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Creativity Corner
Our club members are encouraged to share ideas or talk about the stories or poems they're working on. (This DOES include fanfiction). Why not do it here?
Creativity Corner: Event
The Raft and The Sun
A Piece By Xela
The world was crashing down on me like a wave on a boat in a storm. The raft paddled and struggled against the vicious ocean which threatened to swallow it whole. The vessel prayed to whoever would listen for salvation, to be saved from this horrific storm of desolation and hopelessness. The world was my storm, and you were my saviour. Just when I, the little rickety dory, felt that all hope was lost, that the ocean itself would swallow me whole, dragging me down into the deepest reaches of darkness where no one would ever find me, you, the sun, pushed through the clouds and the storm and illuminated my way out of that darkness. You showed me the way to safety, you guided me to warmness, and you alone revealed to me that the world isn’t just one big storm. And when you, the sun in the sky proposed a union to me, this decaying lifeboat of isolation in this vast sea of doubt and fear, I was sceptical that it would last. I assumed that such a brilliant light would wish to shine with another light, just as dazzling as itself. Yet you stayed. You helped me put my little boat back together, every piece placed with adoration shared amongst ourselves. I believed I didn’t deserve such a strong light, and soon you became my light. We traversed across the devouring ocean together, and together, the world was no match for us.
Creativity Corner: News
What I Can't Say
A Poem by Waldo-Not-Found
I could tell people all the things I love but then I am selfish for talking about myself.
I could tell people what I am scared of but then I am a coward.
I could tell people that I care for others but then I am a pushover.
I could tell people that I am emotional but then I am a crybaby.
I could tell people what I dislike but then I am judgmental.
So what do I say to them if they assume things about me that are untrue.
Do I say “Hi”? Or “Hello”?
But, I feel my heart about to explode.
What if I say the wrong thing?
What do I do if later on they leave me?
What do I do if later on I find out they hate me?
So, could I tell people my life, my experiences, my challenges, my….. Everything?
Creativity Corner: Inner_about
A Suggestion For Inventors
A Piece by Clueless
I want to write stories so badly, but I am not that great of a writer or I can never seem to join ideas together. But, I have several started docs (mostly fan fiction) and a note on my phone for ideas on the fly that I want to make stories for. When I am sleeping or even daydreaming, I create my stories or snippets and I wish I could just write them just like how they appear in my mind. But, alas, to no avail. I wish someone could make a machine where it could hook up to my brain and copy the brainwaves or my thoughts and write them down for me so I could be able to write my stories and also be able to do my English homework! Okay, so that's all. Thanks for reading. And, have someone get working on that machine so I can create magic or relatable thoughts with others.
Creativity Corner: News
A Dangerous Game
The fire crackled and sizzled as it came to life. A tiny flame illuminated the small clearing in the forest. Alder sorted through a makeshift bag made of some of his old prison uniform and a vine he found. It wasn’t much to look at, what with it being old and tattered, but it worked well for what little he and his companion had. He finally found a small bag of dried meat he had saved. It would last the two of them for a while longer into their six day trek southwards towards a port town called Jericho.
A small figure was knelt close to the fire performing a sort of spell to try and make it grow larger. Alder walked over to her, watching with interest at the fire nymph’s skill in pyromancy. When she was done, the two sat, ate, and talked about most ordinary things. Home, interests, families, and stories from them.
“Sometimes we would even have festivals to celebrate the harvest. It had fireworks competitions too. They were always loud and bright, but it was fun. Unless it rained, that is. I remember one of my friends had made firework rockets, and they were ruined by a surprise rainshower. He had worked so hard on them too! I felt bad for him. A few of my friends and I offered to help him rebuild them, but he said he had to do it himself,” she finished, giggling to herself, as she tucked her long black hair behind her good ear.
Alder loved to listen to Etna tell stories like this. It showed a liveliness that he had hardly ever seen from her. She always had a small nostalgic, yet sad smile on her face that grew the longer she reminisced, almost as if she was still longing for that simpler time.
He stared off into the thick forest. “Sounds like something my mother and sister would like. They always loved those kinds of loud, lively places. I guess that’s where I got my ornery-ness from.” The bounty hunter let out a huff of laughter, and she let out a small chuckle. “What else would you do at those festivals?”
Etna looked a bit surprised at the sudden question. “Oh, well, some of the villagers would sell some trinkets, toys, jewelry, really, just keepsakes. There were trading booths full of food, too. We would start a bonfire in the center of the town too. There was always music playing, and some of the villagers would always dance near the fire.” She shrugged. “It was really just a huge party.”
“Hm. We never really did that in Aviscrest. Sometimes there were galas, but those were always for celebrities and political figures. My father and his colleagues went to one and he told me it was boring. People only stood around and talked. There were only a few people who danced at it. Then again, I’ve never been to one myself.”
“Weren’t you an aristocrat?” she inquired.
“Yeah, but I was 16 when Aviscrest was captured by the Automata. I went to a few dances because I was forced to, but never to something like that,” Alder said morosely.
Etna had a smirk on her face. “Were you a good dancer?”
Alder grew proud. “A good dancer? I was the best in my family!” He declared confidently, to Etna’s joy. He knew she hated seeing him get homesick like that, so he knew her seeing him act proud about something as trivial as dancing was enough for her.
“How big’s the family?” she asked smugly.
He looked unamused.
Alder looked over to Etna, changing the subject to avoid further embarrassment. “How about you? You ever join in on those festival dances?”
Etna shrugged. “Sometimes. I was never really that skilled of a dancer. At least, I don’t think I am. I don’t like to dance much, it just feels like everyone is staring at you, and if you mess up everyone will be judging and laughing at you, and then you don’t know if you look absolutely ridiculous,” she trailed off as she fidgeted awkwardly. “So, yeah. It’s just really nerve wracking for me.”
