Writing Prompt

She is my clay

Free for me to mold to whatever I wish.

I deserve to.

I made her.

I am her creator.

And I am the person she’s afraid to become.

Her tears are my opportunity.

Her yawns are open doors of manipulation.

Let me mold you daughter.

Let me make you into who I wanted to be.

Let me make you perfect.

You say I don’t know you.

But I’m the one who you are the most like.

Do you assume I don’t ...

You wrap your self up tightly, double checking the locks. Don’t be silly they say, your at home, your safe.

Embarrassed you smile back as you pretend to agree, because of course tucked up in bed there’s no where safer you could be? Right?

Knock, knock, knock

You debate opening that door because going back can’t hurt any more than it did before,right?

Predictable and safe your list is down to tw...

Lori could feel every muscle in her body tense up as she walked into the auditorium with her mom at her side. Malcolm was sporting an all purple suede suit and charming one of the mom’s of one of the kids in the Kiwanis Club. His words spun around the room like a carousel, his plastic smile painted on, eyes darting from freckle to freckle on the mom’s unsuspecting face. Lori could feel his eyes la...

Micah doesn’t just move; he infiltrates. His presence lingers before it’s seen—a chill that prickles your skin, though you dismiss it as mere unease. Watching him is like watching a cat study a bird: _silent_, _poised_, almost _elegant_ in his restraint. Yet his intent is unmistakable. He doesn’t ever strike outright. Instead, he waits, gauges, and catalogues what pulls you in, finding the cracks....

He crept up to the tiny mountain, watching the last few inhabitants scurry inside, one carrying a grain of rice, another a grain of sand. His eyes were dark and focused. Snot wound its way carelessly down his upper lip, almost to his mouth, before he gave a violent sniff, trapping it and sucking it back up into his nasal cavity. It left behind a trail of grime that matched the dirty track marks of...

I was a predator.

Forced to kill, to hunt, in order to sustain my life. A life that was not of my own making.

I’m sure you’ve heard the fables, creatures of the night, striking terror into hearts. What would you do if I told you it’s all true.

Mankind has embellished the stories of old it is true but the truth exists within.

For too long I had survived. Anyone I had gotten close to, lost to me...

Predator jealous being envious of the world narcissistic people and the world around them uses and stalks the world as prey for death.

Enjoy the the pleasure of the hunt the Chase but for the sake of the sake of the hunt for food consumption not for love for purpose

Believe that you are wonders at the top of the food chain and everyone else the bottom is just meat...

_TW: references su!c!de and other triggering de@ths_

Sure, there are predators. Predators who pounce and prowl; jagged teeth and yellowed eyes. Animals. People. But the top of the food chain holds something much more deadly. The ultimate predator lies in broken airbags, slippery cliffs, a fiery inferno, or a wave too large for anyone to resist. It lies in disease, in hurt, in pain, revenge, or ev...

The sun hung beams of light on nearby rooftops , decorating life to its fullest ;

fields overlooked gardens , and a large maze sat atop the lush landscape.

Even though it was a good day , Sam felt like the world had exploded on top of her.

Placed at the centre of the maze , a statue of a woman bearing a sword had suddenly moved !

The monster swung a heavy sword over its head , and Sam ran . Th...

(Kinda the prompt, it’s going to be not a paragraph but a “poem” of sorts.)

There was this boy in my class last year

Not really handsome, but awfully nice

He asked me and my friend how we were, what we did the other day, such and such

The only problem was that he hung out with the same guys who bullied us

The same guys who laughed at us

He laughed at us

In front of our faces

But my friend want...