Writing Prompt

There is a mirror hanging on my bedroom wall.

It’s got a sturdy pink frame with little purple and white flowers, and it’s almost as tall as I am. My mom likes it, but I wish my parents would take it down. I really don’t like the way my reflection looks at me.

I have to bury myself under all my covers at night so I don’t see her staring; eyes half covered by her tawny, tangled hair; a huge, Ch...

Should I shut up?

Am I being too out of touch?

If I am at home, why is everything screaming so much?

My head is hurting, it makes me want to cry

I want to run, but I can hardly fly

And I can't analyze what is my problem

Can't really find the point where it all starts,

I just go by, blocking up my hearing

And stopping my own mind from shutting up

They scream at me: the walls, the floor, the ceil...

Every child at some time fears the darkness of their room. I feared the things that came while asleep. Night after night, dying, my mind creating pain where none existed. Wake up sobbing, gasping, wipe the tears do it all again. Vivid nightmares, strange for a seemingly sheltered child. A crushing fear of abandonment that one floating would give. Many adults to care an love but not one to call Mom...

When I was younger, I didn’t have nightmares. Having ‘nightmares’ implies that there were dreams that were good. No, when I was younger I was plagued with dreams; Bad dreams, scary dreams, dreams that I would wake up crying to, call them what you want. But it was every night, so they were just dreams. For them to be bad dreams, there would have to be good ones to compare with. I can’t remember eve...

Once upon a time there was a little me.

Now little me had already watched Lord of the Rings and Harry Potter.

My twin decided to watch the Zombies movie that came out so I joined.

Right in the middle of the movie when the zombie guy goes zombie on the football field I cried.

And cried. And cried.

Then I had nightmares for two straight days.

I vowed never to watch that movie again.

Well I di...

I was always scared that you’d leave me.

But now I know I don’t need you anymore…...

You can’t joke with an anxious child

They’re prone to take everything seriously

To the person who told me when I was only eight

That if a plane crashed into our classroom

It would kill us all instantly

Do you know that my chest still tightens

Anytime I hear the low whir

Of an airplane passing over?

I know my mother meant no harm

When I crawled into the empty supermarket shelf

She urged me ...

In my nightmare

I’m a balloon

Floating upward

Out of control

Gripped by the vastness

Of nothing

Lost in the sky

Irreversibly detached from

Everyone and everything

...

My Uncle Pete, as expected, drove into our tree-lined farmyard. I felt myself sag as the tires drove puffs of dust into the air. Dad walked rapidly from the house, getting into the back of the blue 1949 Ford coupe just as it rumbled to a halt. Uncle Pete immediately pumped on the gas pedal, leaving a cloud of dirt in his wake. I knew they would pick up Uncle Ed, who lived just down the road. They ...

“DAD!”

“What now?”

“THERES A SPIDER”

“Again?”

“IM GONNA DIE!”

“Really?”

“HURRY IP AND KILL THE GODDAMN THING”

“Language”

“ILL BE WORRYING ABOUT MY LANGUAGE AFTER I ESCAPE THIS NEAR DEATH EXPERIENCE”

“Alright, alright. I’ve got it”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, do you want to see it?”

“NO GET THAT CREEPY THING AWAY FROM MEEEEE”...