[Mimu]

username:
name:
gender:
thought process:
(please try to keep this under 1000 words, but you definitely DO NOT need to use all 1000.)

[SilhouetteStation]

username: SilhouetteStation
name: Hazhmir
gender: male

thought process:

I've dreamt of flying before.

Of running leaps and bounds, propelling myself forward and launching myself from the ground, ready to take flight and soar over oceans and valleys. Ready to see the world from a whole new perspective.

I don't actually get very far in those dreams, but it's still something fun to imagine.

One of the walls of my living room is almost entirely a sliding door, so even sitting on the couch I have one of the best views in the world. It's the only view I've ever known, just as this is the only home I've never known, and the idea of ever moving away from this turns my stomach to knots.

If you go out of the sliding door, you walk onto the deck. It could do with a clean, but I love how the wood has faded to shades of grey and cream. It almost reminds me of birch trees. I like to sit on the steps and just…be. Be here, be present, be open to letting things go. To take in a deep breath and let it out with the wind; to let worries be carried away to other lands, away from here. And then to just be here, just as myself, and enjoy the view.

I've always said that where we live is beautiful. Atop a hill, I think everything can be beautiful. I have a relative whose house overlooks the town, so at night all you can see are bright city lights swimming in the dark. My view is more natural though. All pine trees and bushes and grass hills and toetoe plants (best look those up if you've never seen one - they definitely don't have anything to do with toes). And above all that, a massive view of the sky. Like a perfectly divided canvas, providing a sense of balance.

At the back of the house, there's a lot of pine trees near the bottom of our property and into the neighbors, so that part feels nice and enclosed. Like we've fitted the house snugly into nature. We had one lone pine still close to the house, but it fell over on a windy day. Not even during a storm or anything, it just - fell. It's been a few years now, and it's been reclaimed by the land. Blackberry bushes grow around it now, and a native tree, which is really neat.

Again, there's that balance. Maybe that's why I like being outside here. Protection on one side, openness on the other. There's something comforting in knowing it's not a balance you need concern yourself with. It's not the ups and downs of life, or worries you need to sort out. It's a place where things are already steady, and all you have to do is go out and enjoy it.

I think my favorite time to be out here on the deck is just before the sun sets. There's a calmness I find hard to describe, when all you focus on is the smell of the fresh breeze and the sounds of birds and crickets chirping. I love it when the Tui visit our flax bush and sing for us. Or when the Rosella, so bright and colorful, flutter around in the blooming pale purple Jacaranda tree. They all know that they're safe here, and I think that's something to be said about this place.

Honestly, when I'm out here and allow my thoughts to wander where they wish, almost always they turn to the beauty in my own backyard.

There's a time in the evening, when the sun has started to set, and it's probably my favorite time to be outside. When the sky turns pink and cream and baby blue is tinted purple. The clouds take on so many different shapes; thick, wispy, sparse and dappled. Everything about the sky is beautiful to me.

And there's this moment - this magic when the sun hits the right spot - and the rays stream through the trees behind the house and highlight the ones in front of me. It's only a small window, but as you sit there you can see the color get stronger, see the sun turn the leaves to gold. And I can't explain what it does to me, but it makes me feel. It's a warm emotion, something filling and comforting, that I can't fully explain.

I think about my stresses.
I think about bills.
I think about my mental health.
I think about my Mum's health.
I think about people I miss.
I think about the twinges of loneliness I feel when I remember how far away my friends are since they moved.
I think about too many things, half of which I didn't ask to think about in the first place.

But I remember where I am, and what I'm seeing right now, and for this small window, I just breathe and let them go.

I think about my cats. The library books I'm going to pick up. How much I love my friends, my Mum, how much they make me laugh. Heck, I think about this anniversary event, and the prompts I'm working on. And of course, I think about how blessed I am to have this view.

I find little bits of strength in these moments. Knowing that we heft what we need to carry up on our shoulders, and we carry on. We keep our heads held high, just as we do our hopes and dreams, and we just…carry on. I see this view, and I carry on. Everything that I've been through, and I'm still here, taking in the view, and carrying on.

Sometimes I think about silver linings, and how I'm not sure they exist for everyone. Because I see the sun now as it lights up the clouds and trees and for me, I don't think they've ever been anything but gold.

(988/1000)

[black water]

mark

[Calibri]

username:
name:
gender:
thought process:
(please try to keep this under 1000 words, but you definitely DO NOT need to use all 1000.)

Marking!

