Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
STORY STARTER
Inspired by John Dee
Write a story about a character who has an unusual diet. The story doesn't have to be just about the diet, but try to include it in a prominent way.
You could try to find a real culture where the diet is very different, or you could make up a bizarre diet for your character.
Writings
At age eleven, I had killed both my parents. There was nothing wrong with them, quite the contrary. Kind creatures they were. I just craved their flesh and the image of their corpses; it just…calmed something inside of me, though I couldn’t tell you what.
After that incident, my whole world shifted. You see, in our world, people like me are seen as ‘special’ of some sort. The more troubled your m...
The sun beats hot and cruel on my back as I lie face down in the dust. The dessert is hot. Too hot. I lay deflated on the sand. I must drink the moon. But days in the dessert are long and drag on. The moon hasn’t smiled in a fortnight.
You see I’m a moon child, chosen by the stars to protect the galaxy from the comfort of earth. We are all made of star dust. But I am special. Every night I count ...
The fat noblemen held a succulent leg of chicken and took a great bite. He tore at it and barely chewing, he swallowed in glee as the fat and oil exploded with taste upon his tongue. He was watching with glee at the performance below. A roar caused him to shiver and pause for just a moment before he laughed.
Down below him was a tiger that he paid a pretty penny for. This tiger was circling an th...
This week’s harvest was a fairly peculiar one, even for Depression.
He’d caught the typical grievers in their fourth stage, he’d swallowed trauma survivors whole, and he’d captured an innocent and lonely man sitting in the middle of a custody battle.
But what was so different this week was the children.
This was not necessarily an unusual path for the ailment himself to take, but the sheer am...
Hamish pushed off against the bulkhead, the gentle pressure starting him along a leisurely trajectory down the length of the ships spinal corridor. Some 50 metres ahead of him was the hatch leading to the command module, open as he had left it. Judging the relative distances of the surrounding walls he surmised that the launch was a good one, straight and true. Reaching his arms out either side of...
I don’t enjoy it.
The work is tedious, messy, and gruesome. All I have going for me is a strong gag reflex, and good intentions.
I used to blame it on the devil, labelling it a curse and screaming at the world for
casting it onto me. Each time I make a kill, guilt courses through every corner of my body, an overwhelming pain strikes the side of my head as if prodding at me to stop. As the la...
I remember the day she came. She sashayed into the house, gave my mum a warm smile, and then we were alone. She was kind. She was gracious. She was likeable. You wouldn’t expect anything to be off with her. She cooked me dinner every night my parents were out. It was always the same thing. Chicken. It didn’t taste like chicken, though. It was sweet and tender. Whenever my mum made me chicken I wou...
My guilty pleasure has always been make-up. “That’s not a guilty pleasure though.” You might say, but I don’t wear it. I eat it. People thinks it’s gross, but I think that if they tried it, they would love it too. It’s so good! At school, I always get yelled at if I ate it, so I began to put it on a sandwich at home. It definitely wasn’t as good in a sandwich, but it was better than not eating it....
Charlie Jacobs was a strange sort of chap. Outwardly he seemed like everyone else - just like you or me. But under the surface, Charlie was a wreck. A biggish sized man, he was pale of complexion, he seemed to be robust and although not athletically stupendous was as fit as many men his age, he was 43, and had never been ill in his life. He had a chirpy sense of humour and, in the printing off...
I sit down at the dinner table. It’s an amazing meal. Hearty meat with mashed potatoes and peas. I learned how to cook from my father.
“Mix it not just sit there!” Dad yelled, hitting me in the back of the head. “Yes sir. I’m sorry sir” I respond. I try to mix faster but the batter is just too thick. The whisk breaks, splitting the wire and mixing rust and steel into the batter. “Great job there ...
Similar writing prompts
STORY STARTER
Them.
From the first person perspective of your character, write about someone they despise OR idolise a little too much...