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TW - Blood, feelings of being broken beyond repair, dissociation from ones sense of identity(?) lmk if theres any others

There was a picture- of Caregiver and Whumpee, before any of this happened.

Whumpee was smiling brightly, dragging Caregiver into frame

Whumpee clenches their fist, they were so happy. They used to be so happy. They didn’t care for the small, simple pleasures of life, they were always moving, changing.

They were like life itself, adapting to every situation and fitting in perfectly. They were bright, they were sweet. They’d give little trinkets to their friends, they’d wrap an arm around a friends shoulder or give them a peck on the cheek.

They expressed love with affectionate touches and sappy gifts.

A tear drops onto the perfect picture, the image that held not only their innocence, but their childhood. Days of running around in small flower fields, making little mud pies and gifting them to their parents, memories that were held so close, now only fragmented dreams that were forgotten to time.

Fragmented pieces of a whole.

Maybe they were a fractured mirror, pieces in place but unconnected. Puzzle pieces of faded memories and unknown pain. Nothing fits together, nothing can be put back together.

Maybe shattered would be a better word, shattered glass with all too sharp edges, someone would come by, piece them back together only to let them fall apart again as their hands bled.

They’d be blamed, they’d be hated.

Shattered glass only hurts, only digs into your skin and tears it to pieces. Torn out pages of a story left untold.

The door creaks open, “Whumpee?” Caregiver murmurs, “Can i come in?”

They nodded before realizing Caregiver wouldn’t see it, they drew in a deep breath before letting it go, “Come in,” they whispered, hearing the door creak open more before shutting as footsteps sounded.

“Hey, bud,” Caregiver sat down onto the bed, “what’s going on in that head of yours?” they asked in a whisper.

Whumpee sighed, staring woefully down at that dreaded picture, “am i broken?” they copied Caregivers tone.

“What do you mean, hun?”

“I feel like i’m broken, like i’m hundreds of shards of glass left broken on the floor, like a mirror punched in, or a window cracked.”

Caregiver hummed.

“I hate this picture,” they murmured, gripping tighter, “i hate it- i hate it so much,” a tremble in their voice would be embarrassing, if Caregiver hadn’t already seen them at their worst, “i’m not them, i’m not Whumpee, i’m not Whumpee.”

Caregiver carefully rested a hand on Whumpees shoulder.

“Whumpee was so fucking happy,” they hissed, “they never thought anything bad would happen to them, they were so stupid. They trusted Whumper and now i’m here. Now i exist. I’m not Whumpee.”

“How so?” Caregiver carefully prodded.

“Whumpee was nice, kind, giving,” they snarled, “they rarely had bad days, they kept talking and talking, they were so innocent. I’m rude, i’m mean, i take and i take and i leave nothing behind,” they laugh harshly, “it doesn’t even matter, i don’t remember what happened to me, Whumpee, where ever the line of difference is.” they turned sharply, staring at Caregiver, “the lines between me and Whumpee are blurred, i-” they paused, swallowing thickly, “i don’t know who i am,” they mumbled, almost shamefully.

Caregiver hummed, carefully putting an arm around Whumpee, “you don’t have to be anyone, whether its you, Whumpee, or someone completely different. But Whumpee, i care about you, i want you to be safe, i want you to be happy.”

Whumpee laughed bitterly, “i’m never gonna be happy, not here,” they shrugged off Caregivers arm, “i’d go crawling back to Whumper if i could,” they smiled hollowly with a shrug, they paused, considering for a moment before snickering, “god, they’d get a kick out of that one.”

Caregiver huffed fondly, “You’re a nightmare,” they bumped Whumpees shoulder, “you aren’t getting out of dinner again, thought i’d mention that.”

This blog is now one year (and one month) old!

I can’t even remember what I did with my free time before I joined this site. I’ve learned a lot over the last year about writing, the industry, and all you wild people, and it’s inspired me to make some next year resolutions:

Interact more with other writers

follow more WIPs

Post more about my own WIPs

In the spirit of all three, and as a thank you to all the people in this community...

Let’s have a party

I welcome anyone who wants to come into my inbox or reblog this post and tell me their favorite thing about their WIP/s. It could be a setting, a line of dialogue, a character, a trope that your playing with, anything about your work that just melts your heart whenever you think about it. I want to learn more about your projects! Tell me what excites you most! And if there’s a related fact about my WIP, I’ll let you know.

Grand Prizes

I’ll be choosing three people at random from among those who come tell me about their WIP, and let you choose between the following:

A full beta read of your first chapter with feedback

A playlist based on your WIP

A mood board based on your WIP

I recommend the first one, cause while I’m an amateur at mood boards and who knows if my music tastes line up with yours, I am pretty good at beta reading/ giving feedback on writing. But I understand not everyone wants their work critiqued, so it’s your call!

Rules

No one needs to be following me to send in an ask, but I will only include followers in the drawing for the “grand prize”.

Asks need to be sent in by Wednesday, 8/14, 9:00 EST.

I’ll make a post the next morning announcing the winners. If you don’t respond in two days, I’ll do another drawing.

Please don’t include anything NSFW in the asks!

So I was tagged by the lovely @candlelitwriting. Thank you so much by the way! And away we go with a snippet from my current wip! The True Story of Alice (TTSoA)

Alice laughed it off, smoothing her sister’s creased forehead with her thumb, “Oh relax. I can handle myself. And besides, we have great service out here. I’ll only be a phone call away. And we’ll even videochat when you guys get off the plane. I promise.” That was part of the stipulation for Alice being allowed to do this at all. She had to check in and often. Her grandfather’s only rule for the summer. She gave her sister one last hug and sent her off to get in the car. They were all on a schedule after all.

And speaking of her grandfather, the old man was busy arranging for monthly food deliveries and anything else that he thought she might need during the summer. When he finally put away his phone, he waved her over. Alice felt as though she’d rather face an entire firing squad. But she obeyed.

Translated from English to French to German to Arabic to Korean to Slovian to Indonesian to Latin and back!  

It 'wrinkles in his forehead, and his sister, Alice is in a laughing-stock. "Oh, it is well, I am well. There is a great job they did here, and I promise that if you get on the plane." Some laws must be allowed to enroll John was often in the summer. In order to do that. All on alcohol.

When the grandfather of six months of work in the summer to try to make food. When he laid out his cell phone until the end. Alice wants to fit in practicing these statements. But listening.

Woke up with a solved plot point in my brain, so I went right to the computer and wrote the scene in my head. And, Lord, it's gut wrenching.