Writing Prompt

“Whats A’s girlfriend's name?” My sister asks me, I didn't know it and didn't bother to ask since it wasn't my business.

“I don't know.”

“Give me A’s number!” She insists.

“No,” I answer confused on why she wants to know.

“Please!!!! I keep asking A and she wont tell me!”

“No, that's her business and I won't give out her number without consent.”

“Ugh! No fair.”

_I roll my eyes and tell A the next day.

She was surprised and I apologized and said she always is pushy.

I few weeks later A writes “O❤️” with a pen on her hand._

“Whats that?” I ask.

“My girlfriends initial.”

I come home, “I found out her girlfriends name.”

“I already know it, she told me.” _My sister says.

Never thought I'd have a pushy sister._

— True ✨

my heart beat against my ribs as back away from the crowd. “I told you, I’m not who you think i am!” My breath puffed away as my back hit a wall. “You’re lying.” A woman took a step towards me, her fists balled and eyes raging a hole through mine. My lungs now rendered useless screamed for air but all i drag in was the smoke of fires around me. “You did this… you destroyed everything!” “kill her! Shes a monster!” A man in the crowd screeched over the thunder. My raw hands grasped at the stone wall as i tried to claw my up it. ‘no, no.’ Nothing of the wall was enough to climb giving me no way out.

A new kid is here Upon my classroom he is I wonder his name

At recess I ask friends For the name of this new kid No one knows his name

Maybe I should ask? That would be embarrassing Maybe I should wait

Should I look online? I could introduce myself But I don’t like that

My thoughts were stopped with “Hello my name is Jacob” His hand was stretched out

I looked at his hand And froze as I stared at it Then I showed a smile

And I shook his hand And saying, “my name is Luna” We are now best friends

This all happened a long time ago. Almost to long to even feel real. But the event that occurred at HillsMary preschool will haunt me to my grave.

It started when I first got a job as an assistant preschool teacher. I was starting up my company from my parents garage, and needed some money to get by. Luckily, my old preschool was willing to hire me.

I was assigned a class with mostly two to three year old kids. My first, and last class I would ever teach was in room B16, with twelve children.

For the first few months nothing remarkable happened. Quite frankly, at the time I wished something interesting would happen, besides an occasional kid choking on a coin, or a cute sibling would pick up the kids. But all that was soon about to change.

Tom, a three year old boy was also the oldest in the class. He didn’t talk with the other kids and spent most of his time sitting around, and doing nothing. I tried to play with him, but he would always politely walk away.

I didn’t have the heart or the patience to go running after him every time, so I just let him be. Until one day, something was not right.

The head teacher didn’t show up that day, so it was up to me to take care of everything. I counted eleven heads before nap time, but one wasn’t there. A blond little boy. Tom.

Annoyed, I put the others to bed and looked around the classroom. He wasn’t in the bathroom, lunch room, or in his bed.

At this point my bitterness faded away and worry came in. The room was not to big. It was about the size of an average school class plus a closet and bathrooms. Beside the big drawers and desk, there was nowhere to hid.

Except…the broom closet.

I inched closer and closer, and slowly opened the door. I recall a rush going down my spine, as if sand was going up and down.

When I opened the door, it was pitch black. Lila a void of pure nothing. Until I turned on the light, and Tom was sitting there, starring at a dimly lit corner. All alone.

Anger came back as I grabbed the boy by his shirt and dragged him out.

“What were you doing in there!” I whispered to him while escorting him to his bed.

“Talking to him” he whispered back, getting cozy in his bed.

I was not scared. Not calm. Just confused, and a little unsettled.

“Talking to whom?” I asked draping the blanket over his small pale body.

Before drifting asleep, he looked me dead in the eye, and mumbled “He says I can’t tell you.”

I couldn’t sleep that night. Thought’s filled my head about what happened that day. That was not normal. Yet I still didn’t say anything.

A few days passed and even more odd occurrences happened. Kids would sneak off to that corner, and talk to what seemed thin air. I locked the door but that didn’t stop it. Kids played and talked to someone, something, and looked startled when I caught them. And worst of all, the younger kids would scream in terror at nap time, every single night as if someone was there by their beds.

I told the head teacher about these occurrences, and she laughed, saying that I watched to much TV. I wish she would have believed me.

