I have a small set of Story Engine cards I picked up at a Free RPG Day a couple of years ago. From time to time, I use them to help prompt a story. For this offering, I drew up “a model wants to gain freedom from a seductive poison, but it means giving up their dream.”

Lena stood gazing in the mirror. The cold glass reflected a version of herself she barely recognized. The studio lights gleamed off her skin, making it look too perfect, too flawless, as though belonging to someone else. She adjusted her posture, lifting her chin just that fraction to catch the angle they’d taught her for years to hold. A model’s life, they’d told her, was about control; every inch, every curve, meticulously sculpted, refined, perfected.

But inside, she suffocated.

It wasn’t the camera’s eye that troubled her, nor the endless runway shows or photo shoots that left her drained. She reveled on the catwalk. No, it was the quiet, almost invisible poison that had slowly, almost imperceptibly, seeped into her soul. It had begun with the whispers—the subtle encouragements, the soft promises of glamour, luxury, and adoration. The allure had been too intoxicating to resist. She tasted it in her veins, felt it seeping into her very bones. The fame, the spotlight, the endless affirmations of beauty and perfection. At first, she had everything she ever wanted.

Yet, over time, it became a cage.

The poison was not the world itself, but the way it had twisted her. Her thoughts had become shackled to the need for approval, for validation. It was in every endorsement, every magazine cover, every follower count that was just a little too low. It had wormed its way under her skin, and now, at 3 AM in this sterile room, it threatened to swallow her whole.

Lena stared at the reflection of the woman she was becoming: a puppet of desire and expectation. She’d told her dreams to her mother years ago, before the world of glossy magazines and flashing cameras had consumed her.

No matter what, Lena, her mother had said, don’t lose yourself. Never, ever, let anyone own you.

But that was before the poison had taken hold. Long before the chase for fame became an addiction she couldn’t quite shake. Now, standing there, she realized that breaking free from everything she’d worked for meant walking away from her dreams. That was a price she wasn’t sure she was ready to face.

Her phone buzzed on the vanity, breaking the silence. It was her agent, a terse message:

Photo shoot tomorrow at 7 AM. Don’t be late. You owe us.

The words stung, a reminder of the invisible chains that bound her to this life, to these expectations. She clenched her jaw and turned away from the mirror, stepping toward the balcony. The icy wind hit her skin, a sharp contrast to the warmth of the studio lights. She closed her eyes, breathing deeply.

If she left, if she turned her back on this life, would she lose everything she had worked for? Her reputation, her place in the industry? Would she still be Lena, or just another forgotten face?

The decision gnawed at her, each moment feeling heavier than the last. She’d spent so many years striving for this, yet it had never felt less like freedom. But maybe freedom didn’t come without sacrifice. Maybe she could no longer live under the vision of a dream from a different time, knowing the truths she now knew.

She picked up her phone, fingers hovering over the screen. Her mind was clear. She sent a message to her agent:

Cancel tomorrow’s shoot. I’m done.

A tremor ran through her as she hit “send.” It was done. She walked away from a dream, but perhaps it was time to find a new one. A dream all her own.