tell him how awful and what terrible things you said about him. Just you wait!” I snarled, trying to look fiercely at my Mother.
Her mouth fell open.
“You’re 16, Atlas. You should behave better than this! Be glad that I’m not like other mothers. They would beat you if you said such unforgivable things. You simply cannot say that to me!”
I leaned towards her.
“Like you care about Father, Mama. When he comes back, he’ll hate you. I’m going to find him.”
“Bu-”
“That’s the end of it!”
I stomped out of the room and slammed the door. And just like that, all my hate and fury rushed out, leaving bitter remorse.

I rested my head against my cool pillow and ran my fingers through my hair. I closed my eyes gently and saw Rhea’s infectious smile. Then I saw her expression of astonishment and grief. Then her beautiful eyes changed to a dusty green. They were Mama’s. I saw her power. I saw her brandishing a cane at me. I saw her embracing father. I had just seen her betraying him.

I was going to find my Father.

I swung my legs out of the side of my bed and silently made my way to the kitchen. I picked up my bag and piled mangoes and papayas into it and a hunk of bread and some cheese. The smell wafted up, like a gift from heaven. I gritted my teeth and took a swig of ice-cold water before placing the flask carefully in a small compartment at the bottom. Then, in the pocket, I placed two pictures. One was of my father, his weathered face looking out at the camera, his eyes crinkling. Another was of Rhea, even in black and white, she was still stunning, her eyes glittering with mischief. I stroked them delicately and zipped up my bag. I was ready to go. Almost. I lifted a piece of paper from the table and got a quill and began to write on the thick parchment.

Dear Rhea,
Read this in private. Don’t let Mum see.

I’m so sorry about what I said earlier. I didn’t mean any of it. I guess I just wanted Father back. Actually, that’s why I’m writing this. I told my mum that I was going to find Father. I said something unforgivable to her. But I still want to prove her wrong. Show her that Father is still alive, he’s still out there, somewhere.

I’ve decided to go find him. I have to. I have a map with me, I have food and water, and I should be back in a week. Hopefully by then this stupid war will be over. I just felt this urge to be with him. Like you said. He’ll always be alive in my heart. But my heart told me that he’s still alive. He is still suffering somewhere. I have to find him. I’m sorry that you can’t come with me, but in the state you’re in, I knew you wouldn’t agree and just tell the others.

Pray for me and for Father and I lo-

I paused, wondering whether to add this part. I scribbled it out and finished off my letter.

Lots of love
Attie xxx

I propped up the letter on the table and opened the door. It slid silently open and I slipped through it. I looked back one last time.
“Goodbye.” I whispered
I turned the key in the lock and ran. I ran faster and faster and faster than ever before. I ran past the rushing rapids by our house, through endless trees and bushes, for what felt like hours until I finally broke out into the open. Now the sun was beginning to rise, streaks of amber painted on the horizon. I stopped, panting, sweat pouring down the side of my face. I collapsed onto the dry grass and closed my eyes, thinking of home. What had I left behind? I shook my head and let my eyelids flutter open. I couldn’t fall asleep yet, The day had barely started. Just as I was starting to get up, I heard a rustling from behind me.
“Hello?” I asked fearfully.
No reply. A few magpies scattered from the area, screeching an alarm call.
“Hello?”
A shadowed figure burst out of the bushes and fell on top of me. I yelled in fear and tried to scramble away.
“Hey, calm down, you useless lump!”
“Rhea?”
My eyes widened in astonishment.
“Did you… follow me?”
“Well - duh.”
She was so close I could count the freckles on her nose and smell the sweet scent of honeyed perfume coming off her.
I pulled her into a hug.
“I’m so glad you came.” I said, my voice muffled in her shoulder.
“Yep - I’m glad I came too. Fat lot of use you would have been out here on your own!”
“Oi!” I giggled.
I pushed her off me.
“Are you coming? With me?”
Rhea grinned.
“Uh-huh. Why else would I be out here?”
“To stop me?” I ventured.
“Good point, I guess. But anyway, we’ve got work to do, useless lump. We’ve gotta go find your father!”
“Rhea, you can’t! It’s dangerous out here!” I urged her.
“That’s exactly why I came, dummy. By the way, I read your letter. Bit soppy and all, but I can see you’re desperate. And you can’t do this alone.”
“But… what if we die?”
“Well, you won’t, cause you’re way too reckless to die. Anyway, if you were going to, I wouldn’t let them.”
“Look, you just shouldn’t.”
“This is what I should be saying to you! I’m going and that’s that!”
I smiled. “Ok, let’s go find him.”

I grabbed hold of Rhea’s hand as bullets fired above our heads. We were sheltering in a muddy hollow in the ground, rain hammering on our heads.
“Get out of here!” A soldier screamed, his voice almost completely silenced by the sound of bullets and bombs and the rain. My hair was plastered to my skin and my face was deathly pale.
“Rhea, we need to get out of here.”
She gazed back at me desperately.
“W-What about your Dad?”
“Rhea, your safety is more important right now. We have to go!”
She nodded grudgingly and we led her out of the hollow and we crepy, with our backs low, towards some nearby huts.
The soldier looked at us, his face streaked with mud and dirt.
“Get down!”
I pulled me and Rhea to the earth, mud masking our faces once again. I heard a whistling noise from behind and felt something brush my ear. A sharp pain shot through my ear and I cried out.
“Attie!” Rhea shouted over the noise.
“I’m fine.”
She looked at my ear in horror.
“Where’s your ear?”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Your ear’s gone!
I slowly raised my hand in fear. I breathed in. I couldn’t. I let it fall limp by my side. All of a sudden, the world revolved around me and Rhea’s face grew lined with worry.
“Attie? Attie!”
Her voice was far away. I gave in and fell forwards into her arms as everything went black.

Last edited by silverlynx- (July 16, 2024 19:48:34)

Thecatperson19

July 16 Daily

tw: mentions of death

Jester
Urban Fiction
Solitary Place
Flashforwards

“It’s difficult to grow up here, huh?”
The plants, of course, didn’t respond, but Fletcher still smiled and nodded as he carefully watered them.
“All those big, mean buildings block the sun, don’t they?” he murmured, patting their little leaves fondly.
The rooftop garden was a quiet place in the midst of the noise of the city, but it did not offer complete respite from all the aspects of urban life. The skyscrapers still seemed to crowd around it, hotels and offices with flashy lights and shining windows. The garden, a small spot of nature in the midst of concrete and glass, felt surrounded and drowned out.
Fletcher, now done watering the small plot of herb sprouts, stood up and put his hands on his hips. He surveyed the garden, rows upon rows of plots filled with half-alive plants, and shouted, “Bernardo! Where did you go?”
He frowned, then walked over to a plot with various vegetables growing in it. Leaning over, he stuck his hand into the kale and pulled out a protesting hamster.
“Bernardo,” he scolded. “What have I told you about getting into Mrs. Chadwick’s vegetables?”
The hamster squeaked in response. Fletcher rolled his eyes, smiling, and stuck Bernardo in the front pocket of his shirt.
“Cheeky little bugger.” He patted the small space between the hamster’s ears with a finger. “Come on, let's go inside.”

2 weeks later

“Be free, Bernardo!”
Fletcher placed the hamster on the ground and watched as he immediately scurried off in the direction of Mrs. Chadwick’s vegetables.
“Ah whatever,” he said. “A hamster’s going to do what a hamster’s going to do.”
He strolled over to his plot, pleased to see that his herbs were making progress. Their leaves were growing bigger and their stalks taller. He pulled a peanut butter sandwich out of the plastic container he had brought with him and sat down on a lawn chair to eat. Bernardo, previously rooting through the kale, scurried over to Fletcher’s feet, where he was rewarded with a piece of bread and peanut butter.
“Ah yes, just chilling here with my hamster,” Fletcher joked, taking another bite of his sandwich.
He watched as the plants swayed in the breeze and soaked up the afternoon sunlight which painted the garden with large swathes of golden light.
“Now if only I could actually get my plants to survive.” He quirked his eyebrows at Bernardo, who took that as a sign to rush off again to the vegetables. “That would be miraculous.”

1 month later

“It is a truth universally acknowledged,” Fletcher whispered as he covered the hole with dirt. “that a hamster in possession of a life must die in the most strange and outrageous way.”
“And you passed, Bernardo,” He patted the soil down with his spade. “in the most epic way possible.”
He sighed and sat back on his heels, staring at the spot of churned dirt in the middle of his plot, herbs growing wildly around it.
“I thought you were going to be a goner for sure when that hawk picked you up, but no.” He chuckled. “You let him have a piece of your mind and came falling right back down here. But then you landed. Hard.”
He remembered seeing Bernardo’s little body face planted in the ground. He remembered thinking “this was the end” until, to his joy, Bernardo sprang back up and ran to the vegetables.
“And then, just when I thought you were totally invincible, you choked on something and, well, you know.”
Fletcher put a hard on Bernardo’s grave. “You’re free now, little buddy. You can eat all the veggies you want in hamster heaven.”
“And I’ll be here,” Fletcher whispered. “Someone’s got to take care of this place. The plants are finally growing.”

630 words

Last edited by Thecatperson19 (July 16, 2024 20:18:09)

Natt519

Here's my weekly for sci-fi! Total words: 1623, +1500 points

++Pt 1. 367 words
☽ author's notes: livvy is definitely based on me lol. and her name may or may not be a kotlc reference-

Summer camp. To some, those are the best words ever. To others, they’re the bane of your existence.

To me, they’re definitely the bane of my existence.

First of all? Mosquitos. I get bit like crazy even when I’m wearing bug spray. Second? The actual people. Some of them are nice, but there’s always that one person who thinks they’re better than everyone else. That person usually takes over an hour doing their hair each morning, too. And yet, I’m currently in the car, being driven to the middle of nowhere for some “summer fun”.

———
“Come on, honey, cheer up! It’ll be fun. You’ll meet new people, you can go swimming in the lake, you’re gonna go hiking…”

I already have friends at school. Yes, I don’t have a phone, so I can’t really contact them during the summer, but it’s been like this for 12 years now. I’m used to it. Swimming might be fun, but hiking? No way. Again: mosquitoes.

“Sure, Mom…”

“I’m serious, Livvy. It will be a great opportunity for you.”

“Mmmhm.”

————
About half an hour later, we pull up to the gate of Camp Oasis. There is no oasis, by the way. I grab my backpack and get out of the car, waving halfheartedly at Mom as she pulls away.

I guess I’m stuck here now.

A camp counselor comes over to me. “Hi! I’m Ruby, Sparrow Cabin Leader. What’s your name?” I tell her, and she scans a clipboard. “Ah! Here you are. Looks like you’ll be in Stingray Cabin, with Carlotta. The cabins are up at the top of the hill- they’re labeled. Why don’t you go ahead and find yours?” She smiles and walks away to another camper that just arrived. I trek up the hill.

There are six cabins in total- Sparrow, Stingray, Panther, Gray Squirrel, Dolphin, and Robin. I guess they couldn't think of more forest animals, so they had to include some ocean ones. They're all the same- brown roofs and log walls. Pretty, but also bland at the same time. It's not like I'll be staying for that long, though. It's only 2 weeks.

Two weeks of a gym class mosquito hiking nightmare, that is.

