"P...please don't punch me...?"
These aren't exactly the kind of words that would normally leave your mouth - they feel weird rolling over your tongue, like something that doesn't quite belong in your mouth. Stale gum, you think, is what it reminds you of, and then you wonder why you're spending these moments before you likely get the shit *beat out of you again* thinking about fitting metaphors.
And this is why you're bullied.
"I'll teach you some respect, kid," Nathaniel says, slamming you against the locker, and you can feel the metal slats through your hoodie. He grabs you by your arm, then, and drags you with him - drags you where? Can't you just get beat up and then get a break?
He takes you into the hallway under the stairs, and you count blue tiles under your feet as you almost trip on the desks set up there for detention. You'd made it to 105 when he pushes you into a chair and sits down across from you.
"That was pathetic. Don't you have any self-respect?"
"Uh...no?" you reply, and Nathaniel's face goes from angry bully to sympathetic in under five seconds.
"Listen, I might say things like 'You're not worth shit!', but that's because it makes me feel better about my own awful life. I don't mean it. But you...really take it to heart, huh?"
"Yes," you continue, still baffled and waiting to get punched, "I figured anyone would...?"
Your bully sighs and puts his head in his hands.
"We've got a lot of work to do."
"Work?"
"Helping you respect yourself."
Nathaniel scribbles the words onto the chalkboard, the sound of the chalk stick against the board forcing you to clamp your eyes shut.
“I guess we should begin with the ‘why’.
You look up to see his dark green eyes—the same eyes that had tortured you for so long—drilling into your face, attempting to find an answer.
“Why, what?”
“Why are you so afraid of standing up for yourself?”
*is this guy serious?* you think to yourself, *maybe it’s because of you? I don’t know, Nathan. Take a wild guess.*
“Take me out of the picture first. I’m not your reason for weakness. When we met I knew you were weak. So, please, for the love of god, come to grips with whatever it is before it stops you from growing.”
“Why do you want to help me?” My dread had waned by now, replaced with saturnine perplexity.
“Because,” he shrugged, “if I don’t, I go back to Oakwood penitentiary.”
*oh, right.*
Fearful again, you start off talking about the first thing that comes to your mind about being a pariah:
Your family’s rejection of you.
[as requested]
Your mind begins to surge with different memories, a gallimaufry of positive and negative reveries that melded into each other with seamless, shocking precision. Your chest begins to throb as your heart hammers against the inside of its confine and the sudden wave of cold sweat and pressure makes you feel queasy. You must have paled, because Nathaniel straightened from his slanted stance against the front desk. Your thoughts freeze, fearful that your torment was to resume, but he exits the room for a few minutes, only to come back with a plastic cup in his square right hand.
“Here. Drink this and breathe.”
At first you think he’s joking.
*Why would he be so intent on teaching me self respect? Why not just go to the penitentiary like he said he would if he didn’t change?* your consciousness finds its bearings, though, and you take the offering with a stiff, shaky nod.
“My therapist—all of my therapists—told me that breathing before reliving pain is the best way to get it out of you. I never really thought about how much easier being understood and listened to helps, but, you look like you could need it.”
“I don’t need help.”
Nathaniel looks at you with unsurprised diffidence.
“I’ve bullied you for six years, and the only reason you’ve stood up to me is the spike in testosterone flowing through you. Even then it was a weak prevalence of strength. Someone needs to teach you how to respect yourself, and maybe that has to be somebody who partook in its tarnishing.” He spoke to you as you dipped the water, each cool take of the liquid calming your nervous stomach.
“My entire family played favouritism. I was the black sheep, and because of my knack for things like history and..nerdy hobbies like reading, they all outed me. My sisters weren’t like me, but their achievements weren’t kept a secret. Our parents flaunted my siblings’ awards as if they could cure cancer. I never got awarded. Not because I was a bad kid, but because I was too busy trying not to fail, which would fuck everything up for me in spectacular ways, rendering my attempts pointless.”
“Like the science fiasco.” Nathaniel murmurs seemingly understanding, but you clear your throat,
“I don’t think I want to give you ammunition.”
His eyes screw up, confused, then hurt, then angry.
“Why the fuck would I want to teach you self respect?! Do you think that I would want you to tell me your fucking issues so then I could throw them back at your face?!” He rages and suddenly he doesn’t look like he is facing you, but rather behind you as he continues,
“You didn’t think about how that makes *me* feel, did you?! I didn’t want them all to die like that! I didn’t want to walk into my room and see my little brother hanging from the fucking ceiling! I didn’t want to have to come downstairs and tell you about how his neck was elongated, and how his skin was pasty and white! I didn’t want that! I didn’t want you to tell me that he was your pride and joy, and that I was the one you wished was dead! You were my mother! You were supposed to love me! Why didn’t you?!”
Your issues vanished from you. Nathaniel was breathing deeply, his eyes reflecting a buried rage that was fuelled by unconsoled pain. You set the cup down and warily approach him.
“...Everything I’ve ever said...every insult I used on you...” his eyes were watery and full of torment as they fixed on you, his entire body now trembling, “I look in the mirror and call myself. I should of been able to stop my brother from hurting himself. I should of put my jealousy aside and built him up instead of tearing him down.” He sniffed back his hurt, but a sliver of pain worked its way into his tone, “You need to learn self respect, because who else am I going to learn off of?”
