Picture Challenge #38: Tormented


Anxious Tomato Will Bite You!
Original poster
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week, Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
Afternoons, evenings and nights.
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female,
Historical, fantasy, magic, horror, supernatural, survival, vampires, demons, pirates, mutants, ghosts, romance (FxF, MxM, MxF) (Romance should be part of the plot and not the whole plot in itself), etc.
INFO: They say that a picture can tell a thousand words. How many can you find?

Each week a new image will be posted, and your challenge will be to write whatever the image inspires you to write. It can be anything as long as it relates to the picture. A plot, a scene, a short story, a poem, a character, etc. You can write as much or as little as you wish. It's not the length that matters, it's what you put into it. There is no time limit to these challenges, so feel free to jump in at any time.

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, ,
Posting Speed
One post per day, 1-3 posts per week
Online Availability
11 A.M - 11 P.M GMT +7
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate
Preferred Character Gender
Male, , Primarily Prefer Male
I would tend to play Modern Fantasy or High Fantasy
(possibly the worst poem writing I've ever done)

This is... my true self
my true reflection
there's no lie to hide
doesn't need to act my action
it's only me and reflection
It's me without my mask

Their scream and
Their fear
I could remember
up to their faces
Each and everyone
that I've encounter
their soul haunted me

I continue to do
what I always do
With this knife
Slicing every part
of people I've encountered
Leaving nothing
but pieces
of their limb

This is the real me
The part of me
that no one knows
this is what I am
a wolf who hides
itself among
flock of sheep

I am a murderer
and I'll not stop
Until my life's
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Myrror Akantha

Beautiful Hybrid
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Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Multiple posts per day, 1-3 posts per day
Online Availability
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Beginner, Elementary, Intermediate, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Fantasy, romantic, Horror
She had been tormented most of her life by the voices only she could hear. The faces she saw had belonged to her once, in the lifetimes long ago. Nothing good ever came from talking about her haunted pasts. She only saw what most would push away without feeling of remorse and then, she was all alone.

"Let us out." they begged.
"I cannot." she would say.
"Why not?" came the voices. Gnarled hands would reach for her desperate for a life they had once lived.
"You are not real."

Pain became her friend then, and so did the life force that seemed to matter less and less. Into the mirror she would cast her glance and find that she was not truly alone. The voices would return as well as the faces and she would smile just the one time. Hiding from the voices had proven to become difficult. With each day that passed, they seemed to grow stronger.

"Let us out." They pleaded.
"I cannot." She would say.
"Why not?" Came the strained replies.
"You are not real."

When pain ceased to show her comfort, she started to understand and accept these voices and faces as her own. Despite what other people thought of her, she listened, watched and waited. A look into the mirror showed that she was no longer truly with the living. At least not fully.

"Who are you?" The girl asked the reflection.
"I am you." Came the soft reply.
"This cannot be." The girl said with a frightened voice. She shook her head looking closer to search the surrounding faces. "And who are they?"
"They are you." the reflection giggled. "Part of you and part of us. We are one."

A scream tore through the girls throat and she raised a knife. She brought it down upon the glass with a force until it cracked and broke. Shards rained down to the floor while some pierced her flesh. Blood stained the skin as tears stained the face. She felt a weight leaving her mind as if she had lived under a cloak all her life.

"Who are we?" came the voices call.
"You are me." the girl replied. Hands covered her form and she opened her eyes to look into the broken mirror. Her face surrounded by so many others. Disoriented by time and life.

"Then you are free."
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The Times They Are-a Changin’
Posting Speed
Speed of Light, Multiple posts per day, 1-3 posts per day, Slow As Molasses
Online Availability
Roughly 9:30 AM-2:30 AM (CST)
Writing Levels
Give-No-Fucks, Intermediate, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female
Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Alt History, Anything really. It honestly depends on how I'm feeling. I am always up for a good, solid Cyberpunk RP. I'm also up for Crossover RPs.

In Western superstition, it was believed that Mirrors held evil spirits. In Chinese superstition, it was believed that spirits could not appear in mirrors, as they didn't like being seen. A more modern belief is that mirrors are actually showing parallel worlds.

Quantum Physics says that the Universes are Infinite. Everything you do creates a separate universe, even something as minuscule as a cell splitting one way. Every choice creates a branching path. Every choice has an impact. The Modern belief is not wrong. As for the superstitious ones? The Western belief is correct. Your universe might not have spirits, but the alternate one does. If you're awake at night, and you hear voices, that's an alternate universe screaming for help. Trying to break into yours.

The only way to stop it is to sever the ties, forever. When you kill one form of you, both die.

The girl was staying in the mansion. She had been cataloging her inheritance from her great aunt. She was the only heir. She slept in a back bedroom with an antique mirror. The room's wallpaper was stained with what she had thought was mold.

