Writing Prompt

I hear him come in, and my blood already starts boiling. Without saying a word, he throws his jacket over the chair for the umpteenth time instead of hanging it in the hallway where it belongs. I roll my eyes but decide not to say anything. I don’t feel like having yet another fight. I grab the TV remote and put on my favorite show, Home and Away. I hear him rummaging in the cupboard, and he sits down next to me on the couch without a word, holding a bag of M&Ms. He probably grabbed that just to annoy me, I think bitterly. He noisily opens the bag and starts chewing loudly. I roll my eyes again and turn the TV up a little louder. Loudly munching, he scrolls on his phone. I glance at him in disgust..How on earth did I ever fall in love with him?

I look around the dusty old room. I was in a pretty pink room till I fell asleep. Weird. I picked up a plush dinosaur that looked like it was used as a monsters chew toy. I shivered. I paced across the room, watching every corner of the room in case there was something waiting to jump scare me. I was kidding myself. Monsters aren’t real. I shivered every five seconds, waiting for a human to find me. Then I realized there was no door. What the heck? I lay on a couch, slowly drifting to sleep.

I wake up with a doll in my face. It looked exactly like her. Wierd. It’s head followed me around. Weird. I touched it. Big mistake. It bit me. I jumped back tears springing from my eyes. It jumped on me and pulled out a tiny knife. It sliced my fingers off one by one. Then came toes. Then came hands and feet. Arms and legs. Finally my head. I was screaming the whole time.

And that’s how the Scarlett Letter died. Wierd right. Don’t trust pretty pink rooms. Beware of yourself. Your coming to get you. Good luck.

How to make sense of a lie and still have it remain one hundred percent deception. That’s right. Without telling the truth there is no reality It should be a language Two sided sword two sided world If multiple lies made up one lie that exposes other s. A lie after lies! I’m lying on the floor laughing. Lie. My art teacher always told us that it’s the de-tales that matte her. Another one bites the dust. That was a joke, if I had 2, get it do you? Truth is; a pretty fun knee won too. But sometimes it weighs won ton. And weights on the fun and the knees and the win too. Butt out side you’re home, You don’t have to tale it if you don’t 1-2. Combination. Thank you ז

The man is not blindfolded. His eyes seem to bore through me, though I don’t believe he’s looking at me. I won’t look at him. I won’t look him in the eyes.

I think he’s looking around, maybe at the sky. Maybe the snow, or the facility behind us. What a dismal thing to look at before you die, all gray concrete and steel doors, bars on windows. Maybe he’s breathing in the cold winter air. Feeling dry wind brush snow onto his boots. Maybe he’s cold.

I see it all out of my peripheral, my gaze is most definitely trained on the ground, the snow. It’s so white. It won’t remain that way.

The officer barks an order the standing row of soldiers. I don’t know his name. I don’t know his rank. I should. I don’t.

I’ve seen this before. I’ve been in those boots. It wasn’t pleasant but it was an order, carried out as any other kind. Why give it a distinction. It was a task given to me. I had to do it. Surely I had to do it. What other option was there. I didn’t vote on a man’s death. Is it different from killing someone? I’m not sure. It’ll haunt me later tonight however.

They should be asking if he wants a blindfold. I wouldn’t. I’d want to see before death. I’d want to, right?

There’s motion in my peripheral again. The soldiers in the line are moving, swinging their guns off their backs. I tilt my gaze and chin up, looking straight ahead. I don’t see.

Shouldn’t this be justice? Shouldn’t this be a fair result, a good consequence for a murderer? A life for a life? An eye for an eye? But why do we commerate one death with another. Isn’t that just a loop. How do you define justice if not order we’ve created. Who’s to say if that order is fair.

The soldiers have aimed by now, their rifle stocks pushed against their shoulders. The officer’s arm is raised. He’s still yelling. His voice is too loud, to large for the courtyard we’re in.

The man is not blindfolded. He flinches as the bangs echo, and he slumps. I still haven’t looked at him. I won’t look at him. The snow is no longer white, and the courtyard is still too small.

I pressed my body against the wall, fumbling with the door handle. My control of my fingers was rapidly slipping. Finally, with a weak kick, the door clicked shut. I clutched my stomach, wrapping both arms around my front and sliding to the floor. Sweat dripped down my neck and back. Cold sweat. It seemed to freeze on the base of my neck. My breath heaved, but I couldn’t get enough oxygen. Black spots began to blur my vision and the churning in my stomach became unbearable. Even though my thoughts were muddled, I recognized the effects of poison. I desperately tried to hurl my body towards the medicine cabinet, against the will of my trembling limbs. It was only a matter of time before I went completely mad. Terror consumed me. I grabbed at the legs of my table with little hope of even sitting upright again. The soreness in my muscles rendered me weak and almost unable to move. I tried to clench my fists, but even that was too much exertion for my poisoned body. They’d find my corpse, I imagined. Lying there, pathetically, reaching for something stable to hold on to as I passed. I gasped for a few more breaths of air, but I knew Death was coming. He was waiting for the chance to grip me with his cold hands and drag me to the afterlife, if there even was one. After much struggle, I succeeded in turning my head. I gazed out the window for a last look at the world that cruelly left me behind. Fiery glows seeped out of the windows and illuminated the wet street with orange splotches. I wished to dance with the lights one last time. Seemed like I would have to be a spirit before I could do that again. Soon, I lost all physical feeling. I was alone with my thoughts and my emotions. Those blacked out too eventually. The pain subsided, mental and physical. And finally, the poison swallowed me.

