One of our very favorite features on Band of Dystopian is the Writing Prompt, and many of our members love it as well! We’re a bit behind on posting winners, so we’re going to get caught up over the next few days.

This prompt was back on December 5th and we actually ruled it as a tie! Here is the original photo and prompt. The intro to the prompt read, “I couldn’t believe my eyes. And worse, no one else reacted at all. They all still saw the beautiful brunette I saw moments ago.”

Caroline Gill’s winning entry:

“Edna!” I couldn’t believe my eyes. And worse, no one else reacted at all. They all still saw the beautiful brunette I saw moments ago. “Edna!” I whispered, raising my second eyebrow.

Flustered, she quickly adjusted the force field. “We don’t have time for sloppiness!” I grumped.”Target spotted. Ahead. By the side door.” Turning her compound eyes around the restaurant, Edna focused. Then she jumped across three tables.

Loudly, I stood up and yelled, “Drinks all around!” in the most jovial manner. Commotion surrounded the bar as everyone demanded refills. Swiping one cocktail off the corner, I slurped at the sugar water with the strange cherry taste. I preferred the honest scent of latrines. Lifting my glass high, I toasted the bar, the bar owner, the patrons and the American way of life. Everyone was jovial. Everyone was laughing.

In the backcorner, Edna and the scientist grappled. Her eyes saw everything. And she had strength on her side. But the scientist was clever, far more so. From his pocket, the crazed man drew pepper spray. Full in the face, he unloaded the poison directly at Edna’s eyes.

She was down. “What a waste,” I muttered. Shouting out “Should old acquaintance be forgot, and never brought to mind? Should old acquaintance be forgot, and old lang syne?”

Gathering all the tipsy people together, we proudly sang the chorus. I thanked the Gods we were hunting in Chicago. Quietly, I pushed my way to the back. Crept up on the asshole scientist and knocked him hard with my beer bottle on the back of his head. He went down. I stomped repeatedly on his neck. His brains started to stick to my boots. I guess I should have cared. He did create us.

But Edna and I, we had plans.

Author John Gregory Hancock’s winning entry: 

I couldn’t believe my eyes. And worse, no one else reacted at all. They all still saw the beautiful brunette I saw moments ago. But of course they would. It’s the way this thing works. The way it’s always worked. The way it’s always worked against me.

I’m not saying God hates me, though he very well might. I’m saying he is amused by the outrageous things that happen to me. He might even cause them directly.

At the very least, he is amused my suffering. This is my conclusion because my suffering keeps happening. If not him, then who?

So there I am, in the Electroclub that so hip no one can get in, unless they’re like me and work there, or they’re not like me and are somebody important. I work the lights. They’re in the floor and the walls, every square inch, and it requires constant maintenance. Everyone else was watching my light show in pulsing in patterns around the dance floor.

I was the only one looking directly at her when she shifted.

From a person to a thing. Alien, I think. Or maybe demonic. That would be about right. God sending a demon after me.

I waved at her, and she shyly waved back, apparently believing she still appeared human to me, like she did to everyone else.

“Hi,” she said, as if she were innocent.

“Got no time for demons,” I said. I looked up at the ceiling. “You hear me, God? I got no time!”

She started to look worried. She looked at me as if I were crazy. She was right to. God made me this crazy.

Luckily a silver knife will kill a demon. At the base of the neck.

As she died, with the techno music drowning out her words, I heard her say, “I’m your sister.”