86 comments

Feb 07, 2021

Historical Fiction

The rocking chair rocked back and forth, forth and back, squeaking like a mouse.


Creak creak


The dark wood was polished and smooth, little tendrils of chestnut snaked across, covering the whole chair.ย 


Creak creak


She ran her hand across the armrest, her light skin illuminated by candlelight in the winter storm. The wind blazed and tore at tree branches, the temperature threatening to lower below sub-zero, so even the penguins in the zoo would be shivering.


โ€œGrandma! Iโ€™m here!โ€


The door slammed open and clanged against the wall, the candlewax trembling beside the rocking chair.


A girl walked in, carrying a book bag that was made out of brown cloth. She had dirty blonde hair, with streaks of chocolate brown in between. Her nose looked like a button - cute but tough. Her eyes were a green, the green of the forest floor or the swaying algae at the bottom of the ocean.ย 


Her name was Florence.


Florence flopped her book bag beside the rocking chair and shut the door hard, pausing to watch little specks of snow drift in and sparkle in the light.


She looked over to her grandma in her rocking chair and asked, โ€œNo tea? I was hoping for some chai tea today, but I guess no tea is fine.โ€


Florence sat down on a chair across from her grandma and looked into her eyes.


They swirled like clouds in the night sky, the edges a deep navy blue. A snuggly yellow perched right on the edge of her pupil, hiding as if it was afraid. The two colours melted together like honey would, slowly but surely merging in the middle to create a beautiful, rich green.


One that looked identical to Florenceโ€™s.


โ€œIโ€™m just a bit tired today, but you can make some tea by yourself if you really want to.โ€


Her grandmaโ€™s name was Arabella Beaupre, and she was 72 years old.


On the day Arabella was born in Paris, France, it was a day of happiness, but also a worry was born along with her.


July 17, 1730


โ€œIsnโ€™t she so cute?โ€


โ€œYes, she is! I never knew such a baby could be this cute!โ€


Arabellaโ€™s parents were at home and set everything up for the new family member: the food, the chairs, the clothing, the room,ย everything.


โ€œWhat about her eyes?โ€


โ€œWhat do you mean?โ€


โ€œTheyโ€™re blue, and have yellow in the core.โ€


โ€œSo?โ€


โ€œThe government might think that sheโ€™s a witc-โ€


โ€œThere will be no talk of that rubbish in my house.โ€


โ€œBut it could happen!โ€


โ€œLetโ€™s worry about that later, when it actually matters.โ€


Arabellaโ€™s mother kissed the babyโ€™s forehead and went back to preparing the house for the baby, not worrying about her husbandโ€™s suggestion because it was very unlikely, but mostly because she didnโ€™t want to believe it.


~


โ€œOkay, but Mum didnโ€™t teach me how to make chai tea. She only taught me how to make herbal tea, and I already had that in the morning. Will we need special water? Where would we get it? How-โ€


โ€œDeary,โ€ Arabella said softly, โ€œChai tea uses the same tea as herbal tea.โ€


โ€œIt does?โ€ Florence asked with a heaping spoon of surprise.


Arabella nodded, smiling at Florence while she gathered the supplies.


โ€œGrandma, at school Ms. Feverelli sent us homework where we have to interview someone,โ€ Florence said while she poured boiling water into a pot, filling it a third full.


โ€œOkay, who are you going to interview?โ€


โ€œActually, I donโ€™t know.โ€


โ€œWho did your classmates pick?โ€


โ€œWell,โ€ Florence started, โ€œPietro is going to interview the man at the market about selling and buying things.โ€


Florenceโ€™s grandma nodded.


She poured the boiling water from the pot into two drinking cups to warm them up as the steam snaked in front of Florenceโ€™s face, clouding her vision and blurring the view of her hunter green eyes.


