forum Writing Prompts
Started by @Bandito
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@Shadow_Knight group

"I just…I messed up so bad!" He said as he hit his head against the table. "I have to undo it." He said quietly.
Grandma Yana just kept stirring the soup she was cooking. "Milo, have you ever tried to unmake soup?" She asked as she poured some of it into a bowl.
Milo looked up at her. "You can't."
"And why can't you?" She asked sitting down next to him.
"Because I while ago you made the broth. You could remove everything else but you can't unmake the broth." He explained.
"Exactly. You made the first part of that mistake a long time ago. Even if you don't add everything else, you can't undo that first thing. Sometimes you can't unmake mistakes, just like you can't unmake soup."

Deleted user

"Death is only a minor setback for me, you can come, with your armies. From the past, from the future, bring all of your so-called warriors and Champions together. You cannot bring me even one step closer to a true death"

@personfullofplotholes language

(Sorry I disappeared, my laptop had to get repaired. This isn't a continuation of my previous shorts, but I'm still happy with it. I haven't written first person in ages, so this was mostly an exercise on that.)

I keep running from something. I keep running from something, and finding myself falling headfirst into it, only to get up once more and run in a different direction, over and over and over, until someday I die from tripping over it.
Or maybe it's more accurate to say I'll finally confront it. More the death of a phase of my life, than my actual death. But when you're running from… what would I even call it? Reality? The facts of life? I don't know. But when you're running from something like that, there's no telling how you'll end up. And when you're going to my extremes- breaking science itself just to try and find a different answer, doing things that shouldn't be possible or survivable just for the sake of proving that things CAN be different- well, let's just say a lot of people are surprised I've made it this far.
They all say the same thing when they realize what I'm doing. "Alex," they say- my mother, my sister, my partner, my friends, the coworker who stumbled in on my spot on the basement where I was welding the last pieces of the latest jumper together. "Alex," they all say, with this sort of hurt in their voice, and concern, as if it's something I earned or expected, "Alex, man, what are you doing?"
I don't have an answer for them. I just keep running, into new realities and universes.
Maybe that's what I'm running from. Them. The question they all ask, that I never answer because I don't know what it is. I'm making things. I'm looking. I'm desperate. What for? Why? I don't know, I never know, but if there's one thing I believe it's that there's an answer- not always a reason, not always something understandable, but always an answer- somewhere out there. Whether it's in this reality, or the one I hailed from, or one a hundred jumps down the line, I'll find it.
Except… I'm starting to think it doesn't exist. It's been so long, and I'm tired of running, of finding the same answer in every new place I look, no matter how fast I run from it. No matter how fast I keep running towards that horizon line, where there's nothing but unknown on the other side, I only find the answer I already know and have continuously refused to accept.
Maybe it's time to stop running. Grow up. Accept that there are some things you simply have to accept about life, about your circumstances, no matter how unfair or awful. Realize the same thing everyone else seems to have always taken for granted.
I think it'd be nice to stop running. I've been running for five years, and I was ready to do it forever, because it used to be running TO something. Used to mean something, this endless search. Now it's just… escape. And I keep needing it sooner and sooner, until soon I won't have a chance to ever stop even long enough to catch my breath.
Better stop while I still can, then. It's hard to not think of it as giving up… but I don't think there's anything wrong with that, when the search is neverending anyways.
I keep running from things, in search of things. I think it'll be nice to remember what it's like to stand still and look at what's already there.

@cue-nervous-humming

Loosely related to the last prompt:

The Worst Days

The worst days are when I realize
I'm not angry at the world,
Not upset at my circumstances,
But with me
I who choose to accept my situation
I who let go of sparkling dreams because they took too much effort to nurture
I who gave up.

The worst days are when I realize
I am fighting myself for my happiness
A perfect carbon copy that can point to every weakness
Poke and prod and hit
Because I need to feel something,
If not motivation, then desperation
If not passion, then agression
I somehow I stopped living so now I drive myself to survive
Clash with the forces of self-critique and guilt every day
Trip over the traps insecurities built for me
Fall into holes of anxiety and worry

The worst days are when I realize
I win either way,
Or should I say,
Lose either way,
Every day I grit my teeth because my pride won't let me call for help
And every day shudder in anticipation to more blows to my ego
Look, it makes me so angry that taking a break
Means giving in, that self care
Has just become the last balance to all of these bad habits
As if
Taking a shower will make up for my messy room
As if
Reading a book will make up for my broken reality
As if
The fact I'm fooling everyone just because I function outside my room is a victory
I keep telling myself it's a victory
But I'm not sure I even want to be winning

