Bored? Write or Answer a Prompt!

[silverarrow820]

Prompt: In a world where humans are born with a special talent or trait that defines them, you are born without this certain trait. What would others think about you? How would you feel? Would you try and find your talent or trait? How would your story end?

[Octopusituational]

I open my eyes, then quickly scrunch them closed again in protection against the severe stabbing rays of sunlight. The grit against my cheek feels like sandpaper as I lift my head, increasing the intense pounding of my headache. Jesus Christ, where am I? I open my eyes a crack and stare straight ahead, my vision filled by a scene right off a postcard. Picturesque palm trees sway in the foreground, and farther back a sea of verdant greenery climbs its way up a slate grey mountain tipped with snow. I turn around and a turquoise sea encompasses my sight for as far as the eye can see.I look up and a harsh sun beams down on me, burning my skin into flakes. I've gotta get some shade. I struggle to my feet and start to walk towards the forest.

After what seems like forever, I reach the emerald green trees, and the second I step underneath the leaves blessed shade cools the sweat on my brow and seems to almost make the pain in my exhausted sunburnt body disappear. I fall to my knees and rest for a few minutes against the trunk of a oak. Thought other than just the basic animistic needs returns to my head, and I start wondering how I got here in the first place.



Hey guys! If you'd like more of this story from the island prompt please tell me in the comments, I'd appreciate any constructive critisism you could supply. Thank you so much!

[HeyItsMaddieHere]

Prompt: In a world where humans are born with a special talent or trait that defines them, you are born without this certain trait. What would others think about you? How would you feel? Would you try and find your talent or trait? How would your story end?

I woke up as a small child, unwanted. But why? It was later found, I was born with no special talent. I wasn't like the others. I wasn't like everybody else. I try to attend school every day, I try and blend in with everybody else. But everybody knows about me. I'm the mysterious girl with no talent. I see others at school showing their talents off, and I can't help but feel jealous.
I've heard rumors in the hallways, walking to my classes, saying that my mother had no talents and that's why I didn't. But I know they aren't true. My mother's talent is singing, and she's wonderful at it. People always come up to me and say I'm unwanted, no one will ever love me, and even when they talk to me, they don't make eye contact. They're afraid that because I have no talent, if they interact with me too often, they'll lose their talents, too.
I hate it. Just because I'm different talent-wise doesn't mean I'm not a human being, just like them. I've been trying for years, ever since I've figured out what was wrong with me. Why people don't like me. When I was told, I was devastated. I've been trying so hard to find a talent, but haven't had any such luck. Sure, I'm pretty, but no one wants to interact with me. Like I said before, they're afraid of losing their talents and traits if they get too close to me.

[SarahPlainandTall]

Prompt: You are a wild animal, you are lost one island what would you do?

[Pok]

Prompt: In a world where humans are born with a special talent or trait that defines them, you are born without this certain trait. What would others think about you? How would you feel? Would you try and find your talent or trait? How would your story end?

TW for negative intrusive thoughts near the end. It took a dark turn, so I added a fluffy ending if that's more to your taste, just open both spoiler tags.

Spoiler

Everybody has a trait.

Some discover it sooner, some discover it later.

For some, it is useful, while for others it is mundane.

The one thing in common is that the trait defines the person.

Except you, apparently.

Your father, he had absolute pitch, and your mother synesthesia, and together they made beautiful music. However, their talent had not been passed on to you. They assured you that it was perfectly okay that you hadn't displayed any special talent relating to music, and that they loved you no less. (It was not okay. It could not be okay.)

Joseph from next door had incredible reflexes, and between his training sessions, hung out with you on either your doorstep or his. (The meetings were put to a stop once you let slip that you did not know what your talent was. His mother had had words with your parents, most of which were unkind.)

Doctor Faryl had the ability to determine at a glance a person's inner state of mind, and you haven't missed his constant worried glances. (Much like you hadn't missed the cruel words that your classmates exchanged behind your back.)

Marge of the baking club never burnt a cake, or even come close to overbaking one, each confection fluffy, perfect and above all delicious. She told you that was her talent. You believed her. (You had to.)

She didn't ask about your talent. (You didn't offer.) (Sometimes, you wonder whether things would have turned out differently if you had.)

Marge of the baking club became Marge your close friend, and Marge your close friend became Marge your girlfriend. She moved in to your apartment, small and cheap as it was hard to find a job the way you were in a society where employers valued aptitude more than attitude. And it was years and years and one alcohol-fueled party later that she asked, and you answered honestly.

The trait defines the person, and you were nobody.

She went quiet. Far too quiet.

In the morning, you woke to a killer headache and a distinct lack of girlfriend. Her half of the bed was empty and cold.

You went back to sleep, the sting of betrayal quickly numbed by apathy setting in.

