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.

Our Fate Was In The Hands

  • by Kenthe becomes a buffoon
  • penguins wrapped in comically oversized scarves
  • King of the Skeptics
  • like a wild herd drumming up chaos
  • You think your great big husband will protect you?

Tune in next time part 720      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Our fate was in the hands of a man who was being pushed and pulled, tempted and hectored, from so many directions that he becomes a buffoon. I had seen it happen to field agents before, though none so seasoned as John. But I could see in his eyes that we were losing him. Soon he’d be as much use to us as a dozen penguins wrapped in comically oversized scarves.

Mr Carousel tried to sweeten his ludicrous offer further, but Fleur throat-punched him before he completed the first sentence. Normally I’m King of the Skeptics when it comes to such negotiation strategies, but this time I was grateful.

“John, the engines. Right now!” I said.

Just then Mother glided over the ice, bringing disaster as always. “Was this nice man saying something about wombats?” Something about her was like a wild herd drumming up chaos, in this case a wombat herd. John trembled, staring at his new bride. He seemed unable to find the proper patch of ice to use the magnet on.

“Mother,” I spat, “what do you think is going to happen if we keep drifting on our present course? How do you intend to deal with the rockets? You think your great big husband will protect you?”

She batted away my argument with a thoughtless backhanded gesture. “We are in no danger.”

“You’re wrong,” Fleur said.

“Well,” Mother muttered, “when I say ‘we’ I might be referring only to certain individuals.”

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John Got Down on His Knees

  • by jenJust smile and wave, guys.  Just smile and wave.
  • Wombat herds?
  • inevitably got molasses on their shoes
  • “Is your throat lined with copper?”
  • used the expression “off the chain”

Tune in next time part 719      Click Here for Earlier Installments

John got down on his knees and pulled a magnet out of his pajama pocket. As he ran it over the surface of the ice he explained that it was controlling switches frozen deep inside.

Suddenly Mr Carousel skidded up beside me. “I’m so glad you’ve reconsidered! We at the Royal Contrarian Icecapades can’t wait to have you as our featured performer!” He nodded at John. “You and your friend can skate together as a pairs act, and at the end during the rapturous applause, you know what you do?” He waggled his eyebrows impressively. “Just smile and wave, guys. Just smile and wave. The crowds will love you! Soon you’ll be swimming in cash, and sportszeppelins, and wombat herds!”

John looked up eagerly. “Wombat herds?” He’d always wanted a wombat. A whole herd of them might prove as irresistible as honeyed pancakes. I couldn’t let him be distracted now.

“You know what happened to all the Academy’s wombat herders, John,” I said. “They inevitably got molasses on their shoes. You don’t want that, do you?”

He got a dreamy look in his eye and completely forgot about his magnet-fiddling. “But… their little squishy faces! They’re so fuzzy!”

“Have you forgotten about the pancakes?” demanded Fleur. “Is your throat lined with copper?” Her ferocious tone pulled him back from his wombat stupor. “Restart this airship immediately. Later you can ice skate with marsupials. I have never used the expression “off the chain”, but it will be that.” She glared at him with her fiery blue eyes. “Restart. The. Engines.”

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“I Can Tell You All About”

  • by Kentteeth chattering all the time
  • nice to see her happy again
  • the jittery shifts
  • massages my tongue
  • to allow for the octopus twirling to take place at the zamboni entrance

Tune in next time part 718      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I can tell you all about the honey-topped pancakes,” Fleur said coyly. And, she did. She started describing them and just didn’t let up, emphasizing each wondrous facet of their sensory bounty: the subtle floral notes in the aroma when honey flows over the warm cakes, their golden color, pillowy texture, and of course the sweet, toasty flavor. John craned his neck to listen, his teeth chattering all the time in anticipation of chewing up the delicious flapjacks.

At last he blurted, “Alright! I’ll do it!” and hurried from the escape pod. Mother smiled and followed him. I wish I could have said it was nice to see her happy again.

We all accompanied John to the dance floor where he toe-tapped a code into the embedded control panel. I inferred from the jittery shifts in the flashing of the lights that his passcode had been accepted. But the alarms continued and the vessel’s course didn’t change.

“I can’t wait until that delectable pastry massages my tongue,” he said, dashing away. We chased him all the way to the hockey rink. “There’s one last step to restart those engines,” John explained as he glided gracefully over the ice. “There’s another set of controls. It’s the reason that there’s so much extra space at this end of the rink.”

I was dubious. The official explanation for the additional ice surface, from none other than the Contrarian High Zeppeliner, Marshal of the Skies, was to allow for the octopus twirling to take place at the zamboni entrance.

