(Doesn’t have to do with the prompt.) Caitlin POV I sat huddled on the couch, a blue fur blanket covering my lower half. I took an ibuprofen, swallowing it with water from my mug. I grabbed the TV remote with a napkin. Powering the on button, it immediately switched to the News Channel. The reporter, clearly distressed, is holding the microphone with shaky hands. She’s in front of a wooded area. “Breaking news: In the ————- Forest-“ I paused the TV. Her words were either censored, or my ears are popping. I rewound it, watching the clip again. Same thing. “Three girls have been found dead inside the forests heavy woods. The deaths have been labeled as a homocide, with no suspect identified. These three girls have been identified as Tasmin Jones, Hazel Cantos, and Chelsey Birkley. Chelsey’s older sister, Mikayla, was reported to have been with them, but was never found. If you have any information on Mikayla Birkley or her whereabouts, please contact the phone number on the screen.” My eyes divert to the screen, where it has an image of Mikayla in her cheer uniform was plastered. Next to her, black text read, Mikayla Leia Birkley 17 years old 5’8 Green eyes Light blue shirt Black DSG sweatpants Wavy blonde hair Tan skin Call ___-___-____- I picked up my phone in an instant, opening my messages and calling my mom. “Mom!” I screamed into the phone. “What what?! Did you throw up?!” Mom gasped. “No!! Go on the news!” I choked out, tears coming out of my eyes. “Okay sweetie I’ll be home soon!” About 10 minutes later, Mom came home. She threw her briefcase on the floor, coming to me on the couch. “Are you okay?! I didn’t get to check the news- I was so focused on getting here- What happened?!” Through tears, I explained what I saw on the news. My moms face faltered, her eyes widening. “They didn’t say what forest, did they?” She asked solemnly. I raised a quivering eyebrow. I didn’t tell her that part. “How did you-“ Mom interrupted me. “Get in the car. I need to keep you safe.”

Then it begins The shit of life Comes forth It seems like bad things Are happening around the corner Wicked things Accidents Me, for one I am going to visit my biological father My gaslighting father Who tries to _love_ me, make himself the good guy Then there’s cheaters Twisting of words that’s twisting my stomach My friends, who love me But for some reason I feel bad, I feel distant My feelings Disappearing The old art network I was on Got back, then left, that thing was a drug And as I look at the world around me I cry Natural disasters, Relationship disasters More and more and more Never ending Why can’t we have a happy ending Like in the story books And all this shit Is coming up on my break Dreams take over me Help me escape, if only for a moment

Then it begins. I open my eyes and check that all my stuff is where I left it. Bag…check. Magazines… check. Snacks… check. Binoculars… WHERE ARE MY BINOCULARS!!! My eyes search frantically while my arms move on their own, digging through the things that have accumulated all around me on this trip. I NEED MY BINOCULARS!!! They are my one physical connection to you, Dad. I can’t lose them. Then I see the strap. Peeking out from behind Charlie’s back. I glare directly in her eyes, but she’s asleep… or at least pretending to be. Either way, she's about to get a rude awakening!!!

then it begins over and over time on a loop never-ending then it begins the exact same every single time forever and ever then it begins the beginning but also the end and in between then it begins and never ends.

Then it begins. My vision blurring of what’s dangerous and what’s safe. That depressing state where nothing is fun. All because he caught me when I was drunk. He was drinking to, but he’s 37 and I’m 16. Everyday before it, I was finally happy and dancing and now I don’t wanna leave a car when I have to go out. I wanna curl into a ball, cry about the small comments and the physical stuff that happened between us because of him, and hopefully heal without it ever getting out to anyone else. I thought of calling my ex boyfriend and letting it all out. He’s the only person I trust letting it out to. I’m sure he wants to forget me, so I’ll just heal on my own. I’m mean, ‘what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger’ right? So I’ll heal from it alone. Be stronger. And not let anyone ever make it happen for a third time. Because I don’t like the repetition. I don’t like having that constant feeling someone is gonna get me again. And I don’t like giving someone else so much power over my physical or emotional state. I don’t know the future, but I know I won’t let it happen again without fighting like I’m dying and I need to live to protect everyone else. So it ends.

