#bmprompt1

[theothertorres]

Bridge to Nowhere // Prompt 1

Wisdom tells me to turn away Broken once, it's all the same My arms will grow Chest expanding Of all the boys you could have landed Why'd it have to be me?

Of all the things that Riley wished for, she wished for others the most. It was something she never shared with another soul, not one other person knew this about her. She put up a strong, confused front in order to protect herself from what she thought was the inevitable. She didn’t want to be forgotten, to be known as something less then herself, something that didn’t even matter. She acted out in order to get noticed but it wasn’t who she was. Still, that’s who she became and so she embraced the role. The one thing she wished for the most is recognition, for at least one person to see who for whom she really was, a task that Riley deemed impossible.

She drowned herself only to see who would jump into the water with her. Unfortunately for Judah Dalton, he became that person; the one who fell into Riley’s emotional whirlwind. The one thing Riley regrets is that no matter how hard she tried, she just could not fall in love with the boy. She just couldn’t. How could someone who doesn’t love herself fall in love with someone else? So Riley did what she did best: she pretended to get what she wanted. And what she wanted is what she got. She was an abuser to the highest definition of the word, someone who took what they wanted and left nothing behind. No matter how you sliced it, Riley was using Judah to get what she wanted. When he walked away she didn’t blame him, in fact she praised the fact that he did.

Because the Siren does not apologize to the seamen for how they listened to her song; they should know that her song is only an illusion, a rouse to get what she wants. She is broken from the start, a soul that has never been full and never will be.  She is destined to be broken so she breaks herself before the world gets a chance. She figures this is the best path for her; that she might as well give up on the world before it gives up on her. She has never been given anything so she takes it all. But in the lonely hours, in the solitude, she cries herself to sleep. She watches cheesy romantic comedies and images herself in them, knowing full well she will never have a love like that. Because she knows that is the only happiness she will ever be and each time she thinks things will get better, they only get worse. So she has no ambitions, no reasons to still be walking on this earth; the only thing that keeps her afloat is the undying human need to breathe. So she takes a breath and every time hopes it will mean something. But it never does and it never will. She knows it and each time a part of her recognizes this fact, another part of her dies just a little. Just a little break here or there and soon she is falling with no one to catch her. It’s just how she likes it.

[colbyleone]

Prompt 1: Bridge to Nowhere

// For this first prompt, your character will travel back in time to an event, a moment or a time in their past that they wished to forget. Explore their hardships, their pain, their fears and their regrets. What hardships bombarded them? Who did they love, they hate or want back in the day? What fears and dreams corrupted their lives? //

What Colby did not expect when drifting off to sleep was to wake up in his old house to the sounds of screaming parents.

Of course, he had to still be dreaming, because even if he'd gotten black-out drunk--which he hadn't--this was the last place he'd have woken up. There was never a good reason to go back, which explained why he hadn't for four years.

He was in the attic, which had been his favorite hideout as a kid, and blaring from the old record player was Dinah, all sad and sassy and soulful.

It felt like childhood, which was a terrible feeling.

This unexpected visit home, paired with the familiar sound of screaming from below, had taken some adjustment, so he hadn't noticed the blonde boy curled up in the corner with a book clenched in his hands and wet streaks lining his face.

"Oh god..." Colby muttered, recognizing that shirt, that song, that book.

They were all of his favorite things. The shirt's vibrant colors made him feel fancy--sophisticated, even--and Dinah's tragically beautiful voice comforted him, as did the torn and yellowed pages of The Hunchback of Notre-Dame. It was hardly reading fit for a ten year old, but he had always found himself drawn to complicated stories and complicated worlds.

Though Colby had spoken, the boy did seem to hear him. He just focused on his book, his knuckles turning white from his tightening grip.

Colby could hear the distant sound of mother's softer voice trying to keep pace but failing. "You're home ALL FUCKING DAY," his dad continued, "and you can't do ONE FUCKING THING RIGHT?! Dammit, Sandi, why the FUCK do I keep you around?!"