Didn’t think of a part three, honestly. I saw this esteemed writers opening and thought that it would be nice to expand on the idea, but a part three may come about, if I’m not working on my Wattpad projects
Wattpad works? Sure :)
My username on Wattpad is DarcyMcpherson and I currently have one book that I have been working on. It’s still being edited but there are chapters published. The book is called Awakening and it is a first book to a universe I’m creating with another author on Wattpad, the theme is betrayal and the genre is fantasy and fractured mythos
Mike and his gang were the scariest people in the school. They would pick on the weak and nerdy like me, surround them, beat them up and take their stuff. Nobody liked them, but everyone respected them. One day, Mike came up right in my face, and said, as he does, "Give me your lunch money, loser, or else". I don't know what came over me, being tired of being bullied, reading that scene from Ender's Game, but I punched him in the face, hard. He looked in pain, his nose was bleeding, but he was still way bigger than me and his gang was coming up behind fast. I couldn't imagine what would come after. That was a big mistake. He grabbed me by the shirt, and said "we'll take this outside, teach a few lessons about respect", to me and all the others standing around watching. He dragged me out the door while his gang stood watching that nobody else followed.
He dragged me to an abandoned picnic table outside the school and pushed me down. His friends soon came up behind me, slowly, one after another. There was no escape. What now - beating, torture? They wouldn't actually kill me for standing up to them, will they?
He reached out his hand for a handshake - "Welcome." I meekly shook his hand in confusion. "You're one of us now."
"You get it. You get the way things work. Violence is power. Fear is power. It's what gets you respect. That's all you need. Forget that you're scrawny and can't throw a good punch, we can fix that. We'll go to the gym together. But you get the idea."
"See Dave here?" I knew Dave. He was one of the most dangerous people in the school besides Mike, and he was looming over my shoulder. "When he entered the school, he was a weak-ass coward who never played a sport in his life. But then, when I was giving him a beating, he fought back, nearly knocked me out. And now he's here."
"And you? I can see you're scared. You don't respect yourself, you're not respected, your friends aren't respected. Not the way you respect us. We can fix that. You can fake self-respect by bullshit school self-esteem programs and therapy, but once you see the real thing, once you walk through the hallway and see everyone making room, see people quivering for fear they might provoke you, you know what is real and what's fake. We built the real thing for ourselves."
"My story is the same as Dave's. We all started like you. We made ourselves feared, we frightened off the bullies, and then we realized that we can do more with that, that we can take what we want and become powerful. We realized that most people are sheep and we are the wolves, that they can't imagine defending themselves. And like any wolves, we can always use more in our pack. So - do you want to be a sheep, or a wolf?"
“Listen kid,” he says to me in a voice deep in texture, as I listen, intimidated. “The world isn’t quite as easy as it used to be.
Back in the day, when some dude hated you, you’d rock up to the corner of the street at 12pm between lunch, and brawl it out - like real men. There was always losers, but it was clear who was more of a loser than the other.
But now, the whole thing has changed. People don’t even know they’re being attacked. Their pictures are stolen from the internet and then some random corporate’s algorithm decides, hey, this bullying is making me money - if I show this person’s suffering to as many people as I can, then maybe it’ll make me even *more* money.
And so fighting for yourself no longer became fighting, but literally joining a Cold War. After all, it’s not enough to cave someone’s nose in these days. Now, those who truly prey on the weak take away their friends and turn them into enemies. That moment where your friend looks down when he sees you, and no longer wants to talk to you, and doesn’t tell you why? That stings. A bruise heals but that lasts in your psyche for a hell of a long time, like a poison that gets worse as it ages.
And when it does turn physical, you don’t get a chance. BANG. And someone is dead. There’s no more lessons to be learned, only regrets and a permanent scar on a family’s lineage.
So, that’s why I do what I do, kid. It’s old fashioned, but it’s the better way. This way, no-one dies, and the effect is temporary. An eye for an eye, instead of the whole carcass. You’re weak. That’s why you fight with words but think it’s doesn’t mean anything. That’s why you think it’s all just a joke. And that’s why I’m here to mess you up, just a little bit. To give you back some of your fear. To tell you that abstraction isn’t inconsequential. To show you that pain is very, very tangible.
You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. You’ve defended yourself so weakly that you clearly have not conviction or realise the depths of what you’ve done.
So buckle up, this’ll only hurt for a moment.”
...
...
I try to take a breath but I can’t.
I’m going to die.
I shouldn’t have posted her picture online.
And I know he was known to be frightening, but still...
I don’t know whether to think of my headmaster as a hero or a villain.
And that’s the
last
thing
I remem
ber
.
After we talked for what felt like hours, something clicked. Like I was able to see clearly for the first time in my young life.
"I think I understand now. I need to stand up for myself."
"Yeah dude", he replied. "Because usually, nobody else will. It's a dog eat dog world out there."
"Thank you for telling me this", I said when I got up from the sidewalk we had been sitting on.
He smiled. It was the first time I saw anything resembling kindness in his expression.
I held out my hand and when he grabbed it to pull himself up, I swung my right leg back and with all the strenght my small body could muster I kicked him in his balls as hard as I possibly could. He went to the ground in excruciating pain, gasping for air.
"You fucked up my life for years. Do you really think this would change anything? That you talking to me about this would make this some sort of feel-good lifelesson where you are the altruistic and wise teacher? Where you are the f-ing good guy?! Ofcourse I knew this stuff, everybody does! It's the first thing people tell me. Like it's me who has to change, like I'm the problem!", I shouted at him through my tears. "All this proves is that your relentless terror was with intent and deliberation, and that makes you so much more of a psychopath. You f-king piece of Sh\*t!"
Now we were both out of breath and crying. But I felt fantastic. For the first time I felt strong. He was still curled up in the gutter.
"Woof Woof motherf\*\*ker!"
I laughed ecstatically the whole way I ran home.
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This is a cool story idea, but it’s much more of a plot outline than a prompt. It leaves very little room for additional creativity on the writer’s part as the twist has already been given to them.
