This is lovely and generic: describe someone’s mind.
It could be transported into someone’s rationalisation the mental plane, having their mind read, or just how you view your own mind.
For bonus points: include an object of significance in the characters’ history. Describe their reaction and interaction with this item.
The halls and corridors of her mind are empty, at the moment. Her mind can be bustling with millions of facts and figures, codes and passwords, all day, every day. Remembering school trips, and birthdays, anniversaries and events. At night she is the most vulnerable, at night when she is laying in bed, trying to relax herself to sleep. It is at these times, that the voices come. Not voices like an insane person would here. Not voices telling her to kill everyone, and that they are God, commanding her to do so. She laughs a bit to herself, feeling a panic raise within her. Those voices would be easily ignored, and thrown aside. “You are not my God.” she thinks. The voice simpers at first. Sighing quietly about what could have gone better. “You could have been more patient with the kids,” the voice suggests. She agrees. She thinks about what she ate for the day, the voice speaks more firmly about how she’ll never lose weight like that. She is not shocked at the argument that the voice has made. It isn’t new. She agrees wholeheartedly that the changes she made weren’t good enough. She thinks about the pile of undone laundry in the basement. The voice raises about her cow-towing to everyone else’s needs. Why can’t anyone help her? She lets the rage of the moment course through her. Tears well in her eyes, and she rolls over trying to sleep. Trying to clear away the heaviness. Moments later, guilt sets in. Doesn’t her husband do his best? Just like she does? Aren’t her kids only doing what gets them results? The voice gets louder, not caring who it’s angry at, spewing hate and anger everywhere. ‘You don’t deserve them!!’ it screams ‘You don’t deserve anything. You are worthless.’ She curls into a ball in the center of her bed. ‘A better mother would BE there for her children, would listen and dote on them!’ she cowers as the voice echoes in the corridors of her mind, making it seem larger, and louder than any shred of reality. ‘A better wife would make sure her husband was healthy and happy. You don’t deserve to be happy. You can’t ever be good enough.’ The ringing of the last words echos through her mind, breaks down the last of her resolve. She can’t ever be good enough. Not enough for her family, not enough for the voice in her head, always demanding more. Her body is wracked with sobs. Her husband gently holds her tightly, wishing he could keep her inner demons away. Some nights she wins against the voice, she can turn it off, tune it out, walk away, or keep mentally busy until the exhaustion takes over. Those nights where she is alone, and the halls of her mind are silent, the voice always comes creeping back.
just started following Paxelart… she needs a bit of help with Tumblr as an artist, any artist friends that can give her tips?
Got a writing prompt, off of Reddit (yay reddit!) that says:
“Earth. Not our Earth, but an alternate dimension. The difference between this Earth and ours is the population. The population there is ten times larger. There was a law created: On your 40th birthday, you will die. You have two options: Either the government will track you down and kill you or you kill yourself.
The Death Day is one of final celebration. Your character has finally chosen their method of death. What is this method? What does it mean to them, if anything? How are they feeling?”
Here is my response to the prompt:
He smiled widely as he ran, turning down narrow alley ways, and shouting over his shoulder. “If you are taking me out, I am going to make you work for it.” He hadn’t planned for this. He had decided, for his last day, to drive like a maniac through a notoriously dangerous area, while on every street drug he could get his hands on. He was still high. His nerves buzzed, and his vision was sharp, but full of things in his imagination. He kept clutching for Aria’s hand. She had been his companion for the day. His mind couldn’t comprehend why his hand wasn’t closing around the warmth of her hand. All he wanted was to look into her eyes and see her mutual excitement, running from the law. Literally running for their lives.
He had met Aria on a forum for those in their later years trying to decide how to die. They were both struggling, and had overall lived dull lives. Certainly as a young man, he had been a bit wild. Music, drugs, sex. He’d had it all. He was all about the sensation, the feelings that one or two of those things together would do. Music and drugs, enlivened everything, you could see the music as it floated through the air past you. You could feel it vibrate in your ears, tickling each and every hair until it sank into your blood, thrumming. Drugs and sex, making your skin alive. A pulsating electric shock everywhere you touched, heightening every sensation. Making every thrust, every orgasm, wash over his body treacherously slow. After time the drugs, they lost their thrill. He moved on to sex and Music, brought on new highs, new ideas, new sensations. The beat pounding through his blood. He lived to fuck.
