Writing Prompt

Once upon a time in the bustling town of Punnyville, there lived a woman named Regan who had a rather unique occupation that set her apart from the rest. She was a proctologist, and her job brought about a whole new meaning to the phrase “getting to the bottom of things.”

Regan had a quirky sense of humor that she brought to her work, making even the most uncomfortable situations a little lighter...

Throw different streets at me and I can list their attractions. Talk about a hotel and I can pinpoint it’s address in seconds. Just don’t get me started on my experiences with coworkers. As a chauffeur, I meet… interesting people. Being a driver for a secret agency, you’d kind of have to.

I speak 6 languages, I’m immune to multiple poisons, I memorize someone’s face and information at a glance, ...

Inside a crowded room but completely alone, watching them mingle like an alien species. Maybe they're not the aliens, maybe it's me, maybe I'm the one who's from Mars.

A young woman - short blonde hair, pretty brown eyes - bumps into me. It was on purpose. She's been eyeing me for half the night. I force a charming smile.

"Easy tiger, don't want to spill wine on that pretty dress." My voice is s...

The one who guessed my name belongs to a world of the strange, a world beneath a thimble and under a hill, beyond seven lands and seas. This person was a name thief.

But beyond that, this is the story of a boy.

It started when he was small, asking for his classmates names and laughing when they suddenly couldn’t seem to spell it the next day.

Accidentally snatching the name off his senile grand...

How can I come back

To the one I love

The light it pours

Out on the floor

Of the house we left

So dull and empty

My head it spins

I’m temporary

How can I get back

To the loving feeling

The inspiration

Of never leaving

I can’t feel

Or tell what’s real

But in return

I know I’m here

But I’ve seen this episode before

So far I can’t ignore

The progress I’ve made and seen

The feelings are few and f...

*not completely finished*

Do you know what it’s like to never be able to have a friend? To never be your real self? The people who know the real me don’t trust me, to them I’m simply just the kid who kills. But it’s not my fault my life’s like this- it’s just not fair. But I’m way past being sad or upset about my upbringing, I’m angry. Angry at the person who brought me into this business. Angry ...

Every day I wake up, put on my suit, and commute to my place of work.

I unpack my bag, put my lunch in the fridge and head straight to the changing room where I pick out my pyjamas for the day, then I head into the dark testing room with all the monitors attached to my body and climb into bed for a couple of hours.

When I wake I tell the scientists and the retailers and the mattress engineers h...

Sweat trickled down John’s back. He inched his fingers around his collar hoping for a whisper of cool breeze. Fetid air greeted him as he rounded the stalls. A chicken pecked at his penny loafers. John smiled at the unbearable stench.

“Nice uh pigs you have there.” John adjusted his polo shirt again.

The farmer’s son snickered.

“Shorn sheep,” the farmer said.

“Come again,” John asked brightly...

The dreaded question arrives every time I meet someone new.

It’s been in every new conversation without fail.

It comes after the lull in conversation or the slight pause in pleasantries.

“How do you do it? All day, every day?”

It boggles their minds.

My response depends on the day.

On good days, I go the proper route. “There’s dignity in death. It’s the last time someone you love will see ...

“So, how did you happen upon this … occupation?” I asked, as she led me through the dark aquarium.

“I inherited it,” she answered. “And before you ask, we don’t get many visitors. Our finances are fully taken care of by our benefactors.”

“Does anyone ever visit?”

“Our benefactors often do.”

“Are you happy?”

“There is nothing else I’d rather do. These creatures are like my family. A family I ...