A Quick Prompt
- Thread starter Sneakily
- Start date
xXNocturnalPotatoXx
Melatonin is my best friend
Hecka late but I'm a bored boi so..so what xp
"Of course.." I would mutter, staggering forward through the blinding pain in my chest. Though the pain was merely a pinch compared to the complete betrayal I felt at that moment as we locked eyes. My hand slipped out if my pocket where my gun had been and I chuckle darkly. As I feel to the floor, a sad thought ran through my mind for the last time. I hadn't said it because I knew it would be them. I didn't know. I said it because they did it first.
"Of course.." I would mutter, staggering forward through the blinding pain in my chest. Though the pain was merely a pinch compared to the complete betrayal I felt at that moment as we locked eyes. My hand slipped out if my pocket where my gun had been and I chuckle darkly. As I feel to the floor, a sad thought ran through my mind for the last time. I hadn't said it because I knew it would be them. I didn't know. I said it because they did it first.
KittyWolfSpirit
The Crazy Cat Lady
"I see. You, you were the last one that I ever thought would rip my heart out this way." I whispered softly as I choked on my tears. "I don't know why, nor do I care to. If it must be someone to finally end my suffering, it may as well be the one person who I let the closest to my heart. The one person who swore on their soul they would never hurt me. But, here you are. Go ahead. There is no pain worse that can be done to me. I'm broken. And the final shattering of me will be with you, my love."
I swallow back a sob, and raise my arms opening them wide, to show them I have no fight left in me. They took the last of my fight the moment they raised that gun to me. The loud crack of the gun shatters the silence. Pain rocks my body backwards to the cold concrete below.
"I am sorry for failing to be good enough. I love you." I whisper, using my last rattled breathes from my lungs.
Eyes frozen open to a heaven that will never welcome me. Back to a hell that would never hold me. Stuck in purgatory of pain as I was in life. Always unable to stop the pain of betrayals that haunted me in life & now echo evermore in this purgatory prison of my death. Thanks to loving you too much.
I swallow back a sob, and raise my arms opening them wide, to show them I have no fight left in me. They took the last of my fight the moment they raised that gun to me. The loud crack of the gun shatters the silence. Pain rocks my body backwards to the cold concrete below.
"I am sorry for failing to be good enough. I love you." I whisper, using my last rattled breathes from my lungs.
Eyes frozen open to a heaven that will never welcome me. Back to a hell that would never hold me. Stuck in purgatory of pain as I was in life. Always unable to stop the pain of betrayals that haunted me in life & now echo evermore in this purgatory prison of my death. Thanks to loving you too much.
okhi2
New Member
- Pronouns
- she
"I do not."
The face was not discernible from my own -- the irises did not seem to rise in excitement, anticipation, or fear, but instead sat with a weary temper. The woman was steady, the gun did not fall or insist itself upon me. I had thought that this moment in my life would have tasted palpable, like the precipice of great change, but it felt... no different than any other moment I'd lived. I realized, then, that life was always lived waiting for death, whether we see it or not. Now, I saw it, and found little difference between This and getting up in the morning, ambling out of bed, and putting on (slowly) each sock.
"I do not decline." My voice trembled aloud, my body suggesting fear unto itself, though I felt my heart unmurmuring in each contraction. My body wavered, but I did not. Bring it on, I thought. I've lived my entire life so that one day I would die. The bangs on her forehead seemed to huff and curl, her eyes fell as if they were sloping their sight down her long, eloquently protruding nose, and her chin raised in contrast. Her nostrils sat wide.
"You can't," weapon lowering to the ground, "you can't decline this." I did not know her, but thought that she sounded sad.
"I can not not," I argued. "I make none of your decisions."
I did not know her, but her face looked like the one that met me each morning as I stared into the mirror. She looked at me only as long as I looked at her. Now, I was looking at her, and I felt sorry, and I felt sad, and she looked both. She was shaking her head, slowly.
"You do not understand. You make them all."
"Not this one."
With a bang, the gun fell to the ground, solid on the floor-boards.
illirica
Well-Known Member
"You don't have to do this."
It's a whisper. Once, maybe once, there was a time when I would have shouted it, screamed it, raged and raved and maybe changed something. I remember feeling like there was a time like that, but it's so hard to remember when it was. That's why it's so quiet - just a whisper, in the stillness of the room that has one person too many in it.
I don't need to hear an answer to know what it will be: Why not, though? What do you have to offer? More pain? More disgrace? More disappointment to everyone around you? Do you remember when everyone thought you were going to be different? When they thought you would do great things, be someone, love someone - before you were like this, all numb and useless and detached. Do you remember believing it?
I do. Almost. I can feel it there, behind all those words: you could do so much, you had so much potential, you just don't try hard enough, you really fizzled, you, you, you.
Me.
Always, always me - because there never was anyone else. There never will be, and if there is, I'll just disappoint them, too.
I know, I know.
You don't have to do this.
But I can't think of any reason not to, and so I stare straight ahead, into the mirror, and I raise the gun and pull the trigger - not because I have to. Not even because I want to.
I just don't want to do anything else.
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Note: Hey, so that was a lot, huh? If you or anyone you know feels like this resonates a bit too much, please call 988 or whatever your local prevention hotline is. Life gets different. Don't miss your changes.
It's a whisper. Once, maybe once, there was a time when I would have shouted it, screamed it, raged and raved and maybe changed something. I remember feeling like there was a time like that, but it's so hard to remember when it was. That's why it's so quiet - just a whisper, in the stillness of the room that has one person too many in it.