Alder looked at her somewhat sympathetically. “Well, no one is around to judge you now.”
Etna’s face turned red, and Alder could have sworn that he saw literal embers fly from her hair. She turned to look at him. She became flustered, and started to stammer. Alder cut in saying, “It’s really okay if you don’t want to. It was kind of a dumb question anyways.”
“What? No, nonononono, I want to, I-”
She stopped herself as he saw a proud smirk grow on his face.
“Do not read too deep into this.” Alder smiled wider as he saw the red grow more noticeable on her face.
“Well, then.”
Alder stood up and walked in front of her and offered Etna his hand.
“May I have this dance?”
Etna hesitated for a moment. She looked down at his calloused and scarred hand cautiously. Then she looked up at him, her amber eyes meeting the blue of his. Alder noted that she almost looked small and scared, instead of her usual self: confident yet professional, cool, calm, and collected. It was a strange look on her. But he always loved to see her loosen up and have fun, and if a dance would do so, then he was willing to dance with her a hundred times.
After a few seconds, she took his hand in hers.
Alder smiled at her and pulled her up. He placed one hand on her waist, and she put one of her hands on his shoulder. He suddenly became very aware of the difference in height between them. He let out a chuckle.
“What are you laughing at?” she asked somewhat accusingly.
“Nothing.”
They danced around the small fire they had. Etna was a very skilled dancer, and Alder didn’t know how anyone could expect otherwise. He had noticed a while ago that her grace complimented her beautifully. She was always on balance, so he wasn’t surprised as she stepped perfectly in time with him.
The dancing style of the two melded together perfectly. As they continued, they slowly pulled each other closer. The fire nymph’s usual black hair was glowing a bright flame color and was warm to the touch. There were small embers floating around the two of them. It was very unlike what Alder had seen her hair act like before, whereas when she would grow angry, her hair would turn into an inferno. But what he was seeing right now, as he held her in his arms, was impossibly calm and beautiful.
She spun herself out, still gently holding his hand, their fingers intertwined and fitting perfectly. She returned to Alder, with glowing embers from her hair floating around her.
When he dipped her, he realized and noticed so many things. He hadn’t thought their faces would be so close together. He hadn’t noticed before that she has freckles that glow when she blushes. He hadn’t noticed how her flame colored eyes glow amber. He hadn’t noticed how stunning she was, even if she didn’t think of herself in the same way.
He hadn’t noticed how she looked at him as if he had made every star by hand and put them in the sky, all for her. And he could have sworn he was looking at her in the same way.
-Some fluff for the soul from Quite.-
Creativity Corner: Inner_about
Free
A Piece by Winter Rose
I sat lost and alone, no one to guide me. Ahead were only expectations to meet. Watchful eyes look over each move I made, my path lay ahead for me to follow. And I did. I followed the path everyone wanted. I made them proud. I did it for them. I did it because they wanted me to. They needed me to.
But I didn’t want it.
I had no ambition. No want. No need. No goal. Because of that, I lived by the rules of another. Until I saw something new and fun. My heart’s screaming, saying that I should join them, but my brain says to stay. It orders me to continue my work. It was the first time I wanted to do something else. First time I wanted something. First time I needed something. First time, I disobeyed. I ran. I ran to join, I ran for fun, and I ran for experience.
I ran.
And in my head, I wasn’t on my path. Yet everything was so bright. The grass was greener, the flowers were more vibrant, the sun shone brighter, and the sky looked so endless.
I felt free. Free from expectations. Free from perfection. Free from anyone’s order. But those that I met…
They had expectations too.
I was the smart one, the kind one, the innocent one, the helpful one, and I broke each thought they had. Each memory of me. Each expectation.
I was no longer the smart one, or the kind one, or the innocent one, not even the helpful one, but they still made molds. They made molds for me to fit in. Considering my small size, you’d think I would fit, right?
Wrong.
I didn’t fit. Couldn’t fit. I was so random. Spontaneous. Unpredictable. And when I didn’t give in, they rejected me completely. I was left behind. Missing. Gone.
The grass died, the flowers withered, the sun was covered by clouds, and the sky didn’t seem so endless anymore. My only salvation, my hope, my wish, gone.
Now I have a fresh start. A new place. A new hope. A new wish. And I had so much more new.
New friends, new classes, new environment. But why is everything still dead? Everything’s perfect, right?
Right?
Creativity Corner: Inner_about
Everything I Could Have Said
A Poem by Waldo-Not-Found
I could tell people all the things I love but then I am selfish for talking about myself.
I could tell people what I am scared of but then I am a coward.
I could tell people that I care for others but then I am a pushover.
I could tell people that I am emotional but then I am a crybaby.
I could tell people what I dislike but then I am judgmental.
So what do I say to them if they assume things about me that are untrue?
Do I say “Hi”? Or “Hello”?
But, I feel my heart about to explode.
What if I say the wrong thing?
What do I do if later on, they leave me?
What do I do if later on, I find out they hate me?
So, could I tell people my life, my experiences, my challenges, my….. Everything?
Creativity Corner: Inner_about
Fang
I’m starting to think about maybe writing a solo story for Fang during the summer, I know he’s a character for the write-around but I made him to add werewolves to the story, and they live a long time so I was thinking of doing this before the events of the write-around as a way of developing him and his character. For those who don’t know, Fang is a character I added to the write-around that’s a werewolf. The write-around I keep mentioning is something the Readers and Writers Club is working on. The way it works is that every week someone in the club takes the document and adds a chapter. We have an overall goal of where the story will eventually end up, but there are no real rules as to what’s off limits besides avoiding 18+ kind of stuff.
