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.

As I Slid My Fingers Between Tessa’s Toes

  • by jenwhen the sun has gone down and the owls are serenading you
  • huddling together for warmth
  • well you *are* drunk
  • when a woman comes to you in black lingerie
  • proper use of grenade launchers

Tune in next time part 531      Click Here for Earlier Installments

As I slid my fingers between Tessa’s toes in search of the manual override switches, she giggled and tried to jerk her feet away. I had to grab her by the ankle to hold her foot still, and at last found the first switch. As I depressed it, Tessa shrieked with laughter and collapsed, winding up on her bottom on the floor in a poofy ocean of white satin. I quickly found the corresponding switch on her other foot. As soon as I depressed it, Tessa’s mirth switched off. She leaned forward and took my face in her hands. She said, “Tonight, when the sun has gone down and the owls are serenading you, and you and your lover are huddling together for warmth under the stars and the moon and the owlsong, promise you will call your brother and tell him I love him, Jason. Promise me!”

“If you love him, why are you marrying someone else?” I lisped. “And if you were a robot, where would your self-destruct override switches be?”

“Well you are drunk, I do declare!” Tessa huffed. She sat back and said, “Would you even know what to do when a woman comes to you in black lingerie and offers to teach you the proper use of grenade launchers?”

“Who’s asking?” I said. It seemed like a code phrase, but it wasn’t one I recognized.

Tessa slipped her wedding dress strap off her shoulder, exposing a black bra.

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“Stick Around, Henry”

  • by Kentsomething tells me that I shall soon know
  • drinking Beer® brand beer
  • bedecked in neon and pleather
  • used as an occasional base by murderous pirates
  • begin to giggle audibly

Tune in next time part 530      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Stick around, Henry,” I drawled. “This young lady needs our help.”

Henry dropped the armload of panties and bras and sidled closer, his spurs jingling. “Shouldn’t we just run for it? From what I just heard, she’s just a robot.”

A robot, yes. But not just a robot.

I stooped to start untying her left boot. “Get the other one. You know,” I said, “something tells me that I shall soon know if I’m quicker than a cowboy at taking off a bride’s fancy footwear.”

Henry bent to his assignment, sweat dripping from his forehead. “Not really. I’m an accountant.”

At that moment, the Tessabot’s reboot sequence completed. She smooshed down her frilly skirt to get a look at the men molesting her feet. “Henry!” she exclaimed. “I thought you’d be somewhere drinking Beer® brand beer until you forgot all about us. Then there’s you,” she addressed to me. “Why aren’t you bedecked in neon and pleather, limbering up your embouchure so you don’t sprain anything during the performance?”

“Hey,” Henry said, “you do look a lot like Jason. What are you doing in Brackish Bay?”

I held a finger up to my lips. Having the bot confused about my identity could give me an advantage. But I was glad he’d blurted out where I was, even if it meant I would have to find my way home from a remote island used as an occasional base by murderous pirates.

At last the boots were unlaced, and Tessa helpfully stepped out of them. The stockings were made of ornate lace with gaps through which I could inspect her toes. As I searched for the override buttons said to be between the cute little digits, I heard the Tessabot begin to giggle audibly.

“Uh-oh,” I said. “This self-destruct mechanism seems rather ticklish.”

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Two Tessabots, at Least

  • by jenemitting sad noises
  • ear-penetrating intensity
  • virtually impossible to do it with just one person
  • the glacier that once covered New York City
  • very individualized

Tune in next time part 529      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Two Tessabots, at least. Who knew how many there could actually be? I stood guard over her as she rebooted, emitting sad noises as I contemplated whether I would ever see the real Tessa again. Whether there had ever been a real Tessa.

The robot before me beeped three times, and then played an alert message at ear-penetrating intensity. “This TSS-A Unit will be online in 29 seconds. The automatic self-destruct requires a double manual override, and it is virtually impossible to do it with just one person, so good luck.” The alert voice was well-known to me, and covered my heart with a layer of icy dread as thick as the glacier that once covered New York City back in the 80s. This Tessabot was sent to me personally, a very individualized form of revenge.

“Two of the override switches are between her fourth and fifth toes,” the alert continued. “But I’m not going to tell you where the other two are.”

I looked in dismay at the intricately laced high-heeled boots adorning Tessa’s feet.

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In This Life I’ve Learned Not to Be Easily Shocked

  • by Kentanything from mimes to
  • your allergies are getting worse
  • put your finger down my throat
  • felt slick and slippery
  • stealing her underwear

Tune in next time part 528      Click Here for Earlier Installments

In this life I’ve learned not to be easily shocked. There could be danger around every corner, anything from mimes to ninjas to — shudder — my family. Yet, seeing that dress on Tessa shook me. I forbade myself tears, but couldn’t prevent myself from sniffling.

