Dramatic Writing Prompts

I have always dreamed of revolution. Something that would send ripples through the world, tear it at the very seam— and turn it upside down.

Think of an hourglass. If there‘s a quake, it will shake, shake, shake and, if the quake is forceful enough, it will flip.

How wondrous! My hands ache for the sense of new discovery, of breakthrough!

That is why I schemed. A grand scheme indeed it is that I have devised.

Unfortunately, I ran into countless issues as I was trying to create a substance that could transmute living beings into higher entities. But I have persisted. And I will until I reach my goal. What I want to achieve is the perfect creation. It needs a lot of fine tuning to make certain parts of the body change exactly the way I want them to. I am almost finished on that. The alterations I have thought of and implemented in rats and other small animals are something I am rather proud of.

However, humans are different.

I was not able to try my “Godsoup“, as I call it, on humans yet. I had to perfect it first, to make people agree. But would they agree to let me change their bodies at my will? At the risk of their lives?

It doesn‘t matter to me whether they want it or not. What I need are test subjects, damn it!

The only problem left to solve is changing human body parts, which are much larger than and built differently from rats‘, without destroying them or killing the subject, and then creating a formula that can be used generally, taking into account that there are different body types and races. Key to that is, of course, that the subjects don‘t die on me during the transformation, as it is equal to causing evolution to happen but at a pace that‘s about a million years faster than the natural process. It is a challenge. And that makes it all the more thrilling.

All I need are subjects…

A voice tears me from my thoughts.

“Mr. Wen, the samples you asked for are ready.“

I turn around abruptly, raising my fist in a sudden fit of rage. A habit of mine. I don‘t like it when people interrupt me while I‘m thinking.

Ah, shit. What dumbass is—

My assistant stares at me, her face a question mark. “Mr. Wen? Do you want me to organize them for you or will you take a look right now?“

Calm down.

I put on my friendliest smile and take the samples. “I shall take care of this. But before that, Sylvia— could you help me with my experiments? There‘s something I‘m a bit…. stuck on.“ My smile does not falter for a second as a brilliant plan forms in my brilliant mind.

Sylvia gives me a curious look and follows me to a separate lab which I somehow got permission to operate for. This room is to work on my Godsoup, whereas in the other lab, with my partners, I work on my cover-up. That is, vaccine for some boring disease.

“I‘ve been wanting to have a look at what you do here for some time now,“ Sylvia said.

Yes, keep talking, I think. Let her keep distracting herself so that I can make my preparations…

Done.

“Sylvia,“ I say, diluting three drops of modified Godsoup in a glass of water. I hand her the glass.

“Remember to stay hydrated.“

“But Mr. Wen, we‘re not allowed to eat or drink in the lab.“

I smile conspiratorially. “I‘m giving you permission right now. Since it‘s only the two of us.“

She takes the glass. I gaze at her, hungrily. I‘m so close…

“Thanks, I‘ve been so absorbed in work that I didn‘t drink all day.“

There we go. The soup is down.

As she realizes, her face changes. There‘s something in her eyes that tells me I won‘t see “Sylvia“ as I know her— as a human— ever again. It‘s not just the shock in her eyes.

There was a light before, kind of like a sign that she is in there. Similar to a warning vest that kids wear in the dark sometimes.

But when she took my potion, it flickered… and died.

I blink. Before I can grasp this feeling, the moment is gone.

Her body changes, legs growing longer, fangs breaking out of her mouth, and her nails become claws.

This is the moment I had waited for. The revolution I dreamed of.

Glorious! More, MORE!

A laugh reverberates in my breast, resounding in the lab as Sylvia bleeds where her limbs tore to let new ones, better ones sprout.

When the transformation is complete, I sink to my knees in reverance.

_You really made it, Jay. _

I have created perfection. I have created… a God. So I take my Godsoup and shove it down my own throat.

The nausea crept up her throat From the pit of her stomach; The realisation that yesterday was real.

And the nausea went to sickness When the walls began to peel, Like those ailing, painted boats.

