Win a Corgi Store and more- writing challenge

[saddlebredpride]

Of course you can reuse it. If you wrote it, you own it, so there's no problem with that.

amazing!!! i'm very, very excited to enter then! gonna go get to work right now!

[sourest]

posting so i remember

[Pyra Ilver]

Bump

[primcval]

username; astrophile.
prompt number; 2

Looking in the mirror, I barely recognised the person staring back. Should I even use that word? I? I didn't know if he was me, if I was him. What is "me"? I didn't know. I don't know. I never thought it would happen..not like this, at least. You always hear about those poor people with horrible fates that you pity, but only for a minute, and then you continue on with your life. But what if that becomes the life you must continue on with? I'd never thought about that, but I supposed I must now. What had happened? How long had it been? I didn't know. I didn't want to know.

"Forgive me, father, for I have sinned. It has been...too long since my last confession." The priest nodded stiffly, knowing I was a stranger to this church. I continued anyway, despite the cold air that hung in the confessional. I knew it would get colder the second I opened my mouth again, the second I let loose what had been brewing for five years. "I." I hesitated. How was I even supposed to say this? How was I even supposed to explain what was happening? How could I possibly make the priest understand I was different from him? I knew I couldn't, but I didn't care about me anymore. So I started again. "I've killed eight people. I remember their names. I remember their faces. I remember their kids' names. I remember their screams." I paused as I heard the small, barely stifled gasp from the unknowing man on the other side of the confessional. It took a lot to keep on talking, but I did. For them. I didn't know how to explain that it wasn't really me that did it. I remember it happening, but it was never me. I never killed them, I never would. It was him, that cursed owner of this body. Why did he do it? Why did he hurt them? I no longer cared about myself. My head shot up, interrupting the poor priest as he struggled to respond to the load I'd thrust upon him. I didn't care about forgiveness; I was past saving. "This was a nice talk." I said abruptly. I rose to my feet and left the confessional, leaving the man to dwell on the most troubling confession he'd ever receive. I needed the police, and I needed them before I changed my mind. Did I have a phone on me? I really ought to stop using that word; me. It wasn't me, it was him. This was his body, not mine. I found a phone in the back pocket of his ugly blue jeans, the ones that disgusted me to wear. My fingers shook horribly as I punched in the digits, dialing the wrong number several times. "911?" I asked, flinching at how shaky the voice that came out sounded. "911, what is your emergency?" The operator spoke in a monotonous drone, and I knew she cared nothing of my emergency. "I'd like to turn in a killer." I spoke, obviously mocking her tone. "Who would that be?" Was she even a professional? "That'd be me." I stuttered, hanging up immediately. They'd no doubt traced the phone call, and should be here within minutes. So I sat down on the bench nearest to me, and I waited.

[ 564 words ]

[Pyra Ilver]

Bump

[Pyra Ilver]

Bump

[Pyra Ilver]

Bump

[Pyra Ilver]

Bump

[mellowmimikyu]

Just posting on here so I don't loose it, great idea btw ^w^

[Pyra Ilver]

Bump