Weeks and weeks of the same things happened, only getting stranger and stranger. So one day, before Toms parents picked him up, I asked “Tom, who is your new friends you talk to.“

He looked behind him, to the left, and to the right, and whispered, “Eyes” and left running to his parents.

At this point I should have stopped. Just left the job and never looked back. But curiosity is one hard thing to overcome.

The only person I could think of to ask anything about was the janitor. She worked in the school since it first opened seventy years ago.

I nervously went up to her, but was calmed by her sweet smile. Since I was young, she was always my favorite staff member.

“Do you know someone named Eyes by any chance?”

Her reaction was not excepted. Her eyes softened as if she remembered something sad from many years ago. The creases under her eyes grew ever so deeper.

She took her glasses off and said, “I knew someone named Eyes. He was an odd, but sweet boy.”

She was about to turn on the vacuum, but I grabbed her hand, and asked if she could tell me more.

She sighed and continued to tell me the tragic story of Eyes.

“He was a young boy, no older that four” she whispered. “I would babysit for him when I was a teen. But one day, he died. His parents would never tell me how, but they were heart broken. The dad so much so, that he started this preschool and offered me a job. A janitor ain’t much, but it was better that my other options. Mr. HillsMary never became fully well, mentally I mean. He looked great on the outside, but he developed some odd obsession with this place and the children that went to school. No more that five year after opening he offed himself, and the county strayed running this place.”

I was scared. I was mad, at who knows what. And I wanted answers. But answers were the few thing I never get.

With a knot in my throat I asked if she had a picture.

She chuckled and took out her wallet with a black and white picture of her, Mr. and Mrs. HillsMary, and a boy.

A boy with pale skin and black hair. And deep dark eyes. A boy I knew.

I could vaguely remember my childhood best friends. A friend named Eyes, who always told me to never tell anyone about him because his parents would get mad. Eyes.

There is not a happy nor sad ending to the story. I quit my job, and my business kicked off. I almost forgot about those days, until now, that my grandkids go to the closet, and talk to something.

Eyes is back.

"So what's the problem?!" Vin shouted.

God, I hated this place. I had to strain my hearing over the loud hip-hop music that blared over the speakers. I had to shout at the top of my lungs for Vin to hear what I was saying. Irish Bar my ass, this place was a total dump.

"There's this guy outside who went to my High School, him and his twin brother. The thing is I can't remember which twin it is, we've been talking for like thirty minutes and I feel like an asshole." I shouted.

Vin slouched over and his eyes shot open as a grin consumed the bottom half of his face. "Bro!! You found us, twins?! That's fucking gnarly my dude!"

I rolled my eyes and shook my head. I grabbed him by the sleeve and pulled him towards the exit to the patio, where the per-said twin was sitting.

"No." I snapped. "There's this guy I went to High School with, we've been catching up outside. The thing is is that he's a twin, and I can't remember if his name's Erick or Ryan Morris."

A wave of disappointment smacked Vin in the face harder than the music to his ears. "Oh...so, what do you need me for?"

"I mean, it's just for a minute. You go over, shake his hand, and..."

"And you think he'll reveal his name when I introduce myself. Gotcha." Replied Vin with a nod as he took a sip from his mug.

I could see Morris through the crowd, still sitting at the corner table, a fresh cigarette between his fingers, exhaling smoke as he stared out into the parking lot. We pushed through the crowd, lifting our beers above our heads to avoid the conglomerate of drunks. A group of guys stalking their next prey stood off to my right, a couple grinding against one another to my left. I got bumped around viciously despite being careful, by the time I got to the table I had Modello running down my forearm.

"This is my co-worker," I said, giving a point in Vin's direction.

"Hey what's up man, I’m Vin," Vin replied. "Had to get out of there, you know? Too loud."

Morris nodded his head and laughed, he straightened in his seat and reached out to shake Vin's hand. "Oh, that’s cool bro. The more the merrier. I can't stand the shit these kids listen to nowadays."

"Hell yeah brother. Cheers to that!" Vin said as he raised his glass. We all clinked glasses and took a drink.

Morris set his glass down. "So, how long have you been working with James?"

Vin's eyes narrowed as he toggled the question in his head. "I'd say...six months? Something like that? Give or take? He's my team lead."

