Tag: writing prompt

Week 7 Post 1: Unintentional

On By MaryIn 2025, Random, WritingLeave a comment

Have you ever unintentionally broken the law?

Unintentional instances of law breaking usually include theft. In general, I’m very respectful of other people’s property (I might hide something though, that’s maybe not super respectful, I guess) and I’ve always been financially lucky or stable enough that I’ve never felt the need to steal. I don’t really get any sort of thrill from such things as other’s might. I think perhaps the most egregious intentional thefts were some food and drinks while working at a fast food place as a teenager, which if you have worked food service, you know is fairly rampant. So the list is small and accidental:

Once pocketed a silver mercury dime at work intending to switch it out with a normal one from my car, but completely forgot it was in my pocket until I got home. Later, I did the same with a buffalo head nickel.

One year I decided to buy a nice big pot to try to grow some flowers in. I was quite unsuccessful, but kept trying every other year. At the end of one such unsuccessful season, after having owned the pot for about 5ish years, I emptied it and went to go rinse it out and it appeared to fall apart in my hands. Upon further investigation, I discovered it was actually two pots stuck together. I had only needed one, been convinced it was one, so had only paid for one. The inner one still had the barcode on the bottom. Whoops?

Also a semi-intentional one: we had a girl working in the pharmacy that would grab the occasional toy and leave it without buying it in the pharmacy. It was during the time that fidget spinners were really popular, so she had brought a nice hefty metal one in. It hung out in the pharmacy so long and had been messed with so much that it no longer had a barcode and we no longer even sold the item. We had to do a deep clean and remove a lot of clutter, so we were going to just throw it away. I decided to take it home instead.

A hardened criminal, indeed.

Prophetic

On By MaryIn Prompts, WritingLeave a comment

The cards for this week are “reckless enthusiasm” and “homeless person.”

The homeless person that does show up isn’t the actual prompt one, because in my mind the main character is totally homeless after this (and is recklessly enthusiastic about his chances, though I guess I could have emphasized that more somehow). I had the idea almost immediately upon drawing the cards, but actually writing it was a bit boring. I like for things to get really dark and disturbing and this doesn’t quite scratch that, I guess.

Nonetheless…

          Gary woke from the dream with a feeling of absolute certainty. He was going to win the lottery one week from today. The dream was a prophecy, the word of God. He knew it for fact. He also knew that he had much to do in that week’s time. A sort of pre-imposed penance to prove his worthiness.

          He started by announcing to his family and friend’s that he was planning to move soon. He offered them first pick of his belongings. “Can I have your Playstation?” Carl from work joked.

          Gary nodded solemnly. “Anything, first come, first serve.” Carl had given him a strange look and declared bullshit. Gary brought the Playstation and all of its controllers and wires the next day. Carl accepted it, but shook his head in disbelief.

          His ex-wife studied him with concern as he dropped off photo albums and old memorabilia that he thought she would like. “You’re not going to off yourself, are you?” she asked when he enthusiastically offered anything she wanted. He shook his head and reassured her that wasn’t the case.

          Gary spent the weekend clearing out the rest of his belongings, every closet, every drawer, all the drawers themselves. He took everything he could to charity and second-hand shops, and the rest to the dump. He turned the keys to his apartment in. He made sizable cash transfers to his church from his bank accounts, leaving only the minimum amount.

          The day had come. He sat outside the gas station, staring placidly at the homeless man loitering outside. On his way in, he handed the man the title to his car and the keys. “It’s yours,” he told the weeping man, who thanked him profusely. And then he went in and bought his ticket.

          Gary sat in the park overnight. It was a warm night, and he felt calm and content knowing that the next day he would be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams.

          He found a paper to look up the lottery numbers the next morning, a wide smile on his face as he held his ticket up to compare.

          Not a single God damned match.

Roadblock

On By MaryIn Prompts, WritingLeave a comment

The prompts for this week are “the road is closed” and “flirt.” This was the first scene that I came up with, but it’s really super problematic. For one, it feels more like an opening to a story rather than a full story. For another, the main character doesn’t really do anything that seems to earn her the outcome (that being said, realistically, do any of us?) I suppose if extended out into a full scenario it could work, but I’d get bored of it quick. There’s a lot of stories like this.

Also, apologies if the flirtations are not flirty enough, I don’t know how to flirt.

          Alice groaned as she approached the large, orange dividers blocking off access to the road. She had seen the reflective panels right after she had made the turn onto the road and had hoped that the road was open. But now she was close enough to see that she might have to turn around and take a different way home. She rolled to a stop as she eyed the street past the dividers – it didn’t look like there was any construction being done, nothing looked new or changed or wet. There were no people that she could see. This was her shortest route home and she was tempted to drive around the blocks and keep going.

          She gasped at the sharp rap against her window, her head swinging towards the man standing there. She hadn’t seen anyone on her approach, but now a cop wearing a reflective vest stood at her driver side door, looking annoyed. He made a motion for her to roll her window down, and she complied. Her instinct when dealing with most policemen was to turn up the charm in the hopes that she could be let off the hook for whatever minor traffic infraction she had been caught doing.

