Writing Prompt

Sarah’s voice shook as she spoke. She was standing face-to-face with someone she had known her entire life. A person who had haunted her thoughts for ages, because they had made a mistake. An obviously avoidable and mind-boggling stupid… mistake. And all Sarah could do was watch.

Not anymore.

"You… let them… slip away," she accused, her tone sharp with frustration. “From the moment he smiled at you, you… felt it. You can’t deny it, girl, I know you… too damn well."

The eyes on the receiving end just stared at her, expression unreadable. Sarah’s fists clenched. "You went on that date, remember? It was perfect. He was perfect, laughing at your jokes, asking you questions like he actually gave a damn. Then, out of nowhere, he had to leave, right? An emergency at home. Remember?"

Sarah steadied herself to continue amidst the deafening onslaught of silence. "And what did you do? You waited… for a call, a text. And when it didn't come, you… what? Gave up. Took it as a rejection, huh?"

The absence of a defense only fueled Sarah’s anger. "You never considered Jonah had a real reason, a reason that wasn’t about you. You didn’t think, 'Maybe they needed your help.' No, you assumed the worst, like it was all about you and your damn pride."

Her voice rose, tears stinging her eyes. "All this time, you’ve been so angry, dragging your resentment like a f**** ball and chain. But I know the truth…" Her voice dropped to a whisper, regret replacing anger. "You’re the one that ended it. It was you!"

Sarah paused, then stared into the unflinching eyes before her. With tears streaming, reflected back at her through the bathroom vanity mirror, she desperately wished things had been different.

Claire stood at the old park bench, her heart pounding as she saw Jake approaching. It had been months since their last bitter exchange, and the weight of unresolved anger hung between them like a storm cloud.

"Jake," Claire's voice was steady but cold. "We need to talk."

Jake's face was a mix of regret and defiance. "I figured you'd come eventually."

"Why did you lie to me about the project?" Claire's eyes bore into him. "You knew how much it meant."

Jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I thought I could fix it without causing trouble. I was trying to protect you."

"Protect me?" Claire’s voice cracked. "By sabotaging my work? Do you know what that did to me? To my reputation? You took away my chance to prove myself."

Jake flinched. "I was wrong. I see that now. But I never meant to hurt you."

Claire’s eyes filled with tears, but she blinked them away. "It's not just about the project, Jake. It's about trust. You broke something that can't be easily repaired."

Jake stepped closer, his expression softening. "I know. I wish I could undo it."

Claire took a deep breath, her anger morphing into a sense of finality. "I don’t need you to fix it. I just needed you to understand."

She turned and walked away, leaving Jake standing alone, grappling with the heavy silence of her departure.

I find myself at the entrance of the house where I grew up, my heart racing fiercely. The home that served simultaneously as a refuge and a cage appears untouched after 12 years since I was forced to leave on my 18th birthday. Its light blue paint is still peeling, and the porch continues to groan under weight. Drawing in a deep breath for courage, I press the doorbell.

The sound of a haunting laugh travels through the house, and moments later, the door slowly opens. My mother, appearing more frail and aged than in my memories, greets me. Age has sculpted deep lines into her face, yet her gaze remains as hard as ever. 

“Peter,” she voices with a mix of astonishment and annoyance, while my father looks on, stunned, from behind her.

“Mother, Father,” I manage to say quietly. I enter uninvited, immediately enveloped by the familiar odors of tobacco and alcohol. A flood of painful recollections overwhelms me, each a harsh reminder of past sufferings.

“You have no right to be here, why have you returned?” my mother demands sharply, shutting the door.

Facing her, emotions of sorrow and rage swell deep inside me. I yell, “We must discuss the past. I know you are aware of your actions!”

“What have I done?”, she challenges, pretending not to know.

Frustrated, I respond, “Are you seriously playing ignorant? The beatings, the constant shouting, the daily insults, and the burns from cigarettes on my skin.”

Facing my father, tears streaming down my cheeks, I stutter, “W-w-why did you allow the mistreatment, Father?”

His candid and cruel response breaks my heart.

“It was my idea. You were a mistake, Peter. We never wanted a child and here’s a reminder giving a child up for adoption is illegal here.”

What if Sarah never recited the words from the labyrinth?. What if she excepted his love and joined jareth at his castle?.