[Marsh]

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username: Marsh
name: Nestor
gender: Male
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thought process
Just a gentle warning that I've had a massive project I was working on that's due on Friday so this entry is not as good as I wanted it to be because that sucked all my time away despite having an extension on this competition - but I hope you're able to see the character development I was going for c:

The tips of the frosted grass turned towards him and the reeds brushed against each other in the breeze. There was a slight chill to the air but Nestor was warm under the first rays of sunlight being eeked out over the horizon, greedy to take up the space of the pastel sky and touch every dewdrop on the blades of grass. The plumes of clouds tinted by the sunrise billowed out above him, swirling into new shapes before his eyes and humbling his thoughts with the simple beauty of morning. Rabbits danced across the heavens only to be chased back across the view by an eagle swooping low to catch their ears. A kingfisher dove down into the river to catch his morning meal of fish.

There were those that used the clouds to predict the future, reading the clouds as they called it, but Nestor always found himself cynical of the practice. That was the beauty of clouds as far as Nestor was concerned, they could be whatever you wanted them to be and did wonders for easing burdened minds and calming a pounding heart, but they could also confirm a man's worst fears if that was what he was looking for. For this reason, Nestor never strayed far from interpreting the clouds merely as animals going about their daily routines; the alternative was not at all desireable and quite frankly too much for him to bear.

His thoughts drifted back to his past as the clouds shifted and morphed into beings never seen before.

Perhaps it had been his fault? Would his father, had he still been alive, blamed him for being too naive and preoccupied with his endeavours in becoming the best that he failed to spot the signs of his godfather's betrayal? "Combat is without a doubt a useful skill," he would have said, "It earns respect and commands the attention of those around him, but diplomacy and the ability to read your enemies are far more valuable qualities for a prince to have, son."

Nestor was shocked at how he could have been so foolish, but while he knew there was nothing he could have done to prevent the events that unfolded, it didn't stop him from pondering whether there were signs he could have seen to report to his father. It should have been his role to do so as the son of the King but there is not a person in the world who doesn't regret themselves or past actions from their youth. Regrets and unspoken thoughts are the only things one can take to their deathbed and from this world to the next. The former prince knew that since his exile he had aged and gained wisdom beyond his years. He had watched his beloved family die at the hands of a military coup. His godfather, the general, took pity on him and protected him from suffering the same fate as his parents but Nestor was subsequently exiled to the next kingdom, only to find out a few years later that the rest of his kingdom had perished in a civil war. Nestor was left a prince without a kingdom to inherit or even a people to be the former prince of.

In those years he had become humble, losing his princely arrogance and instead turning to any odd jobs as a means of getting by. Nestor knew he had adopted a coldness towards anyone that showed him kindness and a bitterness that meant he clutched all his secrets so tight to his chest that they never escaped. He often wondered why the general had let him walk away so freely. He also wondered why it was a common saying that time heals all wounds. From his experience, it didn't. At all.

[ 631 words ]

[khvoxtic]

username: planiteri || name: atsuko || gender: nonbinary || word count: 362
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It's never truely quiet, which is nice in a sense, I don't like to get stuck inside my own head. I tend to spiral. Not as much as I used to, but sometimes it happens and I would much rather I didn't. Why do I sit on the top step first even though I know I'll slide down onto the second one a couple of seconds later?

The water pump is humming, monotonous and loud as my sibling showers, it fills the void nicely. The sun is warm, it's autumn, but summer seems to be staying longer than anticipated. Crickets are chirping, one was in my room this morning and it woke me at five am. Sometimes theres a loud buzz from a cicada. One of the dogs will probably find me soon.

The breeze keeps one side of me cold, regardless of the warmth the sun provides. I don't often take my hat off, due to habit. The only times I do is when I sleep and shower. I don't like having my hair in my face. Especially when I'm concentrating... I'm often concentrating. I should dye my hair again. I'm bored. My hat's bothering me. Leave it by your phone.

Head in arms on knees. Humming of the water pump. Swish of grass, dog. Buffy? Royal? Sam?
Buffy.

Her tail hurts when she wags it like that.

She likes to play, but doesn't understand it would be easier if she just gave me the ball rather than wrestling it from her mouth. Our farm is big, the backyard is big. Buffy likes to run. She likes to play. Please just give me the ball. I'm glad I'm wearing board shorts, the ball is covered in slobber and gets worse each time she brings it back. Board shorts are comfy. I like to dress comfy on the weekends. Check phone?
Message from Lyn.
Soon, not now.