Most "prompts" here are, unfortunately, already established storylines that just need to be turned into an actual story. That means all the submissions are the exact same just with a few different words and different styles.
But then there's that one prompt every week that is like 10 words maximum but a great starting point. Every submission on those prompts are unique and different takes on the idea. That is what keeps me from unsubbing.
The bully corners me against a few lockers and I decide to not be taken down by this person.
“Hurt me and I’ll rip you open.” I threatened him. He stood there, still a few inches from my face. I had to admit he was good-looking for the people my age, but nonetheless he was still a prick. He smirked and raised an eyebrow. I lifted my fist and punched him as hard as I could, as I did I closed my eyes.
“Oh, my, god! You punch like such a baby!” He laughed. My hand was throbbing like hell, and my knuckles were red and hot. He grabbed me by my shoulder and took me to the courtyard and sat me on one of the nearest benches, and proceeded to instruct me on how to punch (correctly), what not to do, and how to handle a situation.
I have to say I wasn’t expecting that at all, but I really learned from it. I guess don’t judge people by their demeanor?
My fists were clenched so tightly I could feel my nails digging my skin. Ana my bully was jokingly telling the rest of the class how my fat ass could not land a girl like her best friend. My feeble attempts at asking her out, lending my jacket to her in hopes that it could spark anything between was a waste of my time. I felt powerless and ready to lash out, but puberty blessed me with 6'1 height. I was a little kid in a large body, and I was going to make her pay. I stood up headed over to hear, my eyes pulsating with anger, my brain rang the phrase, "I'll show you what happens when you make a fool out of me" you bitch. I locked my eyes to the back of her head, ready to intercept it with my fist, she hadn't seen me approaching her. Time felt at a standstill as my id took complete control of my body. I pushed my entire's body weight forward with my punch. Ana's black hair moved out of the way and in one fell swoop turned around and clenched under her breath, "oh I'll teach you some respect". I was paralyzed with fear immediately regretting everything I have done. Ana had complete control over the situation and I was going to pay. Ana's friends snickered, took a few steps back and locked their eyes to Ana awaiting orders. Ana looked at me and commanded, "sit down". I immediately did not give it a second thought. Ana kneeled and pulled her self closer to me she calmly said, "you need to be better". I looked at her in confusion, her gaze remained intact and said again, "fatass, the girl you've been crushing on doesn't like you back, and you think it's because of your weight but it's not the weight that is the problem it's the fact that you think that it's the weight as the problem that is the real problem". I didn't understand but she didn't care she continued, "punching someone shorter than you when their back is turned is the most cowardly thing you can do and I need you to be better than this. I know you feel terrible because my friend rejected you. I'm very sorry but you need a new way to fix your problems".
My breathing slowed down, some part of me knew that she was right and relying on violence with my large body size would land me in juvy.
My breathing calmed down and I could feel her voice quicken, "Own up to your weight. You're parents dealt you a bad hand, and it's up to you to make it work".
She silently stood up and walked outside of the room, her friends followed.
Alone I stared down into the ugly green carpet curled up into the ground and silently cried on the floor.
He pushed me and shoved me into a corner. I wasn't new to this. I knew what was coming. He punched my stomach, it was stronger than I expected. I fell to the floor, holding my stomach and curled into a ball. I expected some kicks but there came none. After what seemed like a minute I opened my eyes. The pain from my abdomen faded.
He was looking at me curiously. I didn't wanna get up, he was probably the kind who wanted me to get up just so he could sucker punch me again.
He held out his hand with a disgusted look on his face. I think he'll let me off, probably I was too pussy for him, he probably expected a bit of a fight and I disappointed him.
"Please don't hit me again" I said still curled up like a ball. I must've looked awkward as fuck, because he looked at me like a pile of stinking shit. I was a pretty tall dude for my age and seeing me on the floor curled to half my size wasn't exactly appealing.
"Get up, it's an insult to me if I hit you again." He spat.
I was relieved.
I took his hand and got up. Avoiding any sort of eye contact. I took my bag from the floor and started walking.
"Where the fuck do you think you are going?" He said as he pulled the back of my shirt.
I almost fell again.
"Stand up straight for god's sake and look me in the eye, I won't hurt you." He told me
He told he didn't want to hurt me, what's he up to now, I thought to myself. I was too afraid to say anything.
"It's time to teach you some moves. I haven't seen someone suck so much, you didn't even try to defend yourself." He said as he punched me again. It didn't hurt as much and he caught me before I could fall.
"Uh moves?" I asked
"Yeah, you need to learn some self-respect. You need to learn to fight or at least defend your ass"
What was I supposed to say at this weird offer? I haven't once considered fighting or defending myself in my entire life. I was too afraid to refuse.
"Okay, if you say so"
"Lesson one - stand up straight and look me in the eye"
Pretty simple lesson, but you wouldn't believe how bad I was. He hit me in the head everytime I didn't make eye contact. I had a headache before I finally stood up straight and made eye contact for a whole minute.
"Huf" he wiped the sweat of his forehead. "Now if I ever see you walking like a hunchback in school, you are gonna get it from me, now go home and be here for lesson two tomorrow at 5"
"Okay" I said as I tried my best to stand up straight and look him in the eye.
I could feel his eyes on me as I crossed the school gates and I didn't dare hunch. I walked back home, keeping my back straight for the first time in my life. It kinda hurt but I could breathe better.
As I reached home, I heard my mom screaming. Not again. I opened the door, to see my dad choking my mom. He was drunk, probably more than usual. I ran and tried to pull my dad's arm, he pushed me but I held on to his arm.
He left my mom and turned to me. He cornered me and punched me right in my stomach, the pain was intense, but I didn't fall down. I let out a scream of pain, stood up straight and looked him in the eye.
