Fictionista Workshop - WitFit December Prompts
December 2, 2009 (www(dot)fictionistaworkshop(dot)com/witfit/2009-12-02/)
Word Prompt: Abracadabra
Scenario: Your character is an amnesiac. Disoriented and confused, the character wakes up in an unknown house with fine furnishings, in strange clothing, holding an envelope with "DO NOT OPEN" written across the top. What happens next? Write your response in first-person narrative using present tense.
Creative Original or Derivative:Derivative (Twilight Saga by Stephanie Meyer)
Disclaimer: All copyright, trademarked items, or recognizable characters, plots, etc. mentioned herein belong to their respective owners.
Rating/Warning(s): K+
Genre: Mystery/Angst
All I remembered was darkness.
It wasn't much to remember.
Right now, I was in a strange plain white dress. It fanned out to below my knees, with pleats. Ten to be exact. My vision was superb. Right now I could only think of why I had this on. It was a horrible dress.
What was wrong with me?
My right leg was tied up in a metal chain to a broad bedpost. The metal was so thick it looked impossible to break. I gave it an experimental tug.
It broke.
I was amazed at the weakness of the chain, it had looked strong. I reached out and broke another length of the chain off, and crushed it to fine dust with my hand. I stared at my hand in both amazement and shock.
I was strong.
Although I couldn't remember any information about myself, I could remember things such as reading and writing. A dreary tune played through my head – but it had no name to it. I knew that I was unusually strong.
I looked around the room, noticing the furnishings for the first time. There stood a nicely made bed, with a dark-wooden frame. A small window stared out to a forest in fall, the sun's rays shining through the gaps in the foliage.
Hanging on the lone door was a large silver lock. I considered going to have a look at it. The moment that the thought passed into my head, I was already at the door. I quickly turned around, alarmed at the sudden displacement. I had moved 10 feet in a split-second.
I was fast, too.
I put my hand on the lock. The only thought that passed through my head was Abracadabra.
I squeezed both my eyes and my hand shut, and felt crumbling powder in my hand once more.
Disposing of the powder, I used enough force to creak the door open, and I peered outside into an empty hallway. I heard shouting voices in the distance, but I imagined I should be all right for now.
I tentatively stepped forward and heard a soft crunch below my feet. I hastily looked down, frightened of what I had stepped on, but only saw a harmless piece of paper, folded in three.
I collected it off the ground, and turned the document over. In a large, black font, were the words DO NOT OPEN printed on the front.
Naturally, I thought of opening the piece of paper.
Then an interesting thing happened.
I could see myself opening the paper, and reading the letter – my expression going from interested to confused – as if I was seeing myself from another person's perspective.
Then the apparition ended, and I found myself looking at the closed letter in my hands again. I cautiously opened it, one flap at a time.
Alice,
Thank you for opening this letter. I envisioned you would be clever enough to figure it out.
You were always my favourite. I always knew you were right. I am exceptionally sorry, my dear. I had to do this. My world could not waste your talent.
I beg of you; get away from this sinful place. Go far away. Search for the others. Find out your story. I know you will not be able to remember.
Yours faithfully, a friend in confidence.
Whoever this friend was, did they have to talk in code all the time?
I pocketed the letter, thinking it might be of use in the future.
I looked around the hallway again, confirming that it was still empty. I walked toward the end that had a large, wooden door, and pressed my ear up against it, listening for any sounds in the next room.
I made my way quietly through the building, but stopped short at a door that was leading outside.
A board was hanging on the wall, a sheet clipped on it.
Biloxi Insane Asylum
Tuesday April 4th 1922
About 3 things I was absolutely positive. First, my name was Alice. Second, there was a part of me, and I didn't know how indomitable that part might be - that thirsted for knowledge. And third, I apparently belonged insane asylum.
When someone mentions a disoriented and confused person from Twilight, I immediately think of Alice when she first woke up as a vampire.
For those of you confused as to why she was seeing herself from another perspective, she was having her first vision. She's obviously confused as to what it is, and doesn't know what happened, so it can't be said that she just had a vision.
And yes, I knew that last line paragraph was corny, but I had to finish somehow .