Writing Prompt #4

Write about your biggest fear

I had to give this one a lot of though, not so much as to what my biggest fear is but how to explain it. I suppose it reality it isn’t that hard, my greatest fear is being forgotten and while that may not seem like much to many, it’s terrifying to me. This often comes up when I think of my grandparents, well the ones that I knew at least, and I realize my own daughter never had the opportunity to meet them and then I realize to her they do not have any meaning and yet they meant the world to me. Now the more I thought about this, the more I realized that eventually, once my cousins and even myself pass (morbid I know) the memory of my grandparents will essentially be gone, there will be no one to remember the great things that they had done and it hit me that I and many others will share that same fate.

We are born, we live out our lives, and then we pass, and only our memory remains but eventually that fades as well except for the outstanding that leave their mark on the world. If you think about it only people you seen in the news, celebrities, even politicians all leave their mark and we remember them for hundreds of years at times while the rest of us fade away into obscurity and that thought alone scares me. Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not a great actor, I’m an okay artist, and a decent writer in my own opinion, but there isn’t anything about me that will carry on through the generations and while that may seem a bit narcissistic, it’s more a realization that I’ve done nothing in my life that truly impacts anyone other than my immediate family.

Now don’t get me wrong, I know I’ve made at least a small impact on a few people in one way or another, I’ve brightened their day, made them feel better about themselves, but in our modern internet age they are people that once I disappear from the community I’ll simply be forgotten, surrendered to the sands of time. Like I said, it may be a bit narcissistic to have that kind of fear but in reality, I have that fear to spur me on to do something more than wake up, go to work, and come home. I want, and need, to give my life meaning otherwise I’ll simply be forgotten and my existence won’t have mattered…at least that’s how I think, depressing I know but it’s a fear I live with constantly and at every turn try to overcome it.

Writing Prompt #3

Fair warning: I may not be a pro writer, but this scared me a little as I wrote it so…totally not responsible for any nightmares 😛

She studied her face in the mirror…

A single, dim, bulb hung swaying on a line in the bathroom where she stood and cast dark shadows upon the floor beneath her. All around her it felt as if time had stopped, the only indication that it hadn’t was the gentle sound of water filling the cast-iron tub behind her. All around the room was bathed in a mixture of dull yellow from the flickering bulb and deep blues from the tiles around her and aside from the sound of water running no other sound could be heard.

After a long while the girl, who could be no more than ten by the size of her, raised a hand to the steamed over mirror in front of her and pausing for a long moment to take in the pale sight of her own flesh. She couldn’t help but bring her hand closer to her face to inspect it, peeking through her soaked hair as it hung in front of her face and a small tear slid down her cheek. She turned and twisted her hand slowly, inspecting it from every angle she could think of but in every way there was no denying that it wasn’t normal, a pale blue and grey and the tips of her fingers shriveled as if from being in water for far too long. Several more tears streaked her face, turning dark, even red as they dripped to the floor and hesitantly she pushed her hand to the mirror once more, ever so slowly wiping away the moisture on the glass and once again through dripping hair she saw her reflection.

At first, she wasn’t sure if it was truly her, the skin of her face matching her hand and streaks of red running down her cheeks from her eyes…oh her eyes, what had happened to them. As she looked into her own eyes, what were once brilliant blue had died off to nothing but onyx dots as red continued to flow and she tilted her head slightly in confusion. This couldn’t be her, it didn’t look like her, in fact whatever was looking back at her was most definitely no longer of the living and it wasn’t until that moment that she realized that the hair that hung in front of her couldn’t be hers, it was black and her hair was a golden blonde.

She continued to stare at the creature in front of her as dots of memories slowly crept back into her mind, her mother and father, picnics out in the lawn, her puppy bouncing around and constantly licking her face as she giggled. Wait, her face, that face, no it couldn’t be it had to be a trick of the light or even a bad dream but it couldn’t be her because what was looking back was definitely not the blue eyed and blond haired girl that she was.

