howdy y'all! here's a collection of all the short stories i've written this week at camp!

SILENCE.
prompt— "sell me something you wouldn't actually be able to sell."

Have you ever thought 'Wow, that was really mean of me to say'? Or 'what was I even thinking telling them that'? Well, do I have good news for you, buddy! Introducing... silence! Why say something mean or stupid when you can just say nothing? Not only will it not get you in trouble, but people will just generally like you better if you learn that not everything you have to say is the best!

Want to tell Lisa her skirt isn't pretty? Silence, because you'll either be hit with a time to meet Lisa behind McDonalds or with her fist! Have an urge to announce your grandma eats hotdogs dipped in cheese? Silence, because I can assure you no one wants to hear that! Itching to tell everyone you hate a minority? Silence, because I don't even have to explain why!

Silence, better then telling people things they really don't want to hear!

LOST.
prompt— "it's wasn't your fault."

"It wasn't your fault." Alia said. She was a short blonde girl, with sterling green eyes that always remained serious. Her hands twitched.

The boy below her, Clark, looked at her with a mix of hurt and disbelief. He wasn't even crying, just shaking. Shaking with the threat of looming water floods breaking his far ik figure, cracking all his bones with liquid fire.

"Yes it was." He told her, trying his hardest to sound calm, but a lump was leaking up his throat and threatening to stay there forever, "And you know it. Everyone knows it."

"No, it wasn't. You didn't tell her to do that, Clark." Alia said, looking down at the quivering boy like a mother to son, "You didn't force Leah to do anything."

"But I should have stopped her!" He fought, tears streaming down his face, hot and sticky, clinging to his face like a girl (a girl of 19, her name is Leah, she has black hair, her eyes are wide and full of fear, she is  clinging to a cliff, before falling, falling, falling), "I should have told her that was a a stupid idea, because it was! I should have warned her! She didn't know better!"

"Yes, she did. And you have to come to terms with the fact she knew full well what she was doing when she did that."

"I can't." He whispered to himself, not sure if he was talking to himself or Alia, "I cant believe she would... anyone would..."

"I know. I'm sorry." The blonde said, her voice was cracking. Clark has never heard the girl cry before, as she always upheld a stoic outside. It was like seeing a  hermit crab without it's shell, raw, vulnerable. But most clearly, scared. Her walls weren't crumbling slowly, they had completely collapsed, leaving her open. She was crying. She was shaking, her shoulders vibrating with the weight of their lost friend.

Clark looked at her, tears clouding his vision, before the girl collapsed in his arms, sobbing. And that's how the night ended, two friends, where there should have been three, crying in the night. Together, but still somehow alone.

SILVER.
prompt— use the words 'moons gaze', 'apple tree', 'silver', 'skeleton' and end it with 'forgive me'

It was late at night when two figures approached Pickens Park. One tall and well built, with light hair that was messy and wild. They looked like a soccer player, with such a nice body, not too skinny, but still lean. The other small and scrawny, with short hair that seemed to shine in the light. He had a gaunt figure that seemed to make him look more like a skeleton then a real human.

"You can do this." The taller one, a 15 year old named Avery, had whispered. They had sterling blue eyes that edged on silver, and some would even argue they were silver completely. Like daggers. Sharp, and cunning. They had light caramel hair with darker highlights, and the shorter boy was sure they had dyed it.

The smaller one in question, a 14 year old boy named Connor, who was wearing a white T-Shirt that fit loosely on his skinny figure, was struggling with picking the lock to the park's gate. He had a very simple face, brown hair, light brown skin, and eyes so dark they seemed black.

"I'm no good at this." He told the other. He had been trying to pick the lock for a couple of minutes to no avail.

"Yes you are," the taller one, Avery, resisted, giving him a smile, "you just have too—" Avery noticed the boy was struggling too much, and pushed him aside, "here, if it bothers you so much, let me do it."

It only took Avery seconds before they had cracked the door open, the poorly lit lamps illuminating their sly smile.

"This is so stupid. Who breaks into a park just to watch the stars?" Connor said, mostly to himself, "We could have done that at my house, Avery."

"Yeah, but your house has a horrible view. It's like three feet tall." Avery replied, scoffing, "Trust me, when you climb the apple tree in Pickins Park and  look at the sky, you'll see."