You knew this would happen.

(Why would it not?)

You wake, and try to forget.

To the cupboard, to throw something on.

(You ignore the half filled with brighter clothes. Those were hers.)

To the tiny kitchenette to eat something. You glance at the stove, before heading for the cabinet and taking out the box of cereal. You hate this brand. You choked it down anyway.

(It's still too quiet.)

There's nobody sitting opposite you, in the old chair from goodness-knows-where. You're nobody, too. It's kind of funny. (It's really not.)

You miss her.

You hate yourself.

You hate this life, too.

Spoiler

She's back, just as you finish off the second bowl of cereal. She notices it immediately, and furrows her brow. Which makes sense, it was hers, after all.

She questions you, all 'didn't you say you hated this brand' and 'no, seriously, you could have asked me to get you something' and you smile for the first time in what feels like forever.

You almost don't want to ruin it. Maybe she didn't remember what you said.

(Maybe she was pretending, for your sake. Or hers.)

'I can hear you overthinking.'

She can?

'Yes, I can.'

There is laughter in her voice, and when you look up, she's smiling softly at you.

Wait.

She knew, all this while? Then why would she bothe-

Your thoughts are cut short as she pulls you into a hug, and without pulling away mutters in your ear, soft but with an undercurrent of stern.

'You may not have a trait, but that doesn't make you inferior in any way. Just because there's nothing to tell you who you are doesn't mean you're a nobody. After all, you're you-' and she pulls back, '-and there's nothing in this world that can change that fact.'

[TheEmbodimentOfKarma]

Prompt: In a world where humans are born with a special talent or trait that defines them, you are born without this certain trait. What would others think about you? How would you feel? Would you try and find your talent or trait? How would your story end?

My name is Kami.
I am normal.
I wake up, go to school, come home, sleep again.
Of course, I hate it.
A mother with perfect timing.
A father with great strength.
A sister who can read minds.
And I got nothing.

I am the brother.
I am “another”
Walk into school, hear the whispers, the shudders.
“How is he normal?” they mutter.
“He’s just some kid from the gutters.”
The truth that I know is I’m a boat without a rudder.

It wasn’t long before it hit me, it struck me
If I’m nothing special, I must be real lucky
No other human alive has been like me
It strikes me, to be special, you gotta pay a slight fee
All the kids in school
They think they’re really cool
All they got is their talent to make them fit in nicely
That’s their personality
But welcome to reality
What happens when you’re gone? You ain’t nothing but a fatality.

“If everyone is super... no one will be.”
-Syndrome, The Incredibles

[Sanukuni]

Prompt: Your apart of a world where scientist used a specialized nuclear missile to splice over 95% of the world's population of living entities with human or animal dna. You are apart of a human settlement where they are one of the remaining 'pure' humans, but you have a secret.

A. You are a primate based 'Splician' and the only obvious sign is a DBZ style tail that you keep wrapped around your waist.

B. You have a hologram to hide the fact you are a full body Splician.

C. You actually don't hate or fear Splician, a big nono in the settlement.

D. You found a Splician injured and you're healing it in a hidden place.

[KaidaLupita]

(Prompt: You suddenly find yourself in the world of your favorite book, TV show, movie, or video game. Which one is it? How are you going to survive this new world you find yourself suddenly thrust into? Will the people already living there accept you, an outsider, into their community? Or are you doomed to be an outcast forever?)

I WOULD BE SOOOOO HAPPY! Also I'm assuming that I would be a cat in the world i've been thrown into, considering it's the warrior cat series. I'd be welcomed into it, because I'd be an apprentice of Windclan... as I'm the appropriate age for that ranking. My name, i guess it'd be Dawnpaw. That's all i can come up with...

[macintot]

Prompt: Your apart of a world where scientist used a specialized nuclear missile to splice over 95% of the world's population of living entities with human or animal dna. You are apart of a human settlement where they are one of the remaining 'pure' humans, but you have a secret.

D. You found a Splician injured and you're healing it in a hidden place.

Spoiler

I scramble over the rocks at the edge of the Crater, stumbling under the bulk of my hazmat suit. Nevermind that the Crater ceased to be radioactive years before Man City was founded, you can't risk becoming one of "them". In Man City, appearances are everything, and the last thing I need is to get the town gossips on my case.

I count the boulders as I walk past. The first, second, third one embedded with bricks, and I'm here. I look over my shoulder, then out into the crater. Good, nobody's here. I grab the edge of the crater and swing down into the cave below, flicking on my headlamp.

I round two corners, and lying against the back wall is the reason for my secrecy: one of "them," the splicians. Skalith is what he'd called himself when I'd found him three days ago, just before he passed out. A gator-man, with his too-long snout filled with teeth, thick tail, and bony plates that covered his body. Feral predators, supposedly. And now I was going to test that theory.