ATTENTION: Hello fellow talented and beautiful artist!This fictional and original. Please don’t take it seriously. Anyway, enjoy! 🙂 —————————————————————-*******———————————————————————— YEAR 3982 WW4 (World war 4) “Then it begins.” Dorian says softly, his delicate smile fading. He knew it would happen, unwillingly, but not now. Not when he was at his weakest. The Spark would come, no, not Spark anymore, one the hit, they would become… The Lightning. Yes. This lifelong war was slowly ripping Dorian’s sanity. Lilia looks up at him. “What Dori?” She says softly, kissing his forehead. “The attack.” Dorian replies. “Tell the armies, we must-“ A loud BOOM explodes above them, as the bombs drop. And as the village goes up in flames. Dorian grabs Lilia’s arm in panic and runs toward the safe house. “We have to help the villagers, they-“ she yells at Dorian, stopping in her tracks. “They’re dead Lilia.” He interrupts, his eyes watery. “ No one can survive that. Hurry, get in the shelter.” Lilia begins to sob. “But my mother…” Dorian knew the pain she was feeling. When his parents died, it felt like the world was crashing down on him, causing horrific pain. Years… of suffering pain. She walks in behind me, not looking up. I close the door softly. “Lil,” Dorian whispers, “It…” He didn’t continue. Dorian takes her tiny hands in his as he kisses her. “This war will be over soon, and once it will, we-we’ll run. Run to the mountains.” Lilia says, looking at me. “Make a life there. Have a family. We will keep our children safe. No matter the cost.”

“Then it begins.” “The-the-then what begins?” Professor Xavier doesn’t answer as he stares down his long nose at his small frightened student. “Have you ever met a riochocet, dear?” He takes a step closer and the boy leans back. “N-n-no.” A wicked flicker of light passes through the professor’s eyes for a moment then they turn icy cold with malice. “Well lucky for you then, young sir, you’re finally going to see what they look like.” The professor pounces on the child who is only a third of his height. “G-get off me!” “I’m afraid I cannot, my dear child, you see, my brethren and I are looking for some……new recruits.” The professor scratches the boy’s back and the child screams. In the midst of his panic he can’t help noticing how odd the scratch feels. It feels nothing like human nails clawing at his skin. Instead it feels like….well….claws. They pierce through his tender porcelain skin and tear into his muscle tissue. His professor pulls his hand out and another blood curdling scream tears itself out from deep within the boy’s throat. Dark red blood gushes out of the child like water out of a geyser. The man spits into the gash in the boy’s back and it feels like acid as it darts its way through his system. The blood stains all over his back and legs turn black and begin to throb painfully. Spikes, dark, black deadly spikes start to poke their way out from beneath his skin where the blood had been and his whole body begins to grow. His legs ,short and skinny, grow long and muscular, just barely managing to keep his shorts on. His charcoal hair grows into a sort of mane and his eyes turn bloodshot, veiny and cruel. A single long scaly wing forces itself through the gash in his back and extends the full width of the room. He turns to stare at the mirror and in doing so knocks a strange assortment of items off a nearby workbench. In the mirror he sees himself in his new ghastly form and the face of his teacher in the back with a sinister grin spread across his lips. “And that my friend, is what begins, your evolution from a mere meager boy to a riochocet.”

