Another Prompt

You have the right to be accepted everywhere as a person according to law.

Prompt: Change Article #6 of the UN declaration of human rights so that the word “person” is replaced with...

• Mosquito
• Penguin
• Truck
• Emotion ✓

Humans beings are a hormonal, emotional mess. They could not be trusted as the overlords of planet earth. Their brains were primitive, and too often they were governed by their feelings. They were so caught up in their own problems, being naturally selfish, that they didn’t listen when the earth cried out in pain from their existence.

They were greedy. Everywhere they went, they left a trail of despair and ruin. Forests that had stood for thousands of years burned to the ground. Rivers filled with oil. It wasn’t because the humans needed to feed themselves, no, they had more than enough food to go around. It was because they couldn’t satisfy the rich. Whole ecosystems crumbled at the whim of the rich.

And why were there still families who starved? Children with bloodshot eyes and jutting ribs? No matter how many trees were cut, how many lakes and rivers drained, there were always those who hungered. Always those who remained thirsty.  

This is a tale of violence, tyranny and moral corruption. What could be more human than that?

It started with a young girl. She lived in Los Angeles, a fantastic city really. Not only for Hollywood and Disney Land, but for the juxtaposition between the rich and poor. There was a stark contrast between the white, black and Hispanic communities that could be observed here. The girl’s fate was like that of most children in the world. Her parents did not deserve to be parents really, for they were rotten to the core. That’s another problem with humans. They breed like rabbits. That’s why we started sterilizing them.

Raquel started off as a bright student with a promising future. In third grade, she won the class’s spelling bee. When she got home, she was in a jolly mood. She decided to treat herself to a chocolate bar, a rare luxury that her parents normally would not allow her.

She sat on the couch eating the chocolate bar when her mother finally came home from work.

“Raquel! What the hell do you think you’re doing? You haven’t even washed the dishes. I don’t work late night shifts as a nurse for you to be on your ass eating chocolate.”

Her mother snatched away the chocolate bar. She then gave her a lecture about how Raquel would become fat if she kept on eating sugary foods. She would look like a whale and no man would ever look at her.

“That’s fine by me. At least that way I won’t end up with four baby daddies like you.” Raquel snapped. Her circumstances had certainly forced her to mature early.

Whenever she talked back, she got a beating. Those were her only memories of her mother really, beatings and scoldings. Scoldings to sit up straight, to cross her legs, to not wear tight clothing because “it makes you look like a fat slut”, to stay out of direct sunlight or else her skin would get too dark. And of course there was always the ban on chocolate, cookies, ice cream and donuts.

But Raquel was anxious and depressed, so of course she would take on a habit of stress-eating. She ate and ate. By ninth grade, she was the fattest girl at school. Her mother was ashamed of her, and body-shamed her until she felt utterly worthless. That was the year Raquel cut her hair. She had long, brown hair before. It was very beautiful, and her mother had absolutely forbidden her from cutting it, saying “it’s the only thing about you that’s pretty”. But Raquel was only ever used to being called ugly by everyone else at school, so she decided to become even uglier.

She was once a good girl, innocent and pure, but she became a sadist and it’s all the fault of human society.

When the most popular, handsome boy at school caught her eye, she looked upon his cheerleader girlfriend with pure hatred. She started to get jealous, and jealousy is ultimately what turns people into monsters. It’s one of the worst emotions, and one of the most natural and common ones for humans to experience.

What a pitiful, terrible species.

Writer's Craft Prompt: Torture

Hi everyone! I just wanted to share a quick thing I wrote in like ten minutes for my wrtier's craft class. We get daily prompts in that class and I thought this one was particularly interesting. 

Prompt: Write a humorous take on Article #5 from the UN Declaration of Human Rights, “freedom from torture and degrading treatment”.