++Pt 2. 574 words
☽ author's notes: the art part honestly sounds so cringey :,) but i love doing cliffhanger endings

As Eloise sat down for dinner, she saw the tenth pansy sitting on her plate. Lily, her sister, glanced over, snickering.

“Someone must really like you, Eloise.”

“Oh, be quiet, Lily. I don’t even know who’s sending them. It’s probably you that’s putting them there, or someone else just playing a trick on me.”

“I don’t know…”

She rolled her eyes. It was probably just Lily- but the notes were always strange. I need your help. was what it had said last night. Tonight, it was, Meet me by the fountain at the front of your house at eleven PM. Eloise knew she shouldn’t go, but her curiosity always took hold of her when she saw something like this. She would go tonight, she decided.

Dinner was delicious, but Eloise ate impatiently. The clock seemed like it was ticking slower than usual, and it was only 7 o’clock. Still four more hours, she thought as she walked upstairs after dinner. She sat at her desk, staring at the ceiling, trying to think of what to draw. Eyes weren’t that hard like everyone made them out to be, and hands she had gotten better at. Realism, maybe? Or greyscale on traditional… the shading on that would look cool, and then she wouldn’t have to do a base color first- that was probably a good idea. Eloise looked up a few images on her phone, finally deciding on an image of a person playing the guitar while sitting on a bench. Drawing was always an easy way to pass the time, and soon, it was nearing eleven. The house was quiet, with everyone else sound asleep. Eloise got up from her desk and padded quietly out of her room. Once, she nearly tripped and knocked over a vase, but she caught it before it shattered. The door opened silently- which was strange, since usually it creaked just a bit.

The night air was cool, and everything was silent. It was peaceful and a bit creepy at the same time. The fountain she was supposed to meet this person at was in a side garden near the end of the driveway. Eloise stuck close to the hedges, hoping they would disguise her if someone looked outside. Once she was in the garden, she stood up, glad to be able to not have to crouch. There was nobody at the fountain. Eloise checked her watch- 11:04 PM. Either they were late, or the entire thing was just a trick. She walked over and lay back on one of the benches, looking up at the stars. Her grandma used to tell her that they were wishes- when you made a wish, it floated up to the sky and became a new star. When she was little, she had chosen one star that she thought was her wish. She found it in the sky, and it shined faintly. Whatever is happening, if it is anything at all, she wished, help me figure it out, would you? Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flower float down from… nowhere. She picked it up, examining it closer.

It was a pansy.

She gasped, dropping it in the fountain. A few feet away from her, there was a slight sparkle, then a boy- probably her age, about 15- appeared there, dusting off sparkles from his suit.

“Hello, Eloise. Glad to see you got my message. I need your help.”

++Pt. 3 151 words
☽ author's notes: I was very much struggling with this I'm very bad at poetry-

The waves, in their beautiful
blues, greens, aquas, whites
crash against the shore.

The shells, fragile
but beautiful,
a gift from the sea.

The sand, soft
beneath your feet
as you walk along the beach.

The seagulls, calling
out from above
as they circle the beach.

The sandcastles, some
a simple tower, other with spires
and windows and courtyards,
fit for a queen.

The people, running, talking,
playing in the water
as they collect seashells,
as they listen
to the seagulls.

Now, in the forest,
animals skitter
beneath the leaves,
beneath the ground.

Trees blow gently
in the breeze, their leaves
twirling.

Flowers bloom,
their petals vibrant colors,
as bees land nearby.

Hummingbirds flutter,
whizzing around the leaves and flowers,
zooming through the forest
painted in beautiful hues.

Squirrels, birds,
rabbits, and bees
run along the green ground,
run along the tree branches,
fly above the treetops,
fly around the flowers.

++Pt. 4 531 words
☽ author's notes: I love the intro to this so muchhhh I will definitely be finishing this eventually

Oasis. Some call it a city of dreams. Others say it's a curse, a remnant of Pre-Flood that will be destroyed one day. I call it home.

It's been two hundred years since Flood. Pre-Flood humans burned fossil fuels, polluted, and warmed Earth to its literal melting point. The glaciers melted, and the sea level rose, and rose, and rose. By the time the Pre-Flood humans actually acted, it was too late. Some places were safe, but many couldn't get to those places. Those years were called the Years of Tragedy.

Now, the sea has fallen, but we only have half the amount of land that we used to. Cities are crowded, even parts of Oasis. We have a place to live, at least, so we're grateful. It's almost like before Flood, but we just have way better technology.

Almost.

——–

I sat at my desk- the middle, almost back, right on the edge by the window. In my opinion, the best seat. Ms. Blunden was telling us about the construction of the wall. It surrounds Oasis, protecting us from the sea. Usually, we don't need it- only when we have a big storm. Then, the sirens blare. People panic, even though we aren't supposed to, as everyone rushes to their basements. There, we wait, talking in hushed whispers as we wait for the sirens to stop. That hasn't happened in a while, though. Global warming made the storms worse and worse, but now we don't use fossil fuels, or pollute. The storms are better now.

I tried to turn my attention back to Ms. Blunden, but Ashla, my best friend, elbowed me. I ignored her. She waited a moment, then-

“Pada!”

I still didn't look at her.

“Pada Louise Avrum!”

“/What/?”

“Wanna come over after school? My mom found some SUPER old DVDs- like, almost 250 years old- and a DVD player she hooked up to our HoloVision. One is about a magic school or something, and the other I think is about these people fighting this super cool masked robot dude.”

“Sure! But can you /please/ focus on the lesson? I need to take notes.”

“Your notes are filled with doodles anyways,” Ashla said, rolling her eyes, but she obliged and began to scribble in her notebook.

———-

It began to rain during the last few hours of school, so I didn't end up going over to Ashla's house- nobody is allowed to go outside when it's raining. It's just one of the laws that we have now, to keep us safe.

Later that night, I lay in bed, listening to the rain thrumming against my window. If it didn't stop by tomorrow morning, then we wouldn't have school. I've read books from Pre-Flood where students went to school for 9 months every year. With the rain, we usually end up going only 7 or 8. I still wonder what it was like back then. How many people knew that they had to change, but just wouldn't? Flood could have been avoided. People could have survived. But it happened, all of it, because they were just too stubborn to see it.

Will we make that same mistake one day?

pepper-and-a-pencil

word war 04 - recca - prompt - 3 minutes - 237 words - win

“what do you mean the mangoes are missing? you ate them” she shouted at me, a look of anger sparkling throughout her eyes. “are you kidding me?” i shout back, clearly annoyed at the accusation as i wipe orange mango juice off of my face. “i did not eat those mangoes it was all your fault buddy. i didnt eat the mangoes! i don’t even like mangoes” jk thats a lie who doesn’t like mangoes? omg that’s a crazy thing to say bit i had to prove that i didn't eat the mangoes! ‘“mmm i think you did because i saw you stuffing something into yourp ocket earlier in the kitchen!” “what are you talking about?” i demanded, still agitated and trying to cover up the fact that i did indeed eat the mangoes. “i didn’t eat them, i’m telling you - when have i ever lied to you?” she shook her head and rolled her eyes with a lugh. “jesse youre lying to my right now, i saw you take the mangoes earlier in the kitchen and you just wiped your lips with what i’m assuming was the juice from the mangoes you ate.” i shake my head, scared that she is getting too close to the truth. “i’m telling you, please believe me that i didn’t eat the mangoes because i dont like them” another lie but that;s ok, as long as i protected my

Wavecolor

07.16 | spinner scene | 722 words | 550 points

Hero
Hi-Fi
Calm Before the Storm
Flashback

Set in pre-Columbian Mesoamerica, in Yax Mutal (also known as Tikal by modern scholars) in what is now Guatemala in likely the early or middle Classic era.

The new ruler of Yax Mutal, someone who would now become the most powerful human being for as far as the eye could see in any direction, was crowned at the base of the Temple of the Great Jaguar with the sunrise light awash over his skin and the temple stones. He rose with a conquering smile, and the city buzz hushed in reverence.

Ixchel, on the other hand, seethed. There were no words to describe it. This vast empire and all her people were doomed to crumble down, and the one who would cause it was the man being coronated right now. She burned with a dread and loathing that she could not speak for the fear of being accused of desecration. The gods themselves had chosen Xumucane as the sacred king of their land, and no commoner girl had the authority to speak against it. But what was she meant to do? Accept him? Accept that everything would unravel, and her ancient land would be eaten by the sea, lifeless and adrift?

There was nothing that she could think of. Everything was still calm, the throngs of Yax Mutal’s people silently bowed in worship and respect, but she could pluck the threads of tension in the air like it was a quijongo. She inhaled and exhaled huge gulps of air, hoping it would cool the lightning storm in her veins, but it only made the indignity and fear rise higher.

She stared at the patches of peach-orange sunbeams across the ground between the crowd’s shadows and continued breathing. Something about the patterns brought her back to an age=old memory in the back of her head, and she squinted at it, trying to figure out what it reminded her of.

Ixchel held the stem of the flower tightly in her fist, not willing to touch the petals themselves and potentially ruin it. She’d torn it from the ground with all the gentleness of a frantic child, and now she darted through the crowd, relying on legs and shadows to stop her from running into anyone. It was just barely dawn, she thought, and the peach-orange early rays of day were scattered and shifting on the hard soil beneath the crowd.

When she’d run all the way back to her mother’s hut, she pushed aside the entrance hangings and peered in. She found her sitting on the floor on the other side of the hut, weaving another basket to sell, like she did most mornings.

“Mother,” little Ixchel said excitedly, and her mother’s head raised from her task. “Look what I found!”

“Oh,” her mother said warmly, gracing her face with a soft smile. “It’s an orquídea rosak. I haven’t seen one of these in many moons. Where did you find it, Ixchel?”

She shrugged. “Under a tree somewhere.” She handed the flower to her mother and sat down next to her, grinning. “It’s so pretty. Is it special?”

“Very special,” her mother assured her. “They’re very rare. They take a long time to sprout and even longer to bloom, and they tend to do so alone. But they can work in any environment, with any neighboring plants, and still thrive. Even alone at first, they reach their roots out to say hello to all those around them, and they work together to make the soil richer and the flora’s stalks taller. And no matter how many times you rip the stem from the soil, as long as the roots are there, a single new orquídea rosak will bloom. It’s a beautiful thing.”

“Wow,” Ixchel said. “It is really special.”

“Mhm,” said her mother. “Why don’t you put it with your other flowers in the herb codex? To preserve it.”

Ixchel bit her bottom lip. What she wouldn’t do to have her mother here to help her figure out what to do, with a villain being coronated as the supreme leader of their holy lands. But she thought about the words that her mother had told her decades earlier.

But they can work in any environment, with any neighboring plants, and still thrive.

Maybe that’s all she’d need.

wolfiebear-

weekly 2
ahhh just barely finished this – fs not of the highest quality but at least it's done!! (unlike weekly 1 but we don't talk about that-)

part 1 - 397 words

the three word story:

my story:
The plan was so close to complete. The sorcerer had spent decades making sure every last detail would go perfectly. It was a beautifully clear night, free of clouds with only the stars and a sliver of moon gracing the sorcerer with light.

He needed the stars, they were the only way to bring everyone back.

