Prompted once again
I have been feeling a little out of touch with my creative brain lately, so I opened my phone and typed in “writing prompts.” Writers Digest came through with the following. Disclosure: I wanted to skip a few of these and pick the “fun” ones, but I forced myself to just do the first five- it turned out to be the right choice if you ask me.💋 Prompts are underlined. My responses follow.
1. The Variant of Vampires. Think of an alternative vampire that survives on something other than blood. Write a story or scene based on this character.
🧛♀️ She always got a high when she felt the smooth leather of someone else’s wallet between her fingers. She was ten, maybe, eight, the first time she let her delicate hand slip into a stranger’s pocket. The wallet is soft, practically wanting to be freed from the confines of the strange’s ownership. This time was no different, the streets busy, the city resonating a white noise that would muffle her presence and with the sun sliding lazily to the skyline she was rendered nearly invisible. It was like oxygen for her, the thing that made her life possible, not the money so much although she didn’t mind the money it bought her things like food and shelter but it was the rush of it. The adrenaline was like blood to a vampire, she craved it, almost more than the food and shelter that actually kept her alive.
2. Spinning the Globe. Imagine that a character did the old spin the globe and see where to take your next vacation trick. Write a story or scene describing where they went and how their trip panned out.
🌎 The child’s globe spun leaving the earth to look more green than blue as she held her finger at the ready to drop it to the random spot that would be the next stamp in her passport. She hadn’t been on a vacation since her dad had passed and this was, what she hoped would be the break she needed to get over the grief. She loved her dad more than anyone in the world and when he passed away without so much as a warning she thought she might die in the aftermath. She angled her finger up a bit to avoid the equator and dropped it. Lincoln, Nebraska, her hometown, was this some kind of joke, she was already there. She squinted her eyes and swiped her hand across the globe once again while holding her other hand at her back fingers crossed.
3. Misheard Lyrics. Think of some of the song lyrics you have misheard throughout the years. Pick your favorite, and use these misheard lyrics as the title of a new creative writing piece. Write a story, scene, or poem based on this title.
*Song Choice → Courtesy of *NSYNC’s Xmas album-, Song- In Love on Christmas: Lyric- “I was all mixed up and confused. I didn’t know what to do, baby.”
**What I heard the first time I listened to this song “I was so f*cking confused.” Now, I can’t not hear it this way. (facepalm)
🎧 Confusion was a way of life for her. But she never seemed to realize until she was so deep in that hole the only way out was by pulling on the other person's patience, using her own fragile ego as a rope. Neither of which, were reliable sources of social preservation. But even with the long line of failed conversations and missed connections she kept diving headfirst into the shallow water of “Oh yeah, me too!”
4. I'm Glad You Called. The person whom you or your character has been trying to talk to for ages finally answers the phone. Who is this person? Why were you or your character trying to track them down for so long? How does the phone conversation progress?
🏠 Evelyn’s great-grandmother lived in her house for seventy-six years, having moved in the day she married her first husband. The house wasn’t messy but still, it held what felt like every piece of mail, every newspaper, and every magazine she’d ever received. Evelyn stood at the kitchen counter memories of the meals she ate with her great-grandmother and the stories she was told played out in a phantom vision over the kitchen. A stack of opened sweepstake envelopes stood piled high against the wall where an old rotary phone hung, the cord strung to the floor from years of use. Evelyn thought about her great-grandmother opening the envelopes, expectation keeping her in the game, she thought for sure she’d win, sooner or later. Evelyn frowned, it made her sad that her great-grandmother never got that knock at the door. Knock! The old door called, with a fist to wood. Evelyn threw her eyes to the sound, could it be?
5. What’s Cooking? As your character watches the hibachi chef prepare their meal, something seems ... off. What is it?
🔪 The hibachi chef twirled the blade, the handle catching the light. A circle with a cross etched into it and the initials MJ carved at the base of the hilt. Mark Johnson.
Her father had been missing for four years. The police closed his case a year and a half after she reported it. He was dead, they told her. She knew better, her father was alive and he didn’t want to be found. When she was awake she found herself chasing clues that left her feeling used and betrayed. And when she was asleep she dreamt scenario after scenario of why he would leave without telling her, without caring that he had. Her chest screamed at the sight of the crest, it was her father’s no question. But why did this man have it? She felt the need to climb across the flames and, grab the man by the throat and demand answers. She bit her tongue and grabbed her seat willing her body to stay calm. She would find out what had happened to her father but she would not let this clue break her.