The boy in the corner began trembling as tears splashed on the book's yellowing pages, and Colby remembered that a whimper was forcing itself through his gritted teeth.

A crash--a lamp, he remembered--carried up the stairs, and the noise launched the boy toward the volume knob. He turned it as far to the right as it would go then retreated to his book as the jazz filled the attic.

"No..." Colby whispered, shaking his head as he heard a second crash and then an angry voice, each muffled by the music. Within seconds, loud stomps moved across the room below, and the voice became discernible. "--FUCKING KID GONNA LEARN NOT TO DO THAT IN MY GODDAMN HOUSE!?"

The little boy heard the yelling and scrambled for the volume again, but his dad was on him in a second. He grabbed the boy roughly by the collar and hoisted him into the air. The fabric of his shirt ripped down the seam, and the book tumbled to the floor.

"What did I tell you about the music, you worthless piece of shit!?" He spit in the boy's face before smacking him hard enough to make blood trickle from his nose. He looked at the book on the floor, stomped on it, and twisted his foot, ripping the cover and several pages free from the binding. "Listen to me when I'm talking, boy!"

The child trembled and cried but couldn't say anything. Words were at the bottom of his throat, but they wouldn't come out. Something--fear, panic, or maybe even defiance--struck him mute.

That made the man even angrier, and he chucked the boy into the nearby wall. A crash accompanied a sickening crack as the boy fell limp and a set of high heels joined the chaos.

"Just fucking great, Bill. Just. Fucking. Great. What are we gonna do when you kill the kid?" The woman was exasperated and jittery as she lit up a cigarette and took a long, loud drag. "I'm not gonna get slammed for it, you bastard. That'll be your fucking problem. Lord knows I don't need t' deal with that shit."

The boy tried to sit up, but his arm wouldn't support his weight, and as his arm buckled and he fell over he let out a yelp of pain. His parents said nothing; his dad had proceeded to strike his mom across the face, and a large red mark formed instantly on her cheek. She didn't scream. She didn't say anything. She calmly stepped forward and kicked him squarely in the crotch before walking back toward the stairs with the likely intent of making another whiskey sour.

Through the ringing in his ears and the taste of blood in his mouth, little Colby heard his mom's clacking footsteps as she muttered something about "that good for nothing piece of trash..."

After his dad managed to stand back up, he followed after his wife with a string of expletives and didn't so much as a glance at the boy, who had now begun sobbing uncontrollably.

Colby, standing across room watching the little boy bawl, felt tears streaming down his own face as the crashing resumed below.

"It's your fault and your piece of shit family!" was followed closely by "DON'T FUCKING INTERRUPT ME, YOU BITCH!", and all Colby could do was slide down the wall and hug his knees.

Two sets of sobs filled the gaps in the music until Colby woke up in his hotel room, trembling and sweaty, his face covered in tears.

[bmwhispers]

“You spend your whole life stuck in the labyrinth, thinking about how you'll escape one day, and how awesome it will be, and imagining that future keeps you going, but you never do it. You just use the future to escape the present.”

The present & the future are nonexistent to you at this point in your life, because all you are experiencing is the past. The memories of 'what was' haunts you yet again, as you explore the 'why' & the 'how'. You are no longer the age you are, you no longer feel the way you do & you no longer believe the way you do. But, you have been transported to a time that you once regretted, to a time you once promised yourself you would never revisit & to a time you hid, so far in the black abyss of your mind, you never wished to revisit...

The idea is that I will post one prompt each week, in order to give you some ideas to boost character development, and to get those creative juices flowing. Participating is completely optional, but hopefully all of you will consider this an interesting challenge you are willing at least try to complete. 

For this first prompt, your character will travel back in time to an event, a moment or a time in their past that they wished to forget. Explore their hardships, their pain, their fears and their regrets. What hardships bombarded them? Who did they love, they hate or want back in the day? What fears and dreams corrupted their lives? 

I would love to see what you come with, so please tag your para with #bmprompt1. You can write this prompt in any way, shape or form you want. And please remember to have fun & good luck!