Category: Writing Prompts

Prompts are short, fun exercises that can be used to get the creative juices flowing or break the ice at a critique meeting. They start as a brief list of ingredients, forming a challenge for the writer to incorporate all of them into one self-contained piece. There are many ways to come up with prompts and each author will find a unique way to express a given prompt.

Even Though I Knew Full Well

  • by Kentchatter about conspiracy theories all day
  • the size of a tiger’s
  • People do.
  • smells weird to me
  • threw herself into my arms

Tune in next time part 730      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Even though I knew full well that Fleur wasn’t one to stand around and chatter about conspiracy theories all day, I was surprised by her disinterest in learning more about Mother’s schemes. After all, she knew full well that Mother had a nefarious side the size of a tiger’s litter box and twice as foul. Perhaps my wife had simply grown weary of combating my mother’s evil. People do. Even I sometimes just tried not to think about it.

With the engines restored, we were in stable flight again and executing a turn to leave enemy airspace. The brood was safe. In my happiness and relief, I leaned down to embrace Fleur. She didn’t hug me back, and whispered in my ear, “Go to your quarters and take a shower. Something about you smells weird to me.”

When I got to my suite, I gave myself a quick sniff and had to agree that my uniform was less than fresh. By the time I had shed the outfit I had to admit that it wasn’t just the uniform. I opened the bathroom door, and discovered I was not alone. A woman leaped out of the tub and threw herself into my arms.

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“Give Them the Smallest Escape Pod”

  • by jenI’ve grown to adore him
  • often used to welcome distinguished guests
  • ill-gotten origins
  • tattoo with the word “warning” on her hip
  • learned how to make explosives

Tune in next time part 729      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Give them the smallest escape pod,” Fleur said. “The one those robots stole that one time.”

Before the guards escorted the newlyweds away, I said to Mother, “Why are you maintaining this charade of coupledom with John? We all know it’s just some ruse of yours to gain access to Fleur’s airship.”

“It may have started out that way, but I’ve grown to adore him.” Mother’s eyes sparkled as she spoke of her new husband. “He knows all the best bedroom moves, even those I often used to welcome distinguished guests to the White House, and ones with even more ill-gotten origins.”

I should have known better than to try to talk to her about this sort of thing.

John elbowed me jovially. “And I’ve always wanted a wife with a tattoo with the word ‘warning’ on her hip that she got when she learned how to make explosives out of feminine hygiene products. Keeps things interesting.”

“Move out,” I said to the guards. The quicker these two were off the zeppelin, the quicker my queasiness would abate.

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Major Fitz Saluted Again

  • by Kentshoulders are not meant to work like this
  • refrain from blowing ourselves to smithereens
  • let the cool supermarket air refresh your nethers
  • renewed our passions with erotic tea
  • awe-inspiring incompetence

Tune in next time part 728      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Major Fitz saluted again, to whom I wasn’t sure this time. It was a very strange and awkward salute in which his arm twisted backwards. Seeing it made me think, shoulders are not meant to work like this. Then he turned on his heel to collect his prisoners. Or, so I thought. He seized John’s manacles and snapped the chain like wet paper. Mother’s bonds were nullified a moment later.

“If you refrain from trying to recapture us,” Mother sang, “then it will be the same as if we all refrain from blowing ourselves to smithereens. Order the other guards to sit on the ice. Doesn’t it feel wonderful, like when you shop with nothing under your skirt to let the cool supermarket air refresh your nethers. All we want is a proper honeymoon! So, once we are safely aboard an escape pod, and we have renewed our passions with erotic tea, you can resume your pathetic endeavors and need not spare another worry for us. This voyage has been, start to end, a continuous display of truly awe-inspiring incompetence.”

“All I want right now,” Fleur said, “is those two off my airship.”

