Completed Writing Prompts and Short Stories and Whatnot

Write about the complexity of a emotion or feeling of your choice

Monster

I grip the sink in the bathroom, not daring to look in the mirror. I've been called it all before--bitch, psychopath, lucky, stupid, freak--and this time it hurts the same as it always does. I'm aware of my flaws. Maybe I could be taller, and curvier, and I could smile a little more. Certainly, I could be nicer, more polite, and give out compliments more. 

Finally, a single tear streams down my face, a symbol of losing my war with emotions. I don't know what I'm doing wrong. I try my hardest every day. I dress in what makes me confident--which is a lot more colorful and certainly more modest than people expect--tell people what I like, bite my tongue about things I dislike, give out my honest opinions, and give everything my best. Sure, I'm indifferent to things I'm expected to have strong feelings over, and I'm honest to a fault, but I thought that's what people wanted from me, and I don't think I could fake it if I tried.

I don't dare look myself in the eyes. Most days I'm gorgeous, but I don't feel it today. My t-shirt and jeans make me fit in, but I don't feel like the princess I should. Actually, today I don't need to feel like a princess, I just need to feel like a girl, or a teenager, or a normal person in any concept of the word. But I don't. Those kids were right; I'm an outcast and a freak.

I'm not afraid of their words; I've been called it all before. I'm not afraid of their fists; I've won more than my fair share of fights. I'm not afraid of standing out; that's all I can seem to do somedays, and it's become my comfort space.

Cold air rushes in and back out of my lungs, and I face myself in the mirror.

I've never been afraid of seeing the human that stands on the other side, but right now, she's gone. Her sharp chiseled features, flowing blonde locks, perfect teeth, and mesmerizing green eyes have been replaced by something unrecognizable. She's no longer pale but ivory white with matching hair and eyes. Her teeth are fangs that glitter in the light.

I start and stumble back.

The thing in the mirror is more beautiful than I ever was. Her features could cut through solid steel and melt men's hearts with a single glance. She draws herself up to her full height, looking right at me with a bone-chilling fear caught in her eyes. Despite her monstrous appearance, she calls out to me, asking for a savior. I want to save her, but I'm planted in place. The girl wants more, but she doesn't want it like this. She tried her absolute hardest, and this is how she's repaid.

Horns grow out of her face the same ivory white as everything else. Blood oozes from all the punctures, trickling gently down her face. Fur and feathers grow where they're not supposed to and her nails grow into wretched claws meant for ripping apart fresh meet. Like a shark, she has more teeth than I can count, and her transformation leaves red pouring out of her mouth. She's terrifying even with the look of horror plastered on her bloody face.

I stare at the monster for what feels like an eternity. Her grotesque yet gorgeous physique mocks me. She mimics my every move, from the twitch in my eyes, the quiver of my lip, and the quick rising and falling of my breasts as I try to catch my breath.

Then I blink. Twice. The illusion is gone.

I glance down at my hands. They're still human with the same freckles on each one. I'm human for now, but somehow, I know that the process has begun. That wasn't an illusion. That was the monster I will become.

Prompt taken from the ArtistCafe Discord group.

I chose the emotion of fear. I think there's traces of anger, sadness, and worthlessness in there too. I was going for the specific fear of becoming a monster. For me, I always try my hardest day in and day out to be positive and nice to everyone, but sometimes my hardest isn't enough. I'd say my strongest emotion is hate, which means when those feelings of jealousy and frustration start to creep in, my hardest is just never enough to keep those feelings tamped down. What really keeps me in check is not the ideal of "I want to be a good person," but the fear of "If I'm not a good person, then I am a monster." This is a short inspired by that fear of becoming a monster in which the girl has been trying her hardest all day, but slipped up somehow and found herself holding back tears in the bathroom--which I'll note that trying not to cry when you're upset is not something just boys do--and in her inner turmoil, she begins to lose the battle between good and evil and begins to turn into the monster she always feared she'd become. Encouragement is always a good motivator, but fear works so much better, and I think that's why fear is used so much more often. It's not healthy, but it works, and even the fear of losing your encouragement is a motivator half the time. Fear is a very driving force, and I enjoy exploring it.
"Truly, everything is driven by fear, and I fear becoming a monster." - EAH
Thank you for reading this. I'll have another chapter of The Only Thing We Have to Fear out before the end of the month.