"My house isn't three feet tall, jerk." Connor had said, for some reason the comment hurting a little more then he knew it was supposed too. His
house was small, too small for his family. But he supposed Avery couldn't relate to that. They lived in a nice part of town, with white picket fences and smiling faces and clean streets. The only reason they ever came to Connor's street was because it was a shortcut to their school. Connor got the thought of Avery's finical status out of his mind. He shook his head, "I don't know why this is so important to you."

"Well sue me if I want to give you a good view." Avery replied, not smirking, but not frowning either. "If you want us to, we can go back."

"Never mind." Connor said, gripping his hand in his other palm tightly, "Just get this over with."

"I was hoping you would say that." The light haired teenager told him, and when they approached a tall tree, they hastily climbed it like a slippery animal. Connor was flabbergasted. Avery simply smiled atop a treebranch, waving.

This is so illegal. Connor thought in his head. He wasn't sure why he was climbing a tree with a person he had met literally yesterday, or why he felt like this person he had met yesterday was a close friend.

"Here, grab onto my hand, short stack." Avery said, in the tree, their hair ruffled. They reached out their hand to the shorter boy, who grasped it.

"If you let me go, I'll kill you."

"I won't drop you." They said, smiling. They pulled Conor up with a strength Connor didn't expect, and then let him climb the branch himself.

It was glowing a light blue from the sky, but the actual sky was clouded by a plethora of leaves. He could only see the light breaking through the
cracks between the foliage. Like a broken rib cage, with a light glowing from inside the cracked bones.

"I can't even see anything." Connor complained, slouching against the rough tree bark. He knew this was dumb. Why did he say yes? If his mother knew he had broke into a park to watch the stars with the troublemaker who lives on the rich kid street with the silver eyes, she would skin him,"This was—"

Avery smiled like a Cheshire Cat, the darkness looming over their face. With a flick of their hand they moved the branches out of the way, so the moon could be seen.

Connor had to admit it was lovely. Irdecent. He was completely taken over. The moon shone over his brown skin, making him glow.

He didn't know if he was staring or not, but in honesty, he didn't care. He lived in a busy yet poor part of town, where people's clothes never fit them, and crude smoke would exit from homes every part of the day. He hadn't seen something so perfect, so untouchable, in a very long time.

"Oh. Wow." He breathed out, captivated.

"See?" Avery said, the usual trickster edge to their voice replaced by a gentle tone, "I told you."

"This is actually beautiful." He said, the moons gaze looking down at him.

"Avery's always right. And Connor's always wrong." The wild haired person said. The edge in their voice was back, but even Connor could tell it was still lacking, "We already knew this."

"Way to ruin the moment." Connor sneered, his deep brown eyes flashing black as he playfully pushed Avery's shoulder.

Avery didn't say anything, they just smiled vaguely in response. 

Looking into Avery's silver eyes, flashing with uncertainty and mischief, Connor realized they really hadn't ruined the moment. He wasn't sure anything could ruin the moment. After a few seconds of unnoticed eye contact, the two teenagers looked up back at the sky, pale moonlight cascading down their faces, not noticing anything else in the world.

"My mother is going to kill me when I get home." The dark eyed boy said, his mind not really there. It's like the stars had some sort of power over him. Of this moment. Of them.

"Well, I guess that's the price of hanging around a bad influence," The light haired teenager smiled fondly at their friend (were they friends? after this, probably) with a smile so fragile it looked like glass, "Hope you can find it somewhere in your heart to forgive me."

CHILDHOOD.
prompt— a is walking down the street, and runs into b, who is hostile to them. a doesn't remember that b was their childhood friend && "i didn't know you could talk"

"I didn't know you could talk." The boy had told Dylan that bright afternoon.

Dylan had been walking blissfully down the park way when a boy had crushed into him. Luckily, no one was hurt, but the boy had been carrying quite a few pens for some reason, and they had splattered over the floor. Dylan had helped him pick them and up shove them back into his pocket, before muttering a light "You okay?"

The boy, who looked a little older (maybe a year) them Dylan had green faded eyes that went wide.

"Of course I can talk." Dylan had said, almost laughing at the absurdity of the comment, "What do you mean you didn't think I could?"

"Well, you not talking kind of fueled that theory, edge lord." The boy with eyes like soft faded sea glass told him, smiling. Dylan had never seen him before, as he could guess from the map clenched in his hand he was new. Dylan himself had moved to the town when he was 7.

"Edge lord?" He echoes back absentmindedly.

"Yeah, you know, combat boots, leather jacket, stolen and scary but silent." His voice was loud, but also silent at the same time. He was a little shorter then Dylan, but not by much, so he had to look up at him by a small tilt in his head, "Edge lord."