โ€œGiovanni is going to interview Ms. Feverelli because he wants to become a teacher when he grows up.โ€


โ€œWhat do you want to be when you grow up, Florence?โ€ her grandmother asked with curiosity.


โ€œHmm, I donโ€™t know, maybe a lute player for the King, because it sounds very beautiful,โ€ Florence responded.


That remark reminded Arabella about a time long past, one she would never forget.


December 24, 1739


โ€œArabella, itโ€™s time for breakfast!โ€


It was a chilly morning, but quite warm for a French Christmas Eve. There was a thin layer of snow outside, blanketing everything beneath it like a child getting tucked into bed.


โ€œComing Maman!โ€


Arabella ran out of the bedroom to the dining room and jumped into her chair, eagerly looking up at her mother for breakfast.


Arabellaโ€™s mother placed down a plate of bread rolls with a teacup made out of china on the side.


โ€œYay! You made me English Breakfast tea today!โ€ Arabella exclaimed and started digging into the rolls.


โ€œI knew it was your favourite,โ€ Her mother said, grinning at Arabella while she devoured the bread rolls.


โ€œCan you play Summer from the Four Seasons? I think it fits the tea flavour today,โ€ asked Arabella.


โ€œFits the tea flavour?โ€ asked her mother. โ€œWhat does that mean?โ€


โ€œIt just matches,โ€ Arabella said, looking at her mother with a questioning look.


Arabellaโ€™s mother just shrugged and picked up her lute from its resting place against the door frame.


She looked out the window, at the snowflakes or maybe at the gentleman crossing the street. At the shop owners closing their shops for the long weekend or the lonely magpie that forgot to follow its relatives in the fall. At the cottage houses piled with snow or the castle in the distance, reminding her of all the things she could not, would not, or shouldnโ€™t be able to do.


Maybe she thought about how her life wouldโ€™ve been different, if she was the queen instead of a housewife, if she was a princess instead of a farmer.


Then she started playing.ย 


The soft notes flowed through the air, like melted butter. Her nimble fingers plucked the strings gracefully and surely, not making one mistake. The dynamics were noticeable but just subtle enough that it would put you to sleep without you knowing it.ย 


Chirp chirp


The magpie nudged under the windowsill, perhaps drawn by Arabellaโ€™s motherโ€™s music.


A few people outside paused in their footsteps, looking around to find the source of the music. A baby who was wailing considerably loud stopped abruptly, snuggling into its blanket.


The parents looked at each other, confused, but just continued walking, so they could take advantage of the silence.


The noted flowed along the air, like a boat on a river, where everyone gathered to drink, socialize or swim, if they were feeling superfluous.


Thunk thunk


Someone was banging on the door.


โ€œOpen up! Sโ€™ouvrir ou bien!โ€


Arabella stopped sipping her tea and looked to her mother for assurance. Her mother set down her lute and carefully opened the door, coming face to face with some guards from the castle.


If guards came to your house, nothing was going to be good.


โ€œHello maโ€™am, I would like to ask you what that sound was coming from your house,โ€ one of the guards asked.


โ€œOh, I was just playing my lute for my daughter Arabella. She likes to eat breakfast and listen to me play,โ€ Arabellaโ€™s mother responded.


โ€œAre you sure? We suspect that it might be some kind of witchcraft because not even our most talented lute players can play like that.โ€


โ€œWell, if you would like me to, I could play a bit right now.โ€


The guards nodded, straightening their backs and looking down on Arabellaโ€™s mother as if she were a lowly citizen and should be looked down upon.


She picked up her lute, sat down and continued right off from where she had left off, the buttery notes slipping into the guardsโ€™ ears as undeniable talent.


Once she finished, she looked up expectantly for the guardsโ€™ responses and received a surprising one.


โ€œYou shall become our solo lute player, as you give us no option, no one could leave talent like that to rot away in a battered up shack,โ€ said the tallest guard, looking like the leader. โ€œCome to the castle tomorrow at 6 pm and the king will see if you are good enough.โ€


And that was the moment that changed Arabellaโ€™s familyโ€™s life forever.