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My Elbow had Been Bruised for Days

  • by jenNot underwear.
  • Fitz’s physical condition
  • The guy is a shit, right to the core.
  • every country music song
  • or none at all

Tune in next time part 727      Click Here for Earlier Installments

My elbow had been bruised for days after Fleur squeezed it that morning, because the dalliance she was describing had been with me, not Jason. Was she just fucking with me? Almost certainly, but to what extent I could not tell. What would it be like to have true, naked honesty with my wife? To stand before each other wearing nothing but vulnerability and earnestness: Not armor. Not lies. Not underwear. Not anything but love. Sadly I would never know.

The guards placed manacles on John and Mother. Their leader, Major Fitz, saluted Fleur. Fitz’s physical condition was such that his muscles nearly burst out of his uniform when he moved. Even so, I felt the need to warn him about his prisoners.

I pointed to John. “The guy is a shit, right to the core. He could be the villain in every country music song, or none at all because no one would actually want to write a song about him.” I pointed to my mother. “And she’s worse. Don’t put them in adjoining cells.”

Fitz saluted again, this time at me, and I heard the seams in his jacket creak.

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Fleur’s Features Had Relaxed

  • by Kent(we repeat: candied hot dog bits)
  • Are you two brothers?
  • important step in any relationship
  • I’m happy to avoid it
  • squeezed his elbow, hard.

Tune in next time part 726      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Fleur’s features had relaxed into an approximation of her normal, cagey misanthropy. She said, “My fondness for you is on a par with my fondness for candied hot dog bits (we repeat: candied hot dog bits). Make of that what you will.”

What I made of it was that she had partially thrown off the compulsion induced by the trigger phrase, but only partially, and everything she said was still technically true no matter how bizarre it sounded. The specificity of the thing of which she was as fond as she was of me had to mean something. Another code, no doubt.

One of the side effects of the programming she was under seemed to be loquaciousness. I listened, eager for more confessions from my wife.

“The first time I met him, he was looking at a photo of you. I asked him, ‘Are you two brothers?‘ and he laughed. I realized that he was like a you that I didn’t hate. Getting past the hate is an important step in any relationship, but I’m happy to avoid it whenever possible. You should know that it was all my idea. Jason was a perfect gentleman, at least until I reached out and squeezed his elbow, hard.”

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I Could Hardly Be Angry With My Wife

  • dressed in a sheer green sweater
  • If it is wintertime
  • I would have been prepared for the screams
  • inscribed with messages from the monarch
  • paralyzed by the atrocious confession

Tune in next time part 725      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I could hardly be angry with my wife for sleeping with my brother when I had slept with her sister, half-brother, and sister-in-law, and I could tell she regretted her actions. It was as if she were dressed in a sheer green sweater of shame, a garment both unattractive and impractical. If it is wintertime, anyway. Or if we crashed into the snowy mountains. That event seemed much less likely as John manipulated his magnet a final time and the airship’s engines hummed back to life. I would have been prepared for the screams of everyone aboard if we’d been shot down, but was happy not to hear them just the same.

“Good work, John,” I said. “Now let’s get you those pancakes.”

“He’ll have to eat them in the brig,” said Fleur. “I can’t allow someone so dangerous to roam freely about my blimp.”

“Then you should lock up my mother, too.”

The cells of Royal Contrarian Airship brigs are made of platinum bars inscribed with messages from the monarch, Fleur’s father. They taunt the prisoner for being inept enough to be caught at whatever misdeed they were up to. Mother would hate it.

As Fleur summoned guards to escort the newlyweds to their new accommodations, I decided to see if she was still under the spell of her truth-telling trigger phrase. “You seemed to expect me to be paralyzed by the atrocious confession you made a few moments ago,” I said. “Could it be that you regret your actions because you’ve grown fond of me?”

A declaration of love from my wife would be most unexpected, but I could think of few other reasons for her to want to keep her dalliance with Jason from me.

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We Were Losing Precious Seconds

  • by Kenthe burst into tears
  • those pretty little things
  • I didn’t set out to have an affair with him, but
  • dried toothpaste barnacles
  • an eclipse during which the moon turns

Tune in next time part 724      Click Here for Earlier Installments

We were losing precious seconds because of Mother’s interference. I leaned down and whispered the counter-phrase in John’s ear. “Hear the sound of the wind while there’s an eclipse during which the moon turns into a shiny silver dollar covered with dried toothpaste barnacles.”