This writing project is brought to you by Equinox
Creativity Corner: Inner_about
Hullo Again
Hullo there, I’m back at it again with the lgbt story ideas that I will eventually get around to writing.
I’m actually planning on making an AOS (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.) fanfic that takes place in season 1, so Skye will be Skye not Daisy, Quake, or the Destroyer of Worlds. Also, quick side note, 3 characters out of the 6 that are on the show will be gay just so you know. Skye will already have a girlfriend. Fitz will be with a male oc (original character). Jemma will have a crush on someone who is already on the team who is obvi female. So far I have planned for 3 oc’s (2 female and 1 male). As for their sexualites, the male and the female are 1 million percent gay. The other female that’s already on the team is bi. Anyway, I will actually try to pursue this book and actually write chapters.
Obligatory credit: Another Gay Story brought to you by InfinityUnicorns
Creativity Corner: Event
Free
The following is an original piece brought to you by Winter Rose
Creativity Corner: Event
I sat lost and alone, no one to guide me. Ahead were only expectations to meet. Watchful eyes look over each move I made, my path lay ahead for me to follow. And I did. I followed the path everyone wanted. I made them proud. I did it for them. I did it because they wanted me to. They needed me to.
But I didn’t want it.
I had no ambition. No want. No need. No goal. Because of that, I lived by the rules of another. Until I saw something new and fun. My heart’s screaming, saying that I should join them, but my brain says to stay. It orders me to continue my work. It was the first time I wanted to do something else. First time I wanted something. First time I needed something. First time, I disobeyed. I ran. I ran to join, I ran for fun, and I ran for experience.
I ran.
And in my head, I wasn’t on my path. Yet everything was so bright. The grass was greener, the flowers were more vibrant, the sun shone brighter, and the sky looked so endless.
I felt free. Free from expectations. Free from perfection. Free from anyone’s order. But those that I met…
They had expectations too.
I was the smart one, the kind one, the innocent one, the helpful one, and I broke each thought they had. Each memory of me. Each expectation.
I was no longer the smart one, or the kind one, or the innocent one, not even the helpful one, but they still made molds. They made molds for me to fit in. Considering my small size, you’d think I would fit, right?
Wrong.
I didn’t fit. Couldn’t fit. I was so random. Spontaneous. Unpredictable. And when I didn’t give in, they rejected me completely. I was left behind. Missing. Gone.
The grass died, the flowers withered, the sun was covered by clouds, and the sky didn’t seem so endless anymore. My only salvation, my hope, my wish, gone.
Now I have a fresh start. A new place. A new hope. A new wish. And I had so much more new.
New friends, new classes, new environment. But why is everything still dead? Everything’s perfect, right?
Right?
Writing Prompts
Have writer’s block? Here are a few writing prompts you could try out!
Instead of going along with traditional folklore, maybe add a twist to a cliche story? Example: The princess falls for the dragon instead of the prince that rescues her.
There is a magical ticket that will take you anywhere: other planets, other worlds, even other universes. Where would your character go?
What happens when there’s a personality swap between your best friend and your boyfriend/girlfriend/crush/other best friend? Make up your story.
Magic camera. Need I say anything else?
Time is limited in this world. We always need hold of it. So what happens when you become a time traveler?
You’re the opposite gender when you wake up. Pretty scary, right? What would you do first?
You meet your double who’s the opposite gender of you, but thinks and acts just like you do. You’re practically the same with the exception of gender and appearance, and you have two choices: befriend them or kill your double. What would you choose?
These writing prompts were brought to you by Winter Rose.
Creativity Corner: Event
Creativity Corner: Good Stars
The following is an original monologue by our very own Minnow that she originally wrote for class and incorporated into her work-in-progress novel.
How did I die? Oh… that’s a question. Good Stars, that’s… that’s a story.
Every story has its good guys. And its bad guys. And its cowards, brains, and brawn. Every story has its suspicions, hopes, and heroic feats. But not so much in this one.
I didn’t want to tell anyone this, I assure you. I thought it much better to lock this away deep down, the way you would a humiliating secret. I didn’t want to expose anymore innocent lives to this. I never wanted to hurt anyone who didn’t have to be hurt. Maybe that last one was a lie, because lots of people got hurt.
But I think that’s why I agreed to this. Everyone was already hurt, already guilty, which is exactly why I need to tell this.
Everyone deserves to hear what happened. Even if it’s a bit depressing. Even if it does have antagonists who hopelessly outnumber the protagonists. And even if it doesn’t include a whole lot of virile young men doing a bunch of superhuman feats.
By the way, my name is Nynx. I guess, I probably should’ve started off with something like this, but I didn’t. Before we move on, my name isn’t masculine. It’s feminine, just like the rest of me. But that’s besides the point.
Who are we? Legends, myths, pure energy contained. We are the monsters that parents warn their children about. We bring chaos, death and destruction, but also peace, hope, and life. We are both Gifted and Cursed. We are many parts, but one whole. We are darkness and light, joy and sadness, anger and calm. We are a beacon of light, made from ruination and growth.
Our leader? We are free, uncontrolled as the wind, both powerful and gentle. We can wipe out a city, and leave no trace behind. But we can also give new life to ruins, create and build new things. We are storms of hail and lightning, but also soft showers. We are predator and prey. Hunters and hunted. We are both endless and limited.
My name is Nynx, and I think we’re all just insane.
So, the big question: how did I die?
I’m so glad you asked.
You see, I always wondered how I would die. Thought about it a bit too much. It was a curious subject, death. Did I die when my heart stopped beating, or would my consciousness remain, remembering everything that I once had done? Would I go out with a bang, a flash, or just go peacefully, without a fight?
Well, that last option was ruled out. Speedily.
This definitely wasn’t how I pictured it. I imagined more of a heroic death, or one that came after long years of life, but not this. Not with millions of people cheering, and definitely not my best friend delivering my sentence.
