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.

These Ninjas Were Even More Deadly

  • by jenboarded the 7 train
  • spoon in hand
  • locked away in a gunmetal gray filing cabinet
  • the hole where their feelings used to be
  • It was infinitely pitiful

Tune In Next Time Part 16                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

These ninjas were even more deadly than your garden-variety ninjas. Their overlords, Ninja-Vision, had a wicked and ruthless indoctrination technique which left them with hyper-sensitive senses and an impenetrable blackness in the hole where their feelings used to be. All of their secrets were locked away in a gunmetal gray filing cabinet in Michiko’s office. She’d shown me the training manual once when I asked how she stayed so fit.

“Show them we’re unarmed!” Tessa cried as the leader bounded onto the hood of the car, spoon in hand.

“Show them we’re not Michiko!” I yelled back.

In no time the lead ninja used his spoon like a can opener to remove the pink and white roof from our Hello Kitty mobile. Just as he was about to end our lives with that same commonplace utensil, he noticed that neither of us was the Harajuku girl from the self-storage place, the rebellious daughter of their leader. He checked his attack just in time, the spoon landing harmlessly between Tessa and myself.

“Flee,” he whispered in my mind’s ear.

I scrambled out of the car, dragging Tessa with me. We barely had time to rescue the underwater digging apparatus from the backseat before the rest of the ninja swarm set about destroying the Lincoln as a message to Michiko.

As we fled down Elliptical Avenue, I took one last look over my shoulder at the remains of the car. It was infinitely pitiful to behold, and the ninjas were already gone, along with their giant mobile TV headquarters.

“This way!” Tessa pulled me down the stairs to the subway where we boarded the 7 train.

“But Tessa,” I said. “This train doesn’t go to the pier.”

“I –hic– know,” she purred.

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Tessa Let Go of the Steering Wheel

  • k-avatargirlfriend and your sister
  • Well, do you want to follow their path?
  • We had a TV exactly like this
  • began to pick the dust and rocks off them
  • you should always have something baking

Tune In Next Time Part 15                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa let go of the steering wheel and said, “How are we going to do that? That’s a long con.”

Her exasperation seemed to have cured her hiccups, but even so I smiled. “John himself taught me this: you should always have something baking. I’ve had him ‘walking the poodle’ for over a year now.” I steadied the wheel to keep our huge, sparkling car on course in the parade. “Should be a piece of cake to get him over to the river, as it were.” I winked.

“Wait a second — I’m the poodle? This is as bad as the time you introduced me as both your girlfriend and your sister to the same relatives at your cousin’s wedding!”

“They weren’t my relatives, they were on the groom’s side. And you embarrassed me too, when you began to pick the dust and rocks off them.”

“I only did that to be polite.”

I took a deep breath. “Anyway, my poodle, this is the only way.” During our argument the parade had inched along until we were almost upon the Y-intersection at Circle Square. We’d be able to edge our way out on the right fork, onto Elliptical Avenue and out of the Macabre procession. “Well, do you want to follow their path?” I asked Tessa, gesturing ahead. With a shake of her head, she took the wheel again and diverted us to the right.

But we had to stop, not because of the crowd lining the route but because another float had pulled off before us and blocked the road. It was a boxy thing the size of a house, bearing a convex window that took up the entire side facing us, through which we saw people dressed as ninjas bouncing on a trampoline inside.

“We had a TV exactly like this,” Tessa remarked.

Suddenly the giant television screen flipped open and the ninjas bounded out. Michiko’s sworn enemies, Ninja-Vision, had found us!

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Those Erotic Hiccups

  • by jen(yeah, I sleep naked at home — so what?)
  • — the matter is laid before me
  • probably some electric phenomenon
  • wearing a multi-layered chiffon skirt
  • walk a poodle along the East River

Tune In Next Time Part 14                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Those erotic hiccups, probably some electric phenomenon in her brain caused by the time Tessa got a shock while we were doing it in a tank of electric eels, were a huge distraction. I tried to block the thoughts of our aquarium escapade, only to have them replaced by memories of the time the electric blanket shorted out during one of our sweatier encounters. That time Tessa had been wearing a multi-layered chiffon skirt, I had been naked (yeah, I sleep naked at home — so what?) and we both got quite a jolt.

“Hic!”

“Hold the wheel steady, Tessa, I need to close my eyes for a minute.”

“O-hic!-kay”

I had to meditate on the plan. I turned on cruise control to maintain our 5 mph speed. As soon as Tessa had the steering wheel I dropped my hands to my knees in the Gyan Mudra pose and boom — the matter is laid before me in perfect clarity. I can see around all the corners, anticipate every potential pitfall, predict John’s most likely actions.

