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[|Cornelius|]

username: The_Lone_Dog
prompt: 2
word count:1260

The voices

I don’t want to be the bad guy anymore...
But the voices in my head won’t stop. I never wanted to kill my mother and father. But they told me to. Said my parents were planning to take me to a asylum because I was crazy, and the only way to stop that was to end their lives. Convinced me what I was doing was right. I believed it. I remember holding that knife as my parents watched in horror, begging me to calm down and let them live. I wanted to. I wanted to show mercy. But they threatened me. So I did it. I killed my parents and fled the scene. I ran for days, taking shelter under benches and whatnot during the night to get some rest. But once the sun rose in the morning I was back up and running.

I sat on a bench in a beautiful park with sunlight shining through the trees. Birds chirped, children played, and adults hung around and chatted about who knows what. Looking at all of the happy kids and parents made me think about my own family. Me, my mother and my father. My cozy home. Fond Memories began to appear in my mind reminding me of the good times in my childhood. The first day of kindergarten, Christmas, family game nights, just simply having heart to heart conversations with them. That was all gone now. All because of them. Those stupid voices that ruined my life. Rage built up in my stomach as I tried to wipe the everflowing tears away. Oh stop being such a wimpy cry baby, One voice said. No more happiness, no more guilt, no more tears, another one sang in a melancholy tone. I could feel the memories of my parents slowing dying away, until I could hardly recall what they even looked like.

I let out a strangled cry. Those memories were all I had left.
“Excuse me?” A kind voice asked from above me. A woman looking to be in her 30s smiled worryingly at me. Wiping my nose with my tattered sleeve I looked up and glared. She wavered a bit, but continued to talk.
“Are you lost? I can help you get back to your pare-”
“No.” She looked taken aback.
“No? Are you an orphan darling?” She prodded, getting closer. I wished to tell her I wanted food, I wanted shelter, I wanted someone to love me again, to get me out of this dark madness. But something snapped inside of me.
“You could call me that,” I smiled eerily at her, “You want to know why?” She sported a tentative expression before nodding silently. “It’s because my parents are dead. Why are they dead, may you ask?” The kind lady looked scared, as if she knew what was coming next.
“Sweetie, you don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to-”
“I killed them. The voices inside my head told me to. So I did. Now they are telling me you should have the same fate.” There was silence. The woman backed away and slowly reached into her pocket for what seemed was her phone. “No! Don’t you dare!” I screeched, lunging at her as she shakily dialed a number. I clawed at her trying to grab the phone but it seemed she had already successfully gone through with the call. Quickly I ran off, seeing as I wouldn’t knock the phone out of her hands in time.
“Hello? Oh yes-please-There’s a young boy who’s saying he killed his parents-” Her voice slowly faded into the distance as I exited the park and got further into the city. I sat down near a alleyway to catch my breath. A sudden terrifying realization hit me as I lay by myself with my thoughts. I liked the look of fear on her face. It gave me some sort of feeling of power. And the scariest part was it didn’t bother me at all. I was broken out of my thoughts as police sirens blared down the street. They’ll never find me, I thought bitterly.
After what seemed like hours of resting on the cold hard concrete, I heard a deep voice cough to get my attention.
“What do you want?” I drawled lazily slowly lifting my head up from my knees. A frightening gasp escaped my lisps. It was a police officer.
“I’ve been looking for a child-a fugitive child-and you seem to fit his description,” the officer spoke firmly.
“If you think that I’m the child you’re looking for, you’re sadly mistaken,” I tried to sound polite and calm, despite being annoyed and angered.
“Kid, there’s no point in lying. Confess now and we’ll have a civilized discussion alright? I don’t want to hurt you.”
I felt compelled to plead my innocence, but for some reason I also wanted to confess. Conflicted, I stayed silent. “Ah, so I was right. Now a kind lady said you were blabbing on about some voices in your head. Is this true?” Silence. “Okay, not much of a talker huh? How about your parents? She said you told her you killed them,” he prompted, seemingly getting more frustrated.
“That is none of your buisness!” I yelled, standing up, trying to intimidate the cop. However, I doubt he was that daunted by my impressive height of 5’1” that barely reached his chest.
“That’s cute kid, but unless you can give proof that you are in fact innocent, I’m gonna have to take you in.”
No, Jail is not an option. There is no way I’m going there. I felt a burning hatred for the cop. How dare he try to imprison me. I glared at him and clenched my fists, ready to attack if he tried to grab me.
“Fine. Take me in. Interrogate me.”
“Good boy, now follow me to the car,” he reached for my wrist. With a sudden yelp, I punched him in the face. Officer no name stumbled back in pain. Taking advantage of the opportunity, I snatched the gun from his holster and pointed it at the bridge of his now bloodied nose. I stood there staring emotionlessly at him until he regained balance and held out his hand. “Come on, give me the gun.” I kept my ground, and as he crept closer I moved my finger to the trigger. “just please hand it to me. No one has to be harmed, I know your not a bad kid.”
“You’re wrong,” I snarled, starting to slowly press on the trigger.
“Wrong? About what?” The officer asked bewildered.
“I’m not a good kid.” A loud booming sound rang out through the crowded city. People scurried off in different directions screaming. But everything sounded far off, like an echo, with the ringing in my ears and the pounding of my head. Staring at the lifeless body of the police man I figured out that no voice in my head coaxed me into murdering him. It was all my doing. I had become the monster that I feared in my mind. Maybe I AM a bad guy, but I didn’t mind that anymore. Maybe the voices in my head weren’t really them. Maybe it’s always just been me.

