justsomewritingprompts
Fun Writing Prompts
If anyone needs anything specific, go ahead and shoot me an ask, or a message Also, most pictures are not mine! They are found on Google!
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“Singing myself to sleepAnd you’re still my favorite melody”
Zzzzz by The Cab
Sorry I took so long to answer this!!
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Writing Prompt #348: Write This Story
He was the final piece of the puzzle. The last thing they needed to win the battle.
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Writing Prompt #347: Dialogue
“I know you’re in pain, but don’t push us away. Not when you need us the most.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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Life in a Nutshell
“Laurie, how did you get tickets to this thing?” Marty asked. He still couldn’t believe that she got tickets to Worldstock, Miami’s newest and supposedly hottest world music festival. “tickets for this thing usually go for 700 bucks a pop.”
“Easy” Laurie said, “the school gave them to me as compensation for the spring play getting cancelled.”
Marty nodded. “Oh, yeah,” he said, “that crazy, Wild-West version of Cinderella. Why did they cancel it?”
“Well,” Laurie began, “the ‘Cinderella’ (well, Stacy, anyway) was supposed to wear this bright pink saloon girl outfit. I looked terrible in it, it clashed really, really badly with the red hair. As a result, they kicked me out of the play.”
Marty’s eyes widened. “They kicked you out because you didn’t look good in a costume? That’s awful!”
Laurie nodded and smiled deviously. “Oh, it gets better” she said, “I told Prudence about it, and somehow, her parents got wind of it, and they complained to the school. They didn’t complain about me getting kicked out of the play for not looking good in the costume.”
“They didn’t?”
“No.” Laurie laughed, “They complained about the fact that the play had saloon girls in it, thus making it somehow inappropriate, since, according to them, saloon girls are basically ‘early American Hooter’s girls’ and thus overly sexual. Long story short, the school cancelled the play.”
Meanwhile, Gwen overheard everything Laurie said. “You know,” she chimed in, “none of that would have happened if you could do a chin up.”
Laurie raised an eyebrow. Her jaw dropped slightly. “Are you insinuating this is my fault, Gwen?”
“No” Gwen said in the most monotone voice she could muster, “I’m stressed, what happened to you really upset me, I didn’t know what else to say.”
Marty looked at Gwen. “What are you doing here?” he asked her.
“Strings band,” she said, “we’re opening for Loreena McKennitt.”
The three of them continued to talk. Well, actually, Laurie and Marty talked, Gwen couldn’t get a word in edgewise. Eventually, the bus pulled up to the front gates. The gates to Worldstock opened.
Contrary to what Laurie, Marty, Gwen, and thousands of others had been told; Worldstock actually took place in an abandoned resort development full of roads that led to nowhere. No infrastructure, only half-finished skeletons of actual stages, and no hope.
To make matters worse, Worldstock fell on the same weekend as a major pre-Olympic sailing race series that utilized all of the local hotels, vacation rentals and resources.
“What the fuck?!” someone said.
“Turn this bus around!” said another.
“Is this supposed to be a music festival?” a third person demanded, “If it is, it’s about as slapped together as what Judy’s currently wearing.”
“Hey, shut up!” Judy barked.
If the Worldstock music festival were a piece of architecture, it would be a flight of stairs consisting of three cement blocks held together by a carpet. On top of the nearly nonexistent infrastructure, staff frequently damaged luggage, drank on the job, and in general, had no clue what the fuck they were doing. When Laurie and Marty went to pick up their bags, Marty caught baggage handlers trying to steal the urn out of his suitcase immediately after they threw it onto the ground and the suitcase split open.
“Hey!“ he barked, “those are my dad’s ashes!” He totally forgot that the ashes were in his suitcase. Three years ago, his family planned to take the ashes to New Orleans and scatter them in the front yard of the house where his dad grew up, but such a trip never materialized.
The baggage handlers continued to play football with the urn, until summer to get through it and it landed on the ground and broke. Almost immediately afterwards, a stray cat walked up to the ashes, dug a hole, and went to the bathroom.
The musicians didn’t have it any easier than the guests. When Gwen (along with the few other musical acts that hadn’t pulled out) attempted to find the artist sign in booth, a disorganized and clueless staff member just handed them a booklet for the event.
On top of problems with the staff, the organizers of the event also forgot something crucial: toilets! Many people who tried to look for the bathrooms only found one port-a-potty, with of course, no toilet paper. Seriously! There wasn’t a square to spare.
It took Gwen way too long to sign in, and even longer to find where her peers in the band were supposed to meet. But once Gwen got there, she would be in for a shock. “Ah, Gwen,” said her band teacher, Mr. Barclay, “glad you could make it. There’s actually something I wanna tell you.”
“Sorry I’m late,” Gwen replied, “couldn’t find the place because these idiots don’t know what they’re doing. I ask for directions, they give me a brochure for the event!”
