This week’s writing prompt is a little longer again. I figured I’ve been posting short ones for so long it was time for something more wordy πŸ™‚

I really enjoyed this one and used it to explore an idea I’ve had a couple of weeks ago. I haven’t had time to experiment more on it, but would love to hear your thoughts regardless πŸ™‚

There’s some rather heavy cussing ahead, so don’t read on if that bothers you.

As always, if the prompt speaks to you feel free to borrow it! If you do please link back here so I can have a look at your interpretation!

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Five things you wish your mother had never told you

You have magic, Connie. Like in the movies. I punch the boxing bag with all I’ve got, and throw in a few kicks for good measure.

My life is so fucked up. Only a month ago it was fine, but today? Today it’s a piece of fucked up shit.

Your brother had it, too. It’s why they killed him.Β I don’t care that my knuckles bleed. It reminds me that I can still feel, that I’m still alive, and it’s better than anger. Maybe it’ll distract me for long enough not to kill the woman.

You’re the first one, besides your brother.Β Why? Why me? Why us? It’s all bullshit. I still hope I’m dreaming and about to wake up, but so far no amount of pain has snapped me out of it.

You’re not save. Go to the countryside, they won’t look for you there.Β More bullshit. Three policemen have knocked on my door in the past week. Three. It’s a good thing Jack is so good at this crap. Thanks to him no one knows it’s me.

I’m sorry.Β I slam my fist as hard as I can into the boxing bag. My knuckles scream with the pain of it, but I don’t care. Hell, physical pain is way better than this emotional shit.

“Are you okay?” Jack leans against the door frame, watching me. Tears burn my eyes too badly for me to see clearly.

“No.” My voice is raspy, and I choke on it. May my mother choke on her actions in the same fucking way. May she choke to death, for all I care. It was her fault things have gone this way. Had she told me that I had magic when I was a kid, had she raised me better, I’d be less shocked now to hear that actually, my whole life has been a lie.

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All writing belongs to the author, Sarina Langer

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