@Admins,

This might sound weird, but the publishing date for Sammy E's post is October 1st when it isn't October yet. For me, it's still the 30th of September. Do the timestamps for posts reflect the time zone you're in? How does the website know your time zone?

I don't know how it works. It's still September 30 here, too, where I'm posting comments. In the past I've seen comments dated 1968. Chatterbox didn't start until 2008, and there were very few personal computers, if any, in 1968, plus no internet.

Admin

Ooh, I've never done inktober before, so I'm excited to try it this year!!!

According to the official website, we don't have to do it in ink. Being a primarily digital writer, this is a big relief, and I'll be participating this year!

Do I have to use ink or can I just use a black marker because i would love to do this but i don't have ink...

You swish your legs in the sea, whistling and pip-papping the rocks. The sun shimmers upon the crystal blue sea, and a light breeze tussles through your hair. Suddenly, the brilliant waves splash onto your face. Out shoots a copper, stout woman with freckles splattered across her body and thick braids of mahogany running down her back. She wears a top made of clam shells.

“You keep your scampi-stinking feet-” She bellows with a thick African accent, but then notices you. “Oh, hello.” You apologize, but she waves it off with a warm smile. “No, no, it’s fine.” She gets a bit louder here. “It’s our own fault for not setting up a specific place!”

Up shoots her husband, a muscular man with similar skin and hair color. His hair was in dreadlocks and his skin was shining, despite his deep sighing and hands holding his head.

“I told you,” He says, “The shaking of the feet is not even an issue-”

“And I told you that not only is it distracting, they might catch the attention of an unwanted predator-”

“And I told you that no one in this entire sea would want to lay a finger on-”

“Hey!” an american voice yelps out.

The familiar whip-whip-whip-whip travels through the water like a tunnel. The final member of this family, as well as your best friend, pops out the top of her head. She is tiny, about eight, and has the flowing hair and skin of her mother. Her crystal blue eyes glimmered in the morning sun upon recognizing you. The girl shouts your name gleefully and pops down, only to rocket back up and slam onto you.

“Bala!” Her parents scold. She giggles and sits next to you on the rock. Bala’s tail is covered in shimmering sky blue scales, growing in darker shades as they travel down her body. Her smile is more radiant than the sun as she slips into the water, per her parent’s request. Her mother ruffles Bala’s hair.

“You come here for my daughter?" Her father asks as the two play. You shake your head, and he laughs. "Ah, well, she's very excited to see you."The man leans towards you, narrowing his eyebrows and lowering his voice. "You don't want to disappoint her, do you?"

 You shake your head, unfazed. He laughs again and leans back. "A strong one. She'll make a good bride for you."

"Dad!" Bala whines.

"Run along now, children, so that I can teach your father a lesson."The two of you giggle and run off. Sure, you never meant to hang out with Bala, bit didn't you catch her mother's wording? A child always finds the way back to his or her family.

Day one: fish 

Nice. You found it. Step 2:

Look for a thread, from a popular game, by someone multicolored.