Up came yesterday and last year with it A mess of promises, Or maybe hopes glued together.

There was peace in burning Letting go of her tether, Emptying the first-aid kit.

And there she lay Counting her carpet fibres, And listening to her skin hum.

Arrangement of alarms Droning until she’s numb, And can say ‘I’m okay’.

I had always been a useless alchemist. As an apprentice to the Royal Alchemist, my father, everyone expects great things from me. I knew all the recipes and techniques but my potions were never as strong as they should be. My father says that I’m just inexperienced but I know that it’s because I’m only half elf. Because of my human mother, I don’t have the inherent magic that all Elves should. I hear my so-called friends mocking me from behind my back; making fun of my weak potions and small ears. Soon though, that was about to change. There is a particular potion that I’ve been reading up on in my father’s notes. It was outlawed generations ago but I think it’s just what I need to get ahead. When brewed properly, drinking the potion could make even the most magically illiterate human into one of the most powerful wizards in the kingdom. I’ve been gathering ingredients in secret for weeks, and all I need now is pixie dust. Pixie dust is one of the rarest ingredients out there, despite how common pixies are. The dust must be given willingly by a pixie, meaning very few have ever able to acquire it. My father, however, is the king’s personal alchemist; he had to have at least some dust. I snuck into my father’s storeroom after he went to bed and I finally found my prey. In the very back of the storeroom on the highest shelf sat a vial marked “Pixie Dust.” Today is the day. The ingredients are prepared and my cauldron is heated and ready. I started brewing; stirring the bubbling liquid adding ingredients exactly as my father’s notes describe. The liquid turned a sickly shade of green which means it’s time to add the pixie dust and speak the word of power: a word imbued with mana that alchemists use to give potions their effects. Carefully, I sprinkled the pixie dust into the cauldron. If this fails my life as an alchemist would be over; using rare ingredients to brew an illegal potion could get me exiled from the kingdom but if it works… oh if it works… they would have no choice but to recognize me as the greatest alchemist — no, the greatest wizard this kingdom has ever known! I raised my hand above the now golden liquid bubbling in the cauldron and spoke as loudly as clearly as I could: “POWER!” And with that, the liquid grew still as it instantly stopped boiling turned a bright blue. It worked! I quickly bottled the potion, put it to my lips, and drank; not wasting a drop. I could feel the changes right away, but something was wrong. My ears grew more pointed and my teeth sharpened into points; my arms and legs grew and my body quickly became disproportionate and ripped through my clothes. A sharp pain eminated from my shoulder blades and a moment later there was a pop and large bat-like wings burst through my skin and smashed the shelves behind me. I screamed in pain and terror, and two guards burst into the room with my father in tow. They beheld my misshapen form with shock and terror. My father saw the tattered remains of my clothes on the floor and shouted to the guards, “That wretched beast has eaten my child, do not let it escape!” The guards nodded in unison and took up a defensive formation around my father. I saw more guards appear in the doorway as I felt a spear enter my thigh. I let out a roar of pain, shattering glass and shaking the foundations of the castle. Stab after stab; slash after slash; the pain was becoming unbearable. I tried to cry out and say that it’s only me, but the only sound that escaped me was a shriek of pain. I could feel the darkness closing in around me and, as the pain and terror overwhelmed me, I gladly let myself be taken by unconsciousness.

When I awoke I was outside. I shakily opened my eyes and discovered that I still had the horrific misshapen body that I prayed had only been a dream. My hands were malformed with pointed claws and my skin was leathery and green. My limbs were unnaturally thin and my shadow resembled a large bat more than a human. I didn’t immediately recognize where I was, but it was at the center of a crater spanning several kilometers in all directions. Looking at the landmarks, including the broken remains of an all-too familiar town, I realized with horror that this crater sat where the castle once was. No ruins, no remains, no indication at all that a castle once stood here. Had I done this? Was this all because I had made that potion? Did I, in my hunger for power, inhialated the kingdom I once called home? All it took was a sprinkle of pixie dust, a five letter word, and some misguided hope to change my life forever. Was it worth the cost?