~


The sloshing of water woke Arabella from her trip down memory lane. Florence dumped the two teacups in hot water, washing any dirt or dust away. She filled the pot up to two-thirds full, slowly heating up the water.


ย โ€œI donโ€™t know who I want to interview Grandma,โ€ Florence said with disappointment. โ€œEveryone else knows what to do but I donโ€™t.โ€


โ€œWhy donโ€™t you interview me?โ€ Arabella asked.


โ€œWell . . .โ€


โ€œWhat?โ€


Florence looked at her grandmother with knowing eyes, as if Florence was so much wiser and knew more things than her grandmother did.


โ€œNot to be rude, but you havenโ€™t really done that much. What would I talk to you about?โ€


โ€œI could tell you about the witch huntings.โ€


Silence fell over the two characters, as thick as the cheddar cheese that Arabella used to eat when she was young.


โ€œWitch huntings?โ€ Florence asked softly, stopping at the tea-making process.


โ€œItโ€™s how your great-grandmother died.โ€


Florence looked her grandma straight in the eye.


No one spoke about Arabellaโ€™s mother, never ever ever.


It was forbidden, but here Florenceโ€™s grandmother was, inviting Florence to listen to the story.


โ€œCome sit. Iโ€™ll tell you,โ€ Arabella said, breaking the surprised silence in between them.


Florence set down the pot and cups and slowly sat down across from her grandmotherโ€™s rocking chair as if she were dangerous.


โ€œWhat would you like me to tell you?โ€ Arabella asked, getting prepared for a sad and gruesome storytelling.


โ€œCould you tell me as much as you can? Ms. Feverelli said whoever does the best interview will get 5 apples to take home. Five!โ€ Florence said, salivating at the thought of bright red apples, the colour of a red carpet or a glimmering ruby.


Arabella nodded and got comfortable in the seat because that story was going to be a long one.


~


July 17, 1744


It was Arabellaโ€™s 14th birthday, and her mother surprised her with a once-in-a-lifetime offer.


โ€œI convinced the director to let you come to our performance today at the castle!โ€ Arabellaโ€™s mother exclaimed, waiting for her daughterโ€™s reaction.


Arabellaโ€™s jaw dropped while her mother just smiled at her.


โ€œWhat time?โ€ Arabella asked with pure excitement.


โ€œ7 pm, so after you have dinner.โ€


โ€œIs Papa coming too?โ€


โ€œOf course,โ€ her mother said, โ€œItโ€™s your birthday!โ€


Arabella was so excited throughout the day for the concert that she tripped in front of Ms. Feverelli, wrote the same word 5 times incorrectly on the test and fell on Giovanni while exiting the building.


But she didnโ€™t really mind.

***


In the evening after Arabella had had dinner, her mother led her family to the carriage that had come to pick them up.


โ€œWhat is this?โ€ Arabella asked, gazing up at the giant contraption.


โ€œItโ€™s called a carriage,โ€ her mother answered. โ€œThe royal use it as transportation.โ€


โ€œSo are we royal now?โ€


โ€œNot exactly, but we are going to the royal palace, so they provide transportation so we donโ€™t have to walk all the way.โ€


Arabella nodded and just followed her mother into the carriage.


The lining was the colour of the expensive cream at the market, and it was embroidered with gold thread that looked like woven sunlight. The seats were a dark red, the colour of a rose that you might find in a deep forest. The ceiling was domed, having a little painting of France shining down from above. The two coaches were wearing military clothing, but it was all a deep royal blue like the bottom of the ocean, or like the edges of Arabellaโ€™s eyes.


It was a whole new world to Arabella, but her mother seemed unfazed.


โ€œDo you get to go to work like this every day?โ€ Arabella asked eagerly.


