WordPress Daily Writing Prompt #2805 for June 27, 2026
When I first read today’s writing prompt, memories of my childhood beliefs flashed instantly through my mind: Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, and the Tooth Fairy. Like most young children, I spent years convinced that Santa delivered my Christmas toys and that the Easter Bunny hopped through our yard hiding colored eggs.
The Tooth Fairy was my personal favorite. I remember the sheer excitement of tucking a baby tooth under my pillow before falling asleep. How did she slip into my room undetected? How did she swap the tooth for coins without me feeling a thing? For me, as with most children, these magical myths eventually dissolved. The fantasy creatures were replaced by the reality of my parents. I don’t even remember if I was disappointed; the truth just naturally took over.
But my upbringing added a unique layer to these typical childhood tales. My mother was a German immigrant. Though she became a proud, naturalized American citizen, her ties to her homeland remained strong. The bounty on our kitchen table was filled with delicious, traditional German cuisine—both sweet and savory. Along with that wonderful food, however, came a heavy helping of Old World folklore.
I remember being absolutely terrified of the Krampus and the Scissorman. Who wanted to be kidnapped and eaten by the Krampus for misbehaving? Not me! I am still not entirely sure why I feared the Scissorman so intensely. I wasn’t a thumb-sucker as a grade-schooler, so I had no reason to worry about my thumbs being snipped off, yet the concept paralyzed me with fear. Fortunately, these scary beliefs eventually went the way of the good ones, scattering like smoke blown apart by the wind.
Once I cleared away those common childhood myths, I dug a little deeper into the prompt. What did I truly believe as a child that seems entirely ridiculous to me now?
I believed that everyone was good.
To give that perspective, my parents sheltered me fiercely from the “bad things” in life. We also lived without any of the modern conveniences we enjoy today. There was no cable TV, internet, social media, streaming services, cell phones, or gaming consoles. We listened to music on the radio, record albums, 8-tracks, or cassettes. We watched just three channels on a massive console television. If we wanted to play video games, we went to an arcade; if we wanted to see a movie, we went to the theater.
I loved to read, but despite my books, I knew virtually nothing about the dark realities of the world. I didn’t even realize the Vietnam War was happening until around 1973 or 1974. I was completely blind to the social unrest, demonstrations, riots, and racial tensions gripping America in the early 1970s. This total lack of exposure fostered my childish, incorrect, and ultimately ridiculous notion that humanity was entirely good.
My journey into adulthood has planted me firmly in a very different camp.
Today, I believe that only some people are truly good. I believe most people are capable of good acts, even if they don’t regularly practice benevolence. But I also believe that some people are simply not good at all.
We all know the proof. We see it in serial killers, mass shootings, misogyny, racism, gaslighting, and cruelty. We see it in the endless cycle of abuse—child, elder, domestic, financial, and emotional. All we have to do is turn on the TV or open our laptops to face a 24-hour stream of tragedy and war.
We see it in smaller, everyday ways, too. It is there when colleagues trash-talk each other at the lunch table, or when social media feeds overflow with hateful language. It is there when people wink, nod, and excuse abusive behavior with phrases like “boys will be boys” or “nobody is perfect.”
Honestly, I take it further than just a lack of goodness. There is genuine badness, even evil, among us. I believe that some evil individuals cannot be rehabilitated; they must be securely imprisoned as a punitive measure and to keep society safe.
Yet, looking outward isn’t enough. I also have to look inward and confess to the mean, hurtful things I have done in my own life—acts committed with the exact intention of causing pain. Because of this, I place myself in the category of someone who wants to be a good person, but remains entirely capable of bad acts.
As a child, I believed everyone was good. As an adult, I struggle to wonder how much goodness is actually left in our world. Some days, it feels like very little. But occasionally, I will read about or witness good people doing beautiful things. We need more people like that. Much more.
I will always endeavor to be a part of that group. I cannot hope for goodness in this world without actively trying to be kind myself. I need to practice kindness so I can maintain my own hope—and maybe offer a little bit of it to someone else along the way.
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