“I have to get home early tonight, cause,” I paused. I knew what I was about to say was going to raise red flags. I knew it would only be an oily pretense the the fires about to come. “I have to make a make-shift bed.” “A what?” Surprise crossed both of their faces. Jackie’s facial expressions are harder to read than Elizabeth’s. But it was plain to see the confusion on Jackie’s face. And I could tell Elizabeth felt weird about my statement. It’s probably because she has her suspicions. She’s right to have them; and I’m glad she does. It makes talking to her much easier. “Are you sleeping outside?” Asked Jackie. Her voice raised with curiosity and slight concern, hoping I would say yes. “What’s a make-shift bed?” Elizabeth asked me. “It’s just like a bed, but on the floor and made of pillows and blankets and other soft stuff.” I smiled awkwardly, hoping they wouldn’t think much of it. But all nurses seem to have a detector of sorts. Especially when you are in their office everyday, panicking about having to go home. “Why are you sleeping on the floor?” Asked Jackie. I hesitated, “I just can’t sleep in my bed anymore,” I admitted as I clenched my fists around the stress ball Elizabeth had gotten for me a day earlier. She looked at with concern and pity and hope I might share my feelings and asked me, “Why can’t you sleep in your bed anymore?” I think the words holy shit, here it come, we’re running through each of our heads. “I just can’t anymore — it makes me feel disgusting.” My pacing began to increase, along with my heart, which now felt like a million giant, carnivorous butterflies. “Why,” began Elizabeth, “does your bed make you feel disgusted?” I could hear in her voice how half of her desperately wanted an answer so that she could help me, but the other half of her didn’t want to her what we both new was the answer. I forgot to breath as I said unconvincingly, “I’m not answering that.” My eyes darted past Jackie, whose eyes were wide and white. Then, my eyes darted over Elizabeth. I didn’t want to see her reaction. “You know, when you say things like that, it makes me worried.” “I know” I said as I tried to hide my shaky voice. I finally look at Elizabeth, six million seconds later, and was greeted by her crazy side eye. “Don’t give me that look!” I said, half smiling. Jackie started giggling. “Well…” Elizabeth’s words got stuck somewhere in her brain. And as I turned around, she finally came up with them. “Well then don’t look at my face!” She blurted out. The whole room burst out into laughter. And I went home thinking, well, at least I have someone in my corner.

{Self Thoughts} Cy did say it’s over here, right? Well, he must’ve been tripping on *something* , because I don’t see no damn farm or animals. ~briiingg- Dammit , and she’s not answering! Fuck, Im literally lost. I got a uber here. Well, technically *she* got me a uber here, so i **reaalyyy** have no clue where I am or where I’m off to. I know what i’m trying to find. A barn. Farm? Whichever one. Gahh. -Let me the narrator take a moment to interrupt and give you some information. ||NARRATOR|| || 𝐓𝐞𝐳𝐳𝐫𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐱𝐭𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐨𝐥𝐝, 𝐥𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧, 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐢𝐫 𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐚𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐂𝐲𝐜𝐚. 𝐓𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐚 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐰. 𝐅𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐲 𝐧𝐞𝐰 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬, 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐦𝐞𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐬𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐥. 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐨 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 *𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐞𝐝* 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐢𝐧 𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐣𝐞𝐜𝐭 𝐭𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫. 𝐒𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐮𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐢𝐦𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐲. 𝐖𝐡𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐂𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐝 𝐓𝐞𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐨𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞? 𝐓𝐨 𝐭𝐫𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐚 𝐛𝐮𝐢𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐡𝐚𝐬 𝐧𝐨 𝐧𝐮𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐧 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐚 𝐧𝐚𝐦𝐞. ..(𝐀𝐜𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐂𝐲 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐢𝐬.) || －－ 𝒯𝒽ℯ𝓃 𝒾𝓉 𝒷ℯℊ𝒾𝓃𝓈 ．－- What exactly? Murdering the *——*. Don’t bother trying to figure out what the bleeped word is. You’ll never find out. Hey , names Tezzren, I’m sixteen years old, and have been living on my own, caring for myself, since i was just ten years old. I chose to no worries. My folks are actually pretty great. (As great as the average high-class white parents can be that is)..Ahem* Excuse me, sorry that was out of line. Heh. [End for now]

And so it begins. The crowd roars with excitement, Banners lifted, colors blazing bright, Armor and weapons ready, glinting by torch light Lined in order, neat and set in stone. I stand proud to serve. Swords clash and metal rings, Pistols blaze, and you can hear their screaming, Once lively green fields now teemed with crimson red, And the soldiers laid to rest on their final bed. Adrenaline fills my blood, and all chaos reigns. I look for familiar faces. Gloried from battle no longer, Disillusioned and clad in torn and tattered rags, Neither day nor night leaves peace behind, Hands clutched tight to their remaining silver tags, Aware of the blindness of humankind. Familiar faces lost to time, and memories left but only to poison. Growing old and weary, And time continues, leaving nothing untainted by its wispy hands, Heroes exulted, villains condemned, Winners celebrated, losers abandoned. At long last, I can see the dear faces of old friends, preserved beautifully and laughing with vigor. Once again ready to share meals and stories at the evening fire. And so it ends.