“It’s OK, Gwen.” said Mr. Barclay, “You weren’t actually supposed to show up.”
Gwen couldn’t believe what she just heard. “What?”
“Didn’t anyone tell you? We kicked you out.”
Gwen’s eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. “Seriously? You kicked me out?” She spoke in a way that her words felt like getting stuck with a long, thick needle, “you mean I memorized the song from Lord of the Rings for nothing?!”
“Well,” Mr. Barclay continued, “we didn’t really have a choice but to get rid of you. You play the violin left-handed.”
“Bullshit!” she shouted.
“It’s a safety issue. All the bows have to go in the same direction, otherwise you risk taking someone’s eye out. Either get with the program and play violin normally, or go play the violin somewhere else.”
Gwen struggled to comprehend the feeling of what had just happened. She was unable to catch her breath. A passerby would have assumed that she was either panting so much from running the New York Marathon or panicking because she was afraid of getting busted for cheating during the New York Marathon by taking the subway. Either way, she stood there, out of breath and visibly sweaty.
What they couldn’t see was her numb right arm. They couldn’t see the chest pains. They couldn’t see her oxygen starved heart cells die off like flies.
“WHAT IS YOUR PROBLEM!? CAN’T YOU SEE HOW HURT I AM??!! BAND MEANT THE WORLD TO ME AND NOW YOU’RE KICKING ME OUT FOR BEING LEFT HANDED?!?! FUCK YOU!! FUCK YOU AND EVERYONE YOU- ”, she shouted at her band teacher. Before she could finish, a stream of vomit exited her mouth at a 30 degree angle and landed in the bell of some poor guy’s tuba. Despite being at a healthy weight of 113 pounds for her 5'2" frame, she actually had a heart attack. She may have been thin, but she still had a heart attack, as evidenced by the chest pains, racing heart, and second stream of barf that just flew out of her mouth.
Why? Her heart just plain couldn’t cope with the shock of Mr. Barclay ejecting from band the way her body ejected vomit from her mouth as increasing volumes of her heart cells died from lack of oxygen.
“NOW LOOK WHAT YOU BASTARDS DID!! CALL AN AMBULANCE, I’M HAVING A HEART ATTACK BECAUSE OF YOU!!!” she shouted as she ran away, “MR. BARCLAY, THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!!!”
Laurie didn’t even get the chance to tell Marty that there was no way that their first legit date could go any worse. Before she could even open her mouth, Gwen snuck up behind her. “Laurie, you, 911, now!”
Laurie turned around. She glared at Gwen “I’m on a date,” she barked, “so can you leave me alone?”
“No!” Gwen said sharply “this is an emergency!”
Between the festival turning out to be an actual dumpster and all the stuff that happened with the play getting cancelled, Laurie just lost it. “OK, I see, but take your emergency somewhere else.” she nearly growled at Gwen “I’m on a date”
Gwen stood there in shock. “Who are you?” she asked.
Laurie shook her head, flabbergasted. “I’m your best friend. We’ve known each other our whole lives!”
Yeah, Gwen thought, if you really were my best friend, you’d call 911. “Can you put the date thing aside and just call 911 before I collapse?”
Laurie started to flare her nostrils and stomp her feet. “What part of I’m on a date do you not understand?! I can’t call 911, I’m busy; so, just cheese it!”
Gwen fell to her knees. She dry heaved twice before any actual words came out of her mouth. “You’re not the same.“ she gasped, "I don’t know who you are anymore.”
"I haven’t changed here, but that’s beside the issue” bellowed a now fuming and frantically pointing Laurie, “The problem here is that the school cancelled my play because the morons in costume design couldn’t be bothered with designing a costume that would go with my red hair, and the consolation the school gave me were these tickets to a dumpster fire of a music festival. I need to be the centre of attention right now, not you; so make like a tree and get out!”
Gwen threw up on Laurie. It was her only defense.
@justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #346: Write This Story
They all sat around the table, children’s laughter rang out over the chatter. The house smelled of freshly baked pastries. The mood was light, the smiles throughout the room reminded them that they didn’t have to be related to be a family. And that was something that they were all thankful for.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!
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Writing Prompt #345: Dialogue
“Please, please let me come home! I know that there’s no excuse for what I did but please, let’s talk it out.”
“No, there’s nothing to talk about. You made a choice and now I’ve made mine. Do not try to contact me again.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #344: Dialogue
“Stop! Just stop. You can’t just say sorry and pretend that nothing happened!”
“Please just give me one more chance! I can make this right, I promise!”
“You’re promises don’t mean shit to me.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #343: Write This Story
The way she looked at him made his blood run cold. Her smile was like looking at the sun and her eyes shown like diamonds. It was his job to corrupt the innocent, but he couldn’t bring himself to taint such a magnificent light.
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Writing Prompt #342: Write This Story
Halloween is the best day of the year for all the monsters of the world. They all come out to play and nobody can tell who is really on the other side of the mask.