He pulled out his staff and dozens of vials and tubes. He connected them all together like some mad chemist. Once there was blood red liquid slowly trickling through the tubes, the sorcerer pulled out a large, worn book and flipped to a dog-eared page covered in grubby fingerprints.

From above, he was invisible. It was just a still night unbothered by humanity.

The sorcerer stood up and took his staff. The liquid had filled a vial and he poured it in a circle around his feet. As the potion soaked into the grass the sorcerer began to chant in a language long lost to time.

The liquid began to bubble up into the sky, millions of little hands shooting towards the stars. The sorcerer watched in awe as each droplet plucked a star from the sky as easily as a sequin from a dress. The stars fell one by one, softly landing on the ground below. Thousands of pricks of light spilling out of their realm, splashing in water, pattering onto grass, thudding into wood. Each one shattered as it reached the end of its descent, a soul swooshing out of it as if a breath released from the dying.

Then, as fast as they were stolen from the sky, each shattered star exploded in a beam of light. The sorcerer shielded his eyes from the glare surrounding him. A rainbow of colors, mirroring the rainbow of souls trapped in each star. The light shot away into the distance, little bullets of hope. They would land on their original planet and repopulate it. The sorcerer’s job was done. It was a success.

The next day, the inhabitants of the starless world would awake and wonder where the stars went. There would be wars and famine and crises over the souls they laid claim upon. They would never understand the true meaning of that night.

The sorcerer packed up and slipped through a wormhole to his own desolate world, now full of laughter and life. He would see his family again.

part 2 - 64 + 437 words

my blurb:
A wizard’s planet has been destroyed in an intergalactic war and he's the only one left. He learns that the inhabitants were turned into Earth’s stars so he makes a plan to steal the stars using an Ancient Spell™️ to repopulate his world. Unfortunately, when everyone comes back they become cats so the wizard has to figure out how to make them humanoid again. (Definitely not the premise for the first part of this weekly sob)

the blurb i chose:
In a time that either could barely remember, Gloria and Adelaide had been inseparable. That had been another world entirely - their laughter had long faded into the sounds of an endless war. Now, fourteen years later and their kingdom in ruins, fate brings the two together once again in a competition for the throne. Brought together by their common ambition, their journey is one that slowly rekindles an old friendship. But alas, there can only be one Queen… unless?

my story:
“GLORY!!” Adelaide screamed up the grand staircase. Why was her sister always so slow? There was no way she was fit to be queen, and today would just set that in stone. Or in a crown, she supposed.

Adelaide paced in her decadent – but suffocating – gown. It had been nearly ten minutes and her sister still hadn't appeared. She turned her back towards the stairs and was about to find her father, when she heard a rustling that could only be her sister.

“Addie, I'm sorry I took my time making sure I look presentable for the most important night of my life…” Glory’s sarcastic tone was not lost on her sister. “You could try that, you know.” Her skeptical gaze swept over Adelaide, from her short, limp hair to the sloppily tied bow at her waist.

Adelaide had more important skills than looking good, but she couldn't deny her sister's beauty. Her shining hair fell in ringlets to her waist, and her pink cheeks perfectly complemented her rose colored dress.