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“We Must be Entering Harmonian Airspace”

  • by jenthis made him laugh softly to himself
  • paints a disturbing portrait
  • hot on my thigh
  • we’re gonna get some pancakes!
  • a tapestry of golden bees

Tune in next time part 717      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“We must be entering Harmonian airspace,” John said, and for some reason this made him laugh softly to himself. Such behavior in the face of imminent death paints a disturbing portrait of my one-time partner.

Fleur sauntered up and stood beside me. Her hand was hot on my thigh as she squeezed a coded message that we needed to hurry.

“Hey John,” I said. “After you restart the engines we’re gonna get some pancakes!” The man had a weakness for carbs.

“Pancakes?” he scoffed. “You think I’ll betray my orders for a mere plate of pancakes? Why, I wouldn’t restart the engines for anything, not even a tapestry of golden bees.”

“We have one of those, you know,” said Fleur. “Every Contrarian airship has a bee tapestry. That’s where the chef gets the honey to drizzle on the pancakes.”

“Honey-topped pancakes?” John said, intrigued in spite of himself. “Tell me more.”

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“I’m Not Leaving This Pod”

  • by Kentwith a warrant and a helicopter
  • seven totally different stories
  • (slightly less enthusiastically, to be honest)
  • strange yet becoming coiffure
  • “I swallowed it,”

Tune in next time part 716      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I’m not leaving this pod unless you come back with a warrant and a helicopter that will take me away from this doomed gasbag,” John said petulantly.

“You’re the one who doomed it!” I yelled, wondering why his list of demands didn’t include clean pants.

“Am I?” He squinted at me. “Or is someone trying to frame me? If you ask seven different people what happened you’ll hear seven totally different stories. Those people will be happy to assure you their version is the truth, and I’ll say mine is too (slightly less enthusiastically, to be honest).”

“Why are you stalling?” I demanded.

“Do you think I want to be here?” John whimpered. “Do you think I was eager to sign up for this mission? Knowing it meant I would die on a zeppelin? But the orders were delivered by a fetching operative with a strange yet becoming coiffure, who convinced me it’s an important assignment and my fate is small in comparison. Harmonia and Contraria getting into a skirmish won’t even make headlines. But this thing getting blown out of the sky with a Plentylvanian noblewoman on board? Amid so much Svenborgian intrigue of late? That will alter the course of history!”

I shook my head in disgust. “You got played. I mean, does anyone else even know there’s a Plentylvanian on board this vessel?” I skipped over the part where I hadn’t known about it myself until ten seconds ago. “John, they teach this stuff first year at The Academy. Why would you swallow such an obvious ruse?”

“I swallowed it,” he began, “because…”

Whatever he was about to say was drowned out by klaxons.

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Mother’s Temper Should Not Have Surprised John

  • by jenI come from the land of plenty
  • the slimy creature refusing to budge
  • Do you not think something’s missing, brother?
  • prioritizing your coital carnival
  • gold-painted, life-size statue of his voluptuous wife

Tune in next time part 715      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Mother’s temper should not have surprised John, and while it is quite frightful, I would expect a seasoned espionage agent like him to have more intestinal fortitude. The sight of my nemesis with a load in his ceremonial jammies ought to make me smile, but instead it made me wary. What exactly had Mother done to him?

Through the escape pod door I heard her say, “I come from the land of Plentylvania, a descendent of the royal line. I can’t believe I’m married to the slimy creature refusing to budge from this escape pod and fix his error.”

Mother a Plentylvanian? The idea was shocking. And yet…

I remembered working on a family tree project with Jason, tracing our line back many generations on Father’s side. Mother’s side was starkly empty. “Do you not think something’s missing brother?” Jason asked. Now it all fell into place. Plentylvania was a small country, completely surrounded by (and always at war with) Svenborgia.

The escape pod door slid open and Mother confronted me. “I couldn’t help but witness your parade of children. It’s clear that you were prioritizing your coital carnival instead of countersurveilling John like you were ordered to do.”

“None of this is my fault,” I insisted. “Get out here, John, and restart the engines.”

“All I ever wanted,” whined John, “was to be the kind of guy who had a gold-painted, life-size statue of his voluptuous wife in his office, and now I’m going to die in a zeppelin.”

“Not if you restart the engines.”

“And stop pissing off your wife,” Mother added.

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If I Didn’t Stop John

  • by Kentcould not have depicted yon mountains
  • How far up does that thing go?
  • blowing smoke rings
  • this is not a wine for drinking
  • lumpy inside the pants

Tune in next time part 714      Click Here for Earlier Installments

If I didn’t stop John from using an escape pod, there would be no way to make him restore control of the vessel. We would cross into Harmonian airspace and start a war. My best hope was that Mother was with him, slowing him down.

None of the escape pods had jettisoned by the time I reached them. That was the good news. The bad news was that I had no idea where John was, if not in an escape pod. I was about to turn back when I heard bickering from one of the pods. I peered in through the viewport and saw John and Mother facing each other, framing a jagged, snowy mountain range through their pod’s windshield. Had I been the most talented painter in the world, I could not have depicted yon mountains more aptly as a metaphor for the conversation I was overhearing.