After what felt like forever she took a step closer to the mirror, once again she slowly touched the glass where the creatures cheek was, particularly where the blood was running down from the eyes and just as slowly moved her hand back to her own cheek an wiped. As she pulled her hand back and looked she could see the smear of blood on her fingers before looking back to see a matching smudge on the creature and almost instantly she began to cry, more memories began to flood her mind as she saw the bathroom in her mind though it was different. She could see the room lit up brilliantly and in perfect order and not the crumbling mess she stood in now, she saw the tub as all it’s glory of gold and silver as it filled while around her it began to overflow and splash on the floor around her. She even saw the bubbles as she remembered relaxing in the tub after a day of playing outside with the pup.

As her memories continued to return she even managed a smile despite the new look she had acquired, even closing her eyes to bask in the warm thoughts when suddenly, and without warning, she recoiled quickly as if she’d just been stabbed yet in her thoughts she could see two hands and nothing more pushing her under the water. Her body convulsed as she tried to fight off the attack in her mind, water beginning to pour from her mouth as she thrashed about the mangled room, the blood from her eyes coming in thicker streaks and almost as quickly as it began the thoughts ended and she looked back to the mirror, some of the flesh from her face having rotted away, becoming more disfigured after the struggle. Worst of all, however, as her dark eyes focused once more and her chest heaved to catch the breath that would not come she saw a new shadow behind her, a man, a tall man, but without a feature to his face and dressed in all black. He raised his hands slowly and she saw the black gloves that held her under the water, the reason for her new and twisted design, and she let out a scream that shattered the mirror almost instantly and began to shake the walls and yet the man advanced on her and as she crumbled to the floor she realized what had happened. She had died, or rather been murdered, she knew she was gone the moment she saw her hand and thought that she was simply cursed to exist in the room of her demise for all eternity, but her death wasn’t an end it was the beginning of an eternity of torment, of reliving that moment again and again and she couldn’t help but wonder as she lay on the floor, sobbing as hard as she could, what she could have done to deserve such an existence…

Writing Prompt #2

“Write a letter to your 14-year-old self”

Dear smaller version of me,

Life is great isn’t it? You’re fourteen, not a care in the world, just about to enter high school, and living in the basement in your own little cave. I’m not gonna lie, those were the best days we had, and to be honest we did kind of waste them. Now don’t get me wrong, spending a lot of time playing video games certainly served a purpose or two. We both know that games were a huge influence in sparking our drive for creativity even before the age of 14, but realistically we spent far too much time on them and not enough time growing as a well-rounded person. We didn’t set ourselves up very well for the future, I know this is not exactly what you want to hear but it’s the truth.

Now this is coming from experience, right now you’re thirty-eight years old and married with a daughter (that’s the good part…well the daughter is questionable but trust me you do love her…most of the time). Anyway, back to where I was, you’re married, you live in a small apartment on top of going paycheck to paycheck as well as barely being able to pay for a car that’s falling apart. I know, I’m not exactly painting a brilliant picture of the future you hoped you would have, but don’t worry, it actually does get better so give me a second or two.

So right now, you’re sitting down and writing a letter to yourself (duh right?), but here’s where it starts to get good, not like stellar or anything, that’ll come later, but for now it’s pretty good. You’ve picked up your writing again, as well as your artwork (fyi, don’t listen to your art teachers, they’re the ones that are wrong you just keep plugging away at it and you’ll get there), not to mention your love of reading and you’ve read some amazing books too, just wait for the Arthas novel and trust me it’s awesome. I guess in the grand scheme of things your life isn’t too bad, like I said, you’re married and happy though you do go through bouts of depression and I won’t lie you’ve tried to end it all on at least 3 separate occasions but you’re still here and it does get better.

You may not be a published author yet, or a known artist, or a renowned game designer but even at thirty-eight all of that is still possible you just can’t give up on yourself. When things get down just remember you have a roof over your head, food in your belly, clothes on your back, friends that are there for you, and family that love you and with all of that combined you can achieve anything.

I’ll leave you with the words of Red Green “I’m pulling for you, we’re all in this together” so hang tough younger me, it’s a rocky road but it’s one worth traveling.


Old you (that’s me genius)