(Trigger Warning – Abortion/Lost Child)
Day Four
The Writing Prompt
It started with a knock, not on my front door, but from inside the closet.
My Creative Take
It started with a knock, not on my front door, but from inside the closet. The tap was faint, so light I almost dismissed it. But when it came again, I stood, heart thudding, and opened the door.
Darkness greeted me, broken only by the familiar shapes of clothes, shoes, and a few purses. I hesitated, then shut the door.
This time, I flung it open and stepped inside, pushing garments aside. That’s when I saw them, two golden eyes, glowing from the shadows. I stumbled back and flipped on the light. They vanished.
My trembling hand reached for the switch again. The moment darkness returned, so did the eyes, watching me from between my old prom dress and ski suit. Before I could process what I was seeing, a hand shot out and grabbed my arm.
A flood of visions crashed into me. My life unfolded in rapid flashes. The choices I’d made, both right and wrong, and how they shaped the man I would marry, the daughter I would give birth to, the two grandchildren I would adore. Then, the visions took me further… to my funeral. Quiet. Empty. Just my only daughter and her two children were in attendance.
Then everything faded.
I gasped and opened my eyes. The golden eyes remained, no longer distant or unknown, but raw, familiar. My body crumpled to the floor of the closet as tears stung my eyes. I knew her. She was the daughter my future self had chosen not to have. The one I’d erased before she ever took her first breath. Because I wasn’t ready.
I opened my mouth to apologize, but she gently placed a finger to my lips, then leaned forward and kissed my cheek.
And then, she was gone.
I lay there, sobbing, the power of love and consequence pressing into my chest. My decisions were never mine alone, they touched those I hadn’t even met yet. I glanced down at my stomach, reached for my phone, and canceled my appointment for the next morning.
Curled up on the floor, I placed my hand over the kiss she left on my cheek.
She was going to live.
My Thoughts
I’m not sure why I took the story this route. What I try not to do is plot out a story. I want to work on my creative mind seeing past daily routines and having every small thing spark a creative story. I know I could have taken this story straight into the horror genre or sci-fi genre, but instead, I envisioned this. What if we could see how every action we take, affects someone else? Would we make the same decision or would we change it? What are your thoughts?