It seemed that John’s sabotage panel on the dance floor had disabled the escape pods along with the airship’s main controls. Mother’s temper was sorely elevated. One might ask, about her temper, “How far up does that thing go?” and I could tell you truthfully, “All the way.” I remember more than one occasion when she was blowing smoke rings out of her nostrils, and once, from her ears.

I didn’t want to, but I rapped on the glass. If the look on Mother’s face had been wine, the label would have carried a warning label like “this is not a wine for drinking, it is a wine for cleaning battery terminals.” For the first time I noticed that John was not angry. His face bore the look of someone who was feeling lumpy inside the pants, and probably smelling up that escape pod.

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The Make Everything Sound Dirty Code

  • by jenwhich people tend to find charming
  • visible from our tower
  • greases itself daily
  • an abrupt turn on Tuesday
  • but he never showed

Tune in next time part 713      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Make Everything Sound Dirty Code is the sort of code which people tend to find charming when they first hear about it, but grow to despise when exposed to it in the field. It poisons your mind, and soon everything, no matter how innocuously intended, takes on a lascivious double meaning. I don’t like to even think about it. “That’s what she said,” I muttered. It was starting already! “If this keeps up, I’ll scream — name of your sex tape.”

Fleur looked at me pityingly. A uniformed woman ran up and handed her a slip of paper. “We’re being hailed by Harmonian Air Traffic Control,” she whispered.

I read the message over Fleur’s shoulder. “Contrarian Airship, you are visible from our tower. As you know, our landing strip greases itself daily as a defense against invasion, and our heat-seeking missiles are cocked and ready. Turn back now.”

My brain was reeling with innuendo. Greasy landing strips, fully-cocked missiles. Fleur could see the panic in my eyes, and did the favor of slapping me across the face.

“Thanks,” I said. “I needed that.”

“Airships are slow-moving,” Fleur reminded me. “If we want to avoid war with Harmonia we need to execute an abrupt turn on Tuesday, no later than 1:00 in the morning.” As she finished speaking, all the grandfather clocks aboard the zeppelin struck midnight. “And now it’s Tuesday. We have to get the engines started again, pronto.”

I looked around for the groom, but both he and bride were nowhere to be seen. “Where is John?” I asked.

“He went down that corridor.” Fleur pointed.

“Toward the escape pods?!”

“Of course he saw them during the safety drill, but he never showed any interest in premature evacuation.”

“That’s. What. She. Said.”

I ran after John at top speed.

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“I Was Nearly Murdered”

  • by Kentsomeone I don’t trust
  • having an innuendo-filled conversation
  • equal parts fever and swamp
  • Americans with a full set of teeth
  • murdered by hand

Tune in next time part 712      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I was nearly murdered by hand-delivered harpoon” is something not many Americans with a full set of teeth can honestly say. “My best friend tried to murder me thusly, and went on to marry my mother” sounds like ravings that would be equal parts fever and swamp gas. Welcome to my life.

“None of the officers know how to regain control of the ship,” Fleur said in a low voice. “We need to know who programmed this control panel, so they can tell us how to override it.”

“I know who it is,” I said wearily. I was in no mood to talk to John. The fact that I’d need to use words like “buttons,” “airship,” and “dance floor,” all of which were part of the Make Everything Sound Dirty Code, didn’t help. “Let’s track down the happy couple. Looks like I’ll be having an innuendo-filled conversation with someone I don’t trust.”

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I Took in the Scene

  • by jensilently wondering
  • he likes to sing along
  • the third weapon
  • fusillade of cheerful inquiries
  • impaled his foot

Tune in next time part 711      Click Here for Earlier Installments

I took in the scene, silently wondering what sort of idiot would install a zeppelin control panel on the dance floor. I decided it was an idiot so idiotic he likes to sing along to songs he doesn’t know the words to. That’s his first weapon: being annoying. His second is failing to understand that he’s not the smartest guy in the room. And the third weapon in this idiot’s arsenal is a fusillade of cheerful inquiries that distracts the actual experts from their jobs and allows something like this to happen. Nay, forces. The more I thought about it, the more I became convinced that this was no mere act of stupidity, but one of sabotage!  And I knew just who the saboteur was, too. When we were at the Academy, I impaled his foot with a harpoon during training and he’s never forgiven me (even though I got extra credit for it). He’d followed me throughout my life ever since, threatening me with harpoons (the fourth weapon in his arsenal), stealing my girlfriends, and now, finally, marrying my mother. I didn’t know when he’d had the time to visit the shipyard where Royal Contrarian Airships are built, but it had to be him. John was just the sort of idiot to install a zeppelin control panel on the dance floor of the very airship upon which he would later hold an elaborate wedding reception.

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