So I guessed it would be noble to die by the hand of horrendous enemies, but when those horrendous enemies decide to use your only friend to execute you, the nobility thing fades into something I call shameful. It was a pity that I would go down in history as just a waste of talent.
I tried to run, but my executor had all the instincts and brains as my friend once had. I almost considered fighting, before reconsidering my opponent’s size and strength.
That left my last option. I crumbled down to the smooth stone floor, and waited for my opponent to advance. With adrenaline pumping through my veins, my instincts screamed at me to fly, to hide far away from here, but I sat and waited for the inevitable. I didn't quite expect to feel so scared. I should’ve laughed in the face of death, or gone up to my executor and fought brutally, like how the crowd wanted. I didn’t expect the thought of death to be so sad and frightening.
Goodbye, world.
Goodbye, breathing and walking and thinking and reading.
Goodbye, love.
Goodbye, ukulele strings being plucked, and earbuds in ears, and silence.
Goodbye, sunrises and sunsets.
Goodbye to alarms and timers and watches.
Goodbye, dreaming. From now on, I guess it’ll be like I’m asleep forever.
My hunter drew closer, fists clenched, no weapon in hand, but motions rigid, dead and controlled. The executioner, my executioner, my friend, drew close, so that I was staring up at my killer, shoulders shaking. A sob, both silent and horrible, wracked my body. I didn’t expect death to be both easy and hard to accept.
I certainly didn’t expect the last thing I would see to be the cold eyes of the one person who I truly thought was my friend.
Great story, huh?
Creativity Corner: Event
Rewind: An Original Story
The following is an excerpt from an original work by Reveur. The story's concept has been previously described on this site, and the first two chapters are now available. Be warned of slight cursing (specifically: "Hell" and "Crap").
Chapter 1: Presentation
The room felt hot. Too hot. Everything was burning. Aaron was burning. His skin felt hot to the touch and he felt the dizziness that almost always came before fainting.
Didn’t Mr. Rominski say that the air conditioner had been fixed? Is it even on? These thoughts, among all of the others that scrambled for his attention, circulated in his head as his partner, Andrea, suddenly turned to look at him.
Focus, Aaron! He thought to himself. The Savior’s Men, Act 2, Scene 1. You can do this. You only have three lines.
Aaron was performing an excerpt of the satire they were currently studying in class. He would be graded on their performance. Andrea would be the one carrying this scene. She-er, Calico-was the group’s leader in the Savior’s absence. Aaron’s character, Pilot, was hardly even asked his opinion on anything.
Andrea looked strange without brown hair, Aaron realized. She had dyed her hair black and pink over break for no reason other than she could. Her uniform hadn’t been spared either (much to the school’s annoyance), the maroon and white clothes having been dyed black after school on Monday.
“What say you, Pilot?” Andrea says with a stereotypically British accent. “What is to be his fate?” She gestured toward the ground in front of them.
Aaron looked at the mannequin lying on the floor in front of him, meant to represent Ickuool, a captured magician. He had been illegally selling magical medication to the peasants that couldn’t afford the trip to the capital. Aaron shifted his stance, knowing that eyes were truly on him now.
Death.
That’s what he was meant to say, but the words refused to leave his lips. He opened and shut his mouth, all muscles tensing under his classmates’ scrutiny.
All eyes were looking down on him. All 113.
Aaron looked upward, and not for the first time, he wished that the lecture hall hadn’t been built at an angle. How could anyone do this? With so many people looking down on him, there would be no way to calm his nerves. Especially now that the panic had set in. Aaron resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair.
Aaron was suddenly hyper aware. He could hear the teacher clicking his pen as he observed the amateur actors. He could smell the TA’s vanilla perfume, even though she was on the other side of the room, scrawling the homework on the whiteboard. He could see and count the wads of gum underneath the desks in the front row. Aaron could faintly hear someone’s pencil roll off of the desk and onto the carpeted floor. Evangeline, recognizing her classmate’s nervousness, demonstrated her most picture-perfect smile, flashing him an encouraging thumbs up (even though he couldn’t possibly see her past Clarissa, the 6 foot 4 wall of muscle).
“Death.” He managed to squeak out, too quiet for the audience to hear.
Moslow spoke up, “Death, Pilot? Do you really think King Clyde would be okay with such a harsh punishment?” He had slightly altered the line to make up for Aaron’s stagefright, but the meaning was the same. “We cannot forget; while we are out of the castle, we must mimic his actions. We are the Savior’s men, after all.”
Although his tone betrayed nothing, he sent Aaron an annoyed glance.
Calm down, Aaron. He thought to himself. You can do this.
“Ah, but you forget, Micah.” Andrea says, moving and speaking as if she truly was Calico. “We must ensure order and loyalty to our Savior and his laws. One must shed blood to have peace!”
Would King Clyde be so foolish as to show criminals mercy?
That was his line. Aaron would speak it, if the inside of his mouth was not so dry. What is wrong with me? Aaron asked himself, though he knew even then it was not the first or last time he would think these words.
Mr. Rominski sighed impatiently, reaching for his pop and raising it to his lips.
Aaron opened his mouth, “Would Clyde-King Clyde, I mean- be so foolish as to show mercy to criminals?”
The line was wrong. Andrea was practically bristling in anger. Her hands, while clasped behind her back, were shaking from both rage and annoyance. If she was a cartoon character, Aaron could easily imagine steam pouring out of her ears.
Moslow opened his mouth, ready to try to pick up the slack when Mr. Rominski’s voice interrupted them, “I’ve seen enough,” he declared, “Return to our seats, you three. The class will read the rest of the scene independently.”