Skalith braces himself against the wall, peering at me with yellow, reptilian eyes. I frown. Skalith's leg is broken, along with several of his ribs, he's likely still dazed from heatstroke, and the long claw marks along his ribs are inflamed with infection. He's in no condition to be moving. Still, I'm not surprised. It's the first time he's coherent since I've found him. I wouldn't want to wake up trapped in a dark room facing a human, either.

Slowly, I set down my pack and show raise my empty hands. "I'm not going to hurt you," I say in my best calm voice. Skalith doesn't relax, so I try again. "I brought food and medicine. But I can't bring it to you unless you know you're not going to hurt me. Are you going to let me help you?"

Skalith hesitates, but finally, he slumps against the wall. Good. I start by grabbing a can of tuna from my pack - splicians like tuna, right? I inch forward and hold it out to Skalith.

Skalith's eyes lock onto the can, but he doesn't take it. He opens and closes his jaw a few times before words come out a low hiss. "Where am I?"

"Not Man City," I assure him. "You're in a cave in the side of the Crater. I found you in the Crater a few days ago and brought you here, Skalith. You're name is Skalith, right?" I add at his startled expression. "That's what you said when I found you. But you had some serious heatstroke, maybe you were just rambling."

Skalith stares at me wide-eyed. "You entered the Crater? And departed? How did. . . survive?"

I furrow my brow. "Was there a reason I shouldn't have?"

Skalith hisses several times before he gets the words out. "Splicians gone. . . wrong. Big, angry. Kill everything."

Prompt: Where were you on the night of the murder?

[TheEmbodimentOfKarma]

Prompt: Your apart of a world where scientist used a specialized nuclear missile to splice over 95% of the world's population of living entities with human or animal dna. You are apart of a human settlement where they are one of the remaining 'pure' humans, but you have a secret.

D. You found a Splician injured and you're healing it in a hidden place.

Spoiler

I scramble over the rocks at the edge of the Crater, stumbling under the bulk of my hazmat suit. Nevermind that the Crater ceased to be radioactive years before Man City was founded, you can't risk becoming one of "them". In Man City, appearances are everything, and the last thing I need is to get the town gossips on my case.

I count the boulders as I walk past. The first, second, third one embedded with bricks, and I'm here. I look over my shoulder, then out into the crater. Good, nobody's here. I grab the edge of the crater and swing down into the cave below, flicking on my headlamp.

I round two corners, and lying against the back wall is the reason for my secrecy: one of "them," the splicians. Skalith is what he'd called himself when I'd found him three days ago, just before he passed out. A gator-man, with his too-long snout filled with teeth, thick tail, and bony plates that covered his body. Feral predators, supposedly. And now I was going to test that theory.

Skalith braces himself against the wall, peering at me with yellow, reptilian eyes. I frown. Skalith's leg is broken, along with several of his ribs, he's likely still dazed from heatstroke, and the long claw marks along his ribs are inflamed with infection. He's in no condition to be moving. Still, I'm not surprised. It's the first time he's coherent since I've found him. I wouldn't want to wake up trapped in a dark room facing a human, either.

Slowly, I set down my pack and show raise my empty hands. "I'm not going to hurt you," I say in my best calm voice. Skalith doesn't relax, so I try again. "I brought food and medicine. But I can't bring it to you unless you know you're not going to hurt me. Are you going to let me help you?"

Skalith hesitates, but finally, he slumps against the wall. Good. I start by grabbing a can of tuna from my pack - splicians like tuna, right? I inch forward and hold it out to Skalith.

Skalith's eyes lock onto the can, but he doesn't take it. He opens and closes his jaw a few times before words come out a low hiss. "Where am I?"

"Not Man City," I assure him. "You're in a cave in the side of the Crater. I found you in the Crater a few days ago and brought you here, Skalith. You're name is Skalith, right?" I add at his startled expression. "That's what you said when I found you. But you had some serious heatstroke, maybe you were just rambling."

Skalith stares at me wide-eyed. "You entered the Crater? And departed? How did. . . survive?"

I furrow my brow. "Was there a reason I shouldn't have?"

Skalith hisses several times before he gets the words out. "Splicians gone. . . wrong. Big, angry. Kill everything."

Prompt: Where were you on the night of the murder?

“Look, I said this already. Home. Sleeping.” I can’t believe this. They’re accusing a kid of murder? Kids don’t kill people, right?
“And before that?”
“I was at school. Then I walked home because I missed the bus after talking to Rachel Avira and ate dinner before I-“
“Wait,” he said, cutting me off. “Couldn’t you have killed her when you were walking home?”

Prompt: Continue the story. How will you defend yourself?