“Whatever, let's just get this over with so you can get back to your trivial hobbies,” Adelaide said with disdain. She began to walk forward, each step a test of her ability to stay upright in such an insane gown. Glory, however, seemed to have no issues gliding gracefully at her side in a floor-length skirt and four inch heels.

```

“Welcome citizens, to the coronation of our new Queen. We mourn the death of the late Queen Ashleigh, but we must bring our focus to the future of this kingdom.”

There was a roar of applause. The sisters’ father was an impressive public speaker – which was practically his only asset – and was definitely where Glory got her charisma.

An aide standing behind the platform beckoned the girls forward. They clasped hands – a display of unity for the citizenry’s benefit – and stepped into the focus of every gaze in the kingdom.

“In the light of the past week’s competitions, we are proud to announce the new Queen!” Their father's voice boomed out, and Adelaide’s stomach clenched. What if it isn't her? It had to be. She outperformed every candidate from the past fifty years.

The sisters separated and stood on either side of their father, the picture-perfect royal family.
“We have a bit of an unconventional result, but we know you all will understand this is what is best for our kingdom.

The new Queens are…

Adelaide and Glory!”

A gasp echoed through the crowd, and it erupted into murmurs and whispers behind hands.

The sisters looked at each other, horrified. This was not going to work.

part 3 - 177 words
author's note: i read the instructions for this wrong and thought it had to be based on a painting so can we pretend i looked at that painting during my break please please

The Cliff Walk at Pourville
Claude Monet

Bright bright sky
Shines with clouds
– White clouds
There's a cliff
– Grass cliff
Covered in yellow,
Orange, and green
There are women
– Two women
One has an umbrella
Pale peach umbrella
All dressed in white
– White dresses
Clear blue sea
Filled with boats
– Sail boats
Choppy waves
Reflect the cliff
– Grass cliff

Peaceful day
Before the storm
– What storm?
She will marry
– Marry whom?
Marry a bad man
She hides from
The sun and it all
Her daughter
Stands with her
At the brink
– Daughter?
Her secret daughter
Will be sent away
When she marries
They will not see
Each other again

Many years later
The woman is
Deep in the ground
Her daughter remembers
That day
– On the cliff
That day on the cliff
The last time she saw
Her mother
The bad man left her
He left her heartbroken
The daughter came
– Came where?
To the cliff
Her mother's cliff
Alone with an umbrella
Facing the water
The sail boats
The grass
The clouds
The bright, bright sky
She faced it alone
And she survived

part 4 - 436

original: part 3

translated:
The sky is clear
The light above the clouds
– cloud
There are stones.
– Wildstone
full of yellow;
Orange and white
Heart and Soul Monday
– Two women
One of them has an umbrella
White Banana Umbrella
They were all dressed in white
– ‘At night
Sea Jernee
full of ships
– Steamboat
Click on Payment
Show Mt.
– Wildstone

Have a peaceful day
Before it rains
- What are you complaining about?
Celibacy
– Are you married?
The man led the crime
to hide the
One and all
ask questions
so
In the sea
– daughter?
The Mystery Girl
It won’t work
When you get married
They won't see it
again

After years of
One girl
In the middle of the country.
He needs his daughter
That day
– On the rock
That day in the mountains.
The last time he saw her.
than
He went shamelessly.
He did not leave her sad.
Your child has arrived
– Where did it come from?
The verse of Matt.
Like a mountain
Kenya and Paraguay
Water View
Sailors
Field
mostly
Clear sunny sky
It will pass
And he was saved.

my story:
The day was bright, with one single cloud in the sky. The grass was green and soft under the girls’ heads as they gazed up at the sky.
“It's a banana,” the red-haired girl pointed at the cloud.
The brunette swatted at her. “You're blind! It's obviously an umbrella.”
“I don't even know what you're talking about! Look, there's the bottom, and the peel, and the top!” She gestured unintelligibly at the sky.
“No, no! That's the handle – see the little hook? – and the rain-blocking part!” The brown haired girl giggled. Soon they were both collapsing into laughter.
“‘Rain-blocking part,’ that's the best you got?” The other girl sounded skeptical.
“Well what's it actually called?”
“Um… the… web?” Her voice was hesitant as she tried to come up with something.
“See, you don't even know yourself!”
They dissolved into laughter again, and then the dark haired girl stood up and brushed flecks of grass off of her white dress. “Come on Sienna, I'm hungry, let's get something to eat!” Her stomach growled in support, and Sienna laughed.
“I can tell!” Sienna stood up and pushed her hair out of her face. “Where should we go?”
“Let's do Wildstone, I'd love a milkshake.”
“Okay, but I get to drive.”
“Ugh, I want to live past high school!”
“I'm not that bad at it!” Sienna was indignant. “Plus, you said yourself ‘If it was the choice between being eaten by a zombie and driven away by you I'd choose you!’”
“That's not a high bar…”
“Kenna, please!” Sienna drew out the word “please” unnecessarily long, just to prove her point.
“Fine, but when we crash I get to say ‘I told you so.’”
Sienna hopped forwards excitedly and Kenna tossed her the keys. The two girls got in the car and slammed the doors.

It started raining as they drove, the kind of storm that feels all-consuming. Sienna slowed until the car was barely moving down the empty residential street, and the windshield wipers were swiping water ferociously off the glass. It was nearly impossible to see through the torrents of water slamming on the car, and Sienna pulled over.
“Well, this is exciting.” Sienna put the car in park and pulled up her phone. “What now?”
“I don't really want to drive in this,” Kenna responded, “but we can't just sit here forever. Did you bring an umbrella?”
“No, the forecast didn't predict rain for today. This storm isn't even on the radar!” She showed Kenna the animation of rainstorms playing on her phone.
“This is weird…” Kenna took out her own phone. “I'm gonna call Mom.”

Last edited by wolfiebear- (July 16, 2024 22:31:02)

ChueyTheCat

The Archer | 619 words
lover, tragedy, commerce thingy i forgot, string of consofuhsaughiuer something or other (the tragedy part comes later but i didnt want to turn in a 2k word long daily sobbing

“This is silly,” Fiona said, throwing down her bow. “I hate this job. I’m tired of messing with mortals. Let them mess with themselves.”
Her sisters gave her a pitying glance. “You know we have to, Fifi,” Ambriona reminded her gently. “Without us, chaos would descend, and Fate’s threads would tangle.”
“I don’t care,” Fiona shouted. “Why does it matter? I shoot a human, the human loves, the human maybe gets married, the human dies. Poof. All that work for nothing. Why couldn’t you be the Archer, Bri?”
Diana clucked her tongue. “You know as well as I do that you are uniquely suited for the job. Pick up your bow, Fifi.”
“No,” Fiona grumbled, storming away. The humans would just have to do without falling in love for a few minutes.
Her sisters exchanged glances. She couldn’t see them, but she knew them well enough to know exactly how they’d react.
Why did she have to be here, anyway? Diana used a bow too; she could be the Archer.
Well, except for the whole being the symbol of virginity thing, but who honestly cared? Fate? What did Fate know? She’d hired Fiona to do a job she hated.
At first, it had been kind of fun. Shoot a couple mortals, watch them fall in love, coo over them for a bit, move on to the next ones. But they were so fragile, and sometimes they died. Fiona wasn’t sad when that happened, just angry. Why waste all her talents on…on butterflies? Mortal lifespans were to her what the lifespan of most insects were to humans.
She bet that if Fate put a human in charge of making insects fall in love, they would hate their job too.
She just didn’t see the importance. What good was love? What purpose did it serve? It made the mortals do foolish things, that was the only thing she could see.
She refused to acknowledge the tiny needle of jealousy that pricked sometimes when she witnessed a special moment between mortals. She was not even jealous of the love. It was the knowledge of what she did not have that irritated her. She should at least know why this mattered.
Fiona tossed her bright hair as she came to a conclusion. She would go down herself. She would leave her bow in the care of Ambriona and go look for the reason love was so important. Fired up again, she whirled back towards her sisters.
“I’m going down,” she said firmly. Surely they could not resist her. They, too, had descended, searching for answers.
Both of them had been quieter when they returned, but that signified nothing. They had always been quieter than she.
“Sometimes it is better to live in ignorance,” Diana said.
“Sometimes it is easier to stop asking why,” Ambriona said.
Fiona would not be stopped by their feeble words, and they knew it. They could not stop her. A sigh whispering from her lips, Ambriona retrieved Fiona’s bow and set it by her side.
“I hope you will be wiser when you return,” she said.
Fiona did not answer. She stepped from the clouds that were her home and vanished.
She stumbled out seconds later into a crowd of people and noise and heat. Gasping for the air that had been torn from her lungs, she looked around, eyes wide. Market stalls hawked their wares as loudly as they could, shouting over each other. Women bustled here and there, rolling up sleeves and haggling down to acceptable prices. Men cluelessly paid twice the value but were happy nonetheless.
And Fiona stood there, frozen, in the eye of the storm.
How did mortals live like this?
How could she?

pepper-and-a-pencil

Her chocolate brown hair blew in the wind as we leaned against the railing and stared into the night sky with smiles on our faces. The moon and stars shimmered, making for a stunning display in front of us and illuminating her face, making for an even more stunning display. She gazed into the night, intrigue and curiousness sparkling in her large, dark green eyes. I stared at her, her immense beauty captivating me, forcing all my attention on her, unable to look away.
“Colby,” she chuckled, turning to look at me. “What’s so interesting about me that you’re choosing to look at instead of the stars?”
I opened my mouth to answer, but couldn’t find the words. “Mallory,” I whispered, brushing the hair from her face. “You’re gorgeous.”
She looked down, hiding her bright red cheeks. I lifted her chin gently, looking into her eyes as I took her hand. She smiled, then caught me by surprise as a tear slid down her freckled cheek.
“I can’t, Colby,” she said, voice cracking. “I thought we were just friends… I — I have someone back home. I’m sorry, Colby.” She pulled back her hand and turned to leave, wiping the tears from her eyes as she did so.
“Mallory!” I called, trying to hide my desperation. “It doesn’t have to be like this!”
She nodded. “It does.”
Filled with rage, I ripped off my jacket and slammed my fist on the balcony railing. I didn’t want to think of her ever again, and the stars were a big reminder that Mallory wasn’t mine. Her love for astrology haunted me ever since she left, so I grabbed my wand and ripped each star from the sky, leaving it black as ink. I shot the moon with blasts of fury, leaving massive craters on its surface.
“No one will see the beauty of night again until Mallory is mine,” I seethed.

— — —
part two - bestselling bookstore - 118/50 words (blurb) + 299/250 words (story)
blurb:

Nat goes on a senior field trip with the rest of her class near the end of the school year. The school sends them a butterfly garden to explore and do a bit of studying, whether it be about the butterflies or related to their unfinished school work. While she’s there, Nat notices a butterfly different from the rest. It’s slightly lopsided, and the coloration is unlike any of the other butterflies. The butterfly won’t leave her alone, it keeps resting on her pencil or flapping on her notes. With a sigh, she stands up and swats it away, but it persists. She decides to follow the butterfly, and what she finds by doing so leaves her speechless.

story (using cd's blurb):
tw - hurricane, blood, death

Maya wakes up to the sound of screams and her windows shattering beside her as water rips her from her bed. The water thrashes all around her as she is pulled out of her bedroom. Shards of glass scrape her arms and legs, making for some rather large open wounds, all of which practically begging for infection. She is thrown into the sides of crumbling buildings and wrecked cars, leaving scarlett smears all over her body. Whenever her head briefly pops above the water, she gasps for breath, only to be flung back into the debris-filled depths once more.
The hurricane warnings flash through her mind, the warnings each and every person in their city had ignored. Instead they savored the warm sun and sand the beach held for them, the calm water that cooled their feet.
‘Yeah, well the water is the opposite of calm now,’ Maya thought to herself, lungs burning as she suffocated underneath the waves. She thought of the earth’s spirits, wondering if they were punishing the people for not listening to the warnings, or perhaps for something else?
Sirens wail in the distance, lifeboats barely floating along as they save as many people as they can carry. She struggles to stay alive as she clutches a bit of fracturing driftwood. The wood is slammed into what seems to be a refrigerator and immediately splits into countless pieces, leaving Maya with nothing to help her stay afloat. Scraps of metal stab into her body, slicing her pajamas open and staining them with blood. She let go of the sliver of wood she was holding on to, and surrendered to the angry hurricane. As she is slowly ripped apart, Maya swallows the water with a feeling of content, knowing there was nothing else to be done.

— — —
part three - ekphrastic poem - 157/150 words

trees swayed in the gentle breeze,
birds chirped in the warming sun,
children squealed with delight
as they played their little games

water splashed on the sidewalk
as neighbors washed their cars,
lawn mowers whirred
as neighbors cut their grass

the badminton net wobbled
as travis set it up for our game.
i gathered leftover birdies
and enough rackets for two

the clouds drifted away,
leaving the sky free of white blotches,
and making for an even more beautiful day
in our little town

our dogs ran around the yard,
barking in glee
as they chased each other,
rubber toys and peanut butter filled bones
sticking out from inside of their mouths

i grabbed my racket
and served the birdi,
ready for whatever tricks
travis had up his sleeve

an airpod placed in my ear
with music blaring loudly,
