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.

The Himalayas Were Breathtaking

  • by jenwarm my numb fingers
  • to meet a yeti
  • “Don’t you appreciate my cuisine?”
  • — all those beautiful bullfrogs
  • threatening face of a Doberman

The Himalayas were breathtaking in the moonlight, but even colder than I anticipated. I rubbed my hands together over the fire to warm my numb fingers. This was the vacation of a lifetime, and while many in my group were here to climb Everest, I had a different objective: to meet a yeti. Tomorrow we would hike to base camp, after which we would go our separate ways. That meant a celebratory feast this evening, with plenty of food prepared by the tour company’s French chef.

“Don’t you appreciate my cuisine?” grumbled Henrí. “I brought the ingredients all the way from Marseilles packed in dry ice.”

I, along with my fellow hikers, stared at the display of grisly drumsticks, the webbed feet still intact. I don’t know what the rest of them were thinking, but I could not get rid of the image of the frogs they’d come from — all those beautiful bullfrogs slaughtered for their meaty little thighs.

I was hungry though, so I grabbed one of the frog legs and took a tentative bite. Before the flavor could register, a creature bounded into our camp. It was a large, hairy white biped with the threatening face of a Doberman. Well, the teeth of a Doberman anyway.

It could only be the yeti I’d come to see!

It plucked the frog leg from my hand and sniffed it, then shoved the whole thing in its mouth, bones and all. Such a majestic creature! I managed to get my camera out and begin filming as it gorged itself on the rest of Henrí’s feast. When it loped off into the night I had to make a quick decision. Would I return home to sell my footage, or would I follow the beast into its forbidding mountain home?

bonus points for using them in order!

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It Was a Muggy August Night

  • k-avatarshe’s not your typical Russian.
  • fishing on the banks of a river in Delaware
  • flitted from the gloom into the light
  • use Pavlovian conditioning for sex
  • large enough for a man to pass through

It was a muggy August night much like tonight when I was fishing on the banks of a river in Delaware and she flitted from the gloom into the light of my lantern, showing me a smile like a croc and a tunnel in the riverbank large enough for a man to pass through, which led to her den, where she taught me how to use Pavlovian conditioning for sex, and that’s why I disagree with anyone who says she’s not your typical Russian.

bonus points for using them all in one sentence

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In The Utility Tunnels

  • by jenranged themselves in front of a small apple tree
  • flying swiftly and steadily
  • ended up eating mostly side dishes
  • very intricate evolutions
  • an abandoned bomb shelter deep beneath the city

In the utility tunnels that emerge from an abandoned bomb shelter deep beneath the city lives a strange race of creatures that, before radiation caused very intricate evolutions in their DNA, were once the sort of lower-teir relatives who ended up eating mostly side dishes at Thanksgiving because they lacked the nimbleness and fortitude that led to their dominant cousins flying swiftly and steadily up the buffet line, gorging themselves on the turkey and the various pies, and when these creatures finally found their way to the surface they ranged themselves in front of a small apple tree and scratched their heads, for they had never seen its like before.

double bonus points for using them in reverse order in one sentence

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Haus of Haunted Smellz

  • k-avatarbitten by a green lizard
  • just take rotten eggs
  • if you don’t want to cry today
  • painstakingly coded virtual replicas
  • no better than a haunted house

Video Game Review: Haus of Haunted Smellz

If you don’t want to cry today, don’t spend any money on this game. There’s not much to it, and it’s lame. You just take rotten eggs, well, painstakingly coded virtual replicas of rotten eggs, and throw them at things. The setting is supposed to be creeptastic, but it’s no better than a haunted house in the kiddie section of a milquetoast theme park. The ghouls in the mansion are easy to evade, but getting to level two without being bitten by a green lizard — which sends you back to the start — is nearly impossible.

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At That Moment

  • by jendo not leave a trace
  • the best-looking guy in the room
  • the adults took turns
  • “That was a game, wasn’t it?”
  • I know you’re part Indian!