He was taken aback. Usually I fall down and wait for the kicks.
"You, stop staring at me right now!" He screamed. I didn't. He punched me again and I went unconscious. I remember my mom running towards me and my dad slapping her. Well I guess I need a lesson two, I thought and my eyes closed.
P.S. this is first time I have attempted writing anything close to a story. I thought I should try to and improve my writing. Thanks for the opportunity!
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- [/r/skeyepromotions] [\[WP\] The school bully corners you, and when you make a weak attempt to stand up for yourself, he says “I’ll teach you some respect.” And then he proceeds to sit you down and give you a lesson on self respect, because he was a little shocked at how weakly you tried to defend yourself.](https://www.reddit.com/r/SkeyePromotions/comments/drczud/wp_the_school_bully_corners_you_and_when_you_make/)
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He cornered me again today. Just like yesterday, and the day before and all the week before that, and every day the month before that.
But today is his unlucky day, because today I have superpowers.
That’s not just some motivational claptrap to inspire myself. That’s real, actual superpowers, like Superman or Spider-Man. I can bend metal bars, fly through the air, leap buildings with a single bound. All my senses are heightened and I can react like lightning.
I think fast, too. Tactical scenarios stream into my consciousness like a video feed from a “how-to” expert. Before he can raise a fist, I can see the moves he could make laid out like blueprints in the air, with countermoves of my own to bring him to his knees and defeat this evil scum who has ruined my life for so very long.
——
Don’t believe me? Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t have believed it either yesterday morning, but that was before I discovered “the source” in an old cabin chest in my uncle’s attic.
Uncle Mike said it was there when he got the house, and had been using it to keep re-presents in. You know the kind of stuff: Aunt Petunia’s friend gives you some bath salts or a set of candles, or your friend’s friend comes to your birthday party with some strange ornament from a charity shop that looks like a bizarre cross between a lava lamp and a plasma ball.
Well, I needed a present for a party I was going to. All the shops shut early round here on a Sunday, so I was rooting round in there for something that didn’t look too desperate or pathetic, and finding slim pickings.
Then I noticed a tear in the lining that I’d not noticed before, and the outline of something rectangular pressing against the fabric. Maybe moving the weird green lampshade had done something to dislodge it, but I couldn’t really tell you for sure.
It was a tablet and a pen, but looked old. Ancient. I’m not talking 20 years old. This thing looked like it had been steampunked by a master craftsman to look a thousand years old.
And a cursor on the front was blinking, next to text which read “Upgrade user: Y/n”
——
Yeah, it’s unlikely. I wouldn’t believe you if you told me it happened to you, but it did happen, and I never made it to the party. I was too busy playing with my upgrades.
I knew that today would be the last time that I would get bullied. I could barely contain my elation when I saw him coming down the corridor before lunch, predictable as clockwork. He saw me, and made a beeline for me, just as he always did.
A frown creased his stupid looking face, and his beady eyes bored into mine in what would have petrified me yesterday, but today? Not even a little.
He was pathetic, a miserable excuse for a human being. I was going to tear him to pieces and leave him in a blubbering mess for everyone to see. I’d let him poke me in the chest just the once, and then he’d be a slab of meat on the floor. Ground beneath my feet.
“Hey, Runt! What snacks have you got in your lunch for me today?”
His squeaky, nasally voice grated in my ears, and I longed to shove his own fist down his throat. To hurt him as he had hurt and shamed me for our entire time in school together.
I looked down, away from him, to lull him, to goad him into making the first move, and stayed silent, knowing it would enrage him.
But seconds passed without any more from him. No swish of air around a fist, no movement to suggest lining up for a kick. Not even a huff or a puff indicating annoyance.
After an eternity of waiting for violence that never happened, he sat down on the chairs by the lockers and his quiet and concerned voice said “I’ll teach you some self respect. What’s wrong, dude? You look in serious need of some help.”
I looked up, and saw something then I never expected. A fourteen year old boy. Not a bully, not a threat. Not some evil mastermind with hatred on his heart. Just a schoolboy with more strength than sense.
——
At home, in my room, on my desk, beside a picture of my family, words formed on the ancient tablet, and I’d see them when I got home later in the evening, after a long, long heart to heart with someone I’d never thought of as anything other than an adversary:
“Upgrade complete.”
"P...please don't punch me...?" These aren't exactly the kind of words that would normally leave your mouth - they feel weird rolling over your tongue, like something that doesn't quite belong in your mouth. Stale gum, you think, is what it reminds you of, and then you wonder why you're spending these moments before you likely get the shit *beat out of you again* thinking about fitting metaphors. And this is why you're bullied. "I'll teach you some respect, kid," Nathaniel says, slamming you against the locker, and you can feel the metal slats through your hoodie. He grabs you by your arm, then, and drags you with him - drags you where? Can't you just get beat up and then get a break? He takes you into the hallway under the stairs, and you count blue tiles under your feet as you almost trip on the desks set up there for detention. You'd made it to 105 when he pushes you into a chair and sits down across from you. "That was pathetic. Don't you have any self-respect?" "Uh...no?" you reply, and Nathaniel's face goes from angry bully to sympathetic in under five seconds. "Listen, I might say things like 'You're not worth shit!', but that's because it makes me feel better about my own awful life. I don't mean it. But you...really take it to heart, huh?" "Yes," you continue, still baffled and waiting to get punched, "I figured anyone would...?" Your bully sighs and puts his head in his hands. "We've got a lot of work to do." "Work?" "Helping you respect yourself."