[pillowa]

ʙᴜᴍᴘ!
"ʏᴏᴜ ᴏɴʟʏ ꜰᴀɪʟ ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴛᴏᴘ ᴡʀɪᴛɪɴɢ."
-ʀᴀʏ ʙʀᴀᴅꜱʙᴜʀʏ

[panda494]

username: panda494
prompt: 1
word count: 480

I woke up in a dark room. "Where am I?" I said. No answer. I sighed and shivered, scared and cold. I looked around as my eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness, and I found a door. I opened it hoping to find a way out. But then everything turned black. When I opened my eyes again, I was in the bustling city. I rubbed my arms, and realized I had no sleeves. I looked down to only be wearing rags. Where are the clean clothes my parents got me? And that's when it hit me, where are my parents? I looked around, hoping to find something. Maybe a building or street sign, and I saw something. A police station! I started to run over there, but no one paid me any mind. Weird, I thought. Just as I turned the corner into the parking lot, I stopped dead in my tracks. There, in front of me, was my parents car. The same car I always rode in going anywhere. To the park, to the movies, even to school. But it was so more messy than it used to be. I still walked right in the police station. My mom was there with my dad, yelling at the girl at the front desk. "What do you mean you haven't found anything else?! Nothing at all?! Not even a torn piece of clothing or even a strand of hair! And no cameras to where she could be?! Why can't you guys do your job and FIND MY DAUGHTER!" She collapsed into my dads arms in a heap of sobs. "Please calm down ma'am. We are trying our best, and we want to find your daughter as much as you do." I just stood there, the words ringing in my head. Find my daughter, find my daughter, find my daughter. Find me. "MOM! DAD! I'M HERE!" but they paid me no mind. As if I was invisible. Suddenly my parents turned around to go home. "What if shes dead, Dan? What if my baby is dead?" My mom said walking right past me. "She's not dead, Michelle. Don't worry." My dad said trying to comfort her. "DAN! IT'S BEEN 2 MONTHS! DON'T LIE! You know as good as I do that shes gone.... My baby is gone Dan. Gone." Tears began to fill my eyes. "MOMMY!" I cried "PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME!" but they got into the car and drove away. I tried to run after them, but it was no use. I stumbled and fell. When I looked up I saw it. And I knew I wouldn't move on till I was found. And it all made sense to me when I saw my face on the "Missing Persons" sign. And everything came rushing back. I lay there, defeated and began to cry. "Please find me..." I begged. "Please find me...."

[pillowa]

ʙᴜᴍᴘ!
"ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ᴀʀᴇ ᴛᴡᴏ ꜱɪᴅᴇꜱ ᴛᴏ ᴇᴠᴇʀʏ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ,"
-ᴀɴᴏɴʏᴍᴏᴜꜱ

[PumpkinLatte]

1,000 words
Prompt 1
The Missing Poster
ʏᴏᴜ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴀ "ᴍɪꜱꜱɪɴɢ ᴘᴇʀꜱᴏɴꜱ" ᴘᴏꜱᴛᴇʀ ʜᴜɴɢ ᴜᴘ
ᴡɪᴛʜ ʏᴏᴜʀ ꜰᴀᴄᴇ ᴏɴ it.