we passed it back and forth
until a winner was crowned

and that winner
was not me bahaha

— — —
part four - google translate - 626/400 words
used the last paragraph of part two, translated into this:
“The plane survived and saved many lives. He understood the fire of salvation. The bag breaks and doubles in the fridge and the metal lid of the yeast doesn’t come off. There’s dirt and blood. He fell from a tree and was burned and died a short time later. He slowly opened it and Maya felt it and smiled”

story:
tw - plane crash, blood, death, fire

Mayad boarded the plane anxiously, his carry on in hand. It was his first time flying, and although his mother rested her hand comfortingly on his shoulder, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was going to happen. He listened closely as the flight attendant spoke before the plane took off, not wanting to miss anything important if the plane crashed or had any issues.
“Maya, would you stop worrying, honey?” His mother chuckled, giving his arm a squeeze.
He nodded, but he was still uncertain. “Yeah, I just…” his voice trailed off, and he closed the open window beside him, popping a piece of gum in his mouth as he did so.
The plane took off, and Mayad slowly drifted off to sleep, hoping by the time he woke up they’d have landed and the whole experience would be over.

He woke up to flight attendants rushing around trying to calm down each shouting passenger. He looked around nervously, unsure of what was going on. He shook his mother until her eyes fluttered open and she stopped yawning.
“Mother, what’s the problem?” He sobbed, tears streaming down his face and he tried asking someone what was happening.
“I don’t know,” his mother answered, unbuckling her seatbelt and holding Mayad tightly in her arms.
“It’s going to be alright,” she whispered in his ear, doing her best to convince herself of the statement also. Maya rocked back and forth, trying to distract himself from the fear surrounding him and clouding his thoughts.
A moment later, the loudspeaker came on, and despite everyone’s frantic shrieks, it was heard loud and clear to everyone on the plane who was paying attention. “The plane is flying through a lightning storm and likely will not make it—” A sudden raise in volume forced Mayad to cover his ears, and his mother wiped the tears from his eyes. “If everybody could sit in your seats and calm down, it would benefit the entire situation and make it easier for your captains to safely land the plane.” The panic didn’t lessen, and it got to the point where flight attendants were shoving people back into their seats as the plane plummeted towards the ground.

As Maya shut his eyes in fear, he caught sight of a flame. It seemed to be waving to him, and fascination flooded over him as he rose from his chair. Screams of horror and despair rang out all around him, but his curiosity held strong, blocking out the noise. Nobody seemed to notice the small boy as he followed the mysterious flame, not even his own mother, who was busy pushing a flight attendant off of her.

The plane smashes into a meadow, but it seems besides blood and dirt scattered in the plane’s walkway, everyone is safe inside. Mayad followed the flame into a tiny refrigerator with snacks and drinks from the beverage cart, and is without injury by the time the plane crashes.
The fridge, however, is locked and he is trapped inside. Everyone from the plane slowly files out, and nobody comes back to get the boy, still stuck in the fridge. Over the next few days, Maya eats all the snacks available to him, the only thing left being a small jar of yeast. Despite his efforts to pry open the metal lid, it didn’t work until late in the night after twisting the lid all day. The lid flew off of the jar and knocked the refrigerator door open. Excited to finally be free, Mayad climbed up the nearest tree, jar of yeast in hand.

Unfortunately, the tree was burned down and he died shortly after. The boy died happy, smiling during his last moments with the yeast to comfort him.

Last edited by pepper-and-a-pencil (July 16, 2024 23:39:20)

-WildClan-

PART 1: Three Word Stories

(I'll link the thread later lol)

Orbit paced back and forth, his mind racing with worry. He had never felt so nervous in his life. The results of their latest experiment were about to be announced, and he was certain he had messed it up. Again. River, on the other hand, lounged comfortably on a nearby rock, her tail flicking lazily as she watched Orbit with amusement.
“Relax, Orbit,” she said, her voice calm and reassuring. “Whatever happens, it’s not the end of the world. We’ll just learn from it and move on.”
Orbit glanced at her, his anxiety evident in his wide eyes. “But what if I failed? What if I ruined everything?”
River chuckled, shaking her head. “You worry too much. Failure is just a part of the process. Besides, we've both messed up plenty of times before, and we always come out stronger.”
Before Orbit could respond, their mentor, a spiky-furred shazarxa named Comet, came out of the experiment den. Orbit’s heart pounded as he waited for the verdict.
Comet glanced at the two of them and then down at the clipboard. “River, Orbit,” she began, his tone neutral, “I have the results of your experiment.”
Orbit braced himself for the worst, but River simply leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“It appears,” Comet continued, “that your experiment did not go as planned. The mixture you created was unstable, and the reaction was far more volatile than expected.”
Orbit felt his stomach drop. He had failed. Again. But before he could spiral further into his anxiety, Comet's next words caught him off guard.
“However,” he said, his expression softening, “the data you collected is incredibly valuable. Your observations and notes on the unexpected reaction will help us refine our understanding and improve future experiments. So, while the experiment itself was not a success, your work was far from a failure.”
Orbit blinked, trying to process what he had just heard. He had failed, but it wasn’t as bad as he had expected. In fact, it seemed like his failure had contributed something important.
River grinned, giving him a playful nudge with her tail. “See? I told you. Even when things don’t go as planned, we can still learn and grow. Also, we might still be able to use that mixture to explode stuff.” She grinned, fangs glinting.
Orbit felt a sense of relief wash over him. Maybe River was right. Maybe failure wasn’t something to fear, but an opportunity to learn and improve.
“Thank you, Comet,” River said, her tone sincere. “We’ll make sure to use this data to improve our next experiment.”
Comet nodded, a hint of pride in his eyes. “I look forward to seeing what you two come up with next. Keep pushing the boundaries and don’t be afraid to make mistakes. It’s all part of the journey.”
As Comet walked away, Orbit turned to River, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. “I guess failing isn’t the end of the world after all.”
River laughed, wrapping a wing around his shoulders. “Nope. It’s just the beginning of something new. Now, let’s get back to the den and see what else we can set on fire.”

PART 2: Bestselling Bookstore

(The second part of this section is based on a blurb by @–asdfghjkl.)

Trying to escape responsibility has a cost. Guardian knows that he's slipping away- It is the curse he inherited, and the curse he must bear until he is consumed by madness. He cannot save himself… so he better run. But is it worth the trail of destruction he leaves behind?

Lily stood on the edge of the cliff, looking out at the sprawling city below. The lights blinked innocently, a stark contrast to the dire future she foresaw. She tightened her grip on the metal railing, feeling the coolness seep into her skin. Her heart ached with the knowledge she carried, the certainty that this planet was on the brink of destruction.
She remembered her home planet, a place of vibrant beauty that had been reduced to ashes and dust. Her people had warned their leaders, just as she was trying to do now. But they hadn't listened until it was too late. The devastation had been absolute, leaving her as one of the few survivors.
Her eyes, with their otherworldly gleam, scanned the horizon. She had always been different, and Earthlings had never embraced her. Her iridescent skin and luminescent eyes made her an outcast, a target for their fear and hatred. They had tried to silence her warnings with traps and tasers, but she was too quick, too resilient for their primitive methods.
Lily had two choices. She could let this world crumble, convince herself it was their fault for not heeding her warnings sooner. Or she could fight with every ounce of strength she had left to protect this planet and its people, despite their rejection and hostility of her kind.
The weight of her decision pressed down on her shoulders. She had seen firsthand the consequences of inaction, the devastation that came when warnings were ignored. Could she bear to witness another world suffer the same fate?
A memory flickered in her mind: her parents' faces as they stood in the ruins of their home, the silent acceptance of their fate. She had vowed then never to let such a thing happen again, to fight for the survival of any world she found herself in. But Earth's people made it so hard to care, so difficult to feel anything but frustration and anger.
As she stood there, lost in thought, the sky above began to darken. A storm was coming, both literal and metaphorical. She had seen the signs, knew that time was running out. If she was going to act, it had to be now.
Lily took a deep breath, her resolve hardening. She couldn't let another world fall into ruin. Even if they hated her, even if they tried to destroy her, she had to try. She owed it to herself, to her lost home, to fight for the survival of this planet.
She turned away from the city and headed toward the old observatory on the outskirts of town. It was there she had set up her base, where she had been monitoring the planet's slow decline. She had the knowledge and the technology to make a difference, to potentially save Earth from the same fate as her own world.
The journey was long, but her determination fueled her steps. She moved through the shadows, avoiding the prying eyes of those who might seek to stop her. By the time she reached the observatory, the storm was raging in full force. Lightning cracked across the sky, illuminating the darkness.
Inside, she activated the array of screens and devices she had cobbled together from Earth's technology and her own. Data streamed in, confirming her worst fears. The planet's ecosystems were collapsing, the climate destabilizing at an accelerated rate.
She worked tirelessly, her fingers flying over the controls. She sent out warnings, broadcasted messages to anyone who would listen, hoping to reach those who might still have the power to make a difference. She hacked into news networks, displayed her findings for all to see.
But the response was tepid at best. Denial was a powerful force, and humans clung to it with a tenacity that baffled her. Yet, she pressed on, driven by a sense of duty and a flicker of hope.
As the days turned into nights, and nights back into days, she found allies in unexpected places. Scientists, activists, ordinary citizens who believed in her message and were willing to fight for their world. Together, they formed a resistance, a last-ditch effort to turn the tide.
Lily knew it might not be enough. She knew the odds were against them. But as she looked into the eyes of those who had chosen to stand with her, she felt a spark of hope. Maybe, just maybe, they could save this planet.
And so, she chose to fight. With all her might, with every bit of knowledge and strength she possessed, she fought to protect Earth. Not for the people who had tried to exterminate her, but for the promise of a future where worlds could be saved, where warnings would be heeded, and where hope could flourish amidst the stars.

PART 3: Take a Break

Go to the library
Same familiar rows of shelves
Bright colors, kids’ voices
I don't linger
I can't remember the last time I came here to read

Today, there's a STEAM class
Not my choice to sign up
I guess it's a break from working
And yet
All I can think about is getting back to my writing

Strawberry DNA extraction
A clay fossil mold
And planting a seed
I try to enjoy it
Somewhat succeed, but end up unfulfilled

There it is again
The nagging voices
Saying there's no time for this
Hurry hurry
Don't waste time on what you don't care about

Why can't I just take a break?
What does such a feat take?
My mind can never fully rest
The parasite
Eating away at my patience and sanity

I scream, quietly
When I stand beneath the sky
A cathartic release of tension
Back to work
Pent-up energy released into words

Finally, the break is over

PART 4: Google Translate

(I used a part of my November 23, 2023 daily. Warning for mentions of death and implied self-harm.)

ORIGINAL:
…I’m still here. Up on that hill. I wait for you every day, though I know you can’t see me. But I’m here. Always here. And you come, bringing flowers to spread across my grave. Roses, sage, lilies, and chrysanthemums. And forget-me-nots. Always forget-me-nots. Their petals slowly wilt, then get blown away. But you come back. You bring the chicks sometimes. They’re bigger every time I see them. The time has passed quickly, so quickly.
You come less often now. Roses. Sage. Lilies. Chrysanthemums. Forget-me-nots. Has it been a full cycle of seasons? You say “I love you.” I think I remember what love felt like. But still, I wait. Always. I watch as the petals shrivel, disappearing once more.
The chicks don’t come any longer. The petals have disintegrated, and my grave lies bare. Only the wind remains now. I’m still waiting. I don’t know how much time has passed.
You come. Roses. Sage. Lilies. Chrysanthemums. You whisper “I love you.” But no. Love no longer exists here. Your petals are a lie.
I knew you’d forget the forget-me-nots.

TRANSLATED:
…I'm in that group. I always tell you: you can't see it. I know, I know I'm a * good black bear. Don't forget to smile. Smile, time goes by so fast, time is precious. But sometimes I think about her and it feels great.
I don't like it, it's a rough game. The dark world is not divided; “I love you,” he said. I was confused about what love is, but I was fine. I read the logs, nothing.
The dog didn't bark, the leaves fell, my grave was empty, all the other graves waited, I didn't know how long.
It was Fisher Van Meer. “Oh, I love you,” he laughed, but no. He didn't have to go back to the moon.
I guess I didn't know you forgot.

You could say I try to be an optimist. Of all the schools of thought, that group seems to have it the best. Hope is always present, even though you can't see it- I was always telling you that.
“Just hibernate until the winter's over,” I said. “Spring will come again.”
