Welcome to the final week of the Spring Writing Challenge!
It’s the final week! This has been such a fun challenge. You’ve all done so well with your stories. There are so many interesting and unique ways you have taken the prompt. It’s now time for the final week, so let’s do this one last time! We can’t wait to see what you come up with.
So, without further ado, here’s your final prompt!
Week Six Prompt – The Character Prompt
Write a story about a character that experiences a rebirth
Wait…what’s a character prompt?
A character prompt is a prompt that’s about a specific character. It doesn’t matter where your story takes place or what’s said. What matters is that your story must be about a character who experiences a rebirth.
Before you start writing, we have some important rules for you to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the stories you post to a PG rating. Please avoid real curse words. Violence/fighting should be limited and purposeful. Please do not include any spice.
2. Your story must be 1,000 words or less, and must contain the prompt to be counted for the challenge. You’re not required to post it in order to “win” the challenge, but if you want it to count for your team, your story must be posted by Sunday at 11:59 PM ET, and you must include your team name.
Remember to scroll all the way to the bottom of the page and post your story as an “answer” to this question, not a “comment”. 🙂 You’re all doing such a great job! I’m so proud of all the stories you’ve posted.
Happy Writing!
We’re so glad that you participated Juli! 🙂
Release, by Sarah Sax (Team Reepicheep)
I’m not sure how well this fits the prompt. I was attempting to show how dead anxiety/OCD spirals can leave one feeling, and thus how choosing to leave one is a sort of rebirth, but it didn’t turn out how I wanted. Oh, well.
Picture this. You’re in the bathroom in front of the mirror, minding your own business. You have to sit on the countertop to get a good look at yourself, because a certain roommate broke the floor mirror. You’re minding your business so thoroughly you forget said roommate exists, until she steps into the bathroom and scares you so bad you almost fall into the sink.
“Lilly, what on Arda are you doing?”
I should explain something about my roommate (her name is Amber, by the way). She is a Tolkien geek. I don’t just mean she likes Lord of the Rings, I mean she has read everything by Tolkien at least three times and is a walking Middle-earth encyclopedia. So, when she’s surprised she doesn’t say, “What in the world?” or, “What on earth?” She says, “What on Arda?” because that’s what Middle-earthians call the world. I’m taking her word for it.
“Lilly, did you hear me? Why are you sitting on the counter?”
“Looking at myself in the mirror.”
“Why were you grinning like that?”
“Grinning like what?”
“I don’t know, like how you were just grinning? It didn’t even look like a grin, honestly. You were stretching out your mouth weird.”
“I was looking at my teeth.”
“I’m sorry, what?”
“My teeth. They’re crooked.”
“What, you’re just now noticing that?”
“Shut up. My teeth and gums have been sore lately, so I looked up why that might be.” Amber rolls her eyes, and I stick my tongue out. “A crooked tooth is trying to get as much room as possible to grow, so it squeezes out the other teeth, resulting in more crookedness, and on it goes. You see? The more they squeeze, the more potential there is for tight, achy teeth.”
“What are you now, a dentist?”
“No, I was just curious.”
“Good, because remember last month when you were a chiropractor?”
“Amber. Come on. This is different.”
“Good,” Amber says, sounding like she doesn’t believe it.
“Trust me.”
“I do,” Amber says, sounding like she definitely doesn’t. “Are you going to get off the countertop now?”
“Yeah, yeah, just a sec. It’s funny how my teeth feel so tight, but when I press my tongue against them I swear I feel them shift.”
“Lilly. . . .”
“I hear them crunch, I’m not kidding.”
Amber gives an I-didn’t-need-to-know-that sigh. It’s a sigh I know well; I heard it just last week when I thought the red bump on my arm was a spider bite and decided to research the symptoms. “Stop pressing on your teeth.”
“I’m not.”
“Lilly, your mouth is half-open and I can see your tongue on your teeth.”
“I’m not pressing them, I promise. I’m just feeling them. They look so yellow and feel so scummy, I don’t think I’m brushing them enough.”
“You brush for five minutes every day. That’s more than enough.”
“Not anymore. I read that a lot of tooth and gum pain is caused by brushing too hard, so I eased up. But now they aren’t getting clean. It’s driving me crazy!”
“Maybe you should see a dentist. Since, y’know, you aren’t one yourself.”
“Yeah, maybe so, but I saw a video—” Amber groans. “—where this lady was talking about how dentists are scams and how the way to get perfect, healthy teeth is by brushing with baking soda.”
“Didn’t you try that a few years ago? It got your mouth all inflamed, remember?”
“The people in the comments were swearing by it, Amber. And anyway it might not be that. I also read this sort of pain can be caused by gum damage, which can be caused by brushing too hard. Or my gums could be receding. Do you think they could be receding? I think this tooth had a lot more gum yesterday.”
“Right, time to get away from the mirror—”
I shrug her away. “Or it could be gingivitis. Do my gums look red and swollen to you?” I open my mouth wide in her face, and she shoves me away. “Gross, I don’t know! They look like gums!”
“Gingivitis is serious, Amber.”
“Yes, yes, yes. So are spider bites, so is scoliosis, so are all these things you diagnose yourself with. If you really think there’s a problem, go to the dentist. I’ll literally grab the phone right now so you can make an appointment. But you need to stop doing this!”
“I know.” There’s this feeling of water rushing through my body and whirlpooling in my middle. “I know, I know, I know.”
“Lilly, are you all right?”
“Um, yes—”
“Lilly, you’re swinging your leg in that way. Are you sure you’re not spiraling?”
“I’m—I’m not—” I lick at my teeth, feeling all sorts of grime (real? imaginary?), and it suddenly gets hard to breathe.
“Come on.” Amber puts her arm around my shoulders and moves me off the counter. She walks me to the living room, leaves me on the couch, and returns with her arms full.
“Put these on,” she says, holding out my headphones.
“I’ll l-lose my h-hearing.” I’m not sure when I started crying, but I can’t stop now that I’ve started. “I a-already have tinnitus.”
She shakes her head, puts them on for me, and picks up my Ipad. “That’s not happening anytime soon. You already keep your music at a crazy-low volume. What do you want to listen to? I can pull up your playlists.” Amber knows all too well how wary I am of screens. Too much screentime leads to brain rot.
“Amber, I-I’m OK. I-It’s OK, it’ll b-be OK.”
“Uh, Lilly, would you be having a panic attack if you were OK?”
“But it’s so st-stupid. I’m p-probably overreacting. It’s s-so d-dumb.”
“Doesn’t matter if you were overreacting, you’re not OK right now.” Amber drops a blanket over my head. “And that’s OK.”
“I want to listen to Coldplay,” I say very quietly.
Amber doesn’t say anything, but a few seconds later the music starts playing in my headphones.
When the new prompt arrive, my first thought is, Oh no! What am I going to write to make that work? But the Holy Spirit ALWAYS shows up and I get an idea every time. It amazes me. Thanks for a thought provoking six weeks.