I held my thoughts in order and slowly opened my eyes.

“The first thing we need to do,” I said to Tessa, “is make John walk a poodle along the East River, if you know what I mean.”

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Tessa’s Hiccups Persisted

  • k-avatarthe man with the severed leg
  • just another Tuesday
  • couldn’t actually read the sweatshirt
  • (just “Uncle Terry” being Uncle Terry)
  • partially tattooed on his elbow

Tune In Next Time Part 13                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

Tessa’s hiccups persisted as we cruised the darkened back streets of the city. I knew Michiko had enemies, and her unsubtle car might draw unwelcome attention on the boulevards. I was grateful for the narrow lanes I had to guide the huge car through, because the tight quarters demanded my attention, kept me from becoming too distracted by what those hiccups meant.

“Oh, crap,” I muttered.

“The parade,” Tessa said.

Where our tiny side-street debouched onto the main thoroughfare, sawhorses and hay bales blocked our path. I approached the barrier slowly, thinking we might be able to shift things aside and sneak through before the parade began.

And in any other town that might have been reasonable. But the weekly Macabre Misfits parade was in full swing, as it would be for 24 hours. To the double-M, this was just another Tuesday.

There wasn’t room to open the car door, so I rolled down the window and climbed out. Jugglers were passing, throwing mannequin limbs back and forth. I hoped. The man with the severed leg in his hand glanced at me, and although I couldn’t actually read the sweatshirt he wore I did notice a subversive slogan partially tattooed on his elbow.

Tessa had emerged as well, and the man seemed surprised to see her.

“Hi, — hic — Terry. Sorry we’re late,” she said, dropping me a wink. “Think your troupe can sorta — hic — vamp for a while so we can get our — hic — float out of this alleyway?”

The man bowed to us, then rallied the rest of the jugglers to hold a space in the parade while we got the barricade out of the way.

“He — hic — does this every week,” Tessa explained. “My third cousin or something, but he’s older so — hic — I always thought he was my uncle. The — hic — limb-juggling is his passion (just “Uncle Terry” being Uncle Terry). Shall we?”

The parade was even heading in the right direction. But it was so slow.

Tessa’s hiccups persisted.

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Kanye Can See Things

  • by jensee things we mortals cannot
  • I spat at her
  • not, however, universally popular among actual rappers
  • Officious little prick.
  • not a significant source of riboflavin

“Kanye can see things we mortals cannot,” I spat at her, “and according to him Wild Puma energy drink is not a significant source of riboflavin. It may be popular with teenagers, it is not, however, universally popular among actual rappers because they listen to Kanye. And that is why I refuse to stock it in my store.”

The Wild Puma sales rep sneered at me. “Officious little prick.”

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Helga Concealed Herself

  1. k-avatarcharacter –bigfoot
  2. setting — dry dock
  3. object –wooden shoes
  4. situation –wet t-shirt contest

Helga concealed herself below the experimental hydrofoil in the dry dock. Stowing away on it in Seattle had been the only way for her to reach Holland undetected, preserving the secrecy of her woodland race. But the next stage in her mission would require that she show herself, in fact the magic tulip bulbs would only be given to the winner of the wet t-shirt contest. And to be allowed into the waterfront dive where the Dutch National Wet Tee Convention would be held, she had to first obtain the traditional footwear. She hoped she could find them in her size.

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I Led Tessa Outside

  1. by jenCharacter – Harajuku girl
  2. Setting – behind the wheel of a large automobile
  3. Object – keys
  4. Situation – hiccups

Tune In Next Time Part 12                             Click Here for Earlier Installments

I led Tessa outside and balanced her on the handlebars of my stolen bicycle as I pedaled through the dark city to the self-storage facility where my excavation machine was stored, along with the rest of my inventions. Things were improving between us, but I didn’t fully trust Tessa. I couldn’t imagine letting her get a look at the contents of my storage unit, so I left her in the office, talking to the night manager, a Japanese woman with bright pink hair, cat ears and a parasol.

The submersible digging machine was far too bulky to carry on the bike, so when I hurried back to the office I asked Michiko if I could borrow her car. She charged me $200 and tossed me the keys. Tessa hadn’t run off during my brief absence, which both pleased and frightened me. The two of us climbed into Michiko’s Hello Kitty-bedazzled Lincoln Continental, me behind the wheel, Tessa riding shotgun but twisted around to stare at the mechanical wonder in the back seat.

As I navigated back to the pier, Tessa gave a loud hiccup, and then another. She turned around to face front and hiccuped again. I knew those hiccups well. Tessa always had an attack when she was horny.

“Now’s not a good time, babe,” I said.