Tessa patted my shoulder. “I can tell your allergies are getting worse,” she said softly. I saw in her eyes that she wasn’t really fooled. She peered into my own eyes, surveying the aftermath of the earthquake inside. “This is going to sound like a strange request,” she went on, “but, put your finger down my throat and press the button back there.”

I drew back.

“There isn’t much time,” she begged. “He’s on his way, and if he gets the ring onto my finger I’m doomed. Unless you can reach the override.” She opened her jaw wide, too wide, waiting for me.

“Are you a…” I stammered. “A new Tessabot?”

She nodded, and flapped her hands impatiently.

I reached in, fitting my whole hand inside her mouth. Everything felt slick and slippery and alive, not robotic in the least. But when I probed her uvula and the vicinity, she didn’t gag. And sure enough, I found a button. I pressed it firmly and withdrew my hand.

Tessa’s head resumed its normal configuration, except that her eyes rolled back to show only whites. I kept a lookout while she rebooted, which is how I discovered Henry the bogus cowboy stealing her underwear.

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It Had Been So Very Long

  • by jenmagic in the mouth
  • uttering an exclamation of surprise
  • sing like an alien
  • used to be a rodeo champ
  • say 53 more hilarious things

Tune in next time part 527      Click Here for Earlier Installments

It had been so very long since I saw her. I was awestruck anew by her beauty.

“Tessa,” I breathed, and her name was like magic in the mouth.

She said my name like she was uttering an exclamation of surprise, and yanked me into the bungalow by my lapels.

“I should have known you’d show up,” she said, cupping my face in her hands and staring into my eyes. “Wherever there is karaoke, there you are, ready to sing like an alien who used to be a rodeo champion on his home planet.” She went on to say 53 more hilarious things about my passion for the art of the empty orchestra, but I was too stunned to make note of them all. Tessa — my darling Tessa, love of my life — was wearing a wedding dress. It was for her reception that the PSLM² were rehearsing, her reception at which Jason was going to rap. Henry the faux-cowboy was here to win her back. But who was she marrying on this fateful day?

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“Yes, I’ve Heard of Jason”

  • by Kentit was fully two hours before she regained consciousness
  • lips that asked to be kissed
  • my breath is minty
  • cold sweat stood out from every pore of my body
  • looked quite majestic

Tune in next time part 526      Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Yes, I’ve heard of Jason,” I said, looking around. “You know, on second thought maybe it wouldn’t be right for me to disrupt your sound check. Tell Henry good luck for me.”

“He’ll need it,” the double-ersatz cop said. “Her new groom is tough to beat. Rumor has it that when they first made love, it was fully two hours before she regained consciousness.”

“That sounds…” I looked all around again. The last thing I needed was for Jason to learn my whereabouts. “Um, very romantic. And not at all like he roofied her.” It occurred to me that maybe it’d be handy for me to learn my own whereabouts. “Say, can you tell me the quickest way to Pittsburghistan?”

“Henry doesn’t know, but I asked her out once myself,” the faux fuzz went on, and I realized he wasn’t even listening to me. “She had lips that asked to be kissed, except for when she actually spoke and those lips asked me to step back. I always make sure my breath is minty, yet she pushed me away.”

A lisping voice called from the edge of the clearing, “Those Bumpkin Spice Cheese Puffs better yield the stage, because it’s time for Jason to rant and rage. About weddings.” Cold sweat stood out from every pore of my body. I walked unhurriedly to the front door of the bungalow and tried the knob. Locked! I pressed the button for the doorbell, and while the elaborate carillon chimed inside, I studied the ornamentation around that button. Enamel and semiprecious stones made up the design, which looked quite majestic there on the wall of this quaint, colorful little house.

The door opened. “You!” I exclaimed.

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The Pumpkin Spice Latte M&Ms were Legends

  • by jenjust hit the Slip N Slide
  • it was a luxurious bungalow
  • volcanic sunsets
  • the wife in question was, at least in an abstract sense, *his* wife
  • otherwise it might jump out of your hand

Tune in next time part 525      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The Pumpkin Spice Latte M&Ms were legends on the professional karaoke circuit. Excellent as I was at belting out crowd favorites, if I was going up against the PSLM² (as they were known to their fans), I might as well forfeit and just hit the Slip N Slide. But these dudes were not the real PSLM².

“I’ve met the PSLM²,” I said. “The PSLM² are good friends of mine.” This was an exaggeration, but I was trying to make a point. “And you, sirs, are no PSLM².”

They all froze. The cowboy’s eyes got wide, and he suddenly turned and ran, disappearing behind a nearby building. It was a luxurious bungalow painted the color of volcanic sunsets. The rest of the imposters looked sheepishly at each other.

I fixed them with my most intimidating General’s stare. “Explain yourselves.”

