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Prompt- It’s late at night and your character is excitedly planning a murder.

A dark haired women sits in her room all alone thoughts racing in her brain. She prepared for her worst attack yet on someone who she claimed to love. Her heart raced as she thought of her plan to escape once her crime was done. Her plot was so slip some poison in her husbands food during breakfast the following morning. He loved her cooking more than any other food and she knew if she whipped up some of her tasty foods for him, he'd be quick to gobble it all down. She only wanted to take this action because she knew it would mean lots of insurance mone for her to spend and enjoy. Her love that she had once had for her unsuspecting husband had been taken over by greed and desire for wealth. They had no children and she felt like there was more to life that she currently had and so her plan formed within a single night and the next morning she would prepare a delicious looking meal for her husband not knowing it would be his last.

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It’s late at night and your character is excitedly planning a murder.

It was around 1 in the morning in a strange neighborhood and I was just laying in my bed thinking about my life and just stuff going on like normal teenagers do and for some reason I had the most weird but interesting idea come to mind. It was so random because I wasn’t even thinking about this idea but it just all of a sudden came up and I became very intrigued. I wanted to make a plan and murder someone. Some people who know may be like why? What's wrong with you? Are you ok? But really I just wanted to see what it would be like being in that situation and I want to see what cool ideas come to mind. I was struggling a little at first with some ideas but then my lightbulb lit and I was like this would be perfect. I would have to plan this out perfectly and nothing can fall out of place. I would need a few things for this idea to work smoothly. First I would have to get a giant flying alligator and put it under my control. I use my bright red eyes and make them glow into the eyes of who I want to be under my command. The spell lasts however long I want. It could be a couple days, a couple hours, or even just a couple minutes or seconds. I was super excited. I knew that this plan would come together nicely. Next I would mind something or someone that I wouldn’t like and use that as my target. I had super powers so I could go invisible so no one would suspect me or technically my alligator as the murderer. I would make us both invisible in front of the target. Then I would put the alligator under my command so then he would do exactly what I would say. I was really having so much fun planning this and I couldn’t wait to see what would happen. I put the alligator in my command and boom there creature was dead. It was a 6 ft giraffe who could talk. It was screaming in pain but again no one would know what would happen because we were both invisible. It was like I was the smartest person in the whole world. I was really happy with myself and I was really excited that my plan worked and I can't wait to see what other cool ideas can come to mind.

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My arm hurts. Well, my forearm, I guess. I’ve been carving away at this linoleum cut for hours. A linoleum cut is hard to explain. It is like a thick, heavy sheet of clay-like material, cemented onto a weaved surface. You take these really sharp scoopers --I’m sure there’s a professional name out there somewhere-- and you cut away certain areas so that the linoleum can print a picture. So, when you roll on, let's say, some black ink, it will only transfer onto the highest raised surfaces, or, the parts of the linoleum that you didn’t cut away. Anyways, it’s really important that you keep your head screwed on correctly, so that you make sure to only cut away the parts that you don’t want to show up in the final piece. It’s satisfying to make a linocut, but also really difficult. I always imagine before starting one that it will feel like smoothly carving away a fine substance, but it’s never like that. Instead, you have to push with all of your might into the scooper --but not too much! If you put just too much power behind your carve, then you’ll lose control and scrape away bits that you didn’t mean to, and there’s no way of reversing that, is there? And there’s the other thing, see. You’re supposed to keep a smart form, because there is this big wooden block-like thing that lets you push at the linoleum slab without manhandling the opposite side to keep it stationary. Because, imagine this-- you’re holding the slab secure with one hand at the top, carving with another, and whoomp! You lose control like you will always eventually do, and suddenly there’s an inch long piece of metal topped with a razor edge lodged in the palm of your unsuspecting hand. My art teacher, she has a photo of one of her old student’s stitched up hand taped to the top of the box that holds all of the scoopers in it. You can’t start a linocut in her class without this very detailed explanation from her. Fair enough.