โ€œNo, mostly I walk or take a wagon,โ€ she replied. โ€œThey only do this for special occasions.โ€


โ€œHow often do you have special occasions?โ€


โ€œHmm, maybe once every week or two.โ€


โ€œCe qu?! Thatโ€™s a lot! When I grow up, I want to become a lute player like you so I can ride in this pretty carriage once a week for the rest of my life,โ€ said Arabella, very certain on her statement.


Her mother merely nodded and they enjoyed the view from the carriage until they arrived at the castle.


***


When they got out of the carriage, they heard something unexpected and very unprecedented.


โ€œ3 members of the orchestra have been poisoned! The concert is cancelled! I repeat, the concert is cancelled!โ€


Arabella and her mother looked at each other frantically with worry and disappointment.


Her mother ran up to the man with a megaphone and asked, โ€œWhat happened?โ€


โ€œDidnโ€™t you hear? 3 members of the orchestra were poisoned!โ€ the man said.


โ€œYes, I already heard that. Are they okay?โ€


โ€œWhat do you mean, are they okay? Theyโ€™re dead. Would you be okay if you were dead? Please go, miss, you are blocking my view from the entrance.โ€


โ€œBut Iโ€™m the solo lute player, I was going to play this evening!โ€ Arabellaโ€™s mother insisted.


โ€œOh, you are? Well then, go inside and turn to your left, the director will explain everything. And who is this youngster here?โ€ the man asked.


โ€œSheโ€™s my daughter,โ€ her mother said defensively.


The man seemed to stare into Arabellaโ€™s eyes for a second too long, but then gestured to the door and started shouting into his megaphone again.


***


Once they entered the palace, it was unbelievable.


The ceiling was so high an elephant could stand up on its hind legs and feel comfortable.


The floor was made out of pure white marble, the black veins trailing across the ground.


The paintings showcased all of the kingโ€™s relatives who had lived many hundreds of years before him, but Arabella didnโ€™t have time to process anything else because her mother pulled her to the left to meet the director of the orchestra.


โ€œHello maโ€™am, the concert has been cancelled,โ€ the director said formally to Arabellaโ€™s mother.


โ€œI know, but exactly what happened? Why did they have to cancel the concert?โ€ her mother asked.


โ€œAre you sure you would like to know?โ€


Her mother nodded.


โ€œFine. So 3 members of the orchestra got poisoned and a maid found them lying outside a bathroom yesterday. No one in this area of France even has access to poison, so the king has concluded it had to be a witch.โ€


Arabellaโ€™s mother cringed at the word โ€˜witchโ€™ because if that was spoken something would happen to the accused.


That โ€˜somethingโ€™ was being executed.


โ€œAre they doing a trial or what?โ€ her mother asked.


โ€œHmm, they might just pick whoever looks the most suspicious,โ€ the director said casually.


โ€œWhen are they going to pick someone?โ€


โ€œIn 10 minutes.โ€


***


โ€œHear ye, hear ye, every member of the orchestra will come forth with any family member to prove that they, nor any of their family members, poisoned Jaque Charpentier, Thibault Sylvestre or Claricia Levett.โ€


The head jury slammed a gavel on the table, sending out a low thump across the room.


Arabella was sitting sandwiched between her mother and father, nervous to hear when they would be called up. They had ran back to their home to get her father right before the proceedings had started since the carriage was too slow.


โ€œFirst to step up will be Alberada Paquinโ€™s family.โ€


The woman stepped up to the jury with her head hanged low, a man following her from behind.


โ€œIs this your whole family?โ€


Alberada nodded.


โ€œHold your hands out, and we will check for any signs of witchcraft. Any objections will lead to certain torture.โ€


The womanโ€™s face stiffened as she and her husband held out their hands as the head jury walked in a circle around them, checking for who-knows-what.


โ€œI have found nothing that could be related or connected to witchcraft, so you may step down and leave the castle, or watch the rest of the proceedings.โ€


Alberada just scampered off the platform, not looking back once at the jury.