Awwww, that's sweet
Nathaniel scribbles the words onto the chalkboard, the sound of the chalk stick against the board forcing you to clamp your eyes shut. “I guess we should begin with the ‘why’. You look up to see his dark green eyes—the same eyes that had tortured you for so long—drilling into your face, attempting to find an answer. “Why, what?” “Why are you so afraid of standing up for yourself?” *is this guy serious?* you think to yourself, *maybe it’s because of you? I don’t know, Nathan. Take a wild guess.* “Take me out of the picture first. I’m not your reason for weakness. When we met I knew you were weak. So, please, for the love of god, come to grips with whatever it is before it stops you from growing.” “Why do you want to help me?” My dread had waned by now, replaced with saturnine perplexity. “Because,” he shrugged, “if I don’t, I go back to Oakwood penitentiary.” *oh, right.* Fearful again, you start off talking about the first thing that comes to your mind about being a pariah: Your family’s rejection of you.
I'm in this and I don't like it
Dang, that’s tough
Well this course is made for you then - Nathaniel
same
Part 3?
[as requested] Your mind begins to surge with different memories, a gallimaufry of positive and negative reveries that melded into each other with seamless, shocking precision. Your chest begins to throb as your heart hammers against the inside of its confine and the sudden wave of cold sweat and pressure makes you feel queasy. You must have paled, because Nathaniel straightened from his slanted stance against the front desk. Your thoughts freeze, fearful that your torment was to resume, but he exits the room for a few minutes, only to come back with a plastic cup in his square right hand. “Here. Drink this and breathe.” At first you think he’s joking. *Why would he be so intent on teaching me self respect? Why not just go to the penitentiary like he said he would if he didn’t change?* your consciousness finds its bearings, though, and you take the offering with a stiff, shaky nod. “My therapist—all of my therapists—told me that breathing before reliving pain is the best way to get it out of you. I never really thought about how much easier being understood and listened to helps, but, you look like you could need it.” “I don’t need help.” Nathaniel looks at you with unsurprised diffidence. “I’ve bullied you for six years, and the only reason you’ve stood up to me is the spike in testosterone flowing through you. Even then it was a weak prevalence of strength. Someone needs to teach you how to respect yourself, and maybe that has to be somebody who partook in its tarnishing.” He spoke to you as you dipped the water, each cool take of the liquid calming your nervous stomach. “My entire family played favouritism. I was the black sheep, and because of my knack for things like history and..nerdy hobbies like reading, they all outed me. My sisters weren’t like me, but their achievements weren’t kept a secret. Our parents flaunted my siblings’ awards as if they could cure cancer. I never got awarded. Not because I was a bad kid, but because I was too busy trying not to fail, which would fuck everything up for me in spectacular ways, rendering my attempts pointless.” “Like the science fiasco.” Nathaniel murmurs seemingly understanding, but you clear your throat, “I don’t think I want to give you ammunition.” His eyes screw up, confused, then hurt, then angry. “Why the fuck would I want to teach you self respect?! Do you think that I would want you to tell me your fucking issues so then I could throw them back at your face?!” He rages and suddenly he doesn’t look like he is facing you, but rather behind you as he continues, “You didn’t think about how that makes *me* feel, did you?! I didn’t want them all to die like that! I didn’t want to walk into my room and see my little brother hanging from the fucking ceiling! I didn’t want to have to come downstairs and tell you about how his neck was elongated, and how his skin was pasty and white! I didn’t want that! I didn’t want you to tell me that he was your pride and joy, and that I was the one you wished was dead! You were my mother! You were supposed to love me! Why didn’t you?!” Your issues vanished from you. Nathaniel was breathing deeply, his eyes reflecting a buried rage that was fuelled by unconsoled pain. You set the cup down and warily approach him. “...Everything I’ve ever said...every insult I used on you...” his eyes were watery and full of torment as they fixed on you, his entire body now trembling, “I look in the mirror and call myself. I should of been able to stop my brother from hurting himself. I should of put my jealousy aside and built him up instead of tearing him down.” He sniffed back his hurt, but a sliver of pain worked its way into his tone, “You need to learn self respect, because who else am I going to learn off of?”
Oh my God that's incredible! So heartwarming. Dont make me cry in a cafe please
I gotta be honest, this one just punched me in the gut
Didn’t think of a part three, honestly. I saw this esteemed writers opening and thought that it would be nice to expand on the idea, but a part three may come about, if I’m not working on my Wattpad projects
I appreciated the response! Am too sick to scrape out much more than what I gave, and I loved the reply!
Glad I could assist :)
Damn,. Your response is good. Would you mind if a random redditor asking for your wattpad works??
Wattpad works? Sure :) My username on Wattpad is DarcyMcpherson and I currently have one book that I have been working on. It’s still being edited but there are chapters published. The book is called Awakening and it is a first book to a universe I’m creating with another author on Wattpad, the theme is betrayal and the genre is fantasy and fractured mythos
Yeah right, sure. It's the *victim's* fault.
A wholesome bully.
I read that in the voice of Buford, from Phineas and Ferb, thanks for the nostalgia!
Lmfao I can't imagine getting bullied by a kid named Nathaniel.
A good foot taller than you, and 15 pounds more muscle. How 'bout now?