You rolled your eyes, still red from crying, and scoffed. “I know, I know, I shouldn't give up. But what do you think you are, a black bear?”
“I’m a * good black bear,” I responded, growling playfully.
Then you smiled, just a little bit, and in that moment, I knew that everything was going to be okay. The holes in our hearts would refill, given time. “Don't forget to smile, okay?” I told you gently.
“Okay,” you promised me, squeezing my hand.
I reflected on how quickly things had changed. Every day used to be filled with laughter, before she died. She was gone so soon. But still, we had to keep smiling. Smile, because time goes by so fast, because time is precious. She'd have wanted you and I to remember that, no matter what. I think of her, and smile. It feels great.
The world can be cruel. The game of life is rough, unfair, and people are taken away before their time. I don’t like it, but I must accept it. We spend so much time fighting each other, and ourselves, even though when the darkness falls, we are all the same. Undivided.
But despite all the sorrow and pain, there is still beauty. “I love you,” Fisher said to me when I told him the news about you. About what you'd done. I didn't understand what love he meant until now. I just kept going, and I was fine. Not happy, but fine. I reread the logs you wrote, hoping for answers. Hoping to understand why you did it. I found nothing.
The evening was quiet. No dogs barked, no voices called, and the wind was still. Leaves fell silently on the path to the graveyard, preparing for winter. My footsteps were the only sound. On the family plot, the space meant for me lay barren, empty, next to yours. The graves around it waited too. Yours. Hers. Both of you, now forever out of my reach. I don't know how long I stood there, the night slowly growing colder around me.
I only looked up when I heard another set of footsteps approaching. It was Fisher Van Meer. “Hey,” I called to him. “What are you doing out here this late?”
“Oh, you know, I like the nighttime,” he said. “It feels like… home.”
“Did you come down from the moon?” I teased, trying to smile. It felt strange to smile again.
He laughed. “Oh, I wish.”
“Let's walk together,” I suggested. “Unless you have to be getting home?”
“No,” he said. “No, I don't have to go back to the moon just yet.” He grinned.
We strolled in silence, not sure how to say everything we wanted to. “I love you,” Fisher blurted out at last.
I blinked in surprise. “I- I love you too.” And this time, I think I understood what love meant.
There, in the dark, we remembered how to smile.
I didn't know that you forgot.
I only knew that it was time to heal.

Whimsy_lux

Charles’ dreams have always been a little strange, especially since his not-very-welcoming stay in the royal dungeons. Somehow, being just seconds away from death and inches away from his younger brother, the now prince of the kingdom, who he thought died back when he fled, messed with his head just a little bit. But these nights, he’s gotten used to reliving those nightmares, of serpents curling around his neck and pulling tighter and tighter until he couldn’t breathe. Of Kyle and Sasha turning against him, though he’s always suspected they would one day. Of his brother, constantly reminding him of what he could’ve been instead, a prince wrapped in velvets and silks.

Instead Charles was a thief. A good for nothing scum with nothing but an infamous title to himself. But these days, being the Serpent meant less to him than it once did. The title only put him on death’s door, and he'd much rather be labeled as alive.

This dream though was much stranger. For one, he was dressed in an all to small blue dress , with a big black bow wrapped around his head. He wasn’t bothered necessarily, it was much better than rags, but he would have thought his own subconscious would get his dress size right. He also wouldn’t mind having his belt on him, the cool weight of a blade in his hand has made him feel safer these past few weeks.

That wasn’t important though, what was more important was the seemingly endless hole in front of him. Though Charles loved anything thrilling, considering his last couple of dreams he wasn’t keen jumping into what easily could be some sort of pit of nightmares, or better yet hell, and so he tried his best to walk away. Dreams didn’t listen though, and every time he walked away, he’d come back to the same set of trees, with a hole in the center, an ominous tick tock tick tock coming from inside.

Next, he tried to see if there was a bottom, and so Charles unwrapped the bow on his head and threw it down. It wasn’t heavy so it would be hard to make out the sound of it hitting the bottom, but being part elvin had his perks, and his ears twitched at even the fall of a feather. He didn’t get to hear it fall though, instead after perhaps a minute of waiting, the bow flew back up and tied itself on Charles’ head and it was even tighter, as if to say, Don’t try abandoning me again you snake!

“So the only way forward is down, yeah?” He asked the hole, as stupid as it may have looked. He wouldn’t be surprised if the hole did become a mouth and start talking. It wouldn’t even be in the top strangest things that have happened to him in his subconscious.
Finally, Charles let out a sigh and stood up, wiping the grass stains from his dress. He’d rather a rabbit hole than a prison, assuming that rabbit hole didn’t lead to some prison. The ticking and tocking got louder as he approached, and without another thought, as he did most things, he jumped down the rabbit hole.

chrisluk002

Daily for July 16 (534 words)
It would be a lie to say that Unnamed fell down the tunnel quietly. He yelled quite a lot, and his noise echoed in the darkness. He hit the ground pretty hard, grunting. “Ow… really should have checked that pile of leaves better…” It took some time for him to figure out which way was up. “Okay… So this is… something… Where am I…?” He sat up, rummaged through his backpack, and then pulled out a torch. With a quick incantation the torch ignited, illuminating the hallway. It was a cave, that much was sure, but oddly he couldn't find any dust or dirt on the floor. He got up, wandering deeper into the cavern. He was rather unsure about what he'd find further and deeper into the cave, but walked nonetheless. “No point in trying to go out the way I came in…” he narrated to himself. “Let's just hope there's another exit…” He took a few more steps forward before his foot hit something. He yelped, tripping, and fell to the floor, the torch spinning across the cave floor. Lights spun and danced around the walls as Unnamed scrambled away from the lump. He caught the glimpse of a giant spider creature, with long hair on its head and silk trailing from one of its legs. It was a Drider, and quite a big one at that. Unnamed stumbled back, reaching in his bag for a weapon, but then paused, noticing it hadn't moved. It seemed to be asleep… something he didn't understand, given he'd just tripped over it. Despite his better judgement he tapped the beast. The creature slowly stirred, then yawned. “Five more minutes…” Unnamed watched, confused, but he got a better look at the beast. She was feminine, wearing a crop top and a cartoonish nightcap. Her face looked comfortable in sleep but scrunched up in waking, and she grumbled more when Unnamed poked her again. “Hellooooo? What are you doing…?” “I'm sleeping…” The drider mumbled. “Or I was… can I sleep again?” “Aren't you supposed to be attacking me? I figured that tripping on a beast like… you would make you want to attack me.” “I mean I would… but I'm like super tired still…” “Oh- I'm sorry- Would you like me to come back later?” Unnamed asked. “No, no, I'm up now.” The spider hybrid got up, stretching all eight of their legs and both of their arms. “So you want me to like, fight you now?” “I mean- I EXPECTED you to fight me but I wouldn't mind just passing through.” “Alright. Why don't you just… pass through then?” Unnamed looked down the long dark hallways, barely illuminated by the glow of his discarded torch. “I would but… I'm kinda uh… lost.” “Lost? Alright, I guess I'll help you out.” “Really?” the hero looked curious about this proposal. “Yeah sure, I know a way out. Just hope it's not day outside, the sun is really bad for my eyesight.” “Oh… uh, thank you.” Unnamed grabbed his stuff. “Uh, lead the way?” The drider shrugged, grabbing a hoodie and putting it on, before walking down the corridor to lead the hero to the exit to the cave.

(Explorer, Thriller, Surrounded by Strangers, Foil) (I didn't follow this very well but uh story-)

Wavecolor

weekly 2 | 2050 words | 1500 points

PART ONE — Three Word Stories

When Iara chose her career path, she didn’t exactly have parents to critique it. She wouldn’t have taken the critique either way, but it might’ve helped her gain some perspective of the flaws of going into archaeology, of all things. Now she was deep in a rainforest in a valley of the Peruvian Andes, following a local guide through the undergrowth and struggling through conversations in Quechua and Spanish, and brushing bugs off her sleeves every two seconds. The things she did to find these temples.

When the guide has fulfilled his role, he leaves her with a kind “Tupananchiskama!” and she waves him farewell. She pushes through a few more bushes to reach the vine-covered clearing around the temple, but the building is worth the trek — she can feel the millennia of people and culture bleeding from the cracks of the ancient stone, and a heady sigh leaves her chest without her thinking about it. It’s ethereal. No wonder she went into archaeology.

Glancing from side to side to account for any wildlife, she drags herself through the tall grasses towards the base of the temple. She wants to start by taking photos and notes on the carvings on the outside of the bottom, and the glyphs are calling her name in their long-forgotten language. She sees pictographs that she recognizes, patterns of certain deities that might hint to the purpose of this temple all those centuries ago, and she smiles. As long as she didn’t get malaria from the mosquitoes and die, this was worth it.

After her camera flashes taking the first photo, she pauses at a sound from behind her. Grass crunching beneath something. It makes her wary, and she puts her camera back around her neck for the moment.

In the undergrowth straight ahead of her, a glowing pair of eyes emerges. She stifles a scream by clapping her hands over her mouth, and she watches, dumbstruck, as a jaguar’s body parts the plants, muscles rippling beneath its pelt.

Oh dear, she thinks. Maybe I shouldn’t be alone out here.

PART TWO — Bestselling Bookstore

My blurb: Nova is born one thousand, four hundred, seventy-four years after the greatest calamity their world had ever known. She does not know that her mere existence is enough to cause a great war — her parents are of bloodlines that were sworn one thousand, four hundred, seventy-four years ago to remain uncrossed at all cost. The last son of two of the great lines upended the earth and rent civilization apart. Her fate is tied with a descendant of his, who, unlike her, knows exactly who they are.

— — —

Based on @-Ivygem-’s blurb:

Lillian, at this point, knows what’s going on. Vaguely. Maybe. She knows, at least, that she’s time-traveling. Either that, or she’s having the most vivid hallucinations the world has ever seen, but time travel is the only thing that really makes sense. She’s learned how to anticipate it — the warmth under her palms, the way her veins begin to glow, and the haunting emptiness that opens in her chest as the timestream rips her to wherever it might like to. At least it lets her speak the language of wherever it takes her. She’s probably the greatest speaker of Bronze Age Sanskrit in the modern world now, and she was only in ancient India for, like, an hour.

It’s not ideal, but she’s gotta deal with it. What other choice does she have? No one would believe her if she tried to explain it. She’s only traveled thrice so far, and each time was pretty short, so hopefully it doesn’t become too big of a problem.

Exhibit A of her new … hobby: right now. It’s some Tuesday, but Lillian couldn’t tell you the date — calendars are pretty useless when she keeps appearing in the past. She’s in history class, ironically enough, and she jots down a note about the Gilded Age, or whatever.

Her palms start feeling hot, and she slams her head down on her desk, uncaring of the judgment from those around her. They can do whatever they want, she’s about to get teleported back to any point in the last tens of thousands of years of human history. Her problems are a little bigger than theirs. She turns over her arms so her wrists face her, and she watches as an ice-blue glow spreads from her hands outward through her veins until she looks like she’s threaded through with frost. A piercing pain strikes her temples, she winces, and then she’s no longer in her history classroom.

When Lillian opens her eyes, they’re blinded by the glare of brilliant sunlight. She shuts them again, lets herself adjust a bit, and opens them slowly. She’s at the edge of a street under some kind of awning, but there are no cars — just a bustling crowd of people with tanned skin who were also rather short on average. She blinked. Oh, they’re wearing togas and tunics. She’s in the Roman Empire.

That definitely narrows it down a lot, she thinks, somewhat sarcastically. She knows her history, so with a bit of exploration, she should figure it out, but as she is now — she is going to stick out like a sore thumb.

She sighs and unbuttons her cardigan, balling it up. It’s way too hot for that, and now she’s gotta go searching for something less … futuristic to wear than her t-shirt and beige cargos.

As she steps out into the street, trying to flow with the streams of people (thank god she didn’t wear any bright colors today), Lillian looks around to gauge her surroundings more. Her eyes catch on a tall, green mountain that looms over the city, serene under the blue sky.

She groans. Of course she’s appeared in ancient Pompeii. Let’s just hope it’s not 79 AD.

PART THREE — Ekphrastic Poem

This poem is inspired by the painting “Cassandra Imploring Athena for Revenge Against Ajax” by Jérôme Martin Langlois, painted in the early nineteenth century. It depicts the mythological character Cassandra, a princess of Troy and priestess of Apollo, begging and praying to the goddess Athena to have revenge against Ajax the Lesser, a “hero” of the Trojan War who committed unspeakable acts against Cassandra.

at the end of the world, it will boil down
to very few things: the crumbling of pillars,
the crashing of metal, the thick stench of blood,
and the glow of torn skin under flamelight. beyond the temple
goes the dance of shadows, bones, and toppled
dynasties — a smoky sky, a child clinging to a father’s
