WritingMyPrompt

  I feel like Alice, falling down the rabbit holes. My words echoing all around. Waiting for the fall to end. The ground to hit me.   Knowing that the girl who fell and the girl who falls are not the same. She was innocent, I am angry. She was silent, I am screaming. She had pain. I have rage. --- This piece was written by Meg Webb (She/her) Read more of her work  here.

 Right here, right now this is my stage. To share with you all of my rage, rage fucking rage. My rage is because my body is a topic, it almost feels like it doesn't belong to me. Everyone seems to have an opinion, too fat, not pretty, she must be lazy. Fuck you, that's not the real me, but you see what you want to see. I live for me, and only me. My rage is for my period, for wanting it to stop. I don't want children, but I am told what if? I shouldn't need a reason,  I shouldn't need an excuse. Don't project your ideals onto me, for my life is happily childfree. My rage is for men's opinions on abortions, you don't have a vagina, you don't get to talk here. "But a bloke should have a say?" Why should a woman give birth if she doesn't want to, spill your sperm somewhere else, a child shouldn't be left to be a woman's burden. Just say you hate women and move along. I rage because as a lesbian I am not taking seriously, apparently...

  Thank you to everyone who submitted to July's Prompt! You guys did amazing! This month's prompt is 'Rage, Rage, Fucking Rage!' Interpret that how you will! We will be sharing submissions gradually throughout the month so please keep coming back to take a look. The deadline for your submission is the last Friday of the month! If you are unsure of how to submit here are the guidlines .

 I look back at my life and by god, I don't know how I did it. Survived I mean. My life hasn't been easy. I was raised by spies you see, I say raised that isn't quite true. They just happened to be my parents, I was actually raised by a distant aunt that was once removed from the family. Having spies as parents wasnot as fun as it may sound. I never really saw them, maybe once a month if that, the longest I went without seeing them was 8 months. They'd send postcards but I doubt they were real. After all, spies were never supposed to give up their location. They lived and breathed for their jobs until they didn't. They died tragically on the hardest mission of their lives, as a teenager at the time they didn't tell me this just that it was an accident. I found out much later. I was their legacy and I too had become a spy, it was the law. At the age of sixteen I started my training, it was rigorous and hard. I didn't have a choice, I didn't exactly hate i...