Writing Prompt
Writings
Writings
WRITING OBSTACLE
Write a story, in any genre, that begins with an intensely descriptive paragraph.
You could practice describing a setting, a character, an action sequence, or anything that will be important to your plot.
Writings
A man in a crisp blue suit gets out of a jeep ahead of the cargo trailer. His face is locked in a perpetual scowl and the sparse hair on his shaved head is just starting to grow back in a grey horseshoe. He walked down the line of Wolfbanes he noticed Romingo a wicked sneer split across his face “Welcome back to Nail this time you won't ever escape I'll see to that personally.” he said to Romingo ...
Crimson droplets race down the textured grey walls. She’s screaming, maniacally laughing. She’s insane, broken beyond repair. She’s a clock ticking away; counting down your darkened minutes to life.
She’s the blade in your back; pretty, bloody, and sharp. She’s angry, a raging black fire… she’d pop your teary eyes out and use them as colored dice in her game.
The sharpened stone arrow is pierce...
The body has already gone cold.
The three girls arrive before the twisted figure, his body contorted into an unnatural position. Joints broken, limbs bent, and an expression of pure terror frozen on his once-handsome face. A trail of blood trickles from his severed jaw, and more flows from a cloak once white, now stained with his last moments. An icy chill permeates the air, and the girls' breat...
Freddy wasn’t half as amused by what he saw in Ms. Carmine’s kitchen. To be blunt, he was mortified, he wanted nothing more than to return home, crawl under his sheets and discard what he’d just seen. Hundreds if not thousands of crabs crawled haphazardly around the old woman’s kitchen. Crawling over one another, snapping and snarling at each other. He could hear the click’s from their claws a...
The large, echoey room was pitch black and frigidly cold. If you stepped inside, your footsteps would echo loudly, sending shivers down your spine, and you would immediately wished you had worn your thick, warm sweater. Sometimes, a spotlight would flicker into the middle of the room, providing temporarily relief. The shining light focused on a single blood red flower, withering in your midst. And...
She slumped to the floor. Everyone was dead. It all could’ve been over if they had only listened. When she took an ax and fire to the wooden horse. When she ran the streets, hoping that someone, anyone, would hear as she sobbed her visions to the ground. Only the women were left; their fate–she knew, and she wanted to yell in the injustice of it all. Nothing was left to do but divvy up the women f...
The gathering was just as I had imagined.
The dinner party guests, or what was left of them, were all assembled in the library. Terribly on the nose, I know, but what are you going to do? Shoot me? Well, someone already tried. You know this.
One of the suspects, that’s these distinguished guests, does everything in their power to stop the detective, that’s me, uncovering their secrets. So I’ve...
“It’s just so spectacular, Cathy!” Mr Henri exclaimed, eyes wide with admiration. “Just look at it! So wonderfully vivid and exquisite. It’s a riot of colours and shades. Look at that yellow there, how it just oozes into the green, and that smattering of blue dots, like jewels in an intricate crown. It’s an amalgam of hues, all spread out like a-a-a feast! Yes, a feast for the eyes! The way you h...
Pale. No, like that of snow, or of a pearl. Like that of a dying man; Sickly, weak. He was pale. He shakes and coughs, eyes dark. Dark like the sea at night, danger behind the vial of shadows.
He’s beautiful, but twisted, like a warped painting of something pure. His fingers are long, his palms are smooth, his wrists covered in silver chains. It’s dark, only a firelight to illuminate him, but he...
The sweat rolls down my forehead. It’s scolding hot and the little cheap, plastic fans do nothing to help the heat.I feel a sharp pain in my dark, blistered fingers as I put the blue sweater, wrapped in slightly opaque plastic into the dull cardboard box. I slowly close the flaps, they would normally be smooth but to my sensitive hands they feel as rough as sandstone. I pick up the tape gun. The l...
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