A car pulls up to the end of the road leading to an empty open dessert. The middle of nowhere. Jeff flings the driver door open and stumbles out of the car. His face sweaty and his jacket hanging off his elbows. He runs out into the open until he stumbles and falls to his knees. He points his head to the sky to let out a scream. He falls backward into the ground and passes out.

Walking down my street Leaves falling on the ground Sun just starting to set Headphones in my ear Listening to songs of love Wishing my life was like those songs People passing Only one caught my eye A brunette boy Blue eyes Kinda short About the same age maybe older Riding a bike A green bike Looking at me I stop in my tracks He stops in his He looks me in the eye I look him in his He gives me the biggest smile Looks down Rides off That was a look of love

My breathing is heavy. Unsteady. I feel small, Begging myself to not bawl. Something in my chest coils around me, And I can’t see. My vision blurs Something inside me stirs. I reach Feeling each… Each wall Each hall. Each forestall. Everything pressing in Smashing into my skin. I fall. Needing to be small. Curl up Don’t look up Don’t reach up For the sun isn’t there. For the people don’t care. I am broken beyond repair.

I feel a hand in my back And I crack. My sobs are too loud Booming off the crowd That has formed around me. I need to flee. I shouldn’t be crying. I shouldn’t be hiding.

The hand strokes up to my hair. I can’t take in any air. The hand drags me to my feet. I can’t be discreet. The hand whispers in my ear. I can’t hear.

I’m taking up too much space I’m out of place I stumble And mumble And tumble And crumble I tell myself I’m fine Though there’s no clear line Between what I should And shouldn’t.

I should disappear I shouldn’t be here I should dry my eyes I shouldn’t be the reason of the cries I should die I shouldn’t try I should I shouldn’t I should…

I exhale I reach Look up Feel the sun brushing my cheek Spread my arms And realize That I am fine Everything in better Outside.

Blue eyes stare into mine. Blue as the Carribbean. Blends of real, turquoise, and tiffany. Cerulean, sky, and lapis. How mesmerizing they are, at such a comical moment. Have I been staring? Is it as long as it feels? I’ve never felt time slow down before. I understand that it’s not longer a myth.

But after last time, how can I trust anything? Even _his _eyes weren’t so…striking. Is this even something I can trust? I never notice eyes. They’re all the same boring brown. Then, there’s you. Why? Why? Why?

You’re doing this to me. This trickery from the nature of you. I will shake your hand and leave now. I will forget this the moment our handshake says goodbye.

You’re hands are huge. I feel like a baby shaking a giant’s hand. Walking away now. Why haven’t I forgotten you? Get out of my head.

When Roman was five, he truly began to understand his powers.

Before that, he didn’t really get when his parents took him to the doctor and she diagnosed his powers as absorption.

She tried to describe it with metaphors. He was a mosquito. But a good one. Where he could take pain or emotions from people.

At the time, he didn’t get it. A mosquito. Those pesky bugs that he hated. He was like one of those.

As he learned more, he started to realize what that meant. He could absorb bad things that people didn’t want. He could make them better.

Not having that much practice, he only knew how to take pain. It’s not the most pleasant, but he likes helping.

Once he got old enough to comprehend the snide comments and bitter tones that his parents exchanged, he understood the emotional side of his absorption abilities.

They would send him to his room and then they would argue. They talk pretty loudly.

Sometimes he would try to drown it out with headphones and music. But other times he would put his ear to the door and just listen.

Little Roman was a naive fixer. He thought his powers could fix anything. After all, he was a good mosquito.

When his mom would come in after the fight and hug him, he used his powers. Absorb the anger and irritation.

His dad would come in after she left the room and Roman would do the same to him.

It appeared to work. Only for a short time though. Temporary.

Things would be happy. Like how he wanted them. But it never lasted.

It wasn’t until he got to middle school and the fighting only intensified in both quantity and quality that he realized something.

It was his fault.

He took their negative emotions before they could deal with them. His parents don’t know how to deal with each other. Because he never let them.

It is a heavy weight he carries even to this day.

He stopped taking their feelings. But it was too late. He did it for too long.

After that realization, he never took emotions like that ever again. At least not with his parents. Pain is easy, but emotions are complicated.

Every time he uses his ability, he tries to make up for what he did to his own parents.

But deep down, Roman knows he will never forgive himself.

——— (Working on a story with Liam and Jeremiah next! Stories have been a lot slow because I had a busy week. Hopefully this week will be a bit calmer.)