          Alice smiled wide as she leaned to look up at the man through her lashes, and asked, “I’m sorry, officer. I didn’t realize the road was closed. Is there some kind of accident ahead?”

          He stared at her for a beat too long, shining a light directly into her face so that she couldn’t see him. She wondered if he hadn’t heard her. For a moment, she almost felt stupid, holding her smile in place too long. Then he finally spoke. “There was one.”

          “Was,” Alice pressed, batting her eyelashes and doing her best to look and sound concerned. “I hope no one was hurt.”

          “It was bad, but it should be cleared up by now.”

          Alice internally cheered at her timing. Maybe the cop had been out here to remove the dividers. She smiled at him pleadingly, leaning herself forward in the hopes that her cleavage really popped. “Would it be possible for me to drive around the divider then? This is my shortest route home. I’ve had a long day and it would mean so much…”  He paused again, and it was hard to see against the light he was still infuriatingly shining at her, but she had the victorious impression that his gaze flicked down.

          “Give me a moment and I’ll have it out of the way.” The man walked over to the divider, shifting it aside to give her enough room to drive by. He waved her through, and she waved back at him happily as she drove forward. She couldn’t believe her luck.

But then she glanced in the rearview mirror and saw that he was replacing the divider, moving it back toward the center of the road. A strange sinking feeling caused her stomach to dip, but she ignored it and continued driving. Just don’t stop for anything, she thought to herself resolutely as she rolled her window back up. She gripped the steering wheel. She kept her eyes wide as she continued, looking for any signs of danger around her or on the road. She thought she caught the faintest glimmer of metal in the headlights, then heard a strangely loud sound. The steering wheel dragged hard to the right, and she gasped as the car slipped beyond her control – a tree loomed ahead – a cacophonous sound of metal crunching, air bag gas hissing, and glass shattering –

“She seems kind of weak. Do you really think she’ll make good game?”

Alice felt dizzy and nauseous, pressing her eyes closed tight as she became aware of the sounds around her. The words were alarming, but she could barely focus on them.

“Pretty though. Sometimes the weak looking ones surprise us too.”

“She’s already pretty injured. Gotta be a concussion. Hunting her isn’t going to be any fun if she’s already concussed.” The voice paused, and she felt a finger push against her head. An eruption of searing pain caused her to see lights behind her closed eyes and she gasped.

“Well, then what she would do?”

One Night

On By MaryIn Prompts, WritingLeave a comment

The prompt cards for this one were “recluse” and “blood.”

Typically my first thought with recluse is spider, and my first thought with blood is sacrifice. I had to sit and think through a few more associations trying to brainstorm a short tale, and I kind of like the result. The ending could be tied together a little better with a stronger line. Also I’m second guessing every comma this time.

Anyhow, the story.

Tara lived alone in the middle of nowhere.

It was hard sometimes. She had once been something of a social butterfly and loved to go to parties and special events hosted by her friends. And she was a wonderful hostess as well. There was nothing quite like the thrill of being the center of attention, being the one drawing all the admiring glances, the one to cause the raucous laughter. Tara had loved the dresses she had worn, the company that she kept.

And now she spent her time alone, far from anyone. She slept her days away and quietly whiled away the nights. She absently thought of happier times as she hunted for herself and attended to the chores and upkeep of her own little abode. The loneliness made time stretch eternal, and she found herself wishing for happier days. But she could never return to that. The world had moved on, turned without her, and it was for the better.

One night, as she sat by the fire, there was a knock at the door. She set her book down, a frown creasing her brow, as she stared apprehensively at the door. Was there really a person so far out here? In the middle of the night? Had she been hearing things?

Now whoever was there pounded on the door, the sound so loud it made her jump. “Please…!” a female voice called, high pitched with desperation and worry.

With a heavy sigh, knowing it was a bad idea, Tara stood and opened the door.

Standing outside was a young woman, her clothes disheveled and torn, her eyes wide with terror. She had leaves in her hair, and scratches on her skin, and she was shivering. Tears streamed down her face. “Please, help me…” she whimpered.

Tara hesitated before stepping back to let the younger woman in. “Is there someone after you?” she asked, as she closed the door.

The young woman looked dazed. She nodded briefly, but then paused and said, “I’m not sure. I got away, but I don’t know if he… he…” and then she burst into a fresh set of sobs.

Tara placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder, feeling desperately sorry for her, for so many reasons. Not just for what had likely happened, but for what was going to happen. Tara stared at a smear of blood along the woman’s jawline, and found her eyes drawn further down to her neck. Already the hunger was starting to take hold…

“I’m sorry,” Tara said simply.

And then she sank her fangs into the young woman’s neck. The woman screamed – not that it mattered out here, in the middle of nowhere, far from anyone that could hear. Likely whoever had brought the poor thing out this far had thought the same – so secluded, there was no help.