You have the right to freedom from weaboos and the ways of weaboory. No weaboo may thrust their strange anime fanart pictures in your face when you’re just trying to mind your own business. Nor may they stick earbuds in your ears with full-volume intro songs when you’re trying to do your homework. They absolutely may not, under any circumstance, force you to read their shipping fanfictions. Any weeb who fails to control their urges to the point of endangering the normal, sane human beings around them must answer in international court for their gross disregard of human rights.

I recited these words to myself over and over again and took in a deep breath. “Alright,” I told myself, “no matter what happens, I can rest assured that it won’t be terrible. Weabs can be vicious as they are usually all rabid fangirls who foam at the mouth when they see their favourite voice actors, but that doesn’t mean they’ll attack me unless I do something really stupid.” I reasoned that walking through the anime fan convention would be perfectly safe as I’m sure the weabs there would be relatively tame and law-abiding. As long as I didn’t shout out “SASUKE SUCKS AND SO DOES HIS VOICE ACTOR” at the top of my lungs, none of them would come at me. I took in a few deep breaths and tried to compose myself. My phone interrupted my zen state of mind and made me start panicking again.

“Are you there yet?” my friend Vicky asked. She was the one who was subjecting me to the punishment of walking through the fan convention.

“Yup. I’m at the gates. Bought my ticket. I’m just about to go in,” I said.

“Good. That’s what you get for losing the bet. Make sure to film all of it.” She hung up.

I sighed. The ticket collector was wearing a Sailor Moon cosplay outfit. She looked at me funny before letting me pass. I became painfully aware of how I was the only person there dressed normally. Everyone else was dressed up like their favourite characters. It made me stand out and look like an idiot when they were the real idiots.

I passed by a long line up of fans who were squealing and waiting for an autograph from their favourite voice actor. Artists hung out at the vendor booths, selling overpriced merchandise and fanart. Damn those artists. They deserved to starve for not having a real job, yet here they were travelling from convention to convention making an obscene amount of income.

A teenage boy in a ridiculous long, white wig approached me. His girlfriend was with him. “Hey, do you mind taking a picture of us?” he asked.

“Sure,” I said. What could I do?

They made some dumb poses and then thanked me.

“What are you guys supposed to be anyway?” I asked them, looking at their strange attire. The question was a grave mistake.

“You’re kidding, right? We’re Inuyasha and Kagome.”

“Oh… right… I have a friend who made me watch a few episodes of that anime,” I remembered, thinking of Vicky and how much I was starting to resent her.

“Anime? Wow, how uncultured. You should read the manga.”

My jaw dropped in shock and indignation at being called uncultured as the couple walked away, laughing at me.

I decided that a new clause needed to be added to the UN declaration of human rights, or else I’d become the next Hitler trying to purge the world of these subhumans:

A weeb may not subject you to the cruel and inhuman punishment of suffering the drudgery of an anime fan convention.

My Grandmother

Today's my grandma's birthday, so I'd like to dedicate this small piece of writing to her :)

I've never met someone as calm and peaceful as my grandmother. I aspire to that level of serenity. She's always in a zen state of mind. It's completely imperturbable. She has the most graceful, beautiful walk. It makes her look like she's gliding when she takes a stroll in my grandfather's garden.  I've known lots of people thinner and smaller than her, yet none of them had the same grace and dignity in their stride. Next to her, even the most lithe, young gymnasts would have a clumsy gait. Her face is regal and composed as a queen's and her long braid runs all the way down her back, swinging as she walks. She hums softly. Nothing can interrupt her then. Who knows what she thinks about when she hums? Her face doesn't register a lot of emotion for she is stoical as an empress. She has always been difficult to read. Her tunes mix with the birdsong in the garden. Although she is a good listener, she doesn't talk much. But she still spends a lot of time humming. She hums when she walks, when she folds long, white sheets, and before she prays. Even though my grandmother does not speak much and her voice is soft and gentle when she does, I have no doubts that she's the wisest woman I've ever met. She doesn't need to be loud when her words are always so profound and true. She doesn't need to use her words to express how much she loves me and the rest of my family, because she already uses her actions.