Anyways, my forearm hurts. The prints take such unusual muscles to finesse, so unless you did this stuff for a living, it would always feel unnatural to your tendons, as it does. So when I stand up from my dining room table and stretch around to hear my back go cra-cra-cra-cra-cra-craackk, I also twist my wrist in all sorts of unnatural directions to set the lactic acids free. Then I’ll roll my head, which will probably earn me a few more satisfying pops, before standing to grab myself a blood orange-- aranciata rossa-- San Pellegrino.

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Leaning over the vanity for a better angle, Katya runs the brush over her eyelashes and flicks it outward in a light movement indicative of a fish’s tail flicking through the water in a turn. The mascara collects in small beads at the end of her lashes before the brush’s bristles grab them and take them away. She moves her arm back to the bottle and inserts the goopy brush. Twisting the cap, she turns toward the other person in the room with her.

Sofia is stretched out sideways on the bed, legs leaning over the edge, duvet and covers tangled beneath her. One pillow is crushed below the strands of black hair that stream from her head. Makeup already put on, Sofia has her lids closed. She is asleep, from what Katya can tell.

They had been talking before Katya had begun the process of covering her face, and Sofia had gotten noticeably bored. Katya thinks back to when they were in the market, when Sofia had smudged the patch of lipstick with her finger. Katya had been desperate, crying, she had gotten out, but he would find her. Yet, Sofia had just wiped it away, like all he had done was nothing.

Sofia’s eyeshadow is red, and cakey. She is elegant as a koi in a decorative pond, the folds of her spanish dress fanning out like a mockery of fins. Her dress is a deep wine color, her lips to match it. It is tight against her frame. She is beautiful in a deathly way. Katya eyes the unscrewed white cap in front of her, which belongs to the bottle of pills on the vanity’s surface. Three of them are now missing, and they’re working quickly. Katya can feel her brain moving in odd places as she watches Sofia sleep.

They need to move fast. He will be at the harbor soon. Katya looks down at her dress. It is a lovely creamy white. He had bought it for her when they were in St. Augustine that first time. Katya reaches up, her hand clothed in a black glove, to feel the string of pearls against her breastbone. Her fur shawl moves against her exposed shoulders, it’s silk underside catching against the little blemishes on her back. Her brain is weaving again, she knows it, trying to catch on to odd things.

Katya steals another look at the sleeping Sofia and knows their plans are secure. She opens the vanity’s drawer and takes it out. The pistol is old, and it is engraved in Italian, which she still does not speak despite how many times she’s been brought here. Oh how nice it will feel, she thinks, to stain this dress with his blood. The numbness has settled in for too long but crimson will ruin this talisman’s whiteness well. She felt almost like when the orange sun was setting behind the marketplace. It had fixed something within her. Something had clicked into place and let out a ding like that of an oven. It had lit up Sofia’s eyes like splashes of fire.

Katya looks back up in the mirror and smiles at herself. She is heavy lidded, holding the gun like one might hold a small book. She brings the hand not holding the gun’s handle (delicately, like the trigger will go off if she squeezes anywhere on its body), extends a finger, and pulls at the corner of her bottom lip. It quivers as she smears her lipstick just a small bit. Just where it counts.

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Max found his stomach dropping, once again. His heart begins to pump faster and faster, loud enough to hear from outside the body. Muffled by the layers of bone and tissue in between his chest cavity and the outside world, the sounds resemble screams escaping from the depths of the ocean blue. The deep heart beat, rapid breathing and excess noises all around, on top of swirling, bubbling, boiling over thoughts begin to blur his vision. Pounds and pounds of pressure build up and up and up crushing, crumbling, smashing, encapsulating his weak, flail, body. No thinking, seeing, feeling straight. He tries to cut through all of the stimulation by telling himself, 'Nothing you are thinking is real.’ Everything feels real though. The glimmer of hope is swiftly chewed, swallowed, and spit back up again in little chunks, sliming their way up and out, never to be seen again. The raging rapids of consciousness are unforgiving. The tides are pulling in and out, magma drips and slides into every crevice. The wrinkles inside his brain are being flooded with thick molasses, clogging up every train of thought, blocking the rails. Out of order.