It was actually blood.

Anout 60 years before, a murder had occurred in that back room. The daughters of the family were murdered by a vagrant. The suspect was never caught. The only thing in the room was a mirror, which caught the souls, trapped them in the parallel universe. The room then went unused.

The girl had chosen the room for its view. She could wake up the next morning, see the ocean, and then get to work cataloging. She also chose it for its point in the house. The oldest wing in the mansion.

The first night, the stay wasn't so bad. She just heard some voices. She thought it was the house settling, as old houses do. The second night, she slept with a knife by her side. She didn't know why. It was just an uneasy feeling she had. She slept again. The third night, she had learned the story of the room, but still decided to sleep in it. She liked the room, and she liked its history. An old house was bound to have something like that.

That night, she did not sleep peacefully. The voices sounded vengeful. She clutched the knife close to her, and listened as the whispers surrounded her. They sounded angry, and murderous, and they called her name. She finally stood up. She slowly walked to the mirror.

The girl stabbed the knife into the mirror. She didn't know why she didn't just smash the mirror. She stabbed it. It began to fracture. Blood came dripping out of the mirror. She dug the knife deeper. She began feeling a burning sensation as she dragged it across her reflection. She began bleeding herself. She screamed in pain, and collapsed. The mirror fell as well. It shattered into pieces.

The next day, Several police Detectives entered the old house. It smelled musty, and old. Books lay scattered all over the Living Room, cobwebs and dust covered everything, Some things looked like they haven't been touched in years. They made their way to the back room of the house. The detectives looked at the body.

"Damn shame that she died so young." One of them said.

The other nodded. "Let's get CSU in here, and leave. I don't like this place at all."


And with that, the detectives stepped out from the room.


Accidental Pyromaniac
Posting Speed
Multiple posts per day, 1-3 posts per day, One post per day, 1-3 posts per week, One post per week
Online Availability
Most of the time MST
Writing Levels
Adept, Advanced, Prestige, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Primarily Prefer Female
Mideval Fantasy (LOW fantasy), SciFi, Modern/Superhero, Dystopian
I have lived,
And I have died,
Killed myself,
So many times.

I have changed,
Become better,
More perfect,
All in vain.

They still complain,
Lament of the changes,
As if they were not,
The very ones who asked it.

But I am done with puppeteers.
I have finished,
And I am my own now.
I will kill myself no more.

My insecurities,
Scream their protest,
But I do not hear them.
Begone, foul thoughts.
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Invitation Status
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Posting Speed
1-3 posts per day
Online Availability
After lunch (noon - 2:00), and evenings after 8:30
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Primarily Prefer Female
Romance, Fantasy, Tudor, Historical, Magical
She stared at the mirror and the myriad of images floating about her reflection. "I cannot stand this incessant bombardment. It never stops."

'You can and you must endure."

"I can't. No one understands...no one believes me." her voice was soft and full of defeat and desperation. "I have to destroy them."

"You cannot do so without destroying yourself, and me as well."

"You are but my reflection."

"I am you, but not your reflection. I have a life I'd like to live. Will you kill me to ease your own pain?"

"Forgive me. Yes." She said as she raised the knife and stabbed at the mirror making a crack and sending a few shards to the floor. For each shard a spirit-like form rose and laughed in glee as it flew away.

"No...you cannot free them....you know what they will do...."

"They will torment someone else. That is all I care about...all I can do."

Doctor Jax

Lord of the Mice
Invitation Status
Posting Speed
1-3 posts per week
Online Availability
Writing Levels
Intermediate, Adept, Advanced, Adaptable
Preferred Character Gender
Male, Female, , No Preferences
Fantasy, Scifi, Urban Fantasy, Horror
It wasn't working, what they were doing,
how they were living, how they were showing
the world who they were inside
that there wasn't any divide
between Greta, angry and obscene,
between Ana, the little prissy queen,
between Irina, Claudette, or Ophelia,
between Gloria, Lauren, or Amelia.

They had always been many, many in one,
that American phrase, E pluribus unum,
but people aren't usually built that way,
with fifty voices all trying to say
their piece to the world using one mouth,
trying to get all those thoughts out.

Inside the body rose a voice
that decided not to give a choice
to her sisters residing with her,
taking charge to begin an ouster.

Looking a mirror somber,
the girl could take it no longer
and the voice bid her take a knife
to end the flood, to end the strife.
At the mirror the girl at last stared,
at the voices she would not spare,
and she raised the blade up high,
striking the glass with all her might.

The mirror broke, the voice it won,
and now there was only one voice, one,
who ruled the roost, her empty skull,
bathing in a peace so dull.