Tara would never have chosen to live as a recluse, but when she had been turned, she had found her hunger insatiable. It hadn’t taken long for her vampiric nature to be outed, and for her to be ousted. She had left everything behind and come so far into the woods so she could not be tempted by the sweetness of human blood. She could feel the young woman grip her hair, desperately attempting to pull her head away, but her ordeal had left her weak and Tara enjoyed heightened strength since her turning.

The blood burst salty and then sweet into her mouth, invigorating her. Tara moaned in pleasure at the familiar flavor as she drank deeply. It was the first human she had glutted on in years. After a time, the unfortunate woman stilled in her grasp – her heartbeat slowed, slowed, and then stopped as she was drained of more blood than the body could bear to lose. Tara laid her down on the floor.

She tilted her head, staring down at the woman’s corpse, and then glanced at the time. She made her way to the door, ready to scour the woods in the hopes of finding the man that had been mentioned. She had a few hours to kill before dawn.

No Place to Hide

On By MaryIn Prompts, Writing3 Comments

I’ve decided I’m going to try to update on Tuesdays with writing shorts, either using the writing prompt questions that WordPress has available or using the Storymatic cards to prompt a short story. I’m not entirely following the official Storymatic rules – because let’s face it, it’s fun to break the rules. I’m pulling only a couple of cards because I don’t intend to get carried away – all of these stories or posts will be no longer than the average flash fiction. As such, I am pulling one character card and one story card each and running with those.

Today’s prompt includes the following cards: a world record holder, and no place to hide.

              Alice loved the water. She had taken to it like a fish since infancy, had specifically sought out a high school with a good swim team, but eventually found her own niche passion within competitive apnea. She had spent years training herself in freediving, both in pools and in the ocean, with one idea lodged firmly in her head: to break the Guiness World Record for holding one’s breath. As a woman, she had to pass the female record of 18 minutes and 32.59 seconds, but she desperately wanted to prove herself even against the men’s record.

              When she finally made the attempt, she fell short of the men’s record, but did still manage 21 minutes and 22.1 seconds under the water. She remembered the euphoric feeling of knowing that she would now be the goal – that anyone and everyone within her field of competition and interest would know her name, would know that she was the one to surpass. This was a triumph.

              That had been a year and a half ago. She still trained, though not with the same single-minded determination that had driven her before she had achieved her dream. Mostly she trained in case someone managed to break her record, and she relished in the idea of the challenge, but none had managed it so far. Like any other day, she decided to swim in the ocean, and had taken her boat out far from the shore.

              As she prepared for her dive, she scanned the horizon. The sea was calm, and it was a beautiful day, the sort of conditions that always made her feel at peace and in touch with her world. But today seemed somehow different. A strange unsettling began somewhere in the pit of her stomach and raised goosebumps across her flesh. But she had already come out this far and was certain that being in the water would make everything seem right again. Ignoring the feeling, she carefully placed her goggles over her eyes and slipped under the waves.

              She swam down, intending to go as deep as she was able, but the feeling persisted. Something was wrong here. She turned in the water, looking through the depths – the way the distance disappeared in greenish blue usually calmed her, but today it looked somehow darker, murkier. Foreign? Perhaps this was a bad idea after all. She decided to float upward to return to her boat.

              Strangely, her slow descent never seemed to bring her closer to the surface. She frowned, staring at what she felt was up, but it was hard to make out where the water might meet the sky. She quelled her panic and continued, but several moments later, much longer than the time she had taken swimming down, she still hadn’t broken the surface of the water.

              Movement caught her eye. She turned to look, could see a dark shape lurking just beyond comprehension. More movement, from the other side. Four glowing dots seemed to grow out of the gloom, approaching until she realized they were the eyes of some strange massive fish. The ocean was full of mysterious and terrifying things, but she had never seen anything quite like it before. More alarming, it seemed to be stalking her, waiting just out of reach for something to happen.

              She kept her eyes on it as she continued upward. There was nowhere to reasonably hide, and she didn’t want to thrash or panic like a prey animal – instead, she forced herself to keep her movements steady. Besides, despite her world record, or maybe entirely because of it, she knew she did not have much more time before she couldn’t hold her breath anymore. She nearly boggled at the sight of the second creature as it rose from the depths, this one with a white skeletal looking face full of sharp exposed teeth, a dull blue glow emitting from the depths of the eye sockets. What were these things? Where were they coming from?

              They followed her on her slow and completely exposed journey up.

              Her lungs ached and white flashes of light painfully pulsed behind her eyes, almost obscuring the sight of the third creature from the depths – a long flowing inky shadow of tendrils and arms lined with glowing lights of a color that she couldn’t place or even begin to understand, a color she could only describe as oceanic death. It was larger than the other two, both of which pulled back at its approach.

              Panic welling and building to a crescendo, she struggled hard, pulling her arms against the water and kicking, feeling her body rise quickly, but despite that, the surface still never came. She realized she was reaching her limit – had maybe even surpassed her own record. She was out of breath, and out of strength, and out of consciousness. The world darkened as the inky black of the creature surrounded her, and the last cohesive thought that crossed her mind was that she could just barely make out the glistening of pearly teeth…