He screwed up. Aaron knew it, Andrea knew it, everyone did. While some, such as Evangeline and Moslow understood and forgave it, it was clear that this fumble did not go unnoticed. This fact alone might have sent Aaron spiralling into a panic attack if the world didn’t seem to collapse inwards on itself when he took his seat.
Aaron expected his chair to feel cold from his absence, but he didn’t expect the entire room to dip in temperature. Really? NOW the AC decides to work? He asks internally as he rubs his arms to warm them. Dust particles flew through the air, causing Aaron to sneeze. He looked around, expecting to find his peers burying their noses in their books to avoid the dust. Instead, he found that everyone in the room had frozen in place. No. That’s not possible. They’re probably just sitting really still. Aaron knew how dumb that sounded, but what was he supposed to think instead?
Aaron looked behind him, looking for Clarissa, who couldn't keep still if her life depended on it. Hoping to see her leg bouncing in place, Aaron was both disappointed and shocked when he saw that, she too, was unmoving. The dust particles whirled around, catching the windows’ light as it formed a funnel-like shape.
Aaron stood up abruptly, smacking his knee on the chair, which was unfortunately bolted to both the floor and his desk. The dust began to move faster, the resulting wind catching Aaron’s half-shaved hair. Aaron looked around, despite knowing what he would see. Why aren’t they moving? This isn’t normal!
Aaron protectively places his hands over his eyes, hoping to shelter them from the dust’s relentless assault. The dust whirled at even greater speeds, the wind knocking him back into the wall with a slam. Despite not believing in gods or spirits, Aaron prayed internally to every entity he could name.
Suddenly, it stopped.
…
And he was on stage once more.
“What say you, Pilot?” Andrea asks, as if nothing had happened at all. “What is to be his fate?” She gestured toward the ground in front of them.
Aaron responds nervously, “Death.”
What. The. Hell?!
“Would King Clyde approve of such a punishment?” Moslow says, looking pleased, “We cannot forget; while we are out of the castle, we must mimic his actions. We are the Savior’s men, after all.”
Andrea smiles, “Ah, but you forget, Micah. We must ensure order and loyalty to our Savior and his laws. One must shed blood to have peace!”
Did I doze off? Am I daydreaming? Did I die?
Or… he thought, did I go back in time?
Before he could test this theory, the dust picked up once more, much quicker than it had before.
Oh no.
Aaron reacted quickly, running from the room and abandoning his motionless classmates. Though he could run quickly, faster than most his age, Aaron did not have the stamina to outrun it.
…
“What say you, Pilot?” Andrea asks for the third time, not remembering the previous two, “What is to be his fate?” She gestured toward the ground in front of them.
Crap.
Chapter 2: Revelation
“Hey, is there a game scheduled today?” Peri asks, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
Hamko, curious why she was asking, turned her head. She found a large group of boys, all of them in jerseys. Hamko figured out pretty quickly why this was. “It’s spirit week, remember? All of the teams are wearing their uniforms today.”
Peri facepalmed, “I am literally class secretary, how did I miss that?”
“Having a blonde moment?” Hamko asks.
Peri glares at her, “Stereotyping? Two can play that game.”
“Okay, okay. Simmer down. You know I was just kidding.” Hamko says, knowing that her friend was too hot-headed to let it go.
Peri takes a deep breath, “Okay. I’m good now.”
A frisbee flies over Hamko’s head, sailing toward the group of jocks. “Watch out!” She yells, causing a jock to turn his head in her direction, only to get nailed by a Neon Pink frisbee.
“Ow! For the love of-” The guy’s eye throbs as he looks up. A nimble Asian girl runs toward him.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Hamko worries, “How’s your eye?” She reaches toward his face to try and get a better look, only to freeze up at the sight of his jersey. Fourteen. He’s the one Madame Mill told me about.
Hamko might have smiled then, if the boy didn’t smack her hand away, “Just take your frisbee and go.”
“Wait, it’s not mi-”
A short girl (somehow even shorter than Hamko herself) shoves the frisbee into Hamko’s hand, “Just go.”
No. No. No. This is NOT how this was supposed to go. “Wait! Can we just, rewind or something?”
The girl froze, as did 14.
…
“Okay. I’m good now.” Peri says, a smile on her face.
Hamko stands abruptly.
Peri’s smile falls, “Hey, everything okay? I didn’t mean it, I promise.”
Hamko looks around. The frisbee flies overhead.
Panicked, Hamko yells, “Rewind!”
…
Peri smiled, “Okay. I’m good now.”
Hamko said quietly, “Oh my God.”
“What?” Peri asked, “Is somebody embarrassing themself?”
Peri looked across the lawn, searching for something noteworthy.
Hamko jumped up, catching the frisbee before it could reach 14.
Oh my God. How?
“Nice catch.” Peri nodded in approval, “I didn’t even see it coming.”
Hamko looked down at the frisbee in her hand, frozen from shock.
Did I do that? Did I somehow rewind time?
“I…” Hamko breathes, still trying to recover.
When did this start? Surely I’ve said that word before, why is this only happening now? Hamko thought, turning to look at 14, who was laughing with his friends. Is it because I’ve finally found him? What am I supposed to do now?
“Hamko, are you okay?” Peri asks, squatting down a little to look her friend in the eye, “Maybe you stood up too fast?”
Hamko had just barely mustered the strength to raise her head before she heard a boy call out, “Hey!” He ran toward the two girls, “Sorry about that, my girlfriend sucks at aiming. Nobody’s hurt, right?”
Hamko weakly held out her hand, and the boy happily accepts it. Peri wraps her arm around Hamko as the boy walks off, “Hey, why don’t we go somewhere less hectic? You seem a bit overwhelmed.”
You could say that again. Hamko settled for something to the effect of, “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”
Creativity Corner: Event
Old to New
My idea is taking an old, traditional and cliche story and changing it completely, adding plot twist and new ideas, so here it goes.
