Is anybody out there reading this? You are? Good. This is a little thng that I wrote a while ago, in hopes of starting my own original story. It didn't get very far though, because I dont seem to be able to write anything more. So this is a challenge.

I dare you to take this (the below passage) and make it a prologue, and then write a story from it. 'He' can be anyone, although in my mind it was her father. There doesn't need to be a particular length, although it should be at least a few chapters. There are a few reqiurements;

-The main character is a girl in her mid teens, around 15
-She is beautiful, but through years of abuse (mental/physical and possibly sexual) has come to belive that she's an ugly whore (or similar)
-She is a model student, with nice friends who gets good grades and is on the 'spirit squad'
-She feels the need to please everyone
-At heart, she's not preppy at all, but quite the opposite (your take on that is what it is. It's open for debate, I'm not going to specify)
-Her borther is feircely protective of her
-Her family is fairly wealthy
-She keeps all her 'unacceptable' thngs in the back of her walk-in closet
-She is either a closet poet, closet singiner, or closet artist, with a ton of talent
-She is extremely insecure with some major issues to work out

Still interested? Great. I would love to read your interpretation of this, so if you could email me with a link or something once it's been written, I would be eternally happy.

Prologue:

Dear Somebody,

No, that's not right.

Dear Family,

No, that's not it either.

To Whom it may concern,

No….

Hi,

Perfect.

It's strange for me to be writing this, mostly because I don't think anyone in this entire town expects this from me.

I've always done what other people expected. It was how I lived, and it's stopping right now.

No one, excluding my brother and the few who bore witness to the strange happenings, knows anything about what I've gone through this past year.

Except Him, of course.

He knows everything.

It's all his fault.

I suppose I should start from the beginning, even though I'm not totally sure where that is.

The year is becoming a big blur to me, and I'm having trouble separating one memory from the next.

So to whoever is reading this right now, you've obviously found me dead, and I will advise you to sit down because this is going to be one long note…