Morris's eyes widened and a smirk unfolded across his cheeks. "Team Lead?? What the hell James you didn't tell me that."

I shrugged my shoulders. "Ehhh, it doesn't mean much."

"Naw man that's huge. That means you're making the big bucks."

I shook my head and laughed. "You wish. Electronics Emporium doesn't pay shit."

"How's James as a team lead, Vin? He good?" Morris asked with a smirk.

I laughed through force of habit, whatever Vin had answered went in one ear and out the other. I was too busy trying to figure out this guy's name. I'd had classes with both Erick and Ryan Morris throughout my years of High School. I'd had one in Spanish during our Sophomore year and the other for World History during our Junior year. They were twins, but they had subtle differences, thinking back I think a big difference was their weight. It wasn't anything drastic, but enough to tell them apart. But the last time I'd seen them was about ten years ago, and one would obviously change in size within that decade (I sure as hell did).

"You remember Ms. Sandoval?" Morris asked, tapping my forearm, pulling me out of my dilemma.

I nodded. "Yeah, I do. She was..."

"Bro she was like, the hottest teacher there," Morris said with a chuckle. "I remember hearing about her throughout all of Freshmen year and praying that I'd get her for Spanish."

I remembered Ms. Sandoval too, skin like caramel, jet black hair with the perfect amount of bounce to it, and a body that...

“You remember that one guy…” He began to snap his fingers as if to jog his memory. “He had those thick ass glasses. The ones that made his eyes look really big.”

“Dewey. Yeah. Dwight Robins.” I said.

Morris laughed and shook his head. “Look at you James, busting out his name. Dude do you remember that time he had to give a speech but since he didn’t know all the words he did half of it in Spanish and half of it in English? It was hilarious. I felt so bad for the guy but I couldn't help but laugh.”

I laughed and shook my head, I remembered that and Dewey. It was one of those memories you had stashed away, one you never thought you’d revisit, about an individual you forgot about as soon as graduation passed. I remembered him in near-perfect detail. Those big glasses, his portly stomach, and that combover that always looked haphazardly done.

“Shit. I wonder what happened to that guy,” Morris said as he got to his feet. “I’m going to reload.”

His eyes scanned over our beers, I knew what was coming next and I was thankful that my beer was near full. I couldn't accept booze from someone whose name I'd forgotten, and I hoped Vin possessed the same values.

“You gentlemen care for a reload?” His eyes went to Vin’s empty glass. “You look like you could use a refill.

Vin hesitated, letting out a nervous chuckle. "Shit man. Get me whatever you get."

Morris's eyes narrowed. "Alright, man. I hope you're ready for the bar's strongest IPA."

I watched as Morris got submerged by the crowd before disappearing into the bar. When he was out of my vantage point I punched Vin in the shoulder.

“Ouch! Dude, what the hell?” Vin snapped, massaging what I could only hope was a new bruise.

“Bro you don’t even know his name.”

Vin held his hands up in defeat. “Alright. I’m going to level with you. When we shook hands I thought he told me his name and then I forgot if he did or not. Did he even say his name?”

I rolled my eyes. “You gotta be kidding me. You had one job.”

“Dude. I’m bad with names. And then I thought of asking, but I felt stupid.”

I scoffed, my eyes widening with frustration. “So you accept a beer from him!??!”

“Dude he offered! I felt bad not accepting. I-I-I'm sorry man...I'm kinda buzzed."

Morris came back with three frosty mugs of dark pale ale in his hands, awkwardly navigating through the sea of people. He got to the table without spilling a drop, setting the mugs down with a mighty exhale.

“Holy shit it’s popping in there. I got you one too James. Figured you’d need a reload sooner than later.”

The consciousness of feeling like a complete ass pierced me with every stinger. He raised his glass and I raised mine.

“Dude. This is great. It’s been an honor catching up with you James.” There was a genuine smile behind his statement.

I let out a sigh, and smiled back. “Cheers Dude.”

"That's just the life of a space cowboy." By the time Franco was done speaking, he had turned away and began walking. Now behind him, Vaka stood with her mouth agape, though not for long. With determination in her eyes, she quickly caught up to the outlaw in front of her and shook him by the shoulders from behind.