fallen corpse. blood and violations.
the temple walls are falling. a girl tangled in
torn fabrics, haunted and undone. her skin in the flamelight
of her holy place’s unraveling. her face lifted, aglow,
painted with the agony of the greatest men’s cruelty.
the end of the world comes to a few things —
a princess in the rubble, her body in parts, her mind
without mercy. light bleeds into the letters on the walls,
prayers written by her forefathers, by the men that bleed
to bits in the streets. her hands tied behind her back,
her lips burnt and bruised, she whispers,
πατάξτε τον όπου στέκεται. Ας μην έχει κακία.
Αθηνά, γονυπετώ μπροστά σου στις στάχτες και
σε παρακαλώ να έχεις έλεος εκεί που κανείς άλλος.
the walls crack and the sky’s veins are rent wide. a stolen breath,
an owl overhead, and the kind of tragedy
that lasts, left deep in the earth, for millennia.

PART FOUR — Google Translate

Original passage:

Her palms start feeling hot, and she slams her head down on her desk, uncaring of the judgment from those around her. They can do whatever they want, she’s about to get teleported back to any point in the last tens of thousands of years of human history. Her problems are a little bigger than theirs. She turns over her arms so her wrists face her, and she watches as an ice-blue glow spreads from her hands outward through her veins until she looks like she’s threaded through with frost. A piercing pain strikes her temples, she winces, and then she’s no longer in her history classroom.

When Lillian opens her eyes, they’re blinded by the glare of brilliant sunlight. She shuts them again, lets herself adjust a bit, and opens them slowly. She’s at the edge of a street under some kind of awning, but there are no cars — just a bustling crowd of people with tanned skin who were also rather short on average. She blinked. Oh, they’re wearing togas and tunics. She’s in the Roman Empire.

Translated passage:

You feel the warmth of the palms of your hands, you sit at a table forgetting the people around you. They may be part of many years of human history. There is more to it than that. He put his hand on the iron and the wire and looked at the money. Words spread throughout the room.

When Lillian opened her eyes, the sun covered her. Then close the door until it clicks and open the door slowly. There are no cars on the road under the hood, but there are white cars. I turned to myself. I started dressing and modeling. In the Roman Empire.

Inspired story:

Lillian sits at the bar, her hands crossed beneath her chin, staring at her empty glass. A man sidles up next to her and sits on the neighboring seat, beckoning the bartender to order a drink. After the bartender is gone, he turns to her.

“Pay up,” he says casually, lightly, as though he’s not planning on ruining her life if she doesn’t accept the bribe. His smile is nothing short of sinister. Lillian sighs.

As she pulls her wallet out of her pocket, she wishes briefly that there were a way to reset her life and the disaster that it’d become. It was tragedy after bad luck after tragedy. She thought that maybe, in another life, she could’ve been something great. An artist, or an engineer, or a model, even. She’d always had the face for it. Instead, she rots in back alleys and shady deals that will probably get her killed by twenty-seven.

She slaps the money on the counter, and the man puts his hand down on it, flipping through the bills. She closes her eyes, just feeling the air and the warmth of her hands under her chin. There’s a bit of a draft in the air. The bar is abuzz with noise, words floating out from every conversation towards her ears. She thinks about how inconsequential it all is — they’re all just background characters in the flow of history, after all. They’ll all just be forgotten, like her.

Something in the air seems to become hazy for a moment. She blinks, slowly, and there’s a soft glow coming from nowhere that overtakes her vision. The man’s hand on her money. The buzz of the bar conversations. The lights on the ceiling. The empty glass on the counter. Suddenly — it’s all not there anymore. Nor is Lillian.

— — —

She opens her eyes to a wholly new place like none she’d ever seen. She’s standing at the side of a road with limestone tiles in the ground, and the passerby are all dressed in garments that look like they’d come straight from ancient Rome. The buildings are similarly styled, archaic and strange, and the heat of the sun is burning, whereas it’d been chilly November last she’d checked. Lillian blinks several times and pinches herself to make sure she’s not dreaming or hallucinating, but nope; it seems entirely real.

She looks down at herself and sees that she’s dressed like everyone else around her, in a light brown tunic with a flower tucked into the collar. Then she realizes that no one around her is speaking English anymore — the chatter sounds more like it’s, like, Latin? What? And, even more strangely, she can understand them.

Huh. She rubs at her forehead, then sighs. Maybe she should look around. Perhaps this is the universe’s apology to her: perhaps this is her opportunity to find a new life.

It is kind of weird that there are cars here, though. Everything looks just like the Roman Empire besides that. And every single car is white? Who decided that? It’s hard to look at.

Last edited by Wavecolor (July 16, 2024 23:48:37)

minergold48

Weekly 2 || 1870 words

Three Word Stories (588)

“Nothing lasts forever, unless you are a phrase that is passed on; But we try to remember the toils, tears, and promises that we hold deep within.”

When you’ve been around since the beginning of Time (being her twin sister), it’s sometimes hard to remember things. Deities have the mental capacity to remember billions of years of information without going crazy, but that doesn’t mean that their minds don’t toss lesser information out when it becomes generally obsolete.
Andromeda remembered the first words her father had said to her: “Space may be finite, but that doesn’t mean it has limits.” Quite wise for a confused newborn universe creator. Andromeda hadn’t understood or believed what it had said until she accidentally spawned the minor deity of food from just playing around. Ever since then, she had been trying to get around the theoretical limits of the universe she ruled over, along with sharing the wisdom that the Nothingness had shared with her.
One of these limits was her memory.
Andromeda had assumed she could remember much more than mortals could, which was true, but she didn’t realize that there was a point where small things would be forgotten until she ran into some obscure, kind of messed-up galaxy she had created when she was very young. It held some life, a few mortal species who had come into existence long after she had abandoned the experiment, and Ann realized that she didn’t remember every celestial object she had created, even the frustrating ones that she could’ve learned from, the ones that became extremely torn up in some way.
She confided in the minor deity of memories, Emerii, who explained to her that remembering everything would make it difficult for her to do her job, and he suggested that instead she kept a record of what she did to look back on when she needed to.
So for millions of years Andromeda has been keeping track of what she’s done, who she’s talked to, every space recipe she’s created, to make sure that nothing can be forgotten forever. The methods changed over time (diaries aren’t exactly convenient when you have hundreds of years to keep track of), but she found it easiest to sort them into categories, and keep important stuff to the side. Some of her siblings said it was unnecessary, but when she could recall each and every one’s name, pronouns, and domain, it does make reconnecting easier after a few thousand years.
Andromeda was currently sitting at her desk in her space castle, writing in a journal about her closest siblings. She tended to not put anyone other than the major deities in there, but she felt like the new friend she had made would be one she couldn’t forget.
“Meledonia Aeridon…” she whispered to herself as she wrote. Being an introvert, it wasn’t until she had met the musical mouse that she had remembered how deities were. When you age impressively slowly, you have a severely long period of the confusion that is being a teenager, and for deities with stronger connections to mortals, it’s actually quite common for them to feel a lot of emotions during that phase. Ann had become Melody’s therapist, essentially, and had spent a lot of time with her to help her cope through her rough patches with her role and her siblings. She recalled their names as well- Gentilezza and Gary, deities of kindness and size respectfully.
Despite all of this happening over the past month, Ann was quite proud of this recollection. She had to keep track of everything, the good, bad, and ugly. And especially the promises. She would have to visit Melody again soon.

Bookstore Blurbs (492)

My Blurb (129)
Nature and Cosmos have swapped roles. The world changes overnight, the skies becoming an endless bramble of branches and leaves and vines, flowers and fruit replacing the stars. On the ground, the grass and trees are replaced with fogs of space dust, filled with both tiny powerful stars and shadowy darkness. The protagonist remembers how the world was supposed to be, but everyone else acts like it was always like this. Even worse, the dark energy seeping into the planet is threatening to rip it into pieces and crush humanity against its shell of greenery. Needing a solution, the protagonist signs up to go on a journey through the tangled forest above, hoping that something inside holds the answer to why this swap happened, and why only he remembers.

Story (363)
“A wizard’s planet has been destroyed in an intergalactic war and he's the only one left. He learns that the inhabitants were turned into Earth’s stars so he makes a plan to steal the stars using an Ancient Spell™️ to repopulate his world. Unfortunately, when everyone comes back they become cats so the wizard has to figure out how to make them humanoid again.” - @wolfiebear-

The wizard remembered when it happened. The giant beam pointed at his home, and his futile attempts to stop it. His magic didn’t work against the modern technology, and the best thing he could do was shield himself from the attack.
Now his planet was gone, obliterated, with no sign of intelligent life. Floating alone in space, the wizard’s purple antenna drooped as he closed yet another one of the texts he had on hand. He couldn’t find anything that would somehow help him bring back his civilization…
Throwing his books into the void, the wizard examined them. Maybe he had missed something? One of the books was titled ‘Curses Past and Present’. He had skipped over it because he hadn’t wanted to curse anything, but maybe… Grabbing it, he started flipping through the pages.
“AH-HA!” he laughed upon finding it. The Stellar Curse. A flexible spell that could be applied on one person, or cities, or even entire planets, turning all of its residents into stars. The aliens who had attacked his planet must have used it to try and prevent survivors… but there was a cure. A very old spell used to steal the souls of stars and give them form.
It took the wizard a long time to find the perfect planet to perform the spell on, which just happened to be Earth. Hiding from the government hadn’t been easy, but now he was ready. He drew a star symbol in the ground under him, chanting words in an ancient language as he gazed up at the night sky and the stars. Sure enough, the stars began falling down, landing around him. Then the wizard noticed that some strange furry Earth animal had joined him in the star. What was it called? A cat?
Realizing he was distracted, he turned back and completed the spell, hundreds of thousands of stars falling all around him. As he turned to welcome his friends, he was startled by the sight.
He was surrounded by cats. Cats of all sorts of colors, with antenna on their heads, very confused. A chorus of meows went on for miles.
The wizard sighed. This…might take a while.

Ekphrastic Poem (151)

About a painting in my house

A moment paused at some past time
A night captured, a river calm
The moon is full, a breeze blows soft
Over the water balloons cross

Memories claimed by these four shapes
Baskets hang, the water beneath
Shimmering with their reflections
Hills watch over in the distance

The land is cool, the moon is warm
And so are the fires within
Eternally the balloons float
Across the river, deep and blue

The grass is revealed by warm light
And stripes of clouds hover above
Watch the fires within the four
Wonder if you’ve seen this before

Yellow glow to the orange light
That blends into deep greens and blues
Are they stripes on the floating orbs
Or are those really the fires?

Blue light glows, outlining the hills
White in the water hides the moon
That sits in the corner, watching
This eternal moment in time
The balloons over the river

Google Translate Story (639)
(Light) TW for dead people and war

Original quote: “It held some life, a few mortal species who had come into existence long after she had abandoned the experiment, and Ann realized that she didn’t remember every celestial object she had created, even the frustrating ones that she could’ve learned from, the ones that became extremely torn up in some way. She confided in the minor deity of memories, Emerii, who explained to her that remembering everything would make it difficult for her to do her job, and he suggested that instead she kept a record of what she did to look back on when she needed to.”
Google Translated: “After this process, another creature appears, another zombie. to destroy it Emery has a small task given to him by God that he must accomplish to the fullest extent possible.”

In her childhood, Emerii had done what just about every young deity had done: done something stupid with their powers. He was in a town that had been wrecked by a war, feeling really bad for all of the innocent residents who had passed on. She had been told to specifically /not/ mess with the dead by Expeeri, but hey, he was a kid, and she didn’t always follow the rules.
Holding out his talons, Emerii called on her powers. To any bystander it just looked like the dragon-unicorn hybrid was trying to like, catch air, but Emerii ‘saw’ the traces of memories floating down into their original bodies, smiling when he noticed a few begin to tremble. Maybe she could perform necromancy?
But as the townspeople stood up, they seemed…wrong. They were muttering random nonsense under their breath and wandering around. “Hewwo?” Emerii whispered to one, and only got a swat in the face as a response.