"That doesn't make any sense." Dylan replied, shaking his head full of dark hair, "Should I guess you're going to go home and watch teletubbies just because you have on a annoyingly bright outfit?"

"Maybe." The boy replied mischievously, looking down at his neon yellow shirt. Why was he acting like they were friends? Dylan thought to himself. Before the boy opened his mouth again, "Why not? Teletubbies is a good show."

"I'm losing so many brain cells talking to you." Dylan fired back, feeling this conversation was taking a turn for the worse. Something about that boys faded green eyes tinged a memory in the back of his head, but he couldn't tell what.

"Can you lose what you don't have?"

"Dude, what's wrong with you? Do you hate me or something?" Dylan said, almost growling, "Did I kill your grandmother or beat up your puppy in a past life?"

"Wait... you don't remember?" The boy asked. What was playful anger (through it hadn't come off as playful to Dylan) was replaced with innocent confusion, almost sad.

"Remember?" Dylan asked. He was almost laughing, but in honestly, his head was confused, running through every possible person with green eyes and light brown hair he had met, "I don't even know you."

"Never mind then."

"What should I remember?" The dark haired boy asked. He was less hostile now, more pleading.

"It doesn't matter." The boy grumbled, shoving his hands in his pockets. His green eyes flashes with animosity and Dylan could tell it most certainly did matter, "I liked you more when you didn't talk."

Dylan didn't know what to say to that, opening his kith and closing or repeatedly. Why was he getting all this word abuse? Why was he taking it. Nostalgia was a cruel mistress. It slithered up his spine, overtaking all his ivory bones and his joints.

"Whatever, man. Just stay out of my way." He said shortly, wanting to think of some clever comeback but not having the energy to. He gave one look at the boy with the light brown hair and the sea glass eyes, before taking a deep breath and getting ready to turn around.

The boy, who's name he didn't even know, looked af him like a lost friend (despite having talked to him like a found enemy)

"Listen, I'm sorry, just... my name is Rowan. I thought you would remember me, is all. Sorry for being a jerk about it. I just... never mind." Rowan said, not even looking at Connor's eyes. Connor wasn't sure what he was supposed to remember, but flashes of a boy with caramel hair and a missing tooth flashed through his mind.

A broken arm, a looming tree, a seesaw built for two only with one on it.

Rowan. How could he ever forget?

STUCK.
prompt— "you're not seriously stuck, are you?"

"You're not seriously stuck, are you?" Came the taunting reply of Dia Davids, a tall girl with bright pink hair.

"Maybe!" The girl who was most definitely stuck in a tree said, trying her best to free herself from her barky prison, "Just— argh! Okay, I most definitely am stuck."

Dia smirked (that stupid smirk, tree girl thought).
"Aw, you look kind of cute like this."

"Don't flirt with me." The girl stuck in the tree growled, feeling bile creep up her throat. She didn't blush much, but if she did, she was absolutely sure she would be beet red.

"Oh. Yeah, sorry Sasha." Dia scratched the back of her head full of bright pink hair thoughtfully, "Uh... are you sure you're stuck? Can't you work out of there somehow?"

"No, Dia, I'm most definitely, absolutely stuck." Sasha deadpanned.

"Alright, well, I'm coming up there." Dia told the girl. She basically just jumped onto the tree, her giant height of 6'1 making it an easy endeavor.

Her face was dangerously close to Sasha's, and the black haired girl didn't like it at all.

"Okay, move your left leg a little to the left." Dia said, and Sasha carefully inched her now scratched up brown brown thigh down as much as she could before it started to hurt.

"What?" Dia asked, noticing how Sasha was staring at her. Sasha wondered if she was blushing, as her face felt like it was on fire.

"My face burns." She muttered, feeling her heart beating her in chest, "The sun is right in my eyes."

"Sorry, princess." The plump girl basically purred, and then moved her back a little so it hit the sun.

Sasha didn't say anything. She could feel the bark start to twist around her, almost swallowing her whole. It was itchy and she could feel the burn against her thighs.

"Hey, do you think I'm annoying?" Dia asked, her voice sounding a little far off.

"What?" Sasha blurted out loud, not thinking.

"It's just..." Her fingers were twitching. She ran a pale hand through her pink hair, "never mind."

"No, I don't think you're annoying." Sasha tells the taller girl, running her fingers up one of her bony arms. She can't breathe, "You just make me flustered."

"I do?"

