Here’s another piece of creative writing, prompted by the Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers challenge. This is a weekly challenge that asks its participants to write a story in 175 words or less based on the given photo prompt. Thanks for reading and enjoy!
I’m not like other people.
I used to be; I imagine that, once, I was a perfectly healthy baby. After that, I would have been a perfectly average child. I wasn’t exceptional, but I wasn’t broken, either.
Lying here now, though, I realise that I haven’t left this bed in over a month.
Outside, people laugh at me. They can see that I’m not like them and they don’t like it. So, I lie here. I have my food brought to me. I relieve myself whenever the nurse comes. I have no cause to go outside; I don’t complain. I just exist.
That perfectly average child doesn’t exist anymore. All that’s left is a contorted, mutilated stranger.
I don’t know myself. I don’t want to.
I glance at my wrist, and see my entire arm bent out of shape, spasming against my pillow. I can’t control it. It’s not mine anymore. It belongs to that stranger.
I glance down at the rest of my broken body, and feel a tear form in the stranger’s eye.