A kettle boils, lets out a piercing screech. The large domes of liquid rise and pop, just as blood curdles, with a white shine and glimmer to highlight and contrast the piercing color that rips through the rods and cones all the way within the eye. They would have never seen it coming. There’s this tense, tingly, all encompassing pull of his internal strings that happens, when just one too many things go wrong. Self restraint tugs and twists his nerves into unbearably uncomfortable positions, taking inspiration from a marionette, one held up with thin black thread. The thread becomes one with itself, to the point in which every force applied to it creates no movement, not a budge. One by one the threads will snap all the way to a microscopic level, unable to be seen. Building up and up until the delicate puppet begins to strain, hanging with one less thread at a time. However, as if being held captive by magic, it never falls to the ground. It’s left to linger and wallow, as there’s no way to feel the release, without falling to the inevitable depths. It’s never taken away into perceived relief. It miraculously stays, swaying by a thread.

Attentiveness. Suddenly, everything feels different. There’s no weight, no crushing, no suffocating. The rocks along the sand have a special pattern to them today. This one looks more speckled than others. I feel like I’ve never seen water move this way, seamless and beyond. It moves like silk, floating among the gentle breeze of the world. The seagulls seem to be on my side today. I like the way this one looks at me. I will go a step further today. I don’t care if I get my shoes wet today. I don’t care if I get blown away today. I feel okay today. The sky seems a different color blue today, or maybe I’ve never cared to notice. Everything seems particularly large today, as I feel particularly small. I am in acceptance today.

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Para Vista was a place that contained a race of highly advanced technological humanoid hybrids. The plastic appearances of Barbies and Kens with the minds of factory machines. The future was paradise. They were in the direction of an empire. Then the war happened. The blanks escape under an orange, swollen sky. The bots came in and stripped away everything.

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Voice That is Not Your Own

I say hi to the cube today.

“Hi, cube.”

It blinks.

“Hey, cube?”

It blinks again.

“Why do you never talk to me?”

It doesn’t blink.

“Don’t be like that, cube.”

I lie down next to the cube. I look at the cube. I sigh.

I move my finger toward the cube. “Can I at least touch you, cube? It’s been so long; since…”

The rumbling returns. I take my hand back.

“Okay, cube.”

I press my thumbs together.

I stare at the white walls again.

“I don’t like white very much.”

I hear it blink twice.

“What’s your favorite color, cube?”

Three wet blinks. I don’t like to look at the cube when it gets like this.

“I think I like green.”

No blinks.

“Maybe you're right. I haven’t seen green in a long time.”

It blinks. I almost look.

The walls haven’t changed.

“Cube?”

The rumbling is quiet this time.

“Please talk to me, cube.”

The rumbling gets louder.

“It’s been so long.”

Blink. Blink.

“Please.”

The room is turning black.

“I’m so alone.”

The rumbling is shaking the room.

“Please, cube.”

I look at the cube. It looks me in the eye now.

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

Its eye is dry now. Mine are wet.

“I’m so, so, alone, cube.”

I sob.

“Please.”

The room is black.

“I don’t like black, cube.”

Everything is white.

I sit up. I see the cube.

“I like white.” The cube speaks.

I don’t say hi to the cube today.

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a version of heaven

In my mind a heavenly world would be a perfect world where everyone is happy. The moment you would step into this world it would be a beautiful land where everyone around would be happy and doing whatever they enjoy. When you enter the only thing you’d smell is nature. Everyone in this world would be completely free to do whatever they wanted and would all show respect to each other. Whatever you’d want to do would be possible and nobody would complain about anything. I would imagine everyone there would live how they always wanted to during their lives and would be happy. Every problem people had with the real world wouldn’t apply to this heavenly world and it would be exactly what everyone wants it to be. They people you talk to all have the same traits and characteristics they’ve always had. You could meet friends and family and do whatever you want to with them. The skys would be bright and beautiful all across the world with vibrant colors and would be completely clear. The sun would still set and everyday you would see beautiful sunsets. This heavenly world would be exactly like real life except you’d have no restrictions do whatever you had dreamed off before.