"You could make a tree blush with all your flirting." Sasha laughs, but her laughter is shaky and uneven because she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't breathe she can't br

"I could, couldn't I?" Dia finally answers back, a smile returning back to her strawberry pink lips. The air returns to Sasha's lungs, though barley.

"There. Now inch down." Dia said, and Sasha unwarppaed the final tangled limb from the tree. She hit the floor with a BANG, "And you're out! Wasn't so hard, was it?"

"I guess." Sasha says half heartily, kicking a rock on the ground and shoving her hands in her sweatshirt pockets. She was so tired of having to look away when Dia looked at her.

It was just her luck to get a crush on Dia stupid Davids, the girl with the obnoxious hai and personality. Okay, maybe it wasn't an obnoxious personality, but it was up there. Dia jumps down from the tree, landing on her feet.

"What's wrong, gloom and doom?" Dia questioned, concern in her voice. Sasha was a bubble of light and laughter, but lately she's been drifting away. Well, not really. She's still close as ever to everyone else. Except Dia. And that hurt the pink haired girl more then she let on.

"Gloom and doom?" Sasha questioned, and a smile willed her lips. She tried her best to not break out into a full out grin, but Dia's rosy cheeks and playful smile made hag difficult.

"Yeah, you've been weird the whole day." The bigger girl smiled. Sasha was a little envious of her tall height and plump figure, "Where's Sunshine Sasha?"

"You know I hate that nickname." Sasha said, her voice a whisper. She itched her arm and turned away.

"I didn't." Dia said, and Sasha could hear the hurt in her voice. "Sorry."

And then Sasha's shell she's been building up for the whole day turns on her and splits open. She looks Dia deep in her brown eyes and grips her face, pulling her in for a kiss.

She can't even describe it. It's wet and hot and messy, and honestly, a little gross. The humidity of summer creeps up her ivory bones, sleeping into ever part of her. It's a blink and miss it moment, but somehow, time also stops. 

Dia kisses back, trying her best to fit her face into Sasha's, but it's weird and awkward. Dia is much more tall then Sasha, so she has to bend down. But Dia isn't complaining, kissing the girl with every fire that burns in her body.

When they finally break, Dia can feel her heart in her throat and Sasha is the colour of new wine.

"Look who's stuck now." Sasha says lightly, trying to sound smug, but her breath is so gone and her mind is so stunned she sounds breathless.

Dia looks at her one time. A quick glance, before tucking her pink hair behind one pale ear and grasping Sasha's face and pulls her into another kiss. Sasha can't breathe again. But this time, in a good way.

BOOK STORE.
this is a poem my friend wrote, and i commented on her word document while proofreading it. she liked it more with my weird comments so have her art and my smart assery.

Without us the bookstore would have been quiet the way I liked it.
But no
there we were
Packed like
two new
books into
underused shelves.
Everyday after school.
Everyday we paraded

( the black parade? )
( no shut up )

down the street.
First the girl with short dark hair,
acting so broken she could use her shards to slice your palms
when you got

( you sound pretty cut up about her )
( shut up )

Book under arm,
pencil in hand,
food thrown out.
Then the boy who didn't care,
hands in pockets,
eyes laughing.
Except when they weren't.

( umm duh? )
( ... )

Then the girl with face cast down,
hair pulled out,
mouth filled with
too loud words,
eyes filled with
too loud
hurt.

( like knives? actual knives sticking out of her eyes? )
( no. )

Next the gum chewing,
lie telling, kicked out of bookstore
for cursing on the phone,
trying to make it to the top

( sexual )
( no i'm not listening to you )

type of girl.
We didn't like her much.
Then the hands in pockets,
sketchy flip-phone
type of boy,
probably going to get
suspended one day,

( what an edgelord )

awful jokes
type of boy.
Behind him,
trying not to be seen by his too cool friends,
the sending half written texts at midnight,
the promising cuts and downlooked
eyes, most of them lies,
not received by me,
of course,
but by her.

( oh tension)

The trying to act older,
supposed to be my best friend
type of girl,
the fits us all together,
reason we were all there
type of girl.

( is that? )
( no )

And don't forget us,
in the back.
Her,
the blazer wearing,
rainbow suspenders,
all over the place
type of girl,
who if she tried could sidle up to the rest and fit right in.
And me,

( r u gay 4 her or smthn )
( stop typing like a ao3 writer )

next to her,
words jumbled up,
eyes nervous,
hands fidgeting,
the technically part of the group
type of girl,
the almost fits in.

( outsider 😔😣 )
( SHUT )