I was thinking about taking the traditional story about the princess being taken by a dragon and the knight in shining armor coming to save her. The knight slays the dragon and marries the princess, the end. This one has a plot twist actually.
Instead of the dragon taking the princess, the king asked the dragon and the princess to live together for the princess to choose from the bravest men as her husband. They stage the whole thing, making the dragon seem to be evil.
Many knights come along, but none succeed, especially since the princess ask the dragon for a special request: to kill anyone she doesn’t like. Handsome men, rich men, and even little kids come by. The rich are killed, the handsome are burned, and the kids are scared off.
This happens for 10 years, until the king sends a knight, who goes and tries to save the princess. This knight is skilled, and could succeed in killing the dragon, but the second plot twist is that the princess falls in love with the dragon.
The knight is cruel and greedy, so he uses that passion for greed to kill the dragon, thus ending the dragon’s life and kidnaps the princess to take her to the king. They get married, and even though the princess doesn’t want to marry the knight, she’s forced to because of her father.
They say they live happily ever after, but it is only an act. Royalty has to keep their reputation up after all. In reality, the princess loathes her life but puts up with it because she still believes that the dragon is alive.
Plot twist #3! The dragon is alive, and he comes back to save the princess, killing many in the process, however, is still caught and meant to be executed.
In the very end, the princess helps the dragon escape, and she runs off with him. The dragon and princess truly live happily ever after.
The end! So I have the storyline done, but I will have to write the actual story. I hope you liked this mess of a story. Have a good day!
This story has been brought to you by Winter Rose
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Creativity Corner: Inner_about
National Standards
Rewind ( Chapters 1 and 2)
Chapter 1: Presentation
The room felt hot. Too hot. Everything was burning. Aaron was burning. His skin felt hot to the touch and he felt the dizziness that almost always came before fainting.
Didn’t Mr. Rominski say that the air conditioner had been fixed? Is it even on? These thoughts, among all of the others that scrambled for his attention, circulated in his head as his partner, Andrea, suddenly turned to look at him.
Focus, Aaron! He thought to himself. The Savior’s Men, Act 2, Scene 1. You can do this. You only have three lines.
Aaron was performing an excerpt of the satire they were currently studying in class. He would be graded on their performance. Andrea would be the one carrying this scene. She-er, Calico-was the group’s leader in the Savior’s absence. Aaron’s character, Pilot, was hardly even asked his opinion on anything.
Andrea looked strange without brown hair, Aaron realized. She had dyed her hair black and pink over break for no reason other than she could. Her uniform hadn’t been spared either (much to the school’s annoyance), the maroon and white clothes having been dyed black after school on Monday.
“What say you, Pilot?” Andrea says with a stereotypically British accent. “What is to be his fate?” She gestured toward the ground in front of them.
Aaron looked at the mannequin lying on the floor in front of him, meant to represent Ickuool, a captured magician. He had been illegally selling magical medication to the peasants that couldn’t afford the trip to the capital. Aaron shifted his stance, knowing that eyes were truly on him now.
Death.
That’s what he was meant to say, but the words refused to leave his lips. He opened and shut his mouth, all muscles tensing under his classmates’ scrutiny.
All eyes were looking down on him. All 113.
Aaron looked upward, and not for the first time, he wished that the lecture hall hadn’t been built at an angle. How could anyone do this? With so many people looking down on him, there would be no way to calm his nerves. Especially now that the panic had set in. Aaron resisted the urge to run a hand through his hair.
Aaron was suddenly hyper aware. He could hear the teacher clicking his pen as he observed the amateur actors. He could smell the TA’s vanilla perfume, even though she was on the other side of the room, scrawling the homework on the whiteboard. He could see and count the wads of gum underneath the desks in the front row. Aaron could faintly hear someone’s pencil roll off of the desk and onto the carpeted floor. Evangeline, recognizing her classmate’s nervousness, demonstrated her most picture-perfect smile, flashing him an encouraging thumbs up (even though he couldn’t possibly see her past Clarissa, the 6 foot 4 wall of muscle).
“Death.” He managed to squeak out, too quiet for the audience to hear.
Moslow spoke up, “Death, Pilot? Do you really think King Clyde would be okay with such a harsh punishment?” He had slightly altered the line to make up for Aaron’s stagefright, but the meaning was the same. “We cannot forget; while we are out of the castle, we must mimic his actions. We are the Savior’s men, after all.”
Although his tone betrayed nothing, he sent Aaron an annoyed glance.
Calm down, Aaron. He thought to himself. You can do this.
“Ah, but you forget, Micah.” Andrea says, moving and speaking as if she truly was Calico. “We must ensure order and loyalty to our Savior and his laws. One must shed blood to have peace!”
Would King Clyde be so foolish as to show criminals mercy?
That was his line. Aaron would speak it, if the inside of his mouth was not so dry. What is wrong with me? Aaron asked himself, though he knew even then it was not the first or last time he would think these words.
Mr. Rominski sighed impatiently, reaching for his pop and raising it to his lips.
Aaron opened his mouth, “Would Clyde-King Clyde, I mean- be so foolish as to show mercy to criminals?”
The line was wrong. Andrea was practically bristling in anger. Her hands, while clasped behind her back, were shaking from both rage and annoyance. If she was a cartoon character, Aaron could easily imagine steam pouring out of her ears.
Moslow opened his mouth, ready to try to pick up the slack when Mr. Rominski’s voice interrupted them, “I’ve seen enough,” he declared, “Return to our seats, you three. The class will read the rest of the scene independently.”
He screwed up. Aaron knew it, Andrea knew it, everyone did. While some, such as Evangeline and Moslow understood and forgave it, it was clear that this fumble did not go unnoticed. This fact alone might have sent Aaron spiralling into a panic attack if the world didn’t seem to collapse inwards on itself when he took his seat.