Eventually, his escapades grew further and further between. He got a job, a real job, at a desk, in a room with no windows. He wrote code. It was soul numbing. He had never minded a dark and dank place before. Mostly he had been high then, or working up to fucking some skirt. He stared at the computer screen. Every day, for years. He worked diligently, people admired him. He coded things brilliantly. His security was flawless, his code simple and effective. He hated his life. Every moment was worse than the moment before it.
Most people panicked as their last birthday came upon them. He was looking forward to a return to a former life. A happier and simpler life. He was glad he never married, and that no kids were known of. He was happy to have Aria, or as he knew her, AlreadyDead4598. He was happy that he had met her, however briefly. He was happy that he had spent all of his life savings on this last day. He had hired out his favorite band, or at least a cover of them. They played loud and hard, he and Aria had shot up, and dosed on nearly every medication available, hoping to party their way into oblivion. They danced closely to a song with each their own bottle of liquor. The proof was ridiculously high. No one else would drink this much, except for those who were on their last birthday. Aria rested her head on his shoulder. Everything started to snap into place about what was really missing from his life these forty years. He looked down at her and smiled. She whispered “I’m so glad I met you.” He laced his fingers through hers and squeezed them gently.
He had been running, stealing glances at Aria out of the corner of his eye. In reality she had been captured and executed hours ago. He kept running, kept reaching out trying to grasp onto her hand. He wanted to recapture the magic of the moment before they started this manic run from the law. He wished he could have lived his whole life in that moment, relived every moment. He kept running, imagining meeting Aria as a kid, skipping out on the hundreds of girls, all at different bars, skipping the drugs, and the music. Building a home, laughing at their crappy newly wed furniture, cradling their first newborn child together, deciding on a name. First day of school, graduation, holding hands together in bed, as they passed away, together in each others arms.
Finally he stumbled, coming down, FAST, from his high. Aria wasn’t in sight, and reality was crashing down around him. She was gone. He was so fucking high he didn’t even notice. The tears streamed down his face, as he turned around to face the law. He closed his eyes, took a breath, and relaxed as death caught him.
What do you think?
And write based on the Geek and Sundry Wordplay this week:
Today was the day. It was my day. The day that I could change everything. Every last thing about me. My alarm blared, and I didn’t roll over and snooze it. I dressed quickly, and found my way out the door, one foot in front of the other, my body moving faster than my mind, for once. Today, I had decided, was my turning point. The day that my good thoughts, the energy I had been putting out in the universe was officially doing something for me. I hurried past the imagined prying eyes of my neighbors. I rounded the corner, sprinting away from my imagined pursuers. I felt the hot, sticky moisture clinging between my shoulder blades, no matter. I kept moving. All that mattered, all that would ever matter, is that I kept moving. Away from that girl I was, once. Towards something better, someone better. I could achieve it, i repeated internally. Chanting my mantra of “one more step, just one more step.” Wasn’t it always the way, I was always just one more step, one more paycheck, one more pound away from being the person I wanted. I listened to my blood pulse through my ears. The sick smack of my feet against the sidewalk. A symphony of becoming, transforming. The spell I would chant this morning, and every morning here after. It would no longer be a “some day”, instead it was EVERY day. Every day the sounds of my incantation would sing out through the air. The sharp, sweet pain coursing through my shins reminding me of the reality of the situation. A small sacrifice I offered up. I stopped on a corner, nervously shifting from foot to foot, waiting for the light to change. People queue up next to me. I ignore them, as their invented thoughts of defeat encroach on my mind. Their perceived negativity is a sharp rock weighing in on my bubble of positive energy, threatening to harsh my endorphin buzz. I straighten my back, and keep moving. The signal turns, allowing me to be free. I sprint away, my hair a banner in the wind. Judge away, mere mortals, I am unbridled.
I am a bit rusty, tell me, what do you think?
that something really amazing, breath taking, wonderful, and awe inspiring is just inside of you, waiting to be tamed and released? It’s just a bit out of your reach. If you could just try again…
No Epi tonight, but my Daughter did demand some Donna eps after I wore my Donna Shirt today. Ordered my Amy Shirt, and while Amy isn’t my MAD favorite (she’s alright) I do see a genuine love for the doctor there, and she doesn’t just take the BS he spills on occasion.
I love a person with the guts to say “But why?” Once in a while.