“I — hic — know,” she said. “And that only makes it — hic — worse.”

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“We Head Back To The Pier”

  • k-avatarmost likely had a perfect tan
  • Lazy Canadians
  • try another flavor
  • “You’re worth it.”
  • with segmented metal fins

Tune In Next Time Part 11                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

“We head back to the pier,” I said, my mind suddenly connecting the dots. Tessa scowled at me, nodding bitterly.

“Okay, mister smarty-pants, what’s the next step in my plan?” She still had her arms crossed, carrying her plentiful bosom like a coed’s textbooks. Even in this awful light, even just minutes after being drugged into unconsciousness, she was radiant, most likely had a perfect tan, probably sans tan lines. My train of thought toppled comically off its tracks.

She laughed at me, but the ice in her gaze was melting. “This is just like that song by Lazy Canadians.”

“You mean ‘Try Another Flavor’?” I asked. It was about boobs.

“No, silly! I mean ‘Pirate Booty,’ the one about treasure buried in the sand.”

My mental derailment reversed itself. That was it! Everything started with the map, and with whatever lay buried amid that dead forest of pilings. But we couldn’t forget that John had the briefcase, and that he’d get it open eventually. Tessa’s smile grew warmer yet, reminding me of when things were better.

“Sorry for all the kerfuffle,” I muttered, not sure I wanted her to hear it.

“You’re worth it.” She put a hand on my shoulder. “Before we go running off to the pier, we have to think about what we’ll need when we get there. Some way of excavating the sand, underwater, without being seen. I don’t even know what that would look like.”

I did. It was my own invention, a submersible digging machine with segmented metal fins. John didn’t know about it, no one did. Was I ready to show it to Tessa? It seemed I would have no choice.

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“I Don’t Trust Your Ideas”

  • by jenground patrol had proved ineffective
  • arrested in London
  • You think your great big husband will protect you?
  • Six hours after injection
  • you’re never going to win the lottery

Tune In Next Time Part 10                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

“I don’t trust your ideas,” Tessa spat. “Not after London.”

I winced, remembering how my idea for ground patrol had proved ineffective during the Barclay’s bank heist, leading to Tessa being arrested in London, and John and me in Birmingham. The charges hadn’t stuck, but it had been an unpleasant couple of weeks for the three of us and apparently Tessa held a grudge.

“Things are different now,” I said.

“I should have listened to John all those years ago when he tried to warn me about you. He was there at our wedding you know, trying to talk me out of it. He said, ‘You think your great big husband will protect you? That asshole only wants to get into your pants. You don’t believe me? Go ahead and marry him. Six hours after injection, or ejaculation, or whatever you want to call it, he’ll be out the door. Girls always want to be lucky in love, but you Tessa, you’re never going to win the lottery.'” She turned back to glare daggers at me. “And he was right.”

“That wasn’t a real wedding, babe. You know that! It was all part of the plan.”

“Your plans suck. This time it’s my turn to be in charge. Now here’s what we’ll do…”

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John’s Fist Came Toward My Face

  • k-avatarpizza cutter, thick with blood.
  • Dr Pepper wrangling
  • as a speckled trout to a fly
  • in inverse ratio to his prowess among men
  • too strong for him

Tune In Next Time Part 9                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

John’s fist came toward my face, but when I ducked that I put my chin directly in line for the snap-kick that was the true attack. It was the same move I fell for last time, the cheap fake-out I’m as drawn to as a speckled trout to a fly. I came to with ringing ears and double vision in time to see John leaving with the giraffe-hide briefcase, wearing my damp gloves.

Damn him. I sat up rubbing my jaw and looked over at Tessa, who was already stirring. Either she was tougher than I knew, or else that tranquilizer had lost potency over time.

Tessa sat up, rubbing her temples. She glanced at me, and said, “Don’t be too worried, the locks on that thing are too strong for him.”

I nodded, more out of hope than any faith in those locks. Then again, my mentor always told me that one’s capacity for puzzling minutiae is in inverse ratio to his prowess among men. That had always just felt like a zen riddle, but in this case I could see its applicability.

“So what happened? Did he have a blowgun or something? Got us both, I see.”

It was tempting to just nod again, but I knew if I lied to her now we would never be okay again. My memory lurched to a linoleum floor and a pizza cutter, thick with blood. So I confessed to the tranquilizer on the handle of the briefcase.

She stood and bellowed down at me, “You son of a misbegotten, Dr Pepper wrangling,  burrito slinger!” She spun away and folded her arms, staring out the window.

“Hey, easy with the casual racism, babe.” I stood up. “Besides, I’m only part Indian. And I have an idea.”

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