"No, that's not fair! You don't get to just run off and chase some alien god. You don't even know if they exist! This is crazy." The expression in her face died down. Quietly, she spoke "Why do you need to live forever, Franco? You have us... isn't that enough?"

Franco turned his head and to look back at the aggrieved woman behind him. Her eyebrows were contorted in a heartbroken manner to match the frown that sat above her pointed chin on her heart-shaped face. A few strands of her jet-black hair fell over her visage. Franco's heart twinged at the sight, but he quickly shook it off. "If I find the god's name and bring it to him, we can be together forever. Isn't that what you want?"

Vaka's hands squeezed harder and she could feel the shoulders beneath the insulation of the bright orange space suit the space cowboy had on. "I just want you." she whined. "You could die out there. You don't even know where to begin. Even if you find this god, you don't have his name. How do you expect to discover it? Anyone that has it will heavily guard it. It's too dangerous." Once again, a solemn expression fell over her normally expressive face. "You could be killed. Then what will I have?"

Franco's eyes widened for just a split second before he regained control and narrowed them on the woman still grabbing one of his shoulders. He stiffened up, stood straight and shook loose of her grip. "Anyways," he said in a serious tone, attempting to convince Vaka that the decision was final, "this is what I have to do. I can’t fight it, ok? I've already decided."

"Franco..." the somber woman called out, but she knew it was already too late.

The pressurized doors in front of Franco opened and without hesitation or a look back, he stepped through. He followed the twisted corridors until he came to his green, two-seater turbojet. As he got in, he heard Vaka yelling his name from the hallways. Franco closed his eyes and took one deep breath, then pressed the ignition button and took off.

Please, tell me your name. I desire it like honey to a bees’ hive. The days are long and the nights are sleepless as my mind races and wonders about your very existence. “Who are you?” I ask myself each day when I see your face while all I can manage is to admire your ethereal beauty. Eyes glimmer as blue as the oceans and hair as black as the darkness of a shadow. Where do you come from? What about you makes you so intoxicating? It’s time for our day of hard work to end. I lifelessly sit in idle at my office desk while my eyes beam directly at you. Your navy blue collared shirt perfect compliments your beige skirt and the clack of your black heels hypnotize me like the tick of an analog clock. Watching you walk into the elevator, my eyes glow bright. Your mysteriousness captivates me and all I can do is wait in awe. No other woman in this office building has ever had your beauty. A voice so soft and subtle, it hymns like a lullaby and draws me into you. How do you bewitch me? How can I approach you and learn your name? Curse this shyness of mine, it holds me hostage. “But what is your name?” I ask myself again. My fellow coworkers do not know it. You are a new hire but you do not belong in this environment. An angel from the heavens would suit you better, but, wait. Time is running short and I need your name before I cave. Days have gone by and my mind clutches the thought of you deeper than the stars in space. I took a mighty risk and abandoned my desk to meet you in the elevator. I stood in the corner as you ascended to floor 31 and my eyes could not escape you. You returned your gaze to me and wore a vibrant smile. My heart hiccuped and my arm pits drenched in sweat. I swallowed hard and tried to speak but you twisted a knot in my throat. Who are you? “Hello…” you said to me. The impulse within me broke and I unleashed upon you. The elevator still arose but no one else dared to stop our climb. My hands lunged at your shoulders, “what is your name!” I hollered in agitated lust. “Ew, you creep! Let me go!” You responded in hesitant resistance. You tried to squirm and thrash me away but I persisted. Your beauty fueled me to commit this act of lustful impulse. “Tell me your name! Please…” I pleaded as I squeezed your shoulders, crumpling your finely pressed blue shirt. “I’m not telling you anything! Let me go, I’m telling your boss you’re a freak!” You argued. My senses returned slowly but surely. ‘Freak’ you called me and now my life lie in jeopardy for my rash actions. Could I let you escape? “I am sorry, you must—-“ “No! You’re disgusting!” You interrupted as the elevator doors began to open. The ‘ding’ was your queue to walk away but instead I wrapped my arm around your neck and pulled you back in with me. “You should’ve listened…I just wanted your name. Just your name…” I quietly whispered in your ear as the doors sealed shut. You fought, thrashed, and kicked but I wouldn’t let you ruin my career. I held you on the floor with my arm tightly latched to your neck. Your breasts flailed underneath your shirt and aroused me and your bottom rubbed on my lower abdomen. Even now, your beauty continues to persuade me. “Tell me your name and I’ll set you free, but you won’t speak of this.” I reasoned with you. In a sudden jolt, a ‘snap’ occurred from your neck. I asked for you to speak but you lie motionless. How could this be? The elevator stuck on floor 31 on a cold, late Friday night. The building nearly emptied and quiet, I sat in the elevator with a lifeless body. “Dammit! I’ve done it again…” I said in a defeated whisper, “when will I learn, when will I learn!?” Learning your name drove me to this and now you are added to the list of those I lusted for. I took my leave to floor number 1 and vanished in the thick dark air of the night while your body rested in the shaft. No one knew me and no one knew you. I wonder what is your name as I wonder what the other girls’ names were. Another name I’ll never know added to my list.