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Prompt 7: I was scrolling through instagram one afternoon. I had been just catching up on what my friends were up to and was thinking about making a quick post when I scrolled upon a post that made me really curious. It was an advertisement for an app. In this app there were a variety of games to choose from. What intrigued me was that these games make you money. I thought about it to myself. I figured I'd spend only a few dollars to see if I can make a little. I downloaded the app and began to look at all the games available. I clicked on one which was a card game and began to play. I only bet a dollar to start so I could learn the game. To my surprise I won and received a dollar back! So I tried again this time with 2 dollars. I couldn't believe it, I won twice in a row. I decided to play a couple more times with small amounts of money. I only lost 2 games out of 7. This made me excited. I never thought I'd get into big numbers. But being fresh out of college with loans to pay, having a couple extra bucks for groceries would help. This game quickly became a hobby. I'd find myself playing at my desk at work when I had an extra couple of minutes, or while watching TV on the couch. At this time I was making about 200 dollars a month by doing this. I began to get confident in my skills and risked high amounts of money. I wish I had stopped there, but I quickly became addicted. I was gambling all the time. I moved on to other apps and even went to the casino once or twice a week. Mind you i didnt have alot of money to begin with. One night at the casino, things got out of hand. I had a couple drinks and was pretty intoxicated. I made some crazy bets and lost a great number of times. I just kept going. The next morning I sobered up and immediately freaked out. I couldn't believe what I had done. I had lost all the money in my bank account. Most of which had been pulled from my savings. I began to panic. I never thought this would happen. I had made lots of money off gambling and expected to keep making more. But now I am broke and couldn't even afford my monthly bills. I had to move out of my apartment and move back in with my parents. I sold personal belongings and got a second job. I basically had to start over. I've never felt such shame and embarrassment in my life. I definitely learned a lesson from this experience. 

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Prompt 7: I was scrolling through instagram one afternoon. I had been just catching up on what my friends were up to and was thinking about making a quick post when I scrolled upon a post that made me really curious. It was an advertisement for an app. In this app there were a variety of games to choose from. What intrigued me was that these games make you money. I thought about it to myself. I figured I'd spend only a few dollars to see if I can make a little. I downloaded the app and began to look at all the games available. I clicked on one which was a card game and began to play. I only bet a dollar to start so I could learn the game. To my surprise I won and received a dollar back! So I tried again this time with 2 dollars. I couldn't believe it, I won twice in a row. I decided to play a couple more times with small amounts of money. I only lost 2 games out of 7. This made me excited. I never thought I'd get into big numbers. But being fresh out of college with loans to pay, having a couple extra bucks for groceries would help. This game quickly became a hobby. I'd find myself playing at my desk at work when I had an extra couple of minutes, or while watching TV on the couch. At this time I was making about 200 dollars a month by doing this. I began to get confident in my skills and risked high amounts of money. I wish I had stopped there, but I quickly became addicted. I was gambling all the time. I moved on to other apps and even went to the casino once or twice a week. Mind you i didnt have alot of money to begin with. One night at the casino, things got out of hand. I had a couple drinks and was pretty intoxicated. I made some crazy bets and lost a great number of times. I just kept going. The next morning I sobered up and immediately freaked out. I couldn't believe what I had done. I had lost all the money in my bank account. Most of which had been pulled from my savings. I began to panic. I never thought this would happen. I had made lots of money off gambling and expected to keep making more. But now I am broke and couldn't even afford my monthly bills. I had to move out of my apartment and move back in with my parents. I sold personal belongings and got a second job. I basically had to start over. I've never felt such shame and embarrassment in my life. I definitely learned a lesson from this experience. 

