As some of you know, I am an assistant on the Band of Dystopian Authors and Fans (or BOD) Facebook group. Every other week, one of the admins (ER Arroyo) posts a photo and the beginning of a writing prompt for us to have fun with in 300 words or less.
Before I was an assistant, I even won the prompt once in awhile, which is a HUGE boost in confidence for an aspiring author. It’s so awesome to see what people come up with for the same prompt and photo! I thought I’d share the one I wrote for this week’s prompt. The prompt part will be in bold followed by my 300 word story.
(If you are interesting in joining in on the prompts or just want to join BOD, click here to request membership!)
“Help!” She clung to the wet ledge. “Anybody,” she called, but he was the last person she expected to respond. As he pulled her up, she knew… they were both in trouble now.
It was an Outsider, one of the lesser beings whose genetic makeup caused them to be inside-out compared to humans. Beings that I was forced to hurt. I didn’t want to. I was as much of a freak to humans as Outsiders were. I had special abilities, including reversing things that were “wrong” by human standards. And Outsiders were “wrong.” They had no skin over their muscle tissue. The lab scientists said “Outsiders were unsettling.” It’s why I was running away from the labs.
I couldn’t hurt people anymore, whether human or non.
The Outsider rubbed his hand where my skin had touched his. Already, soft human tissue had formed along his fingers and palm. A few pained tears escaped his exposed eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I said, averting my eyes. “I can’t help it.”
“It’s alright.” A voice echoed in my mind. “It’s already stopping, see?”
I looked up to see the Outsider’s palm near my face. He was right. His hand was covered in skin, but it stopped growing near the wrist because I didn’t touch his hand for very long.
I smiled in relief, wiping my wet hair out of my eyes.
An alarm blared from the building below. I couldn’t help but imagine the torture I’d be subjected to once they captured me—the people I’d be forced to hurt again. The Outsider noticed my panic and handed me something.
“To protect me from you.”
“But how did you know I’d be escaping?”
“…Think alike.” I finished his sentence. I slid the gloves over my wet hands, relieved that they had grips along the fingers and palms.
The Outsider crouched so I could get on his back and I obliged.