Writing Prompt

She is hurting

Though she hides it well

She feels hollow

Empty, void of feelings

She has an audience

People watching

Expecting perfection

Waiting for failure

Her spirit is crumpled

Stomped on one to many times

She puts on a brave face

She won’t let the spectators see

She is watching herself from the outside

She sees herself smile

She feels herself sinking

She is spinning

There is no way out ...

“Have you ever heard about ‘The Muncher of The Broken’” I lean in, almost touching the childs freckled face. A grin escapes my mouth at the sight of her freightend face.

“It is said that the creature stalks its prey with an almost perpetual grin smeared across the gaunt mask of a face”

The faint beginning of a cry contorts her lips and a tremble appears. I feel nothing. Where my empathy once was, ...

It was well after twilight and the night was heavy with the scent of loamy soil and impending rain. A full moon sat lazily in the sky, trying its hardest to shed as much light as possible, but the light was swallowed by the night nonetheless. Erik walked along the path from the inn, his footfalls heavy and rapid. He chastised himself for staying out so late and attempted to calm his nerves.

Sudd...

There is no easy way to cheat death.

Those who say they’ve gone down the hard path and achieved immortality are either ignorant, liars, or false gods that can still be felled in a single swoop. All who have attempted have died, and thus to quote the great philosophers: “The only way to cheat death is to be remembered.”

I believe I have found a middle ground between the two roads.

If all that mat...

This character is a tree that was carved like a human, yet this is not who you would think it would be. He is always grinning and hollow. The trees parents died and now hates humans and now with his new found body he can do anything...

Hollow body, they took my soul,

Went and tortured it right out of me.

Crumpled in a corner, eyes are dull,

Because darkness is what I breathe.

My inner demons are my best friends,

The only things that I’ve still got.

Them consuming me is how this ends,

I know better than to say it’s not.

They locked me up because I’m insane.

Broke my spirit with a heavy chain.

Shadows crawled up inside my brain....

Mr. Brittle wasn’t brittle at all. He was downright terrifying, actually. He had scars all over his face and arms. He had a deformed ear- but not in a ‘I was born with this’ way, more of a ‘I fought in a war’ way.

Because he had.

He had fought in a hard, bloody war and survived.

His wife and children were long gone. They died over a decade ago from a disease that suddenly spread across the wor...

Of what unutterable parlance

Do the bells blow?

Of what unkowable utterances

Does the wounded seraph murmur?

Does she have concern

Over the moonlight

Bleeding into the sky?

Or of her sisters strumming their viols

With a masquerade so lachrymose?

All whilst singing paeans

in the minor mode.

Does she feel the blows of drums?

The jeers of her heart?

White figures, praising

Their disquietness as...

I chained my ghost up in the basement

Six feet back behind my eyes

Some nights I think this house is gonna cave in

Rejection has me terrified

Now I hang from a wooden frame

It keeps the crows away

This is where I'm safe

Made of straw and a funny face

Turns out being fake can be a saving grace

You can't kill me if I'm already dead

Buried alive by the things that they've said

I killed myself, but no...

He dropped to the ground with a heavy thud. Hitting the pavement so hard that his eyes bulged like large fried eggs, he grinned. I stared in horror as he got up, his crumpled body shaking with excitement, or pain I thought. He spoke to me in a hollow voice “Good day ma’am” he said. Is he for real? I wondered aloud. He walked off shakily, still smiling diabolically, walking into the night away ...