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Be Careful… (Writing Prompts)

Writing Prompts

I'm glad goosebumps are not in short supply or I'd have to start rationing mine.

You and your stories are making me go through in inordinate number of these little things, because you persistently insist on writing wee bits of magic when prompted with little more than some colours and an obscure image.

Thank you.

Will you do it again?

Be careful... (writing prompts)

On Space Chickens and Lonely Lochs—Inspired Writing

Below are some quotes from last weeks lovelies, inspired by "Sudden Silence," and of course I'd love to include yours in next week's.

~ She is as old as this world, born in the very bones of the planet in fire and pressure. Recently a new species has been growing and expanding its reach. The oceans have become noisy and crowded. She retreats to an island where she finds a lake to her liking. She avoids the rivers where the Kelpies live. The water always tastes of malice and fear. But the lake is lovely.
~ The human explorers will, however, find a star map and they’ll believe that the Space Chickens traversed the great expanse of space only to reach this lonely death...
~ I’ve lived here always and so here I’ll pass the rest of my days. Though the water is long gone I still talk to my childhood friend. I walk round the dry bowl of Loch Ness and discuss dust and daydreams with the ghost of my beautiful beastie in the ghost of what was once her beautiful lake.
~ Haar saw the impact in the distance, just over the horizon somewhere, and then the heat of it reached her. It was as if a giant warm glove, one that fit her from heels to head, wrapped her up in its grip…The sudden silence made her ears ring. Then she knew nothing.
~ The sudden silence of an argument lost and won fell on the car like a boulder. Tired of driving and tired of talking and tired of her too for a devastating instant, there were words only meant for the time it took to snap them out, but once free they were never coming back. Words were not to be trusted.

 I've munched much produce, drank a lot of water, got some exercise, so I think I'm well and truly stocked up on the raw materials for making goosebumps. I'm ready for your story.

I'm ready. Go.

More Writing Prompts
Sudden Silence
Foolish Human
Other Stuff
6 Tips: Writers and Artists Working from Home
Write About Anything (Let It Be)


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  • Maria on

    The reflection of the morning sun in puddles cast waves and ripples of light against the grey concrete walls. The traffic was still light and the air was gloriously crisp, the smells of the city still resting on the sidewalks and the bowels of the factories.
    Tired after a full night’s wakefulness, she made her way across the street, speeding up for the final yards because a car was coming close. “Be careful …” she chided herself. She needed to sleep, but the thought of breakfast kept her going. Breakfast, and then a long sleep.
    Another puddle, and a pair of children’s boots splashed water at her as the parent dragged the child along, too fast for the little booted feet. And yet, they had skipped and done an extra hop into the puddle before they disappeared from view.
    Another concrete wall, now showing glistening rings instead of ripples, just ahead. She pushed her way against the cardboard that closed off the space between two buildings and slipped inside. She dropped down the mouse she had caught on her way home. Breakfast would be opulent.

  • Anarion on

    He’s glorious, long and lean, pale and fiery both. We watch him dance through the water from the safe harbour of the reef. He doesn’t need the protection, he is free to swim with the flow of the water.

    I dare to dart out a bit further, to see him better and my mother’s scales change colour, indicating warning. I gaze back at her and the rest of my shoal, all of them almost disappearing in the shadow of the reef, no colour except grey and blue.

    I turn back to the open water and I can’t stop looking at his opulent beauty. The long tentacles seem to wave at me gently. Mesmerised I swim closer and closer; mother and her words of warning long forgotten.

    The first contact is almost gentle, just the ghost of a touch, a gentle sweep of his longest tentacle.

    He is aware of me now; more and more tentacles extend towards me and I give one last flap of my fin that carries me right into his embrace. There is no pain, all I feel is a faint tingling sensation.

    My last thoughts before I lose consciousness is that when he consumes me, I’ll finally be part of something beautiful too.