Aaron expected his chair to feel cold from his absence, but he didn’t expect the entire room to dip in temperature. Really? NOW the AC decides to work? He asks internally as he rubs his arms to warm them. Dust particles flew through the air, causing Aaron to sneeze. He looked around, expecting to find his peers burying their noses in their books to avoid the dust. Instead, he found that everyone in the room had frozen in place. No. That’s not possible. They’re probably just sitting really still. Aaron knew how dumb that sounded, but what was he supposed to think instead.
Aaron looked behind him, looking for Clarissa, who could keep still if her life depended on it. Hoping to see her leg bouncing in place, Aaron was both disappointed and shocked when he saw that, she too, was unmoving. The dust particles whirled around, catching the windows’ light as it formed a funnel-like shape.
Aaron stood up abruptly, smacking his knee on the chair, which was unfortunately bolted to both the floor and his desk. The dust began to move faster, the resulting wind catching Aaron’s half-shaved hair. Aaron looked around, despite knowing what he would see. Why aren’t they moving? This isn’t normal!
Aaron protectively places his hands over his eyes, hoping to shelter them from the dust’s relentless assault. The dust whirled at even greater speeds, the wind knocking him back into the wall with a slam. Despite not believing in gods or spirits, Aaron prayed internally to every entity he could name.
Suddenly, it stopped.
…
And he was on stage once more.
“What say you, Pilot?” Andrea asks, as if nothing had happened at all. “What is to be his fate?” She gestured toward the ground in front of them.
Aaron responds nervously, “Death.”
What. The. Hell?!
“Would King Clyde approve of such a punishment?” Moslow says, looking pleased, “We cannot forget; while we are out of the castle, we must mimic his actions. We are the Savior’s men, after all.”
Andrea smiles, “Ah, but you forget, Micah. We must ensure order and loyalty to our Savior and his laws. One must shed blood to have peace!”
Did I doze off? Am I daydreaming? Did I die?
Or… he thought, did I go back in time?
Before he could test this theory, the dust picked up once more, much quicker than it had before.
Oh no.
Aaron reacted quickly, running from the room and abandoning his motionless classmates. Though he could run quickly, faster than most his age, Aaron did not have the stamina to outrun it.
…
“What say you, Pilot?” Andrea asks for the third time, not remembering the previous two, “What is to be his fate?” She gestured toward the ground in front of them.
Crap.
Chapter 2: Revelation
“Hey, is there a game scheduled today?” Peri asks, pulling her hair back into a ponytail.
Hamko, curious why she was asking, turned her head. She found a large group of boys, all of them in jerseys. Hamko figured out pretty quickly why this was. “It’s spirit week, remember? All of the teams are wearing their uniforms today.”
Peri facepalmed, “I am literally class secretary, how did I miss that?”
“Having a blonde moment?” Hamko asks.
Peri glared at me, “Stereotyping? Two can play that game.”
“Okay, okay. Simmer down. You know I was just kidding.” Hamko says, knowing that her friend was too hot-headed to let it go.
Peri takes a deep breath, “Okay. I’m good now.”
A frisbee flies over Hamko’s head, sailing toward the group of jocks. “Watch out!” She yells, causing a jock to turn his head in her direction, only to get nailed by a Neon Pink frisbee.
“Ow! For the love of-” The guy’s eye throbs as he looks up. A nimble Asian girl runs toward him.
“Oh my gosh, are you okay?” Hamko worries, “How’s your eye?” She reaches toward his face to try and get a better look, only to freeze up at the sight of his jersey. Fourteen. He’s the one Madame Mill told me about.
Hamko might have smiled then, if the boy didn’t smack her hand away, “Just take your frisbee and go.”
“Wait, it’s not mi-”
A short girl (somehow even shorter than Hamko herself) shoves the frisbee into Hamko’s hand, “Just go.”
No. No. No. This is NOT how this was supposed to go. “Wait! Can we just, rewind or something?”
The girl froze, as did 14.
…
“Okay. I’m good now.” Peri says, a smile on her face.
Hamko stands abruptly.
Peri’s smile falls, “Hey, everything okay? I didn’t mean it, I promise.”
Hamko looks around. The frisbee flies overhead.
Panicked, Hamko yells, “Rewind!”
…
Peri smiled, “Okay. I’m good now.”
Hamko said quietly, “Oh my God.”
“What?” Peri asked, “Is somebody embarrassing themself?”
Peri looked across the lawn, searching for something noteworthy.
Hamko jumped up, catching the frisbee before it could reach 14.
Oh my God. How?
“Nice catch.” Peri nodded in approval, “I didn’t even see it coming.”
Hamko looked down at the frisbee in her hand, frozen from shock.
Did I do that? Did I somehow rewind time?
“I…” Hamko breathes, still trying to recover.
When did this start? Surely I’ve said that word before, why is this only happening now? Hamko thought, turning to look at 14, who was laughing with his friends. Is it because I’ve finally found him? What am I supposed to do now?
“Hamko, are you okay?” Peri asks, squatting down a little to look her friend in the eye, “Maybe you stood up too fast?”
Hamko had just barely mustered the strength to raise her head before she heard a boy call out, “Hey!” He ran toward the two girls, “Sorry about that, my girlfriend sucks at aiming. Nobody’s hurt, right?”
Hamko weakly held out her hand, and the boy happily accepts it. Peri wraps her arm around Hamko as the boy walks off, “Hey, why don’t we go somewhere less hectic? You seem a bit overwhelmed.”
