Writing Prompt

My mom. She had me when she was really little just a teenager she didn’t have or she didn’t have her full fun. Her dad wasn’t really a dad he would come back home start shouting and drinks all day and absorbs to violence to her and her mom she went to this bar and she saw a woman the woman was sad for her and she teach her how to shoot and gave her leather jacket she gave her to try a drink and le...

Asha had been abandoned at the temple as a child, cast aside by her family for her fierce temper. In the quiet embrace of the ancient temple, she was nurtured by monks who taught her the ways of discipline and inner balance. There, she mastered martial arts, the delicate strokes of calligraphy, the art of painting, and the refined rituals of tea ceremony; she learned to chant sacred mantras, recit...

“It seems like every day a new gargoyle appears on that old place” My father points out while we drive by the old house. A tall black mansion, one from a classic horror movie, but for some reason every day a new gargoyle appears on the top. “I heard that a serial killer lives there, and the gargoyles are its victims turned to stone” my younger brother George cuts into my thoughts. “That’s Bullshit...

Sprinting through the dark unforgiving forest, winding coils of branches and gray fog surrounds me as my feet pound against the damp uneven ground with each step. I’m suddenly yanked back, I yelp out in surprise.

It was just a far out tree branch, but damn and peice of my coat was ripped off with it.

It’s not long before I begin running again, forgetting about the brief moment. I need to get th...

Who are you?

You are not two

You are not you say you are

I’m trapped in a jar

I cannot breathe

I am the beneath

You are the manipulator

I am the navigator

You are not my friend

You are a foe

This may be the end

You will mold the dough

But I am the dough.....

She’s not who she says she is. The woman sitting next to me—her head resting on my shoulder, nuzzling up to my jaw. She’s not my wife. Her usual scent of vanilla and roses does not fill my nose. I can’t tell if she’s trying something new—something her sister gave her. It smells spicy—mixed with something else. Something metallic. I’m worried she can feel my tense body.

Before I speak, I swallow. ...

She’s not who she says she is, she acts like a saint but is okay watching a kid get beat. She isn’t who she seems, she lies, she cheats, she steals. She isn’t a kind soul, she’s a mad woman who doesn’t care about the hurt she inflicts. She isn’t worthy of staying, I have to escape her....

Shes not who she says she is. She tells people shes a nice person, Shes friendly, she a sweet caring girl. Liliah. A sweet, lovely girl? oh please. Underneath it all, shes a psycho bitch. A whore. A stupid whore. A slut to be wished she was loved but was very incapable of it.I wish i could tell her that but the more I think about it, I don’t regret what I did. I don’t regret wonding her, gashing h...

“She is not who she says she is.”

I hear one of the voices say from the cellar below me. My stomach twists, I know they are talking about me. The way I claimed to be Princess Hazel, Prince Davidson’s fiancée in the arranged marriage. The one no one had ever seen before, acting like a princess from a far off country was easy—I thought I would never get caught.

I had planned on killing Davidson ...

Strong language, detailed descriptions of gore. I’ll advise not to read if these topics bother you in any way. Thank you for your time. :)

I’ve always been a good liar. No particular reason. If I want to get my way, I’ll pull out any fib, lie or falsity and spoonfeed it to whoever blocks my path. Sometimes it’s little things. Pulling an allnighter to play Minecraft all night and claiming I was ...