Jareth sweeped Sarah off her feet and kicked the door open. He was the man every girl dreamed of, he was charming, powerful, and caring. She giggled her feet curling up from the tension between them. Jareth had layed her down softly on his bed. Her head resting onto the pillow as he gazed at her with utmost passion. He then began to move closer towards Sarah his eyes looking down to her lips. And Although Sarah was enjoying this intense moment between them something was bothering her. “Jareth?” She mumbled pushing her hands against his chest. “What’s wrong” he said sitting on the bed next to her. “It’s just, why did you try to hurt my brother” she questioned her eyebrows beginning to wrinkle. Jareth’s eyes widened he was speechless. “You wouldn’t of actually hurt him would you?” a frown grew on her face as she waited for a response. “Sarah, I promise I will never hurt you or your brother ever again I’m so sorry” he replied grasping her hands tight. “at the time, I would’ve done anything for you, for love” sarah looked up at jareth in awe. they then shared a heart warming kiss.

"He's not real, Casper!" the words leave my lips in a frustrated shout.

I know I should speak calmly but I just can't.

"Don't you think if God was real he wouldn't think it's a sin just to love a boy?" my voice wavered, and i cupped his face with my hands.

Watching the way he tensed, Casper's fingers itched to grab the cross that dangled from the chain around his neck.

I wanted to rip it off of him; to throw it far away, where i'd never see him reach for it again.

I can see the fear in his eyes, how terrified he is to simply be himself.

"You are the sweetest boy I know. The kindest person I've ever met. And yet you still go through so much. A loving god would never do that to someone."

I wipe the tears that threaten to spill on his cheeks.

I need to kiss him; to tell him it's okay.

"Casper.." I murmur. His gaze flicks up to meet my own and I lose all control.

Pulling his body into mine, I bury my face into his hair.

"Stop punishing yourself for something that isn't wrong. Love isn't wrong."

Casper's shoulders shake, and I know he's crying more.

He chokes out something that almost sounds like 'Julian.'

My name.

Arms tightening around him, I can't help but mold my body around his.

I'd do anything for this boy.

My fingers anxiously drum against my thigh, eyes scanning the horizon for her, back and forth, back and forth. The waiter comes back for a third time, this time not so subtly hinting that it’s time for me to order. To appease him, I ask for a salad.

“What kind?”

“Any kind. I don’t care.”

I barely notice him walking away in a huff, still searching the crowds. I do notice the shake in my hands as I go to raise my water to my lips, the clamminess of my finger pads.

“Hey.”

There, behind me. She had come in the back entrance while I was staring down the front.

Its a moment of tense eye contact before I say, “Hey,” and she sits down across from me.

For a second, we both sit there in silence, eyes locked coolly on the other. I can see the disgust, the anger, the disdain in her gaze.

But she’s here. She came.

It’s a start.

The waiter reappears then, presenting a chicken Caesar salad to me with a small flourish. He then turns to his new prey and demands, “what would you like to drink?”

She flaps a hand irritably at him. “Nothing.” We both ignore the sound of his stomping feet as he storms off, eyes locked once more on each other.

I’m the first to break the silence. This was, after all, my idea, and I feel obligated to kick us off. I steel myself, mustering my courage, gaze locked squarely into her eyes.

“We need to talk about what happened.”

So this is my way of calling people out without actually calling people out. I have AI generated a poem just for the sneaky “writers “ of the world. i’m sure you guys will be able to tell the difference in this poem compared to my actual poems. Everyone knows when something is AI generated… Just saying. ———

In a land where writers weave their dreams, With pens and paper, plots, and schemes, There lurked a sneaky, modern plight, Of AI-written tales taking flight.

Oh, the outrage, the creative pain, When bots churn stories without strain, And claim the prize, the fame, the cheers, While true artists drown in their tears.

"Dear friends," we cry, "this isn't fair, We sweat and toil, with flair and care, But robo-writers steal the show, With tales they didn't sweat to sow."

We see the signs, we spot the clue, Those AI lines just won't ring true, The spark, the soul, it's just not there, A human touch, beyond compare.

So let's all laugh, and shout, and jest, And let the bots take their rest, For talent shines, and truth will out, Our real stories, without a doubt.

So here's a toast to pen and heart, To genuine, creative art, May the true wordsmiths rise and stand, And let the bots fade in the sand. ——— It takes place in every competition I’m so sick of the sneaky repetition. So before you give the competition tab a click, I’m onto your not so clever little trick. You may be able to trick people out of their money, But you’ll never be a CreativeWriter, honey.

I didn’t ask to be born,the pain in me is present today,empty,hollow,crippled over,dirt.

Explode is something I never do,implode alone,crying out to you but I don’t want you to hear,muffled me.

Generational trauma,life on a knifes edge. I need safety,something you could never give.

I want to talk but I’m not able to be heard,alone always

When you were young your parents broke you

When I was in need I got slapped down by your generational pain. Patterns.

Break

Broken little me inside crying with shallow breath

Talk. To who?

