Hey everyone! I'm vehura. I have decided to open a creative writing thread for all of my work! I love writing; it is one of my favourite ways to express myself, and I thought it would be a good idea to have a place to post all my work so hopefully I can continue improving.
I have started by deciding to write a short piece a day (or, hopefully, close enough to a day) using the 2019 Inktober prompts. I actually think writing based on one word prompts is much easier than with an elaborate plot, so I am really excited to see what I can write.
My first prompt was "Poisonous." I have written a short response here. Feel inclined to read it if you like, I get quite nervous showing people my writing as a lot of the time it is very personal to me so I hope this improves my confidence too! They're only a couple of hundred words each, so maybe not anything special but I'm pretty proud of anything I write.
Prompt: POISONOUS
The snake bites. And it hurts.
She can already feel the pain coursing thickly down her arms, travelling through her veins and burning her insides. Like antifreeze, slowing her body and deadening her nerves.
Her skin numbs, the pain spreading through her insides. Liquid bubbles and simmers, a stew of hatred coating the lining of her stomach. She can feel her organs decaying. With every shudder she takes, every attempt to breathe, she can feel her body convulsing, her lungs twisting. They’re begging for oxygen. And as her throat closes up, she can feel acid bile crawling up her neck, trying to scratch its way out, threatening to lash out.
She screws her eyes shut. And as she attempts to blink back the scorching in her eyes, she swallows it all down. The knot in her stomach gets heavier.
“Are you alright? I didn’t mean it,” the snake says, a flicker of annoyance evident in its face. “I didn’t know you were so sensitive.”
She shudders, inwardly relieved as the familiar trembling feeling returns to her hands. Her breathing lax, she looks at the snake and smiles shakily. And as her blood begins to circulate and her heart pumps again, the shame which always accompanies starts to darken her face. Her skin is grey. The words which repeat in her mind are spoken:
“It’s my fault. I’m sorry,” she says.