Picture it & Write is a weekly creative writing prompt. We invite people to join in by commenting with a work of fiction to accompany the image; it doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (please provide a translation).
Please continue to write however you’re inspired, but add a tag to the beginning of your post if there’s mature content in order to keep Picture it & Write an engaging event for all of our followers.
When you look in the mirror, what do you see? Do you notice your flaws, do you exaggerate them? Do you think you are fat when in reality you are thin? Or is the opposite true? Do you think you are better than you are? Do you put yourself on a pedestal, one undeserved. Or does your reflection show your true self? Do you see your deepest darkest desires? Do you see yourself with a new pair of socks?
–Eliabeth Hawthorne
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Ermilia 
Pingback: Picture it and write: The key – I scrap 2
My take on the picture! https://scrapydo2.wordpress.com/2016/02/14/picture-it-and-write-the-key/
Interesting, I hadn’t actually noticed the skulls in the picture and scrolled back up to look when I saw it in your piece. When I scrolled back down, I was wondering if she really was an angel, or if it was a trick.
Pingback: Writing about self | Pages from my mind
So glad that this image unlocked my thougts.
https://ladynimue.wordpress.com/2016/02/14/writing-about-self/
Pingback: PICTURE IT AND WRITE ~ THE REALITY OF A DREAM | johnandmargaret1607
Hi Eliabeth! Here is my response to your prompt. Have a great week!
http://wp.me/p2Jp6l-1ue
THE REALITY OF A DREAM
by John Yeo
There was an imperfection, I could clearly see where the scars were not healing properly. I paid a fortune to have every pore of my face re-modelled and re-sculptured. I am not happy with the results, my surgeon has made so many errors in the restructuring and rebuilding, I cannot help but shed tears for my former angelic appearance. Before I was assaulted by acid and I was thrust screaming through the channel into the jaws of this rough cold heartless environment. My wings! I can clearly see them pictured when I look into the mirror, I can see them, but I am unable to feel them, it is almost as if the image looking back at me is not my reflection.
I remember the pain, searing shocking pain, when the acid was thrown in my face. I screamed but I was unable to hear my own shocking screams of agonised pain. Then the reality of this horrific scarring. Deformed for the rest of my life, I can hardly bear to look in the mirror. I keep begging the surgeons to finish the operation, and bring my features back to some sort of normality. My surgeon says the operation has been a great success, but I can still see tiny little scars. The horrific realisation that I am never, going to look the same again, has changed my whole outlook.
The routine in this section of the hospital is the only thing that breaks up the day for me. I have been transferred into this section under the pretext of a further period of rest and recuperation. I can’t understand why the doors are always locked and I am not allowed to go outside. The Doctors have taken all the mirrors away from me, I am not permitted to see my distorted reflection. My hair is now long, lank and unbrushed, I can’t wear makeup, as I am not allowed a mirror to apply any makeup.
Today I am going to be permitted to see myself as I really am. A very large mirror on wheels has been brought into the consulting room, covered by a blanket. My arms have been restrained with straps at the sides of the chair.
“Hello Coral! We are here to create a magical transformation. First we will reveal to you, your true appearance, then the Nurse will gently give you a tablet to enable you to sleep for a while, then, when you wake up, your normal beauty will have been restored.”
The blanket covering the mirror was suddenly removed. Looking back at me was an unkempt reflection of a plain dowdy woman, in shock. Yes SHOCK! I screamed and struggled to free myself from the restraints, without success. The Nurse gave me a drink of cloudy water with a ground-up tablet, I struggled and fought and screamed loudly as I attempted to get away from the horrific apparition that looked back at me from this mirror. The drug then took effect and I drifted into unconsciousness.
When I came to, several hours later, my memory of the past was a vague recollection of the horror of what seemed like a dream. As things became clearer, realisation set in, I leapt to the mirror that was still in my room and my spirits lifted, as if a dark curtain had been opened. I could see my normal self smiling back at me in complete recognition.
I must have been dreaming, or in another dimension of reality, I don’t know. What happened?
Why am I suddenly wearing wings?