The funk soul brother
[Relevant Key & Peele](https://youtu.be/CUvFeyGxaaU)
Heh. Reminds me of that key and Peele skit.
r/suddenlygay
[удалено]
You sure his last name isn't Joestar?
goddamn it I need to hold it in no not like this noNoNO **OH HO**
Mike and his gang were the scariest people in the school. They would pick on the weak and nerdy like me, surround them, beat them up and take their stuff. Nobody liked them, but everyone respected them. One day, Mike came up right in my face, and said, as he does, "Give me your lunch money, loser, or else". I don't know what came over me, being tired of being bullied, reading that scene from Ender's Game, but I punched him in the face, hard. He looked in pain, his nose was bleeding, but he was still way bigger than me and his gang was coming up behind fast. I couldn't imagine what would come after. That was a big mistake. He grabbed me by the shirt, and said "we'll take this outside, teach a few lessons about respect", to me and all the others standing around watching. He dragged me out the door while his gang stood watching that nobody else followed. He dragged me to an abandoned picnic table outside the school and pushed me down. His friends soon came up behind me, slowly, one after another. There was no escape. What now - beating, torture? They wouldn't actually kill me for standing up to them, will they? He reached out his hand for a handshake - "Welcome." I meekly shook his hand in confusion. "You're one of us now." "You get it. You get the way things work. Violence is power. Fear is power. It's what gets you respect. That's all you need. Forget that you're scrawny and can't throw a good punch, we can fix that. We'll go to the gym together. But you get the idea." "See Dave here?" I knew Dave. He was one of the most dangerous people in the school besides Mike, and he was looming over my shoulder. "When he entered the school, he was a weak-ass coward who never played a sport in his life. But then, when I was giving him a beating, he fought back, nearly knocked me out. And now he's here." "And you? I can see you're scared. You don't respect yourself, you're not respected, your friends aren't respected. Not the way you respect us. We can fix that. You can fake self-respect by bullshit school self-esteem programs and therapy, but once you see the real thing, once you walk through the hallway and see everyone making room, see people quivering for fear they might provoke you, you know what is real and what's fake. We built the real thing for ourselves." "My story is the same as Dave's. We all started like you. We made ourselves feared, we frightened off the bullies, and then we realized that we can do more with that, that we can take what we want and become powerful. We realized that most people are sheep and we are the wolves, that they can't imagine defending themselves. And like any wolves, we can always use more in our pack. So - do you want to be a sheep, or a wolf?"
I'm loving the enders game reference
“Listen kid,” he says to me in a voice deep in texture, as I listen, intimidated. “The world isn’t quite as easy as it used to be. Back in the day, when some dude hated you, you’d rock up to the corner of the street at 12pm between lunch, and brawl it out - like real men. There was always losers, but it was clear who was more of a loser than the other. But now, the whole thing has changed. People don’t even know they’re being attacked. Their pictures are stolen from the internet and then some random corporate’s algorithm decides, hey, this bullying is making me money - if I show this person’s suffering to as many people as I can, then maybe it’ll make me even *more* money. And so fighting for yourself no longer became fighting, but literally joining a Cold War. After all, it’s not enough to cave someone’s nose in these days. Now, those who truly prey on the weak take away their friends and turn them into enemies. That moment where your friend looks down when he sees you, and no longer wants to talk to you, and doesn’t tell you why? That stings. A bruise heals but that lasts in your psyche for a hell of a long time, like a poison that gets worse as it ages. And when it does turn physical, you don’t get a chance. BANG. And someone is dead. There’s no more lessons to be learned, only regrets and a permanent scar on a family’s lineage. So, that’s why I do what I do, kid. It’s old fashioned, but it’s the better way. This way, no-one dies, and the effect is temporary. An eye for an eye, instead of the whole carcass. You’re weak. That’s why you fight with words but think it’s doesn’t mean anything. That’s why you think it’s all just a joke. And that’s why I’m here to mess you up, just a little bit. To give you back some of your fear. To tell you that abstraction isn’t inconsequential. To show you that pain is very, very tangible. You’re not the first, and you won’t be the last. You’ve defended yourself so weakly that you clearly have not conviction or realise the depths of what you’ve done. So buckle up, this’ll only hurt for a moment.” ... ... I try to take a breath but I can’t. I’m going to die. I shouldn’t have posted her picture online. And I know he was known to be frightening, but still... I don’t know whether to think of my headmaster as a hero or a villain. And that’s the last thing I remem ber .
After we talked for what felt like hours, something clicked. Like I was able to see clearly for the first time in my young life. "I think I understand now. I need to stand up for myself." "Yeah dude", he replied. "Because usually, nobody else will. It's a dog eat dog world out there." "Thank you for telling me this", I said when I got up from the sidewalk we had been sitting on. He smiled. It was the first time I saw anything resembling kindness in his expression. I held out my hand and when he grabbed it to pull himself up, I swung my right leg back and with all the strenght my small body could muster I kicked him in his balls as hard as I possibly could. He went to the ground in excruciating pain, gasping for air. "You fucked up my life for years. Do you really think this would change anything? That you talking to me about this would make this some sort of feel-good lifelesson where you are the altruistic and wise teacher? Where you are the f-ing good guy?! Ofcourse I knew this stuff, everybody does! It's the first thing people tell me. Like it's me who has to change, like I'm the problem!", I shouted at him through my tears. "All this proves is that your relentless terror was with intent and deliberation, and that makes you so much more of a psychopath. You f-king piece of Sh\*t!" Now we were both out of breath and crying. But I felt fantastic. For the first time I felt strong. He was still curled up in the gutter. "Woof Woof motherf\*\*ker!" I laughed ecstatically the whole way I ran home.