John’s eyes snapped open. That was good. Fleur went rigid and made a strange squeaking noise. That was probably less good. Apparently I had whispered rather loudly, and she was also conditioned to respond to those words.

While John set to work on the controls hidden under the ice, I turned to check on my wife.

“I slept with Jason,” she blurted. It sounded like she was trying to talk and hold her breath at the same time. “I didn’t set out to have an affair with him, but those pretty little things he raps about just won me over I guess.”

“So. You’re currently under a compulsion to tell the truth I take it.”

She nodded stiffly. Her eyes were enormous.

Mr Carousel said, “My faith in true love, you’ve destroyed it!” He took off his pork-pie hat and crushed it in his hands as he burst into tears.

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John Closed His Eyes

  • by jenWho’s jealous?
  • in the dental infirmary
  • you do have a baffling language
  • introduces me to all her friends as ‘no fun.’
  • thinking about that taste right now triggers my gag reflex

Tune in next time part 723      Click Here for Earlier Installments

John closed his eyes and went completely still. He looked like he’d fallen asleep, a state I hadn’t enjoyed in ages. Who’s jealous? You’re jealous! I was just relieved that Mother’s trigger phrase merely took John out of commission instead of initiating some sort of berserker rage that would end with all of us in the dental infirmary. The dental infirmaries on Contrarian airships are rudimentary at best, and they use an off-brand novocaine that numbs your tongue and lips so thoroughly that you do have a baffling language all your own for hours and hours. It’s because I refused to indulge Fleur and sing karaoke in that state that she now introduces me to all her friends as ‘no fun.’ It’s so bad that thinking about that taste right now triggers my gag reflex.

Luckily I remembered another trigger phrase that might get John back in motion.

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“What I Suffer From”

  • by Kentsnow’s a scary thing
  • utter lack of regard for any sort of utensils
  • festering for several weeks near the butt crack
  • actually her brother
  • You are not the fire.

Tune in next time part 722      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“What I suffer from is a lack of maternal neglect. But if my face looks a little queasy, well, my experience in the mountain garrisons taught me that crash-landing in the snow’s a scary thing to contemplate. Those who are lucky enough to survive the initial impact will need to live off whatever small creatures they can catch, and they’ll have to eat them with utter lack of regard for any sort of utensils.” Given how arduous it had been to track down a single fork on this airship, I was confident about that statement.

Mother tutted. “I would have thought your chionophobia stemmed from festering for several weeks near the butt crack.”

She was making veiled reference to my time in Twerkistan. If she knew about that, she was bound to know about my marriage to Hildegard, and was hinting that she could weaponize that info at any moment. I wished I possessed some secret of comparable destructive potential. I wished John were actually her brother, or at least that I would be able to convince people that he was. I could reveal her Plentylvanian heritage, but that would cause too much collateral damage.

“All the same, Mother,” I said in the calmest voice I could, “please direct your husband to complete his task so we don’t get blasted out of the sky.”

She sighed. She turned to John and placed a hand on his shoulder. She said, “You are not the air. You are not the ocean. You are not the dirt. You are not the fire.”

By the time I realized she was reciting a trigger phrase, it was too late.

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People Often Don’t Believe Me

  • by jensinister to the core
  • the monkey and the plywood violin
  • “What a fucking cliché,”
  • skittering across the ice
  • “Do you suffer from sea sickness?”

Tune in next time part 721      Click Here for Earlier Installments

People often don’t believe me when I say that my mother is sinister to the core. They mention my numerous siblings and how joyful a large family is, they remember my fifth birthday party, when she hired the man with the monkey and the plywood violin to entertain us, and how idyllic that meant my childhood must have been. They ignore the stories of marital strife with my father, of early childhood espionage training exercises, of her highly questionable acts as president. “What a fucking cliché,” they say. “Everyone has mommy issues.” Well, my mommy issues were skittering across the ice of an airborne hockey rink, intent on starting a war.

“Do you suffer from sea sickness?” she asked me with mock sympathy. “Your face is awfully green.”

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