However in my eagerness to participate I may have lost the plot/prompt a bit but I am hoping there is room for flexibility 🙂
Check out the Tipsy Lit writing prompts, guidelines and rewards – http://tipsylit.com
The prompt for this week is: Your character finds a magical object.
“People come up to me and they say ‘Hey why don’t you stick a knife in your gut, we want to see!’ and I say ‘Sure! I will, if you will.’ They usually walk away after that.”
“And how does that make you feel.”
“How do you think it makes me feel?” I look away from Mrs Garter, away from her ice blue eyes and straw like hair. She really is no different from the other therapists, prettier perhaps, but otherwise pretty much the same. Instead I look out of the window at the streets filled with normal people and imagine what it’s like being, you know, normal.
I feel her leaning forwards on her chair and I glance back at her. Her eyes sparkle. She brings her palms together and then to her lips momentarily
“Would you give it up if you could?”
“If you could give away your power…”
“It’s not a power, it’s just…”
“Ok. If you could give away your gift, would you?” I want to tell her it’s not a gift either, but instead I consider her words.
“Why think about something that could never happen?”
“What if someone had a sort of instrument that could take away your power?” Well this is different…I look at her eyes again. They are wide and her pupils have widened. She looks…hungry.
“Are we still speaking hypothetically?” she stands up abruptly and walks over to her desk. She opens a drawer with the key that hangs around her neck and brings out a little steel box. She walks over to me.
“This is your freedom. You can be like every other human. You can live, you can die. The same as everyone else.”
“I think I should go.”
“I thought you wanted to be normal. All you do is whine and whine and whine. This power should belong to someone who can appreciate it! Who can use it! With this, I can take the power from you and transfer it to someone else!” I am backing away towards the door now. Who is this crazy woman? I am not afraid of her. There is nothing she can do to me, but I am afraid of the box. She is opening it now and bringing out IVs and injections. She seems to take for granted that I’ll stay but when I try to open the door, it resists.
The blood rushes to my head.
“It’s alright. It will all be over soon.” I run towards the window and take a leap of faith.