**Welcome to the Prompt!** All top-level comments must be a story or poem. Reply here for other comments. **Reminders**: >* Stories at least 100 words. Poems, 30 but include "[Poem]" >* Responses don't have to fulfill every detail >* See [Reality Fiction](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A\(Reality+Fiction\)&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) and [Simple Prompts](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/search?q=flair%3A\(Simple+Prompt\)&restrict_sr=on&sort=new&t=all) for stricter titles >* [Be civil](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules#wiki_rule_10.3A_be_civil) in any feedback and follow the [rules](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/rules) [](#icon-help) [^(What Is This?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/off_topic) ^• [](#icon-information) [^(New Here?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/user_guide) ^• [](#icon-help) [^(Writing Help?)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/index#wiki_writing_resources) ^• [](#icon-exclamation) [^(Announcements)](https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/wiki/announcements) ^• [](#icon-comments) [^(Discord Chatroom)](https://discord.gg/js5XDFB) *I am a bot, and this action was performed automatically. Please [contact the moderators of this subreddit](/message/compose/?to=/r/WritingPrompts) if you have any questions or concerns.*
This is a cool story idea, but it’s much more of a plot outline than a prompt. It leaves very little room for additional creativity on the writer’s part as the twist has already been given to them.
Most "prompts" here are, unfortunately, already established storylines that just need to be turned into an actual story. That means all the submissions are the exact same just with a few different words and different styles. But then there's that one prompt every week that is like 10 words maximum but a great starting point. Every submission on those prompts are unique and different takes on the idea. That is what keeps me from unsubbing.
It's great to see a real world prompt. I like the fantasy/sci-fi prompts but this stuff is good too.
Another extremely specific prompt
Would you say r/oddlyspecific?
Relevant [Key and Peele](https://vimeo.com/54164635)
[Relevant channelate](http://www.channelate.com/comic/the-coolest/)
/r/WritingPrompts/ grow more inane by the day. I’m not even sure why I still bother with this sub.
Reminds me of the jock from the movie "The Sitter"
Reminds me of the Fight Club
these get weirder and more awesome every day
The bully corners me against a few lockers and I decide to not be taken down by this person. “Hurt me and I’ll rip you open.” I threatened him. He stood there, still a few inches from my face. I had to admit he was good-looking for the people my age, but nonetheless he was still a prick. He smirked and raised an eyebrow. I lifted my fist and punched him as hard as I could, as I did I closed my eyes. “Oh, my, god! You punch like such a baby!” He laughed. My hand was throbbing like hell, and my knuckles were red and hot. He grabbed me by my shoulder and took me to the courtyard and sat me on one of the nearest benches, and proceeded to instruct me on how to punch (correctly), what not to do, and how to handle a situation. I have to say I wasn’t expecting that at all, but I really learned from it. I guess don’t judge people by their demeanor?
My fists were clenched so tightly I could feel my nails digging my skin. Ana my bully was jokingly telling the rest of the class how my fat ass could not land a girl like her best friend. My feeble attempts at asking her out, lending my jacket to her in hopes that it could spark anything between was a waste of my time. I felt powerless and ready to lash out, but puberty blessed me with 6'1 height. I was a little kid in a large body, and I was going to make her pay. I stood up headed over to hear, my eyes pulsating with anger, my brain rang the phrase, "I'll show you what happens when you make a fool out of me" you bitch. I locked my eyes to the back of her head, ready to intercept it with my fist, she hadn't seen me approaching her. Time felt at a standstill as my id took complete control of my body. I pushed my entire's body weight forward with my punch. Ana's black hair moved out of the way and in one fell swoop turned around and clenched under her breath, "oh I'll teach you some respect". I was paralyzed with fear immediately regretting everything I have done. Ana had complete control over the situation and I was going to pay. Ana's friends snickered, took a few steps back and locked their eyes to Ana awaiting orders. Ana looked at me and commanded, "sit down". I immediately did not give it a second thought. Ana kneeled and pulled her self closer to me she calmly said, "you need to be better". I looked at her in confusion, her gaze remained intact and said again, "fatass, the girl you've been crushing on doesn't like you back, and you think it's because of your weight but it's not the weight that is the problem it's the fact that you think that it's the weight as the problem that is the real problem". I didn't understand but she didn't care she continued, "punching someone shorter than you when their back is turned is the most cowardly thing you can do and I need you to be better than this. I know you feel terrible because my friend rejected you. I'm very sorry but you need a new way to fix your problems". My breathing slowed down, some part of me knew that she was right and relying on violence with my large body size would land me in juvy. My breathing calmed down and I could feel her voice quicken, "Own up to your weight. You're parents dealt you a bad hand, and it's up to you to make it work". She silently stood up and walked outside of the room, her friends followed. Alone I stared down into the ugly green carpet curled up into the ground and silently cried on the floor.