The worst days are when
I'm not even sure I want to win anymore

@south-is-a-tad-bit-outraged

26: An incurable illness

They had been there for a while now.
I was supposed to be alone in the house, all by myself as I lived out the few remaining days I had left. But no matter what I did, they always returned. A looming, black shadow that followed me everywhere. I knew my time was coming.
So I started tying up my loose ends. There was no one left who cared about me, so no need to say my goodbyes. I wrote out my story, on paper that will soon curl up and take my adventures with it. I cleaned my weapons one last time, my joints creaking as I looked back on the things that had saved my life but couldn't save those of everyone I cared about.
After a week or so of this, I turned and faced the dark shadow who had so loyally followed me everywhere. And I realized as many often do while facing Death, that I did not want to die.
“Death,” I say, addressing them by name, “why are you here? I still have so much to do.“Death,” I say, addressing them by name, “why are you here? I still have so much to do.”
“Ah, but darling,” a voice says from under that hood, “You have lived your life. You know your time has come. Why do you not rejoice in knowing that you will see the ones you once loved?”
“But I want to live a little longer, see more of the world. I have no condition, no illness. So why do you come so soon?”
“Well, that is the thing about me,“ they say, a smile in their voice, “I am the last incurable illness.“

@Mojack group

Looking out into the darkness; the depths of space. As far as I can see, there are only stars and the darkness. I'm currently sitting on a bed right now. It's not comfortable at all, but I am told to stay here for now. I listen, though I do not like it very much. The door slides open and she enters. No, it. I avoid its gaze as it speaks - a human voice reaching out from its vocals.
"It is time to take your medicine, 003."
Something horrible, masquerading as a human. It wants me to take that medicine, to keep things normal. It wants the others to think I'm ill; but I'm not. They brought that doctor - that thing onto the ship to help me, but things have been only getting worse.

"No." I say, looking down. Something clatters onto the table.

"You must," it huffs. "You're ill, and while there is no cure for such illness, this medicine will help you, 003."

More like it will help you, in parading yourself around like a human. In tricking my friends, in killing them when you get the chance. But I look up - not at it, just look up. I only see its feet, the shoes and pants it wears. But I know when I see that face I will not see something human. I reach a hand out, and it shifts around. I hear an object hit against the metal table, then it go silent for a moment. I then feel smooth, unnaturally smooth but cold hands wrap around my arm.

"This will only be a little pinch," it speaks. I feel a pinch, a numbing sensation, and my ears ring. I grit my teeth, hearing it walk a little bit away from me, and begin to clean up. Opening my eyes, I see it has drawn a bit of blood out of my arm. Why? To drink it? I do not like that. I look up carefully. It's okay to look up, since I do not see its face.
I slowly remove myself from the bed; quietly. I do not want to alert it. My hand brushes by a knife, and I grip it, tip-toeing over to it. It did not turn around quite yet. I slow my breathing - and just as I do that, I lunge, taking no chances as I stab the knife into its false body, its costume.
It shrieks out, and turns - and I see my own face, the reflection in its glassy head. It's almost featureless, reflecting anything nearby.
I take out my knife and prepare to go for the head - when I am suddenly jolted by a shock, and I drop the knife to the floor with a clatter, falling over like a ragdoll.

I hear mutters and whispers - I am taken into custody again. "003 had another outburst," it reports, shakily. "I fear this illness may get worse and worse, we may have to.." and then it goes into a low whisper.

I'm strapped into a bed and I can see it, faced away from me, talking again. I do not like the lies it gives to them.
They are taking me for another study again. They do not trust me. But trusting it - that thing?

Trusting that thing is even worse.

I am not ill.

((I'm a sucker for person who can see things others cannot sorts of stories, so when I saw illness - I got an idea.))

@slytherintothecore group

27: …and then the wolves came.

The torches behind me grew brighter and the shouts louder. I sprinted through the trees, struggling to outdistance my pursuers. "Get 'er! We've almost caught 'er!" I put on an extra burst of speed. The trees blended into shadows, the stars one endless light. I was almost there. A twang behind me alerted me to where they were. Arrows began flying all around me. I fell as one caught me in the side. Another in my arm. I lay there in the snow, bleeding from my wounds. A howl behind me, torches in front of me. There was no escape. I hugged my arms as I waited for the last blow, the last arrow. In my cloak, I felt something. I pulled it out and gasped. It was my last hope. I murmured some words into my last hope and threw it towards the torches. As it hit the ground, smoke and fire exploded from it and made a wall in front of me. Yells came from behind the wall and I relaxed some and tried to evaluate my wounds. I couldn't move, it was too much to expect that, but I quickly binded my side, removing the arrow. I winced and threw the arrow away. I looked behind me at a sound in the woods and shuddered. Glowing eye stared back at me from the darkness. A howl barely five yards startled me. Another howl, closer. The fire behind me was dying down. I tried to edge backwards, but let out a strangled yelp. Closer, closer. The glowing eyes crept closer, sensing I was easy food. I took a deep breath… and then the wolves came.

