What would you do if you woke up one day, looked in the mirror, and didn’t recognize your own reflection, literally? How would you react? What would you feel? What would you do next? Today, write about it.

Keep reading to see today’s full writing prompt, and my completed version of it: Attaboy.

woman looking in the mirror
Created by K.E. Creighton in Canva

Today’s Writing Prompt: Stranger in the Mirror

Today, write about someone who wakes up one day to find out that they no longer look like themselves. What do they do? How do they feel? Etc.

Completed Version of Today’s Writing Prompt

Attaboy, by K.E. Creighton

I am startled awake by semi-discordant trumpets blaring. Thank God, I realize. It’s just my alarm. Why?! Why had I chosen that awful racket to welcome me to each day?! It only woke me up because it made me want to break things. Every day.

I throw the phone onto the empty pillow next to mine, roll out of bed, and meander to the bathroom to splash water on my face. I had a long night last night. And right now, in my zombie-like state, it feels like it never actually ended. It was a night of celebration, sure, but now I would pay for it.

Thinking about yesterday starts to lift my mood a bit. It’s not every day you win a big case, a case that sets precedents for decades to come.

I look up to wink at myself in the mirror, to give myself an “attaboy”… then I abruptly freeze and stop inhaling.

An atta-what? I’m not a man.

I stare into the mirror as if I’m witnessing a mock horror show. I see stubble on my chin, my now much wider chin. My Adam’s apple is huge. And I have a buzz cut.

I touch the mirror to verify it’s real, that my face is real, which of course makes no sense. But neither is what I’m seeing. This can’t be real.

I look down at my now hairy legs to verify they are real too, and that I am indeed still able to stand–am I? Barely. As I’m looking down, I pull the waistband of my shorts out to see…

What. The. Huh? Am I still drunk? Did someone slip something into my drink last night when I wasn’t looking? Some sort of hallucinogenic?

I don’t remember anything that odd happening last night. At least, nothing that would or could lead to this.


There was a man at the bar dressed as a genie, reading palms, and telling fortunes…

Come on. That’s ridiculous. Ludicrous. I’m not Tom Hanks and this isn’t some weird live-action movie. There’s no way…

My phone rings. It’s my boyfriend, Charles, who also happens to be a private investigator. I answer it before I realize what I’m doing and blurt, “I need you to get over here, right now, so you can help me track someone down.”

[All Rights Reserved by K.E. Creighton and Creighton’s Compositions LLC. The above work is a piece of fiction. All names and locations referred to are the product of the author’s imagination and are used entirely for fictional purposes. Any similarities to real-life persons or places are purely coincidental.]

Notes on Completing this Writing Prompt

Today’s writing prompt was inspired by The Last White Man by Mohsin Hamid, which I recently finished. I highly recommend that book.

If you complete this writing prompt, share your draft with members of our writing community. We’d love to read it! Be sure to tag #DailyDraftsAndDialogues and @kecreighton on Medium, WordPress, or Facebook, so we can read what you write for this writing prompt. Get creative! Let’s see how many different versions of this prompt can be written.

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