WHAT WOULD YOU DO IF I DIED TOMORROW – creative prompt


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“What would you do if I died tomorrow?”

The words were barely audible. Mackie grew still.

“Mackie?”

“I heard you,” Mackie growled. “You know I don’t like that kind of talk!”

Mackie let out a sigh. She shouldn’t be so harsh with Annie, it hadn’t been her fault that at her last job, her employer found out Mackie lied on her resume. Mackie hadn’t exactly lied. She exaggerated the truth. She never graduated high school, she never went to community college, but everything anyone could possibly know there she picked off the net. She knew more about computers than most adults, what good were those skills being a waitress at a local dive?

Mackie finished unpacking Annie’s belongings out of the satchel they shared.

She had been looking after her younger sister since Annie turned 13. When there had been questions about if Annie started the fire that consumed her parents, Mackie found herself fighting Child Services for custody of the teenager. She took the girl and ran. She was only one year away from graduating at the top of her class, but she found it spending hiding it away from the authorities. Finding odd jobs, whatever it took to keep Annie safe

So here they were, stuck in a room miles away from anybody they knew. A dive, Mackie had to be grateful for their luck, at least it had running hot water.

The room they shared in the motel, had little to no space. No privacy. The bathroom had no door, so Mackie made a makeshift one out of the blankets provided by the motel. It reeked of piss and body odor, but like many of the situations they found themselves in, Mackie made do with what they had.

“You never want to talk about it.” Annie pouted. The young girl pulled her sleeve into her mouth and began to chew. It was a nervous anxious reflex she had, Mackie hated it.

“Stop that!” Mackie snapped. “You are too old to rely on a coping mechanism!”

Annie glared at Mackie. There she went again, using that psych babble she often found on tv or on the net. “Eat shit, Mackie” she muttered under her breath.

Annie realized, lately that her sister hated a lot of things that had to do with her. She resented looking after her.

Annie shifted her head to the side, and she caught a glimpse of the mirror on the wall. She looked worse than shit. Her hair was dark and unkempt, the hoodie she wore all the time was stained. the skirt clung to her bony hips, had seen better days. her name brand sneakers were worn and scuffed.

No wonder Mackie hates you, your weak and pathetic. She’d be better with you dead

“What did you say?” Mackie demanded.

Annie blinked. Had she spoken out loud? Her eyes flew to her sister’s. Mackie met her startled gaze with cool detachment.

“Nothing.” Annie choked, she chewed harder on her sleeve. She couldn’t tell her sister they were back. The dark insidious shadows that tainted her mind with their evil whisperings.

Look at you! You can’t even tell her I’m back, can you? You stupid girl!

Annie nodded. “Are you going out again?” she asked quietly.

Mackie nodded. “I saw a help wanted in the Sheriff’s office. Its a long shot but I figure I can try right?”

Annie sighed. “They do background checks.”

“I know.”

Annie stopped chewing on her sleeve, and that’s when she knew. It had to be today. She took a step from the doorway and wrapped her arms around Mackie. “I love you, Mackie. I hope you get your job.”

Startled, Mackie hugged Annie tight. “Thanks, Kiddo, I love you too.Maybe I will bring home a treat.”

Annie shook her head, “That’s ok.”

Mackie kissed the top of Annie’s head, and it was what she whispered in her ear that made Annie grew rigid.

“You think I don’t know?” she whispered. “I know you are not my sister.”

Then shoved Annie through the window.

The horrifying wail of Annie’s scream fell silent as her body hit the asphalt with a bone-crushing crunch.

*I was bored, decided to free write as much as I could using that quote as a prompt in a half hour. it had some elements that I love in a plotline

1. protagonist had a male name. bwahaha

2. protagonist turned out to be antagonist

♥writing was all I had, all I’ve ever had, the only currency, the only proof that I was alive. Memory.♥ each of us has a story to tell. Leave your thoughts. Leave your comments.

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