Username: PumpkinLatte


I wake up. With no idea of where I was and why I was here. I stood up on wobbly knees. Then I saw it. A piece of paper with the words "Missing person: Helio Kyte" What was this doing here? I thought. My stomach rumbled and interrupted my thoughts. I walked around the house in search of food. I found some. It was a peanut butter sandwich with the peanut butter jar still left out as if someone had been interrupted and was in such a hurry to get out that they had forgotten to even shut the lid of the container. As I was munching on the yummy peanut butter sandwich I heard a noise. A noise so tiny that I wouldn't usually have heard. I turn around and see a little boy about 7-8 years old. He stared back at me. "Who are you?" I asked. Except my throat was parched and it sounded like I was growling at him. His face turned from a look of confusion to a look of fright. I immediately felt sorry. I tried again, this time instead of talking, I broke off a piece of my peanut butter sandwich and handed it to him. He gratefully accepted it. suddenly a weird look crosses his face. He runs up the stairs, where I came from. By the time he came down, I've found a water bottle and started to drink some water. Then, he holds up a paper. The missing person paper. "You?" he asks while pointing at me. "No" I answered, then ask "What's your name?" He pauses, then says "No name." It took me a while to figure out that he had no name and his name wasn't "no name," stupid me. He stared at me for a while and then walked away. I've finished eating and now I am in search of the bathroom. Finally after seconds of hard work, trying to find the bathroom, I finally found it. The first thing I saw when I walked in was the man on the "missing person" poster. My mouth hangs open in shock, so does his. I wave, he waves too. I smile, so does he. After a long time of doing that, it finally dawned on me that this thing was a mirror and I was the person on the missing poster. My head exploded with questions. Why was I here? Did I have family somewhere? Are they worrying about me right now? Or do they just not even know that I exist? I hope it wasn't the latter. Forgetting why I went to the restroom in the first place, I leave and go back to the kitchen. I walk to the kitchen to pack up my stuff, no wait, the stuff in this house that I needed. Once I've finally finished packing up my stuff, I went in search of no name. No name was nowhere to be found. I searched the whole house 3 times, but never found him. Weird, I thought I saw him go upstairs, I thought. So, turns out, I probably won't have my partner in crime that I've known for about 2 minutes, with me on this quest. That's too bad I thought. Secretly I was kind of sad that I would have to go all alone. I opened the door and stepped out. As I stepped out, a brilliant light blinded my eyes and I stumbled. he sun is up, I thought it was night. As I walked through the neighborhood, I realized all sorts of things. Like how pale I was compared to how tan everyone else was. Not to mention, everyone looked extremely tired. I kept my head down and tried to hide my face, hoping that no one would recognize me. Why didn't I want them to see my face? I wasn't Helio Kyte from the missing person poster. Was I? Suddenly someone hit me on the back. I immediately turned around. Not just any boy, but it was the boy that was on the missing poster. Which means that this particular boy who just sneaked up on me, looks exactly like me. I know, kind of creepy right? This boy looked at me and smiled. "You're the one right? The real one? The real boy from the missing poster?" he asked. "What poster?" I asked innocently. The boy just frowned and walked away. That happened to me about 7 times that day. It wasn't until a week later that I saw what looked like the new and improved version of the missing person poster I had found before. Obviously, I was on it. Well, it looked like me. The poster said that there were many imposters trying to be this Helio Kyte. The reward for whoever found me was $10,000. Woah. Even I was surprised at the amount of money offered just for one person. This possible family of mine was either super rich, or they loved me a lot. It was probably because they were super rich, because why else would people be imposters of me then? While I was still staring at the poster, someone put a bag over my body and carried me upside down. I screamed and kicked, but it didn't help. Then he put me in what was most likely a car. It was a super bumpy ride. My back hurt after that. Eventually, when the ride was finally over, they took off the sack and placed me in a room. I yelled and screamed at them, "WHEN MY PARENTS FIND ME, THEY'LL KILL YOU!" they just smirked and said, "Your parents are dead. We put up that poster you saw." Then they left me in the room. I sat there for days after days until finally, the door opened. It was no name, and the first boy I saw that looked like me and the person on the missing poster.