I don't need to hear an answer to know what it will be: Why not, though? What do you have to offer? More pain? More disgrace? More disappointment to everyone around you? Do you remember when everyone thought you were going to be different? When they thought you would do great things, be someone, love someone - before you were like this, all numb and useless and detached. Do you remember believing it?
I do. Almost. I can feel it there, behind all those words: you could do so much, you had so much potential, you just don't try hard enough, you really fizzled, you, you, you.
Me.
Always, always me - because there never was anyone else. There never will be, and if there is, I'll just disappoint them, too.
I know, I know.
You don't have to do this.
But I can't think of any reason not to, and so I stare straight ahead, into the mirror, and I raise the gun and pull the trigger - not because I have to. Not even because I want to.
I just don't want to do anything else.
---------
Note: Hey, so that was a lot, huh? If you or anyone you know feels like this resonates a bit too much, please call 988 or whatever your local prevention hotline is. Life gets different. Don't miss your changes.
Mickey Flash
Member
- Pronouns
- She/her
I heard noise first. It was the first thing that I was consciously aware of as blackness seemed to fill my vision. I heard the screams of those around me. I started to smell the burning of something nearby and could feel the warmth of the flames as they licked through something close to me. My brain was a confused fog, unable to register what was going on around me. Where was I? What was happening? Chaos reigned as I moved my head to the left of me, then jerkily to the right. I felt as if there was something wrong with my limbs. I didn’t have control of them like I should. My arms and legs felt heavy as if I was sludging through thick tar. My vision started to regain focus, and I was able to see light. It was the fire. An object was on fire. What was it? My mind couldn’t register what I was looking at. What was it called? A car. A Jeep Cherokee, in fact. The shell of the vehicle blazed out of control, and there were people running around me and smoke heavily in the air. I hear a click. I look to the right of me. There he is, holding his gun two handed as he pressed it against the side of my head. Shock fills my system. Why? Why is my love holding a gun to my head?
“I’m sorry. I can’t allow you to continue…. What you’re doing,’ he states with conviction, pausing at the end as if he doesn’t want to acknowledge what it was he thought I was doing. “For Jessie’s sake.”
Jessie? Who is Jessie? I rack my brain for the pieces of the puzzle that I obviously had lost. A glimmer of familiarity fills my being. Jessie. Jessie running in the rain as I call after him to get back into the house. Jessie asleep on my shoulder as I carry him upstairs to his bedroom. Jessie cuddling up to me, telling me, “I love you mommy.” My son. My Jessie. Why for Jessie’s sake? What did I do? A feeling of dread overcomes me, and I turn to the man holding the gun, my love, my husband.
“Arrrgggh,” comes out of my mouth. These are not the articulate words that I wanted to convey, but ugly groans. I couldn’t seem to speak my thoughts or ask my questions. What was wrong with me? Pity filled the face of the man to whom I had given my vows. Pity and a deep sadness.
“I want you to know that I love you. I know what you did for me, sacrificing yourself for me. I will never forget you. And I’ll make sure to remind Jessie what a wonderful mother he had every day.”
Sacrificing myself? The memory cuts through my brain in a rush. The savage creatures, that used to be our neighbors, coming for John. John, my husband. His name is John. They came for him with vicious hunger. I saw others killed. Eaten by the undead. The diseased. Whatever they were. I couldn’t let them kill John. My love, my joy. I fling myself against the horde, yelling, “RUN!” as they fall on me. John reaches for me, until he sees there is no other choice. He picks up Jessie and runs.
My mind clings back to that fading scene, where John’s hand is outstretched, reaching for me. I see his arm now, outstretched again. This time he’s holding the gun, and I become aware of what had happened. What I am. What must be done. I close my eyes as the loud blast of the gun sends my vision back to darkness once again.
“I’m sorry. I can’t allow you to continue…. What you’re doing,’ he states with conviction, pausing at the end as if he doesn’t want to acknowledge what it was he thought I was doing. “For Jessie’s sake.”
Jessie? Who is Jessie? I rack my brain for the pieces of the puzzle that I obviously had lost. A glimmer of familiarity fills my being. Jessie. Jessie running in the rain as I call after him to get back into the house. Jessie asleep on my shoulder as I carry him upstairs to his bedroom. Jessie cuddling up to me, telling me, “I love you mommy.” My son. My Jessie. Why for Jessie’s sake? What did I do? A feeling of dread overcomes me, and I turn to the man holding the gun, my love, my husband.
“Arrrgggh,” comes out of my mouth. These are not the articulate words that I wanted to convey, but ugly groans. I couldn’t seem to speak my thoughts or ask my questions. What was wrong with me? Pity filled the face of the man to whom I had given my vows. Pity and a deep sadness.
“I want you to know that I love you. I know what you did for me, sacrificing yourself for me. I will never forget you. And I’ll make sure to remind Jessie what a wonderful mother he had every day.”
Sacrificing myself? The memory cuts through my brain in a rush. The savage creatures, that used to be our neighbors, coming for John. John, my husband. His name is John. They came for him with vicious hunger. I saw others killed. Eaten by the undead. The diseased. Whatever they were. I couldn’t let them kill John. My love, my joy. I fling myself against the horde, yelling, “RUN!” as they fall on me. John reaches for me, until he sees there is no other choice. He picks up Jessie and runs.
My mind clings back to that fading scene, where John’s hand is outstretched, reaching for me. I see his arm now, outstretched again. This time he’s holding the gun, and I become aware of what had happened. What I am. What must be done. I close my eyes as the loud blast of the gun sends my vision back to darkness once again.
I second this.