Writing Prompt #112 — Now Artificial, Never Real

Prompt: It’s 3AM, you wake up from a sudden jolt. Your head is pounding and your heart is racing. You turn to your wife, only to realize her body has been replaced by a mannequin. The only thing resembling your wife are her eyes. You attempt to flee the room, only to find that there is no door.

I run my hand over the bare wall, probe the corners, as though there’s only a cover shielding the door, but my fingertips find no purchase. I’m hot. Feverish. I can hardly breath as my lungs rapidly work, and my heart slams against my chest.

I wipe the sweat from my brow, turn to my wife— what was once my wife, her pale skin now plastic, her black hair artificial, her limbs positioned in an irregular way; the only remaining aspect of her is those eyes, those deep blue eyes that once pulled me in and never let go.

The window in the wall is still there, moonlight still falls through it, dimly illuminating the doorless room. I stand before it, peer out.

“Mother of God…” I gasp.

The gabled homes, the town itself, seems artificial now, too. It’s as though I’m staring at a diorama of a small town hidden between woods and mountains. Some windows are lit by little yellow lights, the grass looks sharp, fake, the roads and sidewalks gray painted Styrofoam. There’s no people. No sounds. No life. And, even the moon… Even the moon seems hollow, lit by a bulb, and space has no vastness, no depth, just a black nylon sheet with holes poked through.

The room starts to shake, tremble. I stumble back and grab the bed as I fall onto my backside. An earthquake? The world outside tilts, rattles, and gravity presses down upon me. There’s the false space, the fake stars, the moon hanging on a string… There’s a blinding white light… Wooden beams, dust, spiderwebs clinging from a slanted ceiling.

A green eye appears in the window. Enormous, wide, round; real. A flock of hazel hair curtains it briefly, before pushed aside by titanic fingers.

“Now how did you wake up?” a childish voice booms through my home, shaking my brain, vibrating my eyes. I grip my head and clench my teeth. “I guess I’ll have to put you back to sleep, won’t I?”

The ceiling, roof is torn away and there’s a giant looming over everything, and his monstrous fingers are reaching for me and oh God—

Read my previous prompt, “The Extra Room

Read more of my writing prompts here.

Check out my bibliography for more of my work.

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