Water bucket is low. Buffy is thirsty.
Maybe I'll bleach my hair blonde again. Then what?

Oh, save the cricket from drowning.

Ball is covered in slobber and water now. Love that. One more throw.
One more... One more...

The water pump stopped humming.

[trans]

res ♡

[recherché.]

username: recherché.
name: reith cormay.
gender: male.
thought process:
[0/1000].

don't know how to go about this prompt so im dropping :o
gl to you all!

[veridian]

username: qpplepie
name: yves
gender: they/them
thought process: (412 words)

it takes only a moment, when the world is void of sound and motion. a moment of nothing.

all stands to a still, and the moment stretches out; until it is no longer a few seconds but an eternity. an eternity of light, quietude and peace. and then, you really can't help but notice the trivial details around you - the way the sun stains the land amber, the silent wind that gently rustles the air, the blissful solitude that stretches in your bones- because perhaps all it takes is a moment to realise these small beauties that run in the dirt beneath our feet.

from a tiny seedling grows the mighty tree. in the earth, the seeds hear the promise of light and rain and life. and it flourishes. the tree grows tall under the warmth of the sun, its long fingers guided towards the light, its roots stable. it reaches for the sky, and yet its spindly roots confine it to the earth. there is nothing more restricting than the roots of a tree.

when you lay in a meadow of green, do you feel the rumble of life underneath? do you feel the life thrumming through the veins of our world? when the layers of earth fade away into ash, will you still hear the tune that sings from the burning sun inside our planet?

or rather, do you look up? do you see the endless spread of the sky, muted blue rippling across the empty space outside our atmosphere? i find myself wondering what else could be out there. perhaps there is another us - far far away, seeing the same sky, the same mute blue as we do. we are born to be curious; it is in our nature. our fingers reach past the gossamer clouds, beyond the cluster of heavenly bodies that litter the eternal black. and still, we will keep searching.

then it takes a moment for us to forget the clinging breath of what we were, and to remember what we are. we are stardust - crafted from carbon and nitrogen and oxygen, formed in the heart of stars. living, breathing, we are alive with stars in our blood and planets around our head. and we blaze bright as stars do, bare our teeth to the world, cracks of fire seeping from our hearts, ardent eyes glowing with fury.

we are stardust. flaming, forever. and all it takes is a moment to remember, a moment of everything.

[Rissyy]

username: Ediluna.
name: Hwanin
gender: male
thought process:

Thick fleecy clouds hung over me from the brilliant blue sky, fluttering across the vast horizon. I lay in the golden grass, staring at the scene unfolding before my cold eyes. The autumn leaves that hung on nearby trees softly swayed, the slender reeds writhed and the pools of cerulean water shivered in the gentle gusts of wind and followed a tender rhythm which echoed throughout the valley.

Staring at the unusual shapes that took their place in the clear October sky tickled at the imagination of my old mind. A ridiculous but curious idea sprung into action.

What if. The start of every preposterous idea or suggestion anybody made, really. What if there was a kingdom resting on the clouds? A kingdom with knights, dressed in their noble intentions. With dragons that dared to dive head first towards their millions of pure white cavalry and armed forces. A small chuckle escaped me, unconsciously, as I continued to dream and conjure up the set of a fluffy medieval castle. The kingdom would be ever changing, soaring across the indecisive azure valley. Just as the people, the clouds in which they rested upon would alternate between moods. A smoky gray, a distant blue, a devilish pink and a ghostly white. It was a cluster of bipolar qualities.

Which I thought to be quite unfunctional, but this wasn't real anyway so I suppose it didn't matter. On warm summer days, golden arms would reach down from the heavens to embrace the 'cloud people' ( as I called them ) in their astonishing warmth. In the winter, the wind would sing harmonies of despair and slice through the clouds.

A loud ring of a bell shattered my sweet reverie, thunder, and lightning striking the earth with a blood-curdling shriek. Except, it wasn't the earth. I tried to run but soon froze in my tracks to observe the 'ground' I was treading on. It was almost translucent and opaque in texture with a looming grey tone. Slash! another bolt of thunder clapped at my surroundings, shaking my core. It was loud, much too loud. Holding my breath as I looked up, my foggy eyes were met with dancing blue lines of lightning that tore the stratosphere apart. Was this a dream? had I fallen asleep in my peaceful and wondering state of mind? it was possible. But when did it happen? I wasn't sure. I shuddered in terror at each smack and whip the electricity made as it collided with the earth, unsure of what to do...