โ€œNext to step up will be Avenia Beaupreโ€™s family.โ€


Arabella looked at her parents in distress, but her mother just lead the way to the platform, silent.


โ€œHold out your hands.โ€


Arabella thrust out her hands with fear curdling in her stomach.


The jury circled them like a vulture, observing which of them was the weakest.


The jury looked Arabella straight in the eye and paused.


โ€œI have found something,โ€ the jury announced.


The crowd gasped.


โ€œHer eyes are a peculiar colour, but the child couldnโ€™t have done it, so my conclusion is that Avenia Beaupre poisoned the members of the orchestra.โ€


โ€œBut-โ€


โ€œThere is no buts,โ€ the jury said, โ€œThe execution is tomorrow, 5 pm. Donโ€™t be late.โ€


~


Silence overwhelmed Arabella and Florence in that little shack, Florence unsure of what to say, and Arabella being flooded with an absurd relief.


โ€œIs that true Grandma?โ€


Arabella nodded.


โ€œDid you watch your mother get-um, like-โ€


โ€œYes, and it was the most brutal thing humankind could ever do to one another.โ€


Florence just nodded.


โ€œAnyways, do you think you will win the apples?โ€


โ€œMaybe.โ€


โ€œWell, you should get going before it gets even colder.โ€


The wind howled as if in response.


โ€œOkay.โ€


Florence gathered her stuff and said, โ€œBye Grandma! Iโ€™ll tell you who won tomorrow, okay?โ€


It was Arabellaโ€™s turn to nod.


Florence opened the door and stepped out, leaving Arabella to soak in her thoughts.


It was only then when Arabella realized that Florence never finished making her tea.


***

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86 comments

Radhika Diksha
02:20 Feb 13, 2021

New story out would love your feedback on it.

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21:24 Feb 12, 2021

๐Ÿฅ—

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21:32 Feb 12, 2021

no problem<3

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are you writing anything?

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21:39 Feb 12, 2021

not right now, I'm thinking up ideas for the new prompts.

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oh ok I'm writing one for the first one

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Whisper .
18:32 Feb 27, 2021

Hey, Scarlet? What was your name before Scarlet Witch? Or did you not have one? Did you leave Reedsy? All your stories are gone. See ya, hope you are doing ok.

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Hi, I saw you asked about me, me and Maya are doing a dystopian story. We both have gemstone names! Yay! Also, I can't think of a single negative ting to say about this story, and I have a really good eye for typos.

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oohhhhhh yay i love dystopian :D OH right thats cool!!!!! thanks so much! me too, I reread a lot to make sure there's no typos. i found 2 typos in a news article and it really bothered me XD

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๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—

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Ruby ๐Ÿ’ซ
22:48 Feb 08, 2021

Great story! Really interesting about witches and stuff, and a great historical event๐Ÿ˜ -Ruby ๐Ÿ’–

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. . . Awesome. Love this. Wait, her eyes were normal blue with a fleck of gold! "Witches" were usually people with creepy birthmarks and things, right? Just wondering why you chose eyes. But I love this.

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thank uuuu! yeah, i wanted to choose something a bit different so I chose the eyes, because its the first thing you look to when you meet someone

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i literally searched up 'rare eye colours' on google and described the one I liked XD

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Cool, I'm doing one (as a novel) about a world where some people are born with pure white eyes and they kill their white eyed babies because they think it's bad luck to have one.

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THAT is a good idea why is my response so late XD

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๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—...

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๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—

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18:57 Feb 08, 2021

Hi!! I really liked your story and the emotional balance of it. You took me on an emotional rollercoaster and that's really hard to do so thank you for this experience. Can you read my story "Noah Adir" and leave feedback? I'm trying to perfect my writing on racial problems :)

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hi! wow thank you, i'm happy you enjoyed it :D yes, I'll leave some feedback

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14:06 Feb 09, 2021

Thank youu!!!

