Writing Prompt
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STORY STARTER
One, two, three drops. The potion slid down their throat, and without fail, the transformation began.
Writings
The liquid made them become something they weren’t, but what they hoped to be. With a look in the mirror and a final smile to their reflection, they left their room and headed downtown. On the way there, they wondered if the driver realized what they had just swallowed - the droplets that made them feel like their true self while robbing them of the present moment. But they didn’t need to think of...
My body is a numb, hollow husk of what it was before. Chills of hot and cold render me immobile, my vision a bleary canvas of colors and nothing. The transformation begun.
No one is in the room with me. The door is locked and a chair is placed under the knob. Even if they find out what I’ve done, it’s too late to do anything.
With trembling arms I push myself off the ground, throwing the glass v...
She felt a wild sense of liberty through her being, the despairing feelings fading away as her skin morphed from olive to a blood red. Her skin began to bulge and with it, came a sense of unfathonable strength. Seems of her simple modest dress began to tear, unraveling by each second.
Dria felt her enclosure of a dormitory compress around her as her size grew, the walls crowding her. By her w...
Her eyes opened. Despair.
She slogged out of bed. Put on her slippers. Let the dogs out.
“Feck this world and the horse it rode in on,” she grumbled to her partner.
Surely she couldn’t keep this up. I’ll quit. Empty my bank account. Run to South America. Anything but another day of this.
“Just hang on a minute,” partner said, cheerfully. “It’s almost ready.”
A mug was placed in her hands....
Their products were dangerous by design. Western & Sons Rifle dated back to 1847. Their guns gained a foothold during the gold rush. They soared in popularity during the Civil War. And the Western Rifle rode into American history with the transcontinental railroad.
The deposition room was sumptuous. Velvet cream curtains flanked the floor to ceiling windows. With swirls of gold, navy, and crimson...
Their mouth and nose fused together, hardening, and for a moment they couldn’t breathe. Then the stiff front of their face curved and split open again, allowing them a breath of cold air.
A prickling sensation spread across their body. They looked down - short, brown hairs sprouted from their skin all over their torso and limbs, and white feathers had begun to cover their neck and chest. An itchi...
“You sure about this?”
Karen’s countenance didn’t change, as she patiently said again, “Of course, guuurl. It’s the same regiment I’m on. Yer all good!”
“Okay,” Monica said, trying to sound trusting, her voice unsteady anyway. “I guess, what can it hurt?”
“Nothing. In fact,” Karen said, through a too-white smile, “it will do the opposite. You’ll feel so much better. Better than you have… ever! ...
Similar writing prompts
STORY STARTER
“A Queen is supposed to be merciful.” She sat tall in her throne, poised and regal. A smile spread across her lips. “But in this world, being Queen means blood.”