“I love you. Buh-bye.” I say to my youngest son as I put the phone down. I walk through the hall of the house I’ve lived in for most of my life, although it used to hold a whole family. For the past few years, it’s been just me and these paint-chipped walls. I love this place, but I miss my family. My wife passed just a few years ago, and my children have been out of the house for many years now. I still see them sometimes. My youngest son calls me every day. Has he called me yet today? I can’t remember. Even he has a family of his own now. His children are… in elementary school? Maybe one of them is in middle school already. I can never remember. I often joke about my memory loss, but it’s amazingly inconvenient when you can’t remember facts about your family.

I continue through the hall and step into the sunroom. The windows in this room are floor to ceiling, despite the ceiling not being very tall. There is a chest that holds toy cars that my youngest grandchildren play with when they visit me. I have great-grandchildren now, too, don’t I? Time only seems to slip away from me.

I sit down in my special chair and lean my cane against it. After so many wonderful years, I’m leaving my favorite place. It holds so many memories of my family—my children, nieces, nephews, grandchildren, and now great-grandchildren. I’ll miss this place.

Although, I might not miss it. Soon, I may not even remember it exists. More and more of my memory evades me every day. I don’t want to forget my family. But I’m getting old. There’s nothing to hide about that. I joke about it with my children, who are preparing for the day I leave this Earth. And the nursing home is one step closer to that day.

There’s nothing to be sad about, though. I’ve lived a full life. I’ve watched my children grow up, and now I’m watching their children do the same. My family makes me happy, and I will continue to feel happy.

I met you on one of the worst days of my life, But you didn’t know that yet. I pretended to be busy when you walked by my desk, So you wouldn’t see me upset.

But little did I know, you would soon save my soul, One eye roll and sigh at a time. When I needed a life vest, you jumped in instead, Pushed me up when I couldn’t climb.

I was drowning in grief with so many unknowns, Five kids hung in the in-between. You listened and smiled, gave advice, laughed and cried, A support beam on whom I could lean.

But the best parts of all were your wounds just like mine, Only yours were all stitched up and healed. So you helped me heal mine, body and mind, From shared days on the battlefield.

You taught me that love after war could exist, You taught me to love the new me. You showed me that scars are a privilege of life, Tattoos for the strong and the free.

Our time was too short, you soon moved out of state, Took my heart in the best possible way. Now you visit sometimes, but only in dreams, Which is what brought you to mind today.

I woke with a smile and your name on my lips, I hope you are doing well. I miss your sweet wit, your hugs and your words, I’ve missed you more than I can tell.

But sometimes happy endings are just what they say: Happy but also the end, So farewell to you now, almost lover indeed, But always, forever, my friend.

I want to feel I want to know I want to love I want to grow I want to know The world outside The truth my mother So hid in disguise I want to know The truth about pain Is it true love Or is it insane I want to hear The words come out That you never loved me Without a doubt I want to know why You don’t give a damn And bury your face Deep in the sand Hoping I’ll leave To never look back All cruel intentions A kick in the ass Until there is nothing Left in my bones Except a nightmare I’d rather not own

For the first time in a long time, I dreaded going to work. Not because work was terrible, but because she would be there. She was Viktoria Meir.

Viktoria Meir was queen bee in all she did. From the day she learned to form coherent sentences, she had the world wrapped around her little finger. Her peers willfully did her bidding and flocked to her to grasp at any loose strings of attention – as no loose strings would ever be found on her clothing. Both parents doted on their only daughter to give her the sun, moon, stars, and every opportunity without the necessary qualifications. Even her superiors at the bank her father owned refused to acknowledge any failings despite her lack of knowledge and simple arithmetic skills. Most people in Viktoria’s life could find no fault in her.

But I wasn’t most people.

