You can tell I’m often sitting in front of my window when I come up with themes for my weekly writing prompts. After weeks of grey and drizzle, there is a gorgeous dappling or orange and yellow over the hills this morning. But, before I go too far down that very purple and very winding road — let’s crack on!
This week’s prompts are:
Emerging.
We may still be in winter, but it feels like things are starting to brighten and wake up. But if you’re expecting sunny prompts bursting with zeal for new life — this is not the blog for you.
Without further ado, this week’s prompts are:
A new kingdom was rising. It was dismantling old systems, and people near and far eagerly welcomed the change. But its “old with the old, in with the new” ethos went further than any of them expected.
Character A needed refuge. But it was spring time and all kinds of things in the forest were waking up. They sequestered themselves away in an empty cave. Or so they thought…
Each child was born with a mark on its foot, which indicated what kind of person it would grow up to be: wise, leader, warrior, nurturing, murderer… And now a zealous subsect of society wants to use those marks to build a perfect utopia.
Characters A, B, and C are exploring the wilds around their home. They hadn’t expected the screaming person to burst out of the rusted grate that had been grown over ever since they could remember.
In this world, businesses didn’t make it past their start-up years by clever marketing and networking. No, they made it by being as cutthroat as possible — literally. The more heads a business stacked outside it’s front doors, the more custom it got. Old Mrs Barnsby had been going to the same butcher since she was a wee girl, and this new upstart in the neighbourhood wasn’t going to change that.
During the first sunshine after winter, there was a field that bloomed to life as soon as they daylight touched it, only for all the flowers to die when the sun went down. Some of these flowers granted luck. Some granted love. Some granted special powers for one day only. Others were poison. The problem? They all looked the same.
Character A had tried to stop Character B from shooting the bird — but they hadn’t listened. Now Character A has three eggs to look after. But when they hatch, they weren’t what they expected.
In a post-apocalyptic society, where resources were scarce, serial killers stopped being vilified and started being celebrated. Pest-control, they called it, as they set-up a training school.
To control the human population, the Gods of this world decreed that a child couldn’t be born, until another person died.
Something tugged on Character A’s fishing line, so they tugged it back. What came to the surface had more teeth than they were comfortable with.
As always, I’d love to see anything you’ve written using these prompts. Either reply below or share on Twitter @EditorHistory.