You could say that again. Hamko settled for something to the effect of, “Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”
Creativity Corner: Feature
The following short story is brought to you by Waldo_Not_Found
Insomnia
I am tired. I can’t sleep. If I sleep, I will have those dreams again and again. Why am I so haunted from this one dream that is a regular occurrence in my life, and that at this point I should be used to. I drink Mountain Dew and Monsters to stay up for longer than I should. I avoid lying down, I sit, and I stare into nothingness so I don’t have to be haunted by these dreams. The bags under my eyes go on for miles and miles, stretching so far that they can travel from Tokyo to LA and back again and again. What is the dream that haunts me so? I don’t know anymore. I haven’t slept for so long that I forgot what that wretched dream was about.
People would say that I am insane with an extreme case of insomnia, that I would be scared to sleep even for 5 minutes. I don’t know why, but that is just how I live my life. Please understand that I chose this for myself, not for others. I hate sleep. Sleep is something that humans need in their life, but for me it is the most horrid part of my days that I do sleep, for the reason that I am human too. I have never asked to be human. I never asked for anything that has caused my insomnia. I never asked for this. I never asked to hate everything about myself. I never asked to be anything other than happy. Is that so hard to ask?
To never be afraid to sleep, to never hate myself, to never be happy, I want these things to happen in my life. To have a life where I am not afraid to sleep, to not hate myself, and to be happy. I want to sleep, but I am afraid that I may never wake up again, like I am drowning. Sleeping is drowning for me. You go and think everything is fine and then your feet can’t touch the bottom and you feel your body is like lead, so you sink and sink. I want to stay in the safe side, but others are yelling at me to go, to get out of the safe zone, and into the deeper part of the pool. And, I scream back, “NO! NEVER!” Tears are in my eyes at this point. “I didn’t ask for this,” I say much quieter.
In my thoughts, I think ‘Leave me alone!’ and ‘Stop don’t touch me!’ also ‘Let me go!’, but it was too late. They grabbed me by my arms and drag me to my doom. It goes black and when I try to sleep again, it feels like the same thing again and again. Make the thoughts stop, stop the drowning feeling , just stop it . No I can’t sleep n
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Creativity Corner: OpeningHours
Note from editor: The following is describing a Fanfiction for the show Arrow.
Hullo It Me
Okay, so this is gonna be a story about season one of Arrow. It will partially be pre-season one and during season one if that makes any sense. The main character’s love interest is Thea Queen. The main protagonist, Alura, in this story is an alien from the planet Illumia. She was shipped off her planet for her own safety, because they were being taken over by the Dominators, a despicable race of aliens that despises the Illumia for their happiness and kindness toward other species. She comes to Earth and meets Thea Queen, they slowly fall in love, and she tells Thea that she is an alien. Then, suddenly something very terrible happens. If you want to read the rest. look up infinityunicornz on Wattpad.
This blurb and shameless self-advertisement is brought to you by Infinity
Creativity Corner: Inner_about
My Fanfiction Crossover
All right, so I'm currently writing a next generation fan fiction about 'The Originals' (specifically Klaus and his secret daughter). She goes to Beacon Hills High School (yes, this will contain the Teen Wolf characters). She is British, and a very open lesbian. Season 2 of 'Agents Of Shield' will play a role in the story, because my main character is inhuman but doesn't know it yet. She will fall in love with Allison Argent. I am not 100% on when this story will take place regarding 'Teen Wolf' but I am thinking probably late season 3 or early season 4. Aside from Klaus, the Originals know that she is alive or exists. Mikael and Esther aren't alive in this story (because I hate them). My character will join the McCall Pack. She will befriend Teen Wolf's Danny. They will bond over their gayness (it's beautiful).
This terrible explanation is brought to you by Infinity
Creativity Corner: Inner_about
Current Creative Status
I, like most of the members of this club, am an author. I can’t say my work is any good or that I even dedicate enough time to it, but it’s something that makes me happy. Currently, I am working on three stories.
The first of which is a mediocre Avatar: The Last Airbender fanfiction. I don’t think I’ll ever really talk much about it (online or otherwise) because not only is it fanfiction and not solely my work, but it is also something you can easily find online and I really don’t want my clubmates to find it (aside from Clueless, who is my co-author and it is literally impossible to hide it from her). I can promise that the most inappropriate thing that happens is probably the very brief kiss between two characters. I am not embarrassed because it is smut, but because I’m the one who wrote it and I hate my own writing. Of course… if I was asked about it in real life, I could be agreeable to talking about it.
The second story is really in the earliest stages of development, with a bunch of characters from my past (and unpublished) stories. My main characters include two shapeshifters (both in hiding), an amnesiac vampire, and a witch. I don’t have any idea as of now what I want this story to be about, or what I want to accomplish with it, so I really should dedicate more time to writing and planning this story. I’m wondering just how much symbolism I want in there (if any at all), or if I’d like to dust off my more sophisticated writing style or keep it in my easy-to-follow writing style. I don’t know if I want this story to be just that, a story, or something more. (I’m leaning towards a story because writers who write for the second reason are about 98% of the time writing for the wrong reason).
My third story is one that I haven’t even written anything for yet… BUT I’M EXCITED! I promised myself that I would never mess with time travel in my writing, but how could I not with a concept this fun and cute?! I don’t want to say too much about it yet, because I wouldn’t want anyone to take this idea before I can write it down. I can tell you that I have lovingly spoken to my long-distance friend about this idea and the two of us have dubbed it the story about a time travelling Disney Princess. The main character is not a princess, and I find her much more endearing than a large majority of the Disney Princesses, but she is such a Disney Princess that it’s hard to even imagine her as anything else. She falls in love fast and hard, and she won’t let anything get in her way. I will say that this story is mostly character-driven, but it is for this exact reason that I can’t say anything else.
This absolute mess of an explanation is brought to you by Reveur.
Creativity Corner: Welcome
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