I could see through Viktoria’s act; every mistake and flaw stood out in plain view, flashing like a neon sign lighting up the red-light district. Her flaws dug into me, grating at me like sandpaper, yet no one else saw what I did. Initially, I tried bringing it up to my coworkers; their oblivious looks and defending praises cut short that conversation. I dare not take it higher for fear her father, my boss, would catch wind. I needed my job for survival; I didn’t dare make public my dislike. Viktoria was the type of person who believed her shit didn’t stink, and as someone who used the bathroom after her many a time, I can assure you it definitely stank!

“Alex, can you come help me, please? This isn’t working.” A whiny, insistent voice reached out to me from down the computers.

I ignored the call and continued counting out the twenties for my customer. “…one twenty, one forty, one sixty, one—“

“Alex, I need your help to figure this out.” The persistent voice continued.

Sighing heavily, I hung my head and gave my own customer an apologetic look. I then turned my head to look at Viktoria and put on the most convincing fake smile I could summon. “Certainly, Viktoria. Just let me finish with my customer, and I will be right over.” I renewed my counting from the beginning, painfully aware of the eyes boring into the side of my head.

“Thank you, sir. Have a great day.” I wished my customer a farewell before making my way over to Viktoria. “What’s the matter?” Peering over her shoulder, I observed the client’s account.

“They want a cashier’s cheque, but I don’t remember how to do it.” Viktoria intoned.

Summoning every patience granted to any living being, I walked her through the steps, having to take over for the majority to ensure they were not messed up. Having finished with her customer as well, I made my way back to my desk, but heard over my shoulder:

“I’ll be right back.” Before I could open my mouth in protest, Viktoria sauntered away, leaving me to deal with a line-up encroaching on the door.

After helping my fourth customer following Viktoria’s disappearance, another one of my coworkers came up behind me. They relayed a message quietly into my ear. My stomach sank into my feet. A frustrated exhale issued from my nose and I nodded. 

“You wanted to see me?” I stood in my boss’s office door not two minutes later. 

“Come in, Alex. Shut the door would you.” My eyes drifted across the nameplate ‘Konrad Meir – Bank Manager’ as the door shut behind me. I settled nervously on the edge of one of the blue fabric chairs and waited for the hammer to fall. 

“Viktoria just had a chat with me and explained that you were reluctant to provide her with assistance when she asked.” I stared at him dumbfounded. “You know we are a team work environment, and it is important for us to help each other when we ask for it.”

“That is not true. I did go help her when she asked as soon as I finished with the customer I was helping. It didn’t seem right to leave hundreds of dollars sitting out to run off and help her with a task she should know how to do.” I knew I had messed up as the overweight man’s eyes narrowed to beady little pinpricks. 

“She explained you were less than willing and put it off longer than necessary, making her and the other customers in line wait. Forgetfulness is not a reason to deny a coworker assistance.”

“I have no problem helping her, but she has been here longer than me. Really, she should know more of this than I do…”

“And she does! But sometimes she forgets, and sometimes so do you. Now, Alex, I don’t want to make this a big deal. For today we will call this a warning. No official write-up in your file, but there will be next time. Just remember to be compassionate to your coworkers and help when it is requested. You may leave.” The dismissal waving of his hand indicated that the conversation was at an end. 

Silently, I rose from my chair and left the office. All of the curses I wanted to shout aloud, I simply muttered in my head over and over like a mantra meant to keep me sane. The remainder of my day passed in relative quiet. It was a struggle to ignore the smug looks Viktoria kept shooting my way. 

I woke with a heavy stomach the next morning and hauled my leaden feet to work. The bank was oddly quiet. Normally me and Viktoria opened, but she was nowhere to be found. My supervisor spent most of the morning on the counter with me, waiting for the next person to come in. 

During my break, I wandered past Konrad’s office, but it was dark and shut up tightly. 

The morning was quiet, pleasant, peaceful. All hell broke loose and rumours flew after lunch. 

At lunch, the police showed up to question each of us who worked there. I remember little of the precise questions they asked, but knew that they had to do with Konrad and Viktoria and their relationship. That’s where the rumours stemmed from and from there they circulated the bank like spreading wildfire. 