@Althalosian-is-the-father book

Zol’s disciples gathered around him. Afraid. Afraid and so weary.
For the first time in almost a year, ‘Kaion refused to speak, her fear overpowering her tongue. Ankro stood behind his sister, all senses alert, also silent, as if he had become a lone wolf, cut off from safety. Gaius met Zol’s eyes, an unspoken promise in them. Gaudari also stared straight at him, offering herself as a well of strength he could lean upon. Hydro only stared off into the darkness, not yet reconciled to the betrayal; wishing for his friend back. Vertaki stood between him and Gaius, reaching for a feeling of safety. They all felt more unprotected, the darkness that once been a comfort to them now as most saw it. Menacing. Cold. Something to fear instead of embrace.
Gaudari stood up completely, letting her hand drift on Vertaki’s hair, and ever so lightly brushing over ‘Kaion’s back, pulling away quickly as the younger girls started.
“We cannot stay like this,” she said, the first words spoken in what seemed like a lifetime. Gaius met her eyes, agreement reflecting back in the faint light of dusk. Zol said nothing, which was even more troubling.
“You make the fire,” Gaius said, and Gaudari nodded, and began to collect stray sticks and the fallen leaves. Within a moment the beginnings of a fire smoked. The others gathered around as if in a daze. Grief clouding the minds of all present. But Zol most of all.
“You must wake, my brother,” Gaius murmured to Zol. “To give up now, that would be foolish.” Zol nodded. But the darkness remained in his eyes. He held out his arms, which he had not bothered to heal. “Look, Gaius, he said, “see the wounds, black and cruel. So to must our hearts ache for years to come. Karak is gone. And my heart is pained forever.” He bowed his head and sank to the ground. Without him looking, Gaudari heard and came to them. Gaius left her there. There were children to be taken care of. And the night would be long. “I will take the first watch,” he whispered.

@Jay-Marae-is-in-an-emotional-maze

Today is dinner with Makayla. I've never paid attention to so many details about the way I look before. Teeth, check; hair, check; deodorant, check; and many more checks to go.
I want to look good for Jocelyn, and of course Ella.
I finish up my own check, but it's no use because as soon as come down my mom and dad both check me over again and each sends me back once to do something or another to get ready for my night. Finally, they both give me a good to go and I drive myself to her house.
She looks beautiful. Her hair is down and she's wearing a simple yet pretty green dress that perfectly complements her hair, eyes, and skin. I meet her halfway down the driveway and we hug, sharing a look as we pull apart.
She climbs in the passenger's seat and we talk only little on the way to our favorite restaurant, Five Guys. I order a bacon cheeseburger everything on it, Jocelyn orders a cheeseburger with mushrooms and nothing else, and then we order an extra bacon cheeseburger with no pickles or tomatoes. Then Jocelyn and I get three regular drinks and a large order of fries.
Like the car ride, the beginning of dinner is very silent, but as we eat, me and Jocelyn warm-up and start sharing stories and jokes. We finish quickly, leaving just a third of our fries and Ella's meal as we continue to get lost in our stories.
The sun gets lower and lower on the horizon, and it's only when the sun gets so low it shoots directly into my eyes that I realize what's happening. I've lost track of time.
Jocelyn and I quickly pack up the last of the now cold food and rush out and into the car. The drive isn't that far but I go over the speed limit just a little bit to get there faster. I pull into the driveway take the food as we walk through the small metal fence surrounding the graveyard. I go in first.
I easily find the grave, as I've been there more than once, and silently place Ella's favorite food next to some flowers and notes to her. I also have a note, to say the things that are too hard to say out loud. It reads:
Dear Ella,
I love you. I love you and I think it will be hard to ever stop loving you. Me and your sister are getting along, and I love all of the stories she's told me so far. Maybe she'll tell me more tonight. It's been a year, and I really miss you.
Love, Jamie.
(I know this kind of sucks but idk it's not bad for my first attempt.)