Now he was a bit creeped out. They were akin to zombies, wandering around emotionlessly, barely able to interact with each other, or anything, really. With a frown, Emerii pulled out the memories from one of the undead, who just froze in place, wobbling back and forth. She did this a few more times, as more mortals stood up and wandered around aimlessly. He wasn’t sure how to…fix this, trembling and on the edge of tears.
She jumped upon feeling a hand of sorts on his shoulder, turning to see what looked like a humanoid and transparent shape hovering behind her, shifting between colors rapidly and having no defining features, like a silhouette. He thought he was being haunted or something now for her actions.
“I-I’m sowwy!” he cried out, trembling, before getting a gentle hug. “It’s alright, you’re not the first to do this,” the figure responded. The voice was familiar to Emerii, and she knew he could trust them, but she also knew that they had never met from a quick scan of his own memories.
“By giving these people their memories back,” the figure began, strolling over to one of the wandering figures, “you pulled their ghosts back into their bodies. Ghosts don’t do well when they go back in their bodies.” With a gentle tap on their shoulder and a whisper in their ear, the zombie collapsed onto the ground. Emerii winced, but was also in awe of the stranger’s ability. “How-?”
“Just give those frozen guys their memories back,” the figure explained, “and then /gently/ tell them that,” they lowered their voice to a whisper, “…they’re dead. Be gentle, they don’t need a rude awakening.” Emerii nodded, giving the memories she had on hand back, and then went up to a previously frozen zombie, gently tapping them on the shoulder. “Hey, uhm, you don’t…need to stay here any longer. You’re…free?” Upon saying that the mortal collapsed, Emerii jumping back with a squeak.
He looked back at the figure, who nodded. Emerii rounded up all of the meandering zombies and freed all of their ghosts until the destroyed town was ghosted again.
“T-thank you,” she said to the figure, who nodded, somehow smiling without having any facial features. “You did well,” they said. “Just don’t mess with the dead. And listen to your older siblings.” They laughed, Emerii giggling as well.
The figure turned to leave, but Emerii called out “Wait- who are you?” before they could.
They looked back at him over their shoulder. “I go by many names, but my most common label to you Aeridons is ‘The Nothingness’.”
Emerii gasped as the Nothingness vanished into the air. She had just met her parent- the Deity of the Universe, born alongside the universe itself. He grinned from realizing what had just happened, before quickly getting as far away as she could from the destroyed town.

krm271krm271

Weekly 2 / 1853 words

Name: Krm
Pronouns: She/her
Cabin: Sci-Fi
Always looking for writing advice, recommendations, or people to talk to! :]
Archive: here

Three Word Stories (428 words)

“ Was I so naive that I almost thought you could ever do something worthwhile?
But all the ghosts swarm us and I could never breathe,
And you just stood there
And did nothing
While I was drowning
in memories of the days we were
Together
And I felt as if you were just pretending to care,
But you didn’t. ”

Tears, tears stream down my cheeks. The salt tastes like sorrow, tastes like the zing of lemonade we’d sell as kids, tastes like the ocean that licked at our feet as we held on together. Held on to each other, clasping our cold palms together, knowing no waves could pull us apart.
But now, I was alone. But now, I was drowning.
They shoot around me; jets of purple, trails thin as smoke streams in the haunting shadows. Sorrow, regret, seeps into me. The ghosts. I can feel them, everywhere, above, below, around me and inside me—the ghosts truly live everywhere.
In the swirl of ghosts, I can hear, I can see—I can hear your voice in my ears, murmuring how we’d always be friends. How you’d never let go. How you’d always be here for me. I see your smiling face, the one I’ve wished on hundreds of flickering flames to forget, forget, forget.
I’d never be able to forget.
“Chelsea?” Your voice tries my name, a question. Your voice is different—not something that my mind has turned over and over in my mind, but something new, something strong, something that was always you before I churned it through the waters of betrayal and made into something new, something sharp and angry.
My eyes open. I see your shadow, your silhouette. Not in the ghosts, but on the hill. You’re there.
“Help,” I say, not a question, but the ghosts twirl it away into the night sky.
You stand there. You’re still, afraid to move, afraid to make a move.
You always were.
I can’t breathe. The memories are suffocating, and I’m drowning even more—
Breathe.
Breathe.
Breathe?
I know I can’t once the word echoes foreignly through my mind.
And you stand there, your shape distorted in the distance, as I sink further into the memories. Me. Drowning. You. Waiting. How do you always wait? How could you always wait?
“I’m sorry,” you whisper, and the ghosts allow me a look at your face. It’s shocking: like seeing a movie star in real life. So many times have I poured over the films in my own head, starring me and you, featuring whatever problem I was facing and whatever excuses you made to avoid them. You’re in my mind every day, but I sometimes forget you’re real.
The ghosts—the swirl of purple, the mist that streaks through the air—it’s all coming from you.
“I can’t stop them,” you tell me.
And I am drowning, I am falling, I am feeling, I am lost.
I am gone.

Part 2: Bookstore (50 + 660 = 710 words)

My Blurb
Teagan is a fortune teller—well, not actually. She doesn’t believe in magic, but reads fortunes for profit. After one of Teagan’s false predictions save Prince Ellis’s life, she’s hired as his royal fortune teller and gains trust to twist the Kingdom’s future—until she learns real magic is at play, too."

Blurb Used:

“ In an apocalyptic world, the survivors of the natural disasters that routinely plague the Ruined Cities now have a new threat to deal with: they’re being terrorised by a barbaric monster who tortures humans and feeds off of their fear. The Colours — an affectionately named group of eighteen-year olds with the nomenclature of colours — have been lucky so far. Yellow (she/her) and Orange (he/him) are always cracking jokes, Pink (she/her) is… annoying as ever, and our protagonists, Red (he/him) and Grey (they/them) are, well, falling apart. Once inseparable, they begin to argue, and in a moment of desperation, Red makes a fatal mistake that sets the monster on the warpath of the Colours. As such, the group are caught up in a furious battle for survival. ”
- @eIoquent-eloise

Red — — —
Red was not having a good day. Between Pink’s constant complaining and the tornado warning that had crackled through the radio the day before, two disasters were upcoming. He wasn’t sure which one was worse: a full-blown tantrum from Pink, or a swirling column of destruction sweeping through their section of the Ruined Cities. At least a tornado could be avoided.
“Don’t worry about me,” Pink grumbled. “Nope, I’ll just follow you, and never say a word of complaint about your stupid plans. Nope, nothing to worry about – I can carry this fifty-brick weight backpack, no problem.”
Grey sighed. “Pink, please. We’re all doing this so that we can avoid the incoming tornado. And we’re all carrying the same weight. We made sure, remember?” Weariness lingered in his eyes, a tiredness that months of sleep couldn’t cure.
“Hey, you can stay if you want to take your chances with the tornado,” Orange shrugged. He was never serious, but at least this remark quieted Pink’s mumbling for a few moments.
They walked in silence, nothing to accompany Red but the Colours’ sturdy footsteps and the steady echo of falling ruin.
Grey — — —
Grey was exhausted. The Colours were their only family—well, only family left—but they sometimes couldn’t help but wish that they could just have a moment alone. Grey closed their eyes and tried to tune out Pink’s rambling, Red’s quiet but heavy sighing, Orange and Yellow’s constant banter and ruckus. Everything in them screamed for the others to stop, give them a break, just not: but Grey knew, and maybe the other knew somewhere, that Grey was holding them together. They were supposed to be the wise one, the calm one, the rational one. Subtle hints, such as going to Grey for problems or asking Grey where they were going, wrote out their unspoken leadership in invisible ink. If Grey snapped, what hope would there be for the rest of them? “Uh, Grey, what’s that…?” Pink’s worried voice sliced through their thoughts.
Yellow shrugged nonchalantly. “Looks like you on a bad hair day,” she quipped.
Pink shot Yellow a signature if you weren’t my only family, I would destroy you. Another unspoken rule of the Colours: stick together, because you have no one else. “I’m serious,” Pink hissed.
The That Pink was referring to was a tall humanoid – maybe two and a half metres? – with skin the colour of rotting food, spindly limbs and an eyeless face. Instead, nearly the entire head was taken up by a gaping mouth. The jaw was as low as a cartoon character – Cartoon? The word was a reminder, a reminder of Before, a reminder of the life that Grey had before, that Grey had been alive Before. They shook it away immediately.
A shriek, slicing and sawing at the air in a horrendous second, came from the creature’s mouth. “Yellow, I reckon you’re right,” Orange gave a toothy grin. “It really is you on a bad hair day!”
“Alright, be careful,” Grey had given the speech before, so this was nothing new. “Keep calm. If they don’t hear you, they don’t come for you. Just be quiet, and follow my instructions –”
“Follow your instructions?” Red exploded. “That’s all we ever do, isn’t it? Be quiet and listen to you, listen to you ramble on and on about how we’ll be okay if we simply never do a thing. Listen to you talk about how you’re so much better than us just because you’re the oldest. Just – Just – leave us alone!”
Silence filled the gaps between the group as they stood in the
“Red,” Pink whispered, glaring. “Stop –”
“You stop! All you ever do is complain,” Red was practically shouting.
“You don’t understand,” Grey said, their voice a dangerous whisper. “Pink is right. You need to be quiet.”
Before Red could ask why, a long set of fingers crashed down in between the group.

PART 3 (150 words)
Pool
Cool waters,
Hidden away from the sun.
A blue jewel,
Fractured light sparking, dancing, flickering across the surface
In rhythm with the waves.
My hands rush through the ripples,
Fingers carving the gem,
Sending shimmering dewdrops flicking up to catch the sunlight in their leap.
In the water’s embrace
I am
floating, sinking,
lifting, falling,
frozen,
drifting,
drowning yet beckoned upward.
And though the waters are busy,
It feels isolated.
At peace.
A gentle tugging as I am still.
A lullaby of static hummed in my ear.
I cut through the water,
My bronze-colored braid chasing behind me
And idly dancing when I come to a stop.
It’s all sparkling with summer’s lively hues,
Warm yellow sunlight coating the land,
Vibrant orange petals swaying to an unheard song.
Crashing out from the soft ripples—
I am back on the surface,
Leaving behind
Another world,
Another magic,
Hiding beneath the waves.

PART 4 (565)
Translated Blurb:

“Kettle is not magic. He does not believe in magic, but prays for wealth and prosperity. When Tegan’s wrong prediction saves Prince Alice’s life, she is caught as a witch and tasked with changing the fortunes of the kingdom until she discovers she can work real magic.”

Kettle — — —
On his one-hundred twenty-seventh day of cleaning the West Kingdom Cathedral, Kettle was ready to quit. He was more ready than he’d been on the one-hundred twenty sixth day—which he didn’t think possible until now—and significantly more ready than the one-hundred twenty fifth day.
But Kettle did not quit. So he wiped the floors as the sunlight climbed down the glowing class windows, organized the archives as the moon haloed the cathedral’s ornate silhouette . Because Kettle could not quit if—or when—he wanted to. He’d promised the deity Paethem three years of service to cure his brother from the silver plague. It was a simple trade: his brother survived, so Kettle cleaned. He didn’t doubt that quitting would mean losing his brother once again.
And so he cleaned.

Tegan — — —
Prince Alice of the West Kingdom was exactly as a prince should be—self-righteous, arrogant and utterly full of himself. Tegan had never met a prince who did not believe himself to be the hero of a schoolyard story told to the children of the townsfolk; each would throw himself foolishly into a dragon’s nest, not to save the child, but to have done the deed of saving the child. Princes were foolish creatures, easily tricked by a charming laugh and expected curtsy.
“Wonderful to see you, Tess!” The prince had caught Tegan staring. Silently cursing herself, she smiled. Alice liked to brag that he knew the names of his servants better than any other princes. This was technically true: Alice knew the name of roughly three servants and genuinely thought he knew the names of the others. Those who weren’t fortunate enough to have their name recognized learned to keep quiet and accept their new nickname.
At least knowing three names was still better than the other princes.
“May your drinks be poisoned,” she muttered. Oops, had she said that out loud?
Unfortunately, this was a rare time that Alice was actually listening. “I beg your pardon?” His eyes grew confused, his eyebrows scrunched together. As if he couldn’t comprehend that someone could dislike him and his ‘dashing’ smile.
Tegan blanked. “I said, uh, make sure that your drinks aren’t poisoned. Tonight. For the feast.” Was there a feast tonight? There was one every other night, it seemed like.
Alice seemed to believe the lie—it was obviously suspicious, but apparently easier for him to believe than her dislike of him. “Ah, alright. I’ll be careful.”

Kettle — — —
On his one-hundred twenty-eighth day at the Cathedral, Kettle would not be cleaning.
Whispers in the town spread like leaves trickling down from a spring breeze, scattering and blowing.
“Did you hear….”
“I know!” “Can you believe…”
“Haven’t you heard?”
“Everyone knows.” “Really?” “No!”
“She’s a—”
“There’s a—”
Witch.
The story spread of Tess, the servant of Prince Alice, who knew ahead of time that there was an attempt on his life through poison the night before. The high priest told Kettle to lead the witch hunt—he couldn’t disobey, and it couldn’t be more dull than cleaning.
So Kettle would lead the witch hunters.

Tegan — — —
Tegan was not a witch. Despite what the rumors said, despite what Prince Alice said, despite what was being posted in papers and wanted posters across the kingdom.
Despite the glowing orb that was floating above her hand, that bobbed up and down in the air.
Perhaps the rumors were right, after all.

Last edited by krm271krm271 (July 17, 2024 01:35:32)

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