I buried it years ago. Hid it in documents, burned them to make sure. That name was dead to me. I haven’t used it in so long I almost forgot it. Almost… until I heard it again.

He said it online, I didn’t see it coming. But one comment to my tweet and it was too late, my deadname went viral. Suddenly every hater was using it. It dragged the corpse back to the surface. It’s rotten hands trying to grab for me.

I don’t know how he found it, but he must have dug pretty deep. Probably too the locked crypts of Facebook I abandoned years ago. My Mother may have let slip in a recent post, I don’t know.

What I do know is this, he’s not the only one who can do some digging. I just found his address, and I’m on my way to his house with my shovel.

If you know my deadname, no you don’t. And I’m going to keep it that way.

A name has power. Greeks don’t speak of their gods, Even brave Romans quiver at the mention, Egyptians gods have secret names that can even bring them to their knees, But there’s a name that I wont speak of, To my friends and I, we call him “Apple,” After the company that created my phone, My code name’s “Google,” but I wanted to be Apple! They speak of something called “Gapple,” But that will never happen, No matter what they say. Gapple sunk ages ago. Besides, what if Apple’s really a jerk? To everyone else: GOSH, PLEASE STOP TRYING TO FIND OUT WHO IS WHO!

it was a gloomy day at the office. murder files poured into detectives inboxes almost as fast as the rain did.

it was almost 11 o’clock. two were left in the building; working diligently to crack their current case.

“detective morales. it’s getting pretty late, we should head home. call it a night.”

morales was smith’s partner on this file. he was her higher up as she was an intern. normally, someone would be promptly fired for drinking on the job, but smith felt a strange urge to keep a close eye on her. he let it slide.

“only if you take me, smithhhhyyyyy.” morales slurred, drunkenly.

smith chuckled. “i’d be happy to give you a ride, as long as you promise to show up to work tomorrow without a hangover.”

“yeah yeah whatever, boss. you know, i find it real funny that the lead suspect in this case’s last name is smith. what’s your first name, smithhyyyy?” morales could barely keep her eyes open. smith doubted she knew what she was asking.

his normally rosy face quickly changed to a shade of porcelain.

“n- now morales. you look a little sick. let’s get you home okay?”

his tone switched from shaky to demanding as the raining outside intensified.

“why smithy? are you the killaah?” she wrapped her arms around her boss’ neck seductively. the beer in her breath crept up into smith’s nostrils, the scent riling up even more.

he sat there. looking at her with cold eyes and and pursed lips.

he shoved her off of him. in so slamming her into the table and seemingly snapping her out of her drunken state.

her hand was on her taser.

his on his gun.

morales, stupidly, backed into a wall, cornering herself.

smith approached her and kept her pinned there, helpless.

the only barrier between them the barrel of his gun.

“you wanna know my first name, huh? curiosity killed the cat. curiosity killed the cat.”

the phrase looped over and over, his voice mirroring a broken record.

smith must’ve forgotten morales had a silent panic button.

the cops, who ironically worked under smith, were rapidly approaching.

“tell me your first name, smithy.” morales asked calmly.

his response was sharp and quick; as if he had said it a million times.

“wesson.”

he shot her. the bullet grazed her scalp yet missed her brain.

the scene quickly became bloody as she fell to the ground in agony.

the police stormed in, taking smith into custody.

“it’s over for you, wes.”

smith, better known as wes, smiled as he was thrown into the back of police car and and wondered who his next victim would be.