Viktoria was murdered. Viktoria was murdered by her father. It was murder suicide. Viktoria murdered her father. Viktoria was kidnapped. Viktoria eloped. Viktoria’s step-mother, notorious for hating her step daughter, murdered her. Viktoria’s step-mother murdered her and her father. Viktoria is reporting her father for rape. Viktoria was sold into the sex industry. 

So on and so forth the rumours spread. I didn’t start any myself, but I did listen to them all and weigh each accordingly. 

That was the most pleasant day of work I had to date.

Your very first car, It’s used and a little beaten, But it’s your first car nonetheless.

It has a few quirks, When you pop the trunk The hood pops up too, The seat belt In the middle back seat doesn’t work, And you can’t go above 80mph.

But the outside has a nice blue color, With some white accents, And a nice rev to the engine.

It gets you where you need to go, That’s what matters.

But when you start pushing it to its limits, Trying to show off to your friends, One of the tires goes flat.

You patch that up, And start on the road again, But now the car feels lopsided, That new tire doesn’t perfectly match the others.

You decide to ignore it, Until on the drive to work one day, You hear a sharp scrapping sound while driving, The car had tilted so much That the bumper was scrapping on the road.

You decide, I’ve saved up enough money, Gotten my use out of this car, It’s time for me to move on and get a new one.

So when you move on, You have to decide what to do with your old car, The very first car you got, That took you everywhere you needed to go, And always gave you its very best.

In the end

You sold me for parts.

Where are all the people who once loved me so?

I was a spirited man in my youth; spritely and full of vigour. The world was a tumbling oyster off the back of the universe that was my whale. Now, all gone. Things have tumbled to nothingness, all thanks to him. That damned juggernaut! Ploughing through my heart and bewitching the souls of everyone who looked through me to him.

Like an old tattered flag waving limply without wind. While he… he who took the life that was to be mine, the fans that were to be mine, the childen desperate for my signature, all chanting his name.

Well, at least I’m alone now. Adored from afar. Captain James Brodie lives his perfect little life on the rock of my home. While I float here, in the blackness peppered with sparkles, like a million one-way phone calls. Pressing a hundred solitary buttons hoping it will impress my nation the way he did so smirkingly well.

The only thing that remains now, while I dutifully serve my world, is the knowledge that it will come to nothing. No change, no parade, no ‘well done Captain Albert Scott of the ISS.’ Because, as I write this, trying to look at that perfect little smile, in that perfect little world, I wish I was back there too. So I could have died with the rest of my race, rather than float deftly, without a care - out of my world.

“True love is dead”

“Agreed. So why do you stay with her still?”

“The curse. That is why I called you”

“I’m quite out of practice you know”

“I’m willing to try anything”

“It can’t be that bad, surely. You’ve lasted seven years”

“Because I had no other choice. Another seven and I may not survive”

“Help me understand. Is she a vengeful woman? Does she treat you with cruelty?”

“Well…no. She has always been extraordinarily kind to me, and patient when I am short-tempered”

“Is it her face? Is she truly so hideous you cannot stand to look at her?”

“The contrary, she radiates such beauty that often I cannot look away”

“But she does not understand love-making? She leaves you feeling dry and unsatisfied?”

“I have never had more fulfilling love in all of my life. She is a master of the human form”

“She forgets about you, no? Never a card for your birthday, a celebration with your new promotion at work?”

“She hasn’t failed to celebrate me in all the years we’ve been together, even on days when there was nothing to commemorate”

“I’m sorry, I cannot see your problem here. It seems you love this woman. Yet you want her gone?”

“I need her gone. She is killing me.”

“Poisoning your tea?”

“Poisoning my heart”

“I’m not sure this is the kind of curse you need me for…”

“Do you remember when I told you that true love is dead?”

“Yes?”

“Well… she is”

Silence, not even the suggestion of breathing on the receiver

“She’s been dead for seven years”