The Girl and Her Clone

Instagram Writing Prompts Response: The Girl and Her Clone


Dear Readers,

I have slept far too long on Instagram writing prompts. While I was working on new content for the blog, by happenstance I stumbled across @rarelyfunny.writes on insta and I am HOOKED on the prompts. They are existential and push my brain to think waaaaaaay outside of the box. Today, I want to share a flash fiction piece I wrote in response to the prompt below. It is quite short however, I hope it tickles your fancy


Writer Writing Prompts Instagram

The Girl and Her Clone

Welp, yet again I partake in ANOTHER Saturday morning purge. Why oh why must I have so much shit overloading my already tiny closet? You know what? If I have to clean out my closet one more time, I’m enrolling in Hoarding: Buried Alive and I freaking mean it!

Before I start organizing the dark abyss I call my closet, I survey the damage. The pea-sized space I have in my Queens studio apartment is absolutely laughable. No one can expect to live like this and not feel claustrophobic.

My stuff is literally pouring out of my closet space. Old dance wear, shoes boxes, and dirty laundry litters the floor. Too many black articles of clothing are stuffed on the 5 foot closet rod, and my sparkly duffle bag lays buried on the far right corner.

Wait, what the hell?

I don’t own a sparkly duffle bag.

Has my shopping addiction gotten so bad that I don’t even remember what I buy? Seriously, I have got to stop this.

Maybe it’s Juneau’s bag that I took from his place last night. Hmm…

I bend down and pull on the top handle of the bag and give a well meaning tug. There are two things that are amiss: #1 the bag is heavy as I don’t know what and #2 it’s far more massive than what I thought initially. There is no way I could have carried this from Juneau’s apartment without remembering. Maybe someone planted this in my house? Is it paranoid to think that, that could be the case?

I mean, if someone did plant this in my place, who? Why?

My curiosity peaked with each thought. Frantically, I tried to heave the bad out of the closet. When the bag still doesn’t budge, I move all the excessive shit covering the bag. I crawl on all fours and plant myself next to duffle bag inside my closet. I unzip the bag and scream in horror at what I find…

I see myself. A full bodied, completely naked version of MYSELF shoved inside a bag. Is this some kind of sick joke? Who did this? I touch the skin of the “thing” and feel repulsed by its lifeless chill. I feel goosebumps on its soft face. With shaking hands, I nervously grasp the thing by its shoulders and gently attempt to lift the being.

The eyelids snap open and the creature maneuvers to where its face it mere inches from mine.

Where eyes should have been, there are only two hollow, black sockets that reak of gas, rust, and foulness so palpable.

Hopelessly, I try to scream but was quickly silenced as the beings teeth sunk into my neck.


Well…That’s all I have for this week! What did you think of the piece above and the writings shared this week? What are your responses to the prompt above?

Let me know in the comments below and be sure to follow me on my social media pages.




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