Prompt #1: Outside the Window: What’s the weather outside your window doing right now? If that’s not inspiring, what’s the weather like somewhere you wish you could be? http://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/
The sun shines sparingly through the curtains and onto my bed. I close my eyes tightly in hopes of slipping back to sleep and into another dream, as those are the only times you and I seem to meet-- but sleep has once more evaded me. I hear the birds chirping and singing along to some happy tune that seems so foreign to me nowadays. I sit in the darkness for possibly a moment too long, though even with the open curtains and the sun taking over my bedroom the darkness is nearly impossible to avoid as it has so long ago occupied my entire mind.
I sit at my bedside and watch the cars drive by below. I see couples walking around, hand-in-hand, on their way to coffee or breakfast or wherever it is that couples go, I no longer would know. The news plays softly in the background, the weatherman says tonight should be another cold one, he suggests snuggling up with a loved one over a cup of hot chocolate-- I mute his voice.
The wind softly picks up trash from the gutter and floats it into the air, it dances around-- showing that even garbage is able to find joy in this gruesome world. I see that most of the pedestrians are covered up with light sweaters and shielded with sunglasses of some sort. I walk into my closest and peek around for a sweater that doesn't remind me of you or isn't covered in your scent, the mission is nearly impossible, but eventually I find one hidden in the back. I grab it, wipe off the years of dust, and try to cover up my disgust for its hideous orange shading and throw it on over a dirty shirt. My only pair of glasses were purchased by you, so I decide that I would rather the sun attempt to penetrate my vision, than have a reminder of you so close.
With no plans for the day, I walk aimlessly through the streets. I feel the breeze softly against my cheeks; the sun's rays, appearing through building gaps and alleyways, warm me up as the wind attempts to cool me down. It is a beautiful day, even I can admit that. The birds seem to fly only above my head as they continue to sing joyfully; the trash dances around by my side and for a moment... everything seems okay.
My mind is a prison. I look for a way out, but all I see are thick walls. I scream and bang my hands until they are black and blue and the walls are smeared red with blood, but progress is never made. I cry out for God, but not even God can reach me here. It is just me and my thoughts and the demons that control us both.
"You are mine." The reverberations of the voices echo from each wall and attack my ears at every angle. "You are nothing." "You will never be loved."
"Shut up!" I scream at the top of my lungs, but the words are swallowed up and spat back at me. I try to run, but the walls reach out and pull me into them. There is no wiggling free from their grip. The voices move closer and turn into a whisper so low that the echoes have to lean in just to hear their vile tunes.
"We are the only ones-" "-Who will ever be here." "You will never be loved." "Never."
"I am lov-" I begin to scream, but the walls slam my mouth shut. I again try to free myself, but the grip only tightens. My ribs pierce into my lungs. My heart refuses to beat. My blood no longer flows through my veins and the war in my brain wages on.
"How dare you try and fight us!" "Silly boy." "DON'T YOU KNOW WHO YOUR MASTER IS?" "Don't you...?"
I feel them lean in and whisper in a unison so soft that is nearly mute.... "us."