Tune In Next Time Part 8                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

At that moment Tessa’s eyes rolled back and she slumped to the floor, the giraffe-hide briefcase slipping from her grip. She should have remembered that I’m quite partial to contact-tranquilizers (especially the kinds that do not leave a trace on a tox screen), and always smeared them liberally on the handles of all of my briefcases.

I pulled a pair of soggy gloves from my pocket and wrung the seawater out of them. I may not be the best-looking guy in the room, but I’m usually the cleverest. When I was young and the only child in the cult, the adults took turns teaching me the many skills they used to evade the authorities. No matter how challenging the lesson I always laughed and said, “That was a game, wasn’t it?” That attitude got me far in life.

But enough about me.

John still stood just inside the doorway, eyeing Tessa on the floor. Or, more likely, eyeing the briefcase.

“I can’t let you have it,” he said without looking at me. “I know you’re part Indian! I know you’ll sell it to your cohorts back in Mumbai!”

I chuckled at his total misapprehension of my motives, and that’s when he pounced.

 

bonus points for using them in order!

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Who Are These People?

  • k-avatar“Revenge.”
  • Clayton and his wife simultaneously noticed
  • did not attempt to check her tears
  • She was alone.
  • visit him every weekend

Tune In Next Time Part 7                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

“Who are these people?” John shouted over the throbbing music. “This is supposed to be a law firm!”

I wagged my head and held up my empty palms, but I did have a faint notion what was going on. Officially, this place was the offices of Gallows-Clayton, Ltd., but when Clayton and his wife simultaneously noticed that they could make more money renting it out for parties, and that said parties would bring in droves of lithe, horny young people, they shifted their business model from corporate law to glowsticks and ketamine.

A stage had been constructed over the hidden floor panel. John searched along its lip for some way to get underneath, while I sought the improvised backstage area. Inside a corner office being used as some kind of dressing room, I discovered Tessa. She was alone. Looking up when I came in, she did not attempt to check her tears. In her lap was the giraffe-hide briefcase, so I knew she’d found a way to the hidden compartment.

“Tessa, why?”

“Revenge.”

I just stared at her, unable to conceive of what wrong would drive her to madness in the name of vengeance. With each turning of the diabolical wheel that was my business partnership with John, through all our betrayals and stupid macho games, we both had always looked out for this woman.

“You want the case,” she spat. “You want it before John finds us. That’s all you care about.”

She had me there. I had been edging forward, compelled by my desperation to control the destiny of the items in that case, to deprive John — and Tessa — of them.

She stood, and John burst in. He froze in the doorway and his eyes locked onto the briefcase. After a tense second he said, “Girl, you’re cornered. So just hand it over and we’ll all go join the party out there.”

Tears still flowing, Tessa began to laugh. “I’m in charge, now! I have the briefcase, and what I say goes unless you want me to open it.” I shook my head and saw John doing the same. “Good, then we understand each other. I’m afraid one of you will be taking the fall, but the other one can visit him every weekend.”

 

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First an Ocean Swim

  • by jengross little brine-loogies
  • despite the morning’s embarrassment
  • wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes
  • breathless from her bootyshaking
  • many strange and fanciful masks

Tune In Next Time Part 6                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

First an ocean swim while chained to cinderblocks, then a ride on a child’s bicycle, and now running up stairs, I thought as I took the steps two at a time, heaving for breath and coughing up gross little brine-loogies. It’s like some sort of triathlon of the absurd.

Two floors below I heard John enter the stairwell, and despite the morning’s embarrassment that led to this evening’s murder attempts I was glad to have him around. Even wearing sloppy clothes and tennis shoes saturated with seawater he was an intimidating guy, and I thought that the two of us working together might be able to defeat Tessa. If we got really lucky. And if John didn’t betray me again.