[pillowa]

ʙᴜᴍᴘ!
"ᴛʜᴇʀᴇ ɪꜱ ɴᴏ ɢʀᴇᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴀɢᴏɴʏ ᴛʜᴀɴ ʙᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ ᴀɴ ᴜɴᴛᴏʟᴅ ꜱᴛᴏʀʏ ɪɴꜱɪᴅᴇ ʏᴏᴜ."
-ᴍᴀʏᴀ ᴀɴɢᴇʟᴏᴜ

[Saina Belaire]

Username: Saina Belaire

Prompt: 1

Word Count: 1023

The post office was filled with people again. That machine was out of order again, not able to handle the processing required to print a sheet of stamps. Why on earth haven’t they replaced it yet, it would be better served in a scrapyard where they could at least salvage parts. Now, it’s just taking up the space where a functioning piece of equipment could be and you’re stuck in line behind three old ladies, all with their own stack of packages which will inevitably take forever because they are trying to ship three different things of different weights for the same price. But today…something is off. It feels like you’re being watched. Like every eye in the room is glued to you.

Then, it hits you. Every eye in the room really is on you. For some reason, every man, every woman, even every child is staring. Most are trying to be subtle, but the children, well, they don’t know any better. Their jaws hang open, whispers flying around you. This trip is more and more bizarre, but you thought you were past this.

The car accident had left you with scars, both emotional and physical. Stares were nothing new, when your body was not only burned but also practically destroyed by the windshield flying inwards. You weren’t unfamiliar with gawking and pointing, or even crying. Now however, you looked normal. A plastic surgeon and a generous donor family had allowed you to look normal again. Ironically, a car accident had stolen from your body and a car accident had given back to it.

Pushing those dark thoughts aside, you stepped up to the counter and set down your packages and your money. “Mailing first class for the package and 3 sheets of stamps please.” You smile, looking expectantly at the clerk.

The silence that meets you is deafening. Even the children are quiet now, everyone looking at each other. The clerk is staring as well and now, you’re just getting mad. This is absurd. Sure you have a scar left but it’s not that bad! Your jaw is shaped properly, your nose is rebuilt, everything from that devastating day was repaired and now - even now, you’re still a sideshow for people!

Your hand shoots out and snatches back your package and money. You don’t have to take this, there are other post offices! Heck, it’s only a fifteen minute drive to the other one in town. You storm out the door and let it slam shut. It was supposed to be a soft close, but surprise, surprise, that’s broken too. The glass rattles and you get in your car, breathing heavily and looking like a mad man. Fumbling, you shove the key into the ignition and start driving.

Three annoying songs, two red lights and four barely dodged squirrels later, you pull into the parking lot for the other post office and get out. You’ve cooled off now and are ready to face the people in here. You know you have a faint scar of course but the plastic surgeon did a good job with reconstruction and grafting so it’s barely noticeable. But days like today, well, they make you very aware of it. You just want to get this mailed and get home.

Entering, you sigh, only now remembering why you went to the other one in the first place. This place didn’t even have a machine. You had a scale which you had to use yourself and a window to ask for stamps. Once the stamps were on the package, then you could take it to the clerk and it could be verified. A longer process which meant more workers to handle and lines to lengthen the wait.

However, this office was the same. All eyes were on you, staring and nervous for some reason. Clenching your fists, you stalk up to the stamp window. “Four sheets.” The money is slammed down on the counter and you hold out your hand, wordlessly taking the stamps and putting the appropriate number on your package. As you walk up, people move out of the way, staring and whispering to each other.

When even the clerk won’t speak, you have had enough. “What?! Not enough to stare at the scars, you have to act like I’m some pariah? Too good to talk to a man with a few scars?! Well buddy, it used to be a lot worse!” 

 The clerk only raises a shaky finger and points behind you. There are always missing persons posters, we’re on a trucking route and no one sees or mails more than truckers. Sometimes they’re a bit slow getting to us but honestly, it can’t be that bad. Then I turn and see what they’re pointing towards. Or, more accurately, who. On the most recent poster, there’s a picture of me. More accurately, the man who’s face was donated after the accident.

It was new technology but I qualified and the hospital was contacted, being told that there was a match and that I could regain not only function, but appearance. Maybe not mine, but certainly not a face that would make children cry. But, it was donated. He had been in a car accident. I spoke to his family. But if he was missing, who had I spoken to and why did they have him? Would I ever know?

The next thing I knew, the police were there and while I was being led away, I looked back and saw someone else watching. A woman, holding a stack of posters, staring heartbroken after me. He had had a family, a family other than the ones I spoke to and now the man they’d spent so long looking for was on the body of another and being put in a police car. How could I have been so blind? And who had set this up? It was donated, I didn’t pay anyone off. Someone in the hospital had to have done it, someone with influence who could set up a person being taken. So the only question left was this.

How many more were missing?

[frodo101]

Bump :3

[Cheryl_Blossom]

Bump

[dustnbones]

bump