    ~ ~ ~
    I read Atlin’s story and this is where my brain went. I have no explanation.

  • Wendy / Atlin on

    He’s glorious, long and lean, pale and fiery both. He could stop traffic with his opulent beauty should he deign to notice us, but notice us he does not.

    I realise I want his attention more than I want air, I want to reach out, to touch, I could, I will, I—

    “Be careful,” she Signs, my mother, a half dozen metres distant. Though I’m full grown I sigh a bubbly breathe at her, put-upon and petulant.

    Unimpressed she takes photos of him. He sways that body of his, as if he knows we’re watching. I gaze rapt into the distance, long after he’s gone.

    Back on the boat he’s all I talk about.

    I’ve seen my first lion’s mane jellyfish. I am in love.

    https://media.wired.com/photos/5b50d687beabfb0b6ce34b36/master/w_600,c_limit/170956244.jpg

  • Anarion on

    Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

    Still, as I watched the emperor parade through our town on his dragon, her scales iridescent in the sunlight, her wings quivering as if she was about to leap up and carry him wherever he wanted to go, his hand resting firmly but gently on her shoulder, I saw the beauty of them together and I wanted that.

    Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

    Still, as I saw them ride out into war, colours blazing and trumpets sounding so loud it echoed from the mountains, as I heard the tales of huge battles, of unspeakable bravery and tragedy alike, of heroes and glory, I wanted that.

    Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

    Still, as I saw the castle with the soaring towers, the banners on top snapping in the breeze, the windows sparkling in the sun, as I saw the wonders, the riches and the opulent lifestyle I wanted that.

    Be careful what you wish for, my brother used to say.

    ~
    I look down at the enchanted shackles around my ankle, forever cutting in my flesh, I look up at the magical cage over my head that’s preventing me from taking flight unless it is wished by the emperor, I feel the branding burned into my scales, forever binding me to this human lineage.

    Be careful what you wish for, my brother said before he granted my wish.

  • The Honeyed Moon on

    “Be careful,” the voice said. It was a voice that came from everywhere and nowhere all at once. It oozed into your mind and clanged around, ricocheting off of nothing. Slowed now to a syrupy drawl, again the warning came, “Be careful”.

    Of what? Nothing here would require such an ominous and dire warning. This tranquil cottage is yours; you created it and you are in control of what goes on here. It’s safe here.

    The sun is shining and it’s golden light paints a dappled pattern that dances across the floor. It is morning, and a light breeze coming in through the open window, bringing with it the smell of… orange blossoms? Lilacs maybe? Perhaps it was both. Soon you’ll get up and have some breakfast, but for right now you’re snug in your bed with the scent of flowering things and the sun and …

    “Be careful.” The voice was more urgent now.

    As you sit up, the gauzy curtains flutter into the room on the breeze that has suddenly turned chilly. The glory that had been the sunlight playing over the floor was gone. Dread begins to creep into your consciousness and fear caresses you with its cold and bony fingers. Rain begins to fall outside and you can hear it slapping against the walls and roof.

    Your feet touch the floor and the wood is cold. You draw the duvet off the bend to wrap around yourself. The once opulent purple satin has now faded to a dusty shade, and it is frayed around the edges. As you pull it tight around you, it rips in two down your back.

    “What am I to be careful of? This world is mine, I say what happens here!” You say firmly to the empty room, to the formless voice.

    At the sound of your own voice, you come awake. The sunlight and flower-scented breeze is gone, replaced by the sounds of traffic and the city coming to life outside.

    “Ugh. Monday,” you groan. As you get up, the tattered duvet tangles around your feet and you go sprawling to the floor. Ace, your cat, looks at you and says, “I told you to be careful.”

    “What?”, you ask him stupidly. He only rolls his eyes and shrieks for his breakfast.

    This wakes you up for real and for good. It is Monday, it is raining, and you’re never having vindaloo for a late night snack again. Ever.



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