Happy Halloween!
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Thank you for tagging me, I’m glad you were able to use one of my prompts!
Day 1
Writing Prompt #331: Dialogue from @justsomewritingprompts
“Quit following me around! It’s creepy!”
“Your majesty, it is my job as a royal guard to keep you safe.”
*****
I put on my red dress that covered my legs and feet and insisted on wearing my black Doc Martens. I know my father wouldn’t approve of my choice of footwear, but he can’t see them, who cares! I let my hair down, my dark locks flowing over my back. I was putting my earrings on when I heard the door knock.
“Come in,” I sing-songed.
“Your majesty it’s time.” My stylist came into my room reaching her hand out for me to take.
We went down to the ballroom, filled with lots of people I don’t care about, but I have to make an appearance. I let myself go straight to the hors d'oeuvre table, trying not to make any eye contact with anybody. I was munching on quiche when I heard footsteps come close to me.
I turned around and put a bright smile on my face, “Hey dad.”
“So nice of you to join us tonight. Come, there are some people I would like for you to meet,” he said leading the way.
We walked over to a group of people when my boots squeaked on the polished floor. My dad stopped in his tracks and turned to look at me. “Shit,” I said under my breath.
He raised his brow at me and said, “Why are your shoes squeaking?”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said avoiding eye contact with him.
He motioned for me to lift my dress so he can see my shoes. He saw the black chunky boots under my dress and sighed in disgust, “Please go back upstairs and change them.”
“Or, I could just leave?” I asked hopefully
He sighed in defeat, “Fine go on, just make sure you let me know where you are.”
“Thank you!”
I weaved my way through the crowds of people and I could hear my dad say, “Luna’s not feeling so well today, she needs her rest.”
I went back to my room to grab my sketchbook and a pencil. I made my way down to the courtyard sitting on my favorite bench, overlooking the fountain and the mountains. I opened up my sketchbook to a blank page, ready to sketch the fountain. As I grabbed my pencil, I heard the bushes moving.
“Quit following me around! It’s creepy!”
“Your majesty, it is my job as a royal guard to keep you safe.” One of our guards, Elijah came out of the bushes and into my view.
“No, I think you just secretly like me,” I mumbled, crossing my legs.
“Your majesty, I cannot have any romantic relationship with you.”
“That doesn’t mean you can’t have feelings for me,” I teased. I patted the spot next to me, “Come join me.”
Hesitant, Elijah sat down next to me, his brown eyes pleading for me to do something to make the moment less awkward. He shifted, looking back at the castle to see if anyone was looking for him. His feet were placed flat on the floor, hands in his lap and his back straight as a ruler.
I placed my sketchbook on his lap, his head whipping back, eyes looking at me with fright. “Do you draw?”
“No your majesty, I don’t.” He placed my sketchbook next to me.
“You can call me Luna. I can teach you how to draw if you’d like,” I said scooting closer to him.
“Your majest- Luna, I don’t think that’s a good idea.” He said looking back again to see if anyone was watching us.
“Why not? It can be our secret, besides I don’t have any friends here.” I said flipping to the back of my sketchbook, getting ready to hand it to him.
Elijah stood up abruptly and said, “I’m not here to be your friend,” and he stormed off.
I stood up, letting my sketchbook fall from my hands. I watched him make his way over back to the castle. Sighing, I picked up my sketchbook off of the ground and sat back down on the bench. Out the corner of my eye, I saw a figure standing on the balcony. I looked over and it was my dad. He saw me looking over and motioned for me to come back inside. Great. I’m gonna hear an earful.
****
A/N: This is my first post! I hope you guys enjoy!
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Writing Prompt #341: Dialogue
“Choose your words wisely, they might be your last.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #340: Dialogue
“Please, let me prove to you that I’m better than that!”
“You lost your chance a long time ago.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #339: Dialogue
“Who are you?”
“I’m your best friend. We’ve known each other our whole lives.”
“You’re not the same. I don’t know who you are anymore.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #338: Dialogue
“I don’t regret a thing.”
“And that’s the problem. You killed those people.”
“Yes, and if I could be sorry I would be, but I can’t, not when they were trying to kill you.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompts#dialogue prompt#justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #337: Write This Story
He walked into the room. The first thing he noticed was the walls painted in blood. A small girl sat in a large pool of blood, soaked from head to toe. When she looked at him, he knew. This was the monster he was looking for.
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Writing Prompt #336: Dialogue
“Is that true? I never stood a chance?”
“No, it was your own choices that brought you here.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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Writing Prompt #335: Dialogue
“How do you want this to go? You can play this out, or I can kill you right here and now.”
“Dude, we’re playing chess.”
#writing prompt#writing prompts#writing#prompt#prompts#dialogue#dialogue prompt#dialogue prompts#justsomewritingprompts
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