The imposter imitation cop said, “It was all Henry’s idea. He’s the cowboy you just scared off. You see, there’s this wedding reception, and the wife in question was, at least in an abstract sense, his wife, at least until she met this new fella. And so Henry thought that if he could just get into her wedding reception, maybe he could win her back. And the rest of us are just his coworkers at the accounting firm.” He wrung his hands together. “Please don’t report us.”

I softened my glare. “I’m not going to report you. Relax your grip on that microphone, otherwise it might jump out of your hand. All I want to do is sing YMCA and I’ll be on my way.”

“That’s great news,” the construction worker said. “Because we have limited time to finish our soundcheck before Jason gets his turn. I’m sure you’ve heard of Jason. He’s America’s #1 wedding rapper!”

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By The Time I Negotiated

  • by KentPumpkin Spice Latte M&Ms
  • and a tiny piece of cellophane
  • didn’t exactly “scrub the mug,” but
  • narcissistic to the extreme
  • fancy material, no question

Tune in next time part 524      Click Here for Earlier Installments

By the time I negotiated enough turnings in the hedge maze to reach the source of the music, the first chorus was done. I might have gotten there quicker if I hadn’t felt compelled to form the letters ‘Y, M, C, A’ with my body as I moved.

The stage was built of a hard substance that sparkled, possibly a natural mineral or perhaps something meant for high-end countertops, but fancy material, no question. The singers on that stage were less impressive. I could tell by their desultory choreography that they were all narcissistic to the extreme, too preoccupied with themselves to stay synced up to each other. They did have respectable costumes, but sadly not the physiques to really make them work.

The music abruptly stopped. “Who are you?” demanded the tubby performer in the cop costume. His mirror shades were perched on the tip of his nose, and the look he gave me over them didn’t exactly “scrub the mug,” but it was at least “drying the silverware” if you know what I mean. The construction worker lifted his hard hat, and a tiny piece of cellophane stayed behind, clinging to his bald head.

“I’m a Contrarian general,” I said. “And I order you to start that song over. I’m singing lead this time!”

“Ha!” the biker said. “We’re not your soldiers to be bossed around. Nobody talks like that to the Pumpkin Spice Latte M&Ms!”

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The Women Continued on Without Me

  • by jena very acceptable person as far as we were concerned
  • at the top of their lungs
  • doing a weird semi run waddle
  • my head whirled in dizziness
  • I am a full-on karaoke person

Tune in next time part 523      Click Here for Earlier Installments

The women continued on without me. I stumbled to my feet and found Heinrich proffering a garden hose, which I used to rinse off. As I sat in the sun to dry off, Heinrich said, “Svetlana and I are in the market for a third, and Marnie was a very acceptable person as far as we were concerned. She’s petite enough that she’ll fit in the harness with Svetlana.” He gave me a wry look. “Assuming you didn’t just get one or both of them pregnant.”

I had nothing to say to that, which was fine because the women announced their own umbrellas’ inversions at the top of their lungs and anything I said would have been lost in the erotic cacophony.

As I dressed, Heinrich readied the hose again and went around the hedge doing a weird semi run waddle, with his half-removed bear suit dragging behind him. I wanted to leave before they came back, but couldn’t remember if I was supposed to be gathering information from them. When I tried to piece together the numerous conspiracies I was surrounded by, my head whirled in dizziness. Deciding that if I left I would only invite more chaos into my life, I stayed put.

From far away in the garden I heard the thumping beat of YMCA. You might not know this about me, but I am a full-on karaoke person, and few songs get me as jazzed as that disco classic. I jumped to my feet and got ready to sing.

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Several Hummingbirds Flitted

  • by Kentattracted by the scent
  • The only thing he never changed was his shoes.
  • keep trying to convince Fernando to get bunkbeds
  • conference and magic show
  • my umbrella turned inside out

Tune in next time part 522      Click Here for Earlier Installments

Several hummingbirds flitted about Marnie, Svetlana, and me, no doubt attracted by the scent of the flowering hedges but seemingly curious about us as well. Marnie spoke in a dreamer’s voice, telling us many unwelcome factoids about her husband. “He changed his pants and his shirts multiple times every day. And his socks. And underwear. The only thing he never changed was his shoes. He had the same ones for years.” This droning recitation did help with my tantric capacity, much to Svetlana’s pleasure and Heinrich’s impatience.

He had taken out his phone to pass the time, muttering to himself about the conversations he was reviewing. “Why does Betsy keep trying to convince Fernando to get bunkbeds?” This, too, impeded my progress, even more than the sight of contortionist Svetlana partaking of Nurse Marnie advanced it.

“Abracadabra,” Svetlana said, dropping me a wink. I knew instantly she was referring to my exploits on a windy, rainy night at a lepidopterist conference and magic show. I knew I should be worried that she woud possess such knowledge of my past, but the reminder of that night was a potent erotic trigger. In moments, my umbrella turned inside out, so to speak.

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