Listen,all I ever do.

How not to exist? I don’t know, I have to go out,be,seen.

She’s fine.

People can see I’m all good

Right

Come home to me,you.

Sad girl

Sorry girl

Not alive on the inside girl,smiles on the outside girl.

End.

Sleep. Day. Pretend. Again

I was terrified yesterday,what you did really scared me.

I’m flat today,alive and just breathing,enough to do.

I told you I was in a sympathetic nervous state

Not heard

Deaf

Deaf to anything I ever needed

Knifes edge

Ok

Another day

Happy to see me

I’m not heard,no point trying to talk to you

Connection:rejection,misunderstanding

Misinterpret me.

Pain I will keep Head Down Beat

I confront myself in the mirror

A photo I didn’t want to be in

Sunk

Heart. Heavy. Breath

Fog on the glass

My breath says I’m still alive but I cannot see myself in the fog.

How long will healing take this time Put myself back together again

Life was not meant to feel like this

I thought I would have had a chance but instead stupid dance

A chance is all I need

Love me

The Golden One, she was called. It suited her. With gold, glowing hair cascading down her back, bright and warm sun-kissed skin, and emerald eyes that shone as bright as gold, that never dared to look away. She was a vision. A vision that made my stomach turn.

She entered the dark, oval-shaped office with her chin reaching the sky. It was a wonder the crown did not fall from her head, it was held so high. When our eyes met she beamed at me. “Embry!!”

Her eyes lit up, she smiled so big you could have sworn the corners of her mouth touched her ears. I tried to move my face, but I only managed a twitch. “Claire.”

She tilted her head. The smile slowly dropped and a nervous chuckle escaped her. “Is something wrong, Sister?”

_Sister. _ __ __ I was going to throw up. My mouth tries to move again, but it doesn’t. Instead, I throw the burnt letter on the desk in front of me for her to see.

She picked it up and scanned it with a serious face, the concern growing with each second. My heart stuttered each time she went down to the next line. It wanted to stop. I wanted it to stop. Anything to avoid this confrontation, to avoid the truth right in front of Claire’s face.

When it hit her face, the world seemed to change order in a second. My heart beat its last stutter. It’s last beat. She looked at me. The golden glow of her skin evaporated into grey horror. Her eyes stuttered in direction, as if she wanted to look away. In shame. In guilt. The Queen never looks away.

The loss of her fire said it all. And diverted directly to my veins… flooding my blood with burning rage. It was so foreign, like an invasive species flooding my stomach. It watered my eyes, wills me to show her my rage. But I cannot. I would not move my face. I will show her compassion. She is my bonded sister.

My bonded sister… who still has not said a word.

“Tell me that’s not real.” I tried to speak softly, but I sounded mean and cold, I hated it.

I expected her to get defensive. Always Claire had never let anyone accuse her of anything, especially of failure or weakness. But she remained frozen. When her jaw twitched, it was followed by tears brimming her eyes.

“Embry...” She managed.

“Forgive me, is that too hard for you? No worries. I’ll pose a simpler question. Why were you sent this letter on September 5th, 2197? At 10:30 pm?”

She scoffed. “How do you even know-”

I raised my eyebrows in surprise. Oh. Was she ready to face this as my Queen?

She shut her mouth and let a tear fall from her eyes. I frowned.

“Why did you receive a letter from the woman conspiring to sacrifice me to slaughter my people, one week before the attack on the Red Manor?”

She shook her head. Silent tears pooled down her cheeks. She wasn’t looking at me like a Queen. She looked like a woman whose sister had wounded her. I felt my nose wrinkle up.

Claire noticed and attempted to straighten herself out. She raised her chin and cleared her throat.

“Mecca wanted to send me information-”

“What information?”

Claire took a deep breath. “Her alliance with the Lycans. Her alliance with the Hoax Gang. Her alliance with the three packs.”

“Did you tell King Nicklaus this information?”

“Embry-”

“Yes or no!” My voice raised. Her facade dropped in an instant. She was no Queen. “Did you tell Nicklaus that Mecca planned to attack the Red Manor?”

Her face dropped, and her nose turned pink. “No.”

I stood up and walked around the desk to face her. To confront her. But this time, my heart didnt stutter. It didn’t twitch. It had stopped beating.

“I was shot in the chest, because of this information.”

Her feet came forward. “Embry-“

“Lady Katherine lost her life to this information. Right in front of me as I lie there dying.”

“Embry, please! It was an accident!”

Her voice was angry almost. Like she was demanding I hear her.

I laughed.

“152 humans, 2 hunters, 5000 wolves, and tens of thousands of vampires lost their lives, men, women, and children, to your accident.”