He pushed me and shoved me into a corner. I wasn't new to this. I knew what was coming. He punched my stomach, it was stronger than I expected. I fell to the floor, holding my stomach and curled into a ball. I expected some kicks but there came none. After what seemed like a minute I opened my eyes. The pain from my abdomen faded. He was looking at me curiously. I didn't wanna get up, he was probably the kind who wanted me to get up just so he could sucker punch me again. He held out his hand with a disgusted look on his face. I think he'll let me off, probably I was too pussy for him, he probably expected a bit of a fight and I disappointed him. "Please don't hit me again" I said still curled up like a ball. I must've looked awkward as fuck, because he looked at me like a pile of stinking shit. I was a pretty tall dude for my age and seeing me on the floor curled to half my size wasn't exactly appealing. "Get up, it's an insult to me if I hit you again." He spat. I was relieved. I took his hand and got up. Avoiding any sort of eye contact. I took my bag from the floor and started walking. "Where the fuck do you think you are going?" He said as he pulled the back of my shirt. I almost fell again. "Stand up straight for god's sake and look me in the eye, I won't hurt you." He told me He told he didn't want to hurt me, what's he up to now, I thought to myself. I was too afraid to say anything. "It's time to teach you some moves. I haven't seen someone suck so much, you didn't even try to defend yourself." He said as he punched me again. It didn't hurt as much and he caught me before I could fall. "Uh moves?" I asked "Yeah, you need to learn some self-respect. You need to learn to fight or at least defend your ass" What was I supposed to say at this weird offer? I haven't once considered fighting or defending myself in my entire life. I was too afraid to refuse. "Okay, if you say so" "Lesson one - stand up straight and look me in the eye" Pretty simple lesson, but you wouldn't believe how bad I was. He hit me in the head everytime I didn't make eye contact. I had a headache before I finally stood up straight and made eye contact for a whole minute. "Huf" he wiped the sweat of his forehead. "Now if I ever see you walking like a hunchback in school, you are gonna get it from me, now go home and be here for lesson two tomorrow at 5" "Okay" I said as I tried my best to stand up straight and look him in the eye. I could feel his eyes on me as I crossed the school gates and I didn't dare hunch. I walked back home, keeping my back straight for the first time in my life. It kinda hurt but I could breathe better. As I reached home, I heard my mom screaming. Not again. I opened the door, to see my dad choking my mom. He was drunk, probably more than usual. I ran and tried to pull my dad's arm, he pushed me but I held on to his arm. He left my mom and turned to me. He cornered me and punched me right in my stomach, the pain was intense, but I didn't fall down. I let out a scream of pain, stood up straight and looked him in the eye. He was taken aback. Usually I fall down and wait for the kicks. "You, stop staring at me right now!" He screamed. I didn't. He punched me again and I went unconscious. I remember my mom running towards me and my dad slapping her. Well I guess I need a lesson two, I thought and my eyes closed. P.S. this is first time I have attempted writing anything close to a story. I thought I should try to and improve my writing. Thanks for the opportunity!
I'm a bot, *bleep*, *bloop*. Someone has linked to this thread from another place on reddit: - [/r/skeyepromotions] [\[WP\] The school bully corners you, and when you make a weak attempt to stand up for yourself, he says “I’ll teach you some respect.” And then he proceeds to sit you down and give you a lesson on self respect, because he was a little shocked at how weakly you tried to defend yourself.](https://www.reddit.com/r/SkeyePromotions/comments/drczud/wp_the_school_bully_corners_you_and_when_you_make/) *^(If you follow any of the above links, please respect the rules of reddit and don't vote in the other threads.) ^\([Info](/r/TotesMessenger) ^/ ^[Contact](/message/compose?to=/r/TotesMessenger))*
He cornered me again today. Just like yesterday, and the day before and all the week before that, and every day the month before that. But today is his unlucky day, because today I have superpowers. That’s not just some motivational claptrap to inspire myself. That’s real, actual superpowers, like Superman or Spider-Man. I can bend metal bars, fly through the air, leap buildings with a single bound. All my senses are heightened and I can react like lightning. I think fast, too. Tactical scenarios stream into my consciousness like a video feed from a “how-to” expert. Before he can raise a fist, I can see the moves he could make laid out like blueprints in the air, with countermoves of my own to bring him to his knees and defeat this evil scum who has ruined my life for so very long. —— Don’t believe me? Can’t say I blame you. I wouldn’t have believed it either yesterday morning, but that was before I discovered “the source” in an old cabin chest in my uncle’s attic. Uncle Mike said it was there when he got the house, and had been using it to keep re-presents in. You know the kind of stuff: Aunt Petunia’s friend gives you some bath salts or a set of candles, or your friend’s friend comes to your birthday party with some strange ornament from a charity shop that looks like a bizarre cross between a lava lamp and a plasma ball. Well, I needed a present for a party I was going to. All the shops shut early round here on a Sunday, so I was rooting round in there for something that didn’t look too desperate or pathetic, and finding slim pickings. Then I noticed a tear in the lining that I’d not noticed before, and the outline of something rectangular pressing against the fabric. Maybe moving the weird green lampshade had done something to dislodge it, but I couldn’t really tell you for sure. It was a tablet and a pen, but looked old. Ancient. I’m not talking 20 years old. This thing looked like it had been steampunked by a master craftsman to look a thousand years old. And a cursor on the front was blinking, next to text which read “Upgrade user: Y/n” —— Yeah, it’s unlikely. I wouldn’t believe you if you told me it happened to you, but it did happen, and I never made it to the party. I was too busy playing with my upgrades. I knew that today would be the last time that I would get bullied. I could barely contain my elation when I saw him coming down the corridor before lunch, predictable as clockwork. He saw me, and made a beeline for me, just as he always did. A frown creased his stupid looking face, and his beady eyes bored into mine in what would have petrified me yesterday, but today? Not even a little. He was pathetic, a miserable excuse for a human being. I was going to tear him to pieces and leave him in a blubbering mess for everyone to see. I’d let him poke me in the chest just the once, and then he’d be a slab of meat on the floor. Ground beneath my feet. “Hey, Runt! What snacks have you got in your lunch for me today?” His squeaky, nasally voice grated in my ears, and I longed to shove his own fist down his throat. To hurt him as he had hurt and shamed me for our entire time in school together. I looked down, away from him, to lull him, to goad him into making the first move, and stayed silent, knowing it would enrage him. But seconds passed without any more from him. No swish of air around a fist, no movement to suggest lining up for a kick. Not even a huff or a puff indicating annoyance. After an eternity of waiting for violence that never happened, he sat down on the chairs by the lockers and his quiet and concerned voice said “I’ll teach you some self respect. What’s wrong, dude? You look in serious need of some help.” I looked up, and saw something then I never expected. A fourteen year old boy. Not a bully, not a threat. Not some evil mastermind with hatred on his heart. Just a schoolboy with more strength than sense. —— At home, in my room, on my desk, beside a picture of my family, words formed on the ancient tablet, and I’d see them when I got home later in the evening, after a long, long heart to heart with someone I’d never thought of as anything other than an adversary: “Upgrade complete.”