Just Write (Tuesday): real


This week’s Just Write prompt is ‘real’. It’s definition can be found in the side-bar until the next prompt comes along. And yes, I know it’s not Monday, but… oh well! My take on this exercise is…

Mandy wanders, dazed, up and down the streets. Have I been here before?

Her head is pounding and she doesn’t know why; her arms and legs feel like lead. There is something inserted in the crook of her arm, but she has no idea what it is or why it is there.

Mandy stumbles on the road and falls, grazing her knee. Huh. It’s bleeding… What am I doing down here on the ground? She stands again and starts drifting to the opposite side of the street. Where am I? Oh god, I need a hit.

A car drives near, the driver purposely not looking at her weaving haphazardly across the road. Mandy stares impassively at the BMW as it soars past her. Prick. Why didn’t he stop? Doesn’t he know I need a hit? Jesus, what am I doing here? She bends, nearly falling over, and picks up a rock to throw at the fancy car, but it is no longer there. Huh. Didn’t think he was driving that fast. Must have gone around a corner… but there aren’t any intersections here. Whatever.

She spots a bloke walking towards her, so she calls out, “Hey man! You got something I can have? Got anything?”

He ignores her pleas, and the closer they become the more abusive Mandy grows, “Hey fucker! Whatcha ignoring me for? I’m asking you a question!”

They come level in the street as they walk past one another and Mandy punches an arm out sideways. What the hell? They were close enough she should have hit him. Mandy spins on her heel but no one is there. Shit. Where’d he go? She continues to spin around and around until she falls onto the bitumen again, blood now pouring freely from both knees. Giddily, Mandy stands, her greasy hair falling over her eyes. What’s going on? Is anything even real? What am I doing here?

Another car comes, but from behind this time. Well, I’ll see if it’s real this time!

Sylvia gazes at the woman at she drives closer, wondering where she has seen her before. Her appearance is familiar somehow. As she is gathering her thoughts together, trying to place the woman that is swerving on the footpath, her phone rings. Sylvia glances down at the lit-up screen in her cup holder and as she does, there is an awful thump at the front of her car.

She stops frantically, throwing her door open before she bounds out of her seat, heart thumping. Where did that woman go?

She runs to the front of her car and her stomach heaves as she spots an arm with what can only be described as claw-like marks up and down it, and also a cannula that hasn’t been removed, hanging out from beneath her RAV4.

With her phone still ringing insistently in the background, it is at this moment that Sylvia suddenly remembers where she had seen this woman before. On the morning news her profile was displayed as the reporter spoke:

 “Twenty-five year old woman, Amanda O’Connor, has been reported as missing from Inlet Hospital. She was admitted yesterday at 11.30am after being found by a cleaner at a hostel she was staying in. Sources say Ms. O’Connor is suffering from an ice addiction and corresponding hallucinations. If you see her please contact your local police.”


What do you think?

Review it in the comments section and feel free to put in your own take on ‘real’ as a writing prompt. Happy writing!

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