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I have been up for hours. My eyes feel like heavy bricks as I try to keep them open. I honestly don’t know how I'm going to do this. I thought to myself. Cream colored files with black ink written on the tab and a stamp on the front that says Confidential in red spread across my desk. Complemented with empty coffee cups and cans of soda. If I was going to be here for much longer than I expected, at least I'm at my desk. With the feeling of sugar running through my veins. it’s a dark wooden chestnut polished desk engraved with the company crest on the front.  When I got my promotion to be a detective I freaked out. Not only that, I'm working my dream job. I have a fancy desk. But with that, something nice like this always comes with a price. And I'm paying for it. I place my face in my hands and lean back stretching. I groan. Looking at the clock it reads 11:30 PM. 11:30 I do a double take. Good God. my eyes widened at that. My heart spikes. I need to go home. I’m tired. My mind is fuzzy and I can't think straight. Frustrated, i stand up and aim my gaze at the cork board that was decorated with black and white pictures of suspects and the people murdered that night. Maps with red ink splattered on it and paper. Lots of paper pinned down with twine wrapped around it. A rollercoaster of mysteries, clues and delusion. Which i spiral in at the moment. I stare at it slowly, doubting myself. What the hell was I thinking? I know this is my dream job, but do I really need to stay up this late to finish a case? It’s impossible. I shake my head and focus on the board. Silence falls over the room. I have been working on this case for months. What was I missing? It’s like it is right in front of me. This huge piece of a puzzle that’s hidden in the shadows that I so desperately need to come out. What is it? I back away from the board. Tracing the twine with my eyes i look at the house where it started, to the suspected murder - who might have been a citizen that was unidentified in the road race - which mother said she didn’t get a good look at - to the splattered kitchen knife, to the person who died and to my mother who saw the body lying on the floor. I hope she’s doing okay. I miss her. She was in tears when she told me she found someone lying on the floor. But, if the suspected murder did it - which always didn’t really add up -  supposedly then why does everytime i trace the photos it always comes back to my mother. She told me she didn’t get a good look at whoever did it. Anytime I asked her what they looked like she’d say something very vague like “I think I remember seeing them run off somewhere into the woods.” or “I can’t remember.” The house, the suspect, the knife, the victim, the woods, and my mother. It played like a loop in my head. Wait. If my mother saw the body and she didn’t get a look at the murder and the knife and she was at the house where it happened.. wouldn’t that mean… No. No. No. I shook my head smiling at the thought. She would never do such a thing. Something so vicious. She was well known in town and came by once in a while to the shop. The thought crammed into my mind and I had a sinking feeling in my chest. I tried to ignore it. No. I shook my head quickly. If she did do it, then who was this unidentified person? The sinking feeling in my chest crawled down to my stomach. I felt like I was going to throw up. I didn’t even hear someone come through the door. “Baby.” someone called. That made me jump out of my trance. I turn to see. It’s my mother. My stomach turned and I could feel blood draining from my face. I wanted to say something. Anything. But all I came out with was a small choked up groan. Her face cracked into the darkest and scariest smile I've ever seen on a person. It was a smile of a manipulator. Of someone with an overbearing power waiting to be challenged.  Her eyes filled with a flaming rage. Insanity. I’d say, but couldn’t. It felt like someone shot me in the chest. Her smile meant so much to me. I couldn’t see something so pure turn into something so evil. I stuttered as tears welled up in my eyes. “N- no.” I choked. “You found me.”

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Euphoria is a strange word. Almost heavenly you could say. I feel euphoric when I'm able to be mindful of myself and my surroundings, but everyone has their own situations that give them that euphoric feeling. Taking a minute to sit down and breathe and to acknowledge your surroundings is something we take for granted. We spend endless hours per day staring at a screen that we forget what it feels like to be aware of our own breath. It’s euphoric to be mindful. If every day we stopped for even thirty seconds to pay attention to ourselves you could reach the heavenly feeling that all of us desire as humans. As a human race we have become so accustomed to a capitalist society that has ingrained in our brains that we need to be a working powerhouse, but we aren't robots, we’re human beings that have needs that cannot be neglected. Neglect leads to the blocking of the euphoric feeling that everyone desires.