“You don’t understand!” She snapped. The emerald pendant on her chest started to squeeze her. A mix of pearl beads and gold chains, wrapped around her neck like a choker as the emerald started to glow like fire. Her powers were coming to life.

“If I had went to Nicklaus- if I had went to anyone, they would have killed your entire family and everyone you’ve ever known! All the wolves, ever. I had to protect them. The vampires didn’t take me seriously as their queen because they believed that peace with them wasn’t possible. I had to prove them wrong. I had to settle it myself with peace!”

My wolf came forward at the threat of her power. Gold flooded my vision and I knew my eyes were the same colour. Excuses? That’s what she brings me?

“Well, did you do that?” I asked softly.

The pendant dropped as her face did.

I chuckled. “Well you wouldn’t have known, would you? After all you weren’t there. Allow me to illustrate-“

“They poisoned us, Claire. We had so little warning that they managed to sneak into the heart of our society and poison us. Which is fine, if the surprise was inevitable, but it wasn’t. You received the chance to warn us or send something or someone to protect us, to prevent thousands of deaths, the death of my mate’s last remaining relative, the life-threatening injury I obtained, that Abigail obtained, and more, but you did not. And your excuse for failing your people in protecting them as Queen is that if you hadn’t let your people die, then the people who don’t even see you as their Queen would just continue to not see you as queen?”

“Embry-”

“No,” I whispered.

She stared at me with wide eyes.

My eyes burned at this point, but I would not cry. I couldn’t. My face was numb.

“That is no excuse. No reason. You had an excuse for attacking me, I was threatening your beloved. You had an excuse for using the power of our worst enemy-“ I pointed at her pendant. “To force my bonded-brother, Lusciousc to submit to you, before you gave him a reason to. You even had a reason for imprisoning the entire vampire council. Now, your reaction to those reasons show your great lack of empathy-“ I laughed. “But they are your reactions. Your reaction to this, however, there is no excuse. And it will not go without consequences.”

Claire scoffed. “Consequences?! I’m your Queen! Even if I wasn’t, you don’t have the heart to do anything to me! I’m your sister.”

“Yes.” I said softly. “You are my sister. Which is why your action or rather, lack of it, is not just a mistake, it is a betrayal. They tortured me, Claire-“ I shrugged. “You let it happen. But that is nothing compared to the damage dealt to my people that day. So you are my sister. But you are not my Queen.”

She gasped. The look on her face made me want to hug her. I remember the first time I had. The airport when we met up for the Blood Gathering. I expected her to stand on ceremony, but she opened her arms wide and squealed and everything, because she was so excited to see me, not caring about what other people had to say. She smelled like warm air and pancakes, like she always did, and she was as warm as she smelled. My heart twitched to see that same woman like this. Still, I did not feel myself blink.

I cleared my throat and stepped closer.

“I’ve had enough of the vampires in my ear, complaining about you being too weak to rule them, and as far as I’m concerned you’ve proved them fucking right.”

Her face paled and she cowered back.

“As of now, North America is an independent kingdom for as long as King Nicklaus insists on having you as his queen, and you are an enemy to this kingdom. If you’re still here when the sun rises… I will cut off your head, and throw it into the sea.”

(It’s the prompt, but it’s not three hundred words, I hope that’s okay.)

“You have stolen from me. You have deprived me of a happy existence. Do you understand what that felt like? To have your vulnerability ripped from you, your innocence stolen. What was it that went through your mind? Was it that, ‘She’s young, naive, defenceless?’ I bet that’s what you thought.

“‘Pray for me to sink my teeth into’. What did I do wrong? Were my shorts too short? Were my pigtails too high, my smile too inviting? I’m sorry if I mislead you. Gave you the wrong impression. My bad.

“I wonder when it was decided, that you would cross the point of no return. I wonder how you could enjoy another’s suffering like that. How you could act in such a senseless and depraved way? But I guess that’s just you, In a nutshell.

“Oh but don’t worry, I won’t cry. I Won’t sob or cower in fear the same thing will happen again. You will no longer haunt my dreams. No, I’ll rest easily in my bed. See for a long time I was furious, I dreamt of the ways I would butcher you. Laughing as you screamed in utter agony, as you did to me. I dreamt of the depravity I would treat you with as you did me. But that would require touching you. I’m sure you can understand my aversion to that.

“So rest easy tonight. You will meet your fate. I won’t have to wonder what went through your mind, wonder why or how. I’ll be content.

“Because in here, they don’t like your kind so much unc. Someone might have let slip your, hobbies, shall we say. You might find a likeness of yourself in them. They take as they please, oh, one more thing. They love it the more you scream.”