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it might take a littttttttttle bit because i have homework and a science fair to do, but I promise I will read it before the contest ends!!!!!

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15:50 Feb 09, 2021

Oh no don't rush!! Take your time, it'll be here :) But thank you for attempting!!!

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00:19 Feb 08, 2021

๐Ÿฅ— Amazhang. If I had to describe your story in one word, it would have to be amazhang. I loved that the historical event was about witches (I love that stuff)!! Your words were so amazhangly chosen and the story really flowed. I also love how far back in time this story takes place. The title is also amazhang (I'm overusing this word but I just feel like using a PJO fandom word a lot rn)! Keep this up!!!

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yay thanks :D i used the thesaurus a lot, It really helps is it from PJO? thankssss!!!!

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00:48 Feb 08, 2021

The word amazhang isn't actually in the books but the fandom just made up the word as a pun XD and yw!!

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01:40 Feb 08, 2021

:)

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Mou Sur
17:54 Feb 08, 2021

Wow that's a wonderful story! Loved it.Looking forward to more such awesome stories :)

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14:08 Feb 08, 2021

๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—๐Ÿฅ—

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14:06 Feb 09, 2021

No problemmmmm!!!

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omg omg OMGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG THIS WAS AMAZINGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG I CANT PROCESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS eekkkkk I have no words. This was absolutely amazing. It felt very much different from your other stories, having a heavy weight on it(in a good way) that left the story to settle with the readers brain and for them to have many good thoughts rise after reading. This was absolutely amazing, and I would leave a longer comment but I have no words to describe this. My vocab isnt big enough for your storiesssssssssssssss IT. W...

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THANK YOU LUNAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA yeah, the topic isn't very light either. awwwwwww THANKKKK UUUUUUUUUU ur so niceeeeee :DDDDD

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:DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

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oof that was long i was kinda afraid that no one would like it because I thought it didn't match the prompt, but it looks like people really like it so yayy :D

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lolXD oops- Yessssssss!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! lol I rarely pay attention to the propmt tbhXD

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I really enjoyed this story! I feel like this one was your best one. It had a lot of historical references (which I enjoyed reading) and yes, the title is very fitting.

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THank you Laila! wow, it sure took a long time to write XD yeah it did, I did qUiTe a lot of research for it so I'm glad it showed :) yayyy it took a while for me to think of it :)

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heheheheh :D i changed it cause i didn't really like the Cheshire cat, I only chose it cause it was purple lol

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Jose Valdivia
21:03 Feb 12, 2021

I really enjoyed reading this story. False accusations, witches, different eye colors, so good! It's shocking to think that witch trials were actually real. :( The manner you told this story was so clever, constantly keeping me on the edge of my seat. Well done. :)

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Thank you! yeah, it was really cruel :( thanks! I thought of doing a past-present alternation and I'm glad it worked!

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๐Ÿฅ— I was just about to ask "Why is everyone doing historical fiction?" before I realized the prompt. I should probably get that done sooner than later... Very enticing story! I love the sort of minimalist ending; it really feels dark, yet hopeful. Great job!

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yayy thanksss hahah yessss i love those types of endings, it just ends things off on a simple note :) :D Thanks!!!!

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hello! so this was VERY long, as in 2 words below the word limit, but once I edited it, it went down to 15 below the limit :) please critique to make it flow better, its not the in the bEsT sTaTe the tea kettle was invented in 1890, so a LONG time after this story takes place. this is the website i used to write the tea-making part of this story: https://georgianera.wordpress.com/2018/05/31/a-cup-of-tea-anyone-made-the-18th-century-way/ the most known case of witch-hunting were the Salem Witch Trials, but those were in the USA (Massachuse...

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Litlover ๐Ÿ“–
13:12 Feb 09, 2021

NEW STORY

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