I got to the fifth floor and pushed through the fire door into some sort of rave. A gorgeous woman in silver body paint stood on stage, breathless from her bootyshaking, and the people in the crowd wore many strange and fanciful masks. I pushed through the throng, John hot on my heels, looking for Tessa. She had to be here somewhere. The secret compartment that was her ultimate goal was hidden under the floor.

bonus points for using them in order

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“This Doesn’t Mean I Won’t Still Kill You Later”

  • k-avatarplanning to take the bus
  • , mostly prostitutes
  • No one knew whose they were
  • regarding an unnatural sex act
  • up through the asphalt

Tune In Next Time Part 5                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

“This doesn’t mean I won’t still kill you later,” John said as he helped me move up the beach. He unlocked the chains from my ankles, freeing me from the concrete weights.

“Tessa has a huge head start,” I pointed out. John said nothing as we jogged up to the boardwalk. He paused at the edge of the street, watching the oncoming traffic. I wondered if he was planning to take the bus.

“This is 13th,” he said. “It’s 40 blocks to the place. We need wheels, man!”

I was still out of breath from my near-drowning. We were both dripping seawater. No way a cab would pick us up. Scanning the people around us, mostly prostitutes, I hoped to find some kind of transportation inspiration. I did, in the form of two bicycles laying beside the fortune teller’s kiosk. We asked if they belonged to anyone, we even asked the fortune teller. No one knew whose they were.

John said, “After the things we’ve done, you’re worried about stealing a bike?”

“Borrowing,” I corrected as I threw a leg over the red one and started pedaling. “After the things we’ve done, we really need to do better.”

John caught up and passed me, forcing me to pedal harder. I wanted to get in front again, to get to Tessa first. Also, the view from behind, of John pumping furiously on the undersized bike, was like a pantomime performance regarding an unnatural sex act.

By the time we reached the 50th Street Overpass, it was well past midnight and we were both gasping for breath. The only traffic I saw was a single taxi that swung into the avenue a couple of blocks ahead of us. It pulled up to the curb at the place, and the rear door flew open. “It’s her!” John yelled, his absurd exertions increasing as he poured on speed.

I shifted gears and started gaining. I couldn’t allow those two to be alone together, and I hated to think what John might resort to as a way of stopping Tessa. Suddenly John’s bike wobbled to a stop, both tires flat. I veered around the small cluster of nails poking up through the asphalt and leapt from my bike without stopping, dashing straight in through the revolving door in time to see Tessa in the elevator as it closed.

bonus points for using them in order

 

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John Reared From the Water

  • by jen— however bad a person you may think I am —
  • place on 53rd Street
  • “I tried to save her,”
  • the child’s umbrella
  • something from a Mary Shelley nightmare

Tune In Next Time Part 4                              Click Here for Earlier Installments

John reared from the water like something from a Mary Shelley nightmare, with a harpoon instead of the usual lightning rod. He waved the thing over his head like the child’s umbrella he stole in our first caper together, then flung it at the receding zodiac. Or maybe he was aiming for Tessa’s back. In either case, he missed. The harpoon lanced into the waves and struck bottom, then stood there quivering in the flashing neon and surf.

“I tried to save her,” John muttered, “from you and from herself. And this is the thanks I get?”

“She’s going to the place on 53rd Street,” I said. “You can’t let her get there John — however bad a person you may think I am — you can’t let her. You know how much trouble we’ll both be in if she gets her hands on it! How much trouble the world will be in!”

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My Brother Looks Like He Escaped

  • k-avataryour pisspot world’s sidereal shenanigans
  • Victory.
  • from a roadside zoo in Florida
  • governmental-seeming buildings
  • ten mile hike with a full backpack

My brother looks like he escaped from a roadside zoo in Florida, but it was actually a lab out in the desert someplace. No roads to it at all, just an airstrip and some governmental-seeming buildings and a whole lotta hot, gritty wind. My brother showed up there after a ten mile hike with a full backpack, thinking they’d offer him a job. Instead they put him in a cage. It didn’t hold him, of course. He even got his backpack back. Victory. Anyway, you’re lucky you didn’t put a scratch on either of us, because our mom gets pissed. She’d show up in the Obliteron and deorbit this sorry little rock, thus putting an end to your pisspot world’s sidereal shenanigans.

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