Places to Chat
Bad/silly writing prompt
Chatterbox: Inkwell
Bad/silly writing prompt
Bad/silly writing prompt thread! Pretty self explanatory:
Imagine you were a piece of scotch tape. Describe every physical sensation.
A girl makes a sandwich. Write what happens next.
Flip to a random word in the dictionary. Make that the name of your main character.
Write a short story using only seven letters.
By accident a piece of microplankton gets elected president. Hilarity ensues.
Write a story where the characters speak only in popular song lyrics.
submitted by Shoshannah
(December 20, 2017 - 8:20 pm)
(December 20, 2017 - 8:20 pm)
Ooo, I have some prompts! They may not technicaly count as bad/silly, but I still think that they are interesting.
~Describe the days of the week as if they were people.
~Pick up the book closest to you. Turn to page 49. Use the first sentance at the top of the page as a writing prompt for your story.
~List your five favorite books. Take the Antagonist (Bad Guy) from the first book, the Protagonist (Good Guy) from the second book, the opening sentance from the third, the setting from the fourth and the genre from the fifth. Now begin writing your story. (Okay, now that I think about it, this last prompt may actually count as plagarism! So...just be sure to give credit to the authors if you do write it. Plagarism is a serious offense.)
~Use these words in your story: Fire, snowman, penguins, ice, hot chocolate, ornaments, ugly sweater, yeti, wreath, and mittens
~Use these words on your story: Hay bale, surfboard, waterfall, California, seven, aqua, star, fried, iguana, and squid.
I am working on the story about being a peice of scotch tape, and I may post it later, depending if I have time to do some editing.
(December 29, 2017 - 1:07 pm)
Oh, I'm going to do the first one!
Monday: Party pooper. Nobody likes her, and therefore, everyone, even Tuesday, stays away from her. But when there are long weekends, you should see how this girl parties! She becomes the life of the party, and fun to be around.
Tuesday: Annoying, but can be OK at times. Everybody's fine with having him around, but he's boring.
Wednesday: Very optimistic and hopeful about the future. When everyone's having a bad week, she likes to say, "Hey, there's still three more days to turn this week around, guys!" and other weird inspirational quotes. In dark times, she is the one to look to.
Thursday: Bossy, and he loves to be in charge. Tough, and full of energy, he can power you through the last boring day of the r]week.
Friday: The youngest of the Weekend Triplets. Fun-loving, she is always happy and always wears a nice smile. Very fun to be around, and energetic. In a relationship with Thursday.
Saturday: The oldest of the Weekend Triplets, and also the most popular. she has a dazzling smile, and is a lot of fun. She's always hanging out with friends and douing cool things.
Sunday: The middle child of the Weekend Triplets. The least popular an a bit of a nerd, she is kind of lazy, and always wants you to get your homework done.
***
(December 29, 2017 - 6:09 pm)
YES! DAYS OF THE WEEK! 've always loved personifying words and days and stuff. I've even created a complete character that is the personification of Nobody. He's rather lonely, but sometimes Everybody or Somebody (He is very distinguished) visit Nobody when they're feeling a little down, talk about it, (Mostly with Nobody listening and nodding at the right times) and go away feeling a bit lighter.
Of course, Nobody doesn't have anyone to talk to. Sometimes Anyone is friendly and they're sort of chums, but there are frankly very few people who Nobody can talk to. Mostly the other personificatons are busy, and very few people/humans/talking animals/stuff can see him. He's rather lonely. I'm planning to write something about him soon.
Anyways, time to writeabout the days of the week!
~~~~~
Saturday yawned, and looked at his nails through his curtain of raven-black hair, poofed and flopped to perfection. I'm talking about the hair, not his nails. That would just be weird. He looked up from his polished nails to look around the slightly sparce room. It had seven plastic and metal chairs, including the one he was lazing about on. He carefully inspected his grey-blue designer suit for any invisible stains or crumbs. There were none, or if there were they were invisible. Being a anthropornofic personficiation meant that whatever happened, you would be sure to look your best, which was a definite plus. Saturday sighed, and thought about his other.... versions... of himself. Being, of course, multi-faceted, anyone could imagine him in any way, and that meant that there were some seriously weird Saturdays out there, but he liked to think he was the most floppy-haired of them.
He started to handsomely twiddle his thumbs (He could handsomely pick his nose, it's a knack) when Wednesday walked in. Saturday looked up, grinned, and was met with a steely stare. He couldn't quite define what is was about Wednesday. She wasn't especially pretty, (Although there were some very pretty versions of her) and the only truly definable thing about her was her frizzy blonde hair, steel-rimmed spectacles, and slightly severe look of being a schoolmistress who had time-traveled to the 90s and had joined a hippy cult. He frowned at him. "Looking very..... good, aren't you." She said it as a statement, not a question. Saturday nodded even though Wednesday was already seating herself in a chair as far away as possible from him.
Suddenly Monday waltzed in. Most things to do with Monday were sudden, especially when he popped up right after Sunday with an annoying grin on his face and a "Got your homework done, have you?" look on it too. Monday winked in a very teacher-trying-to-be-funny-and-failing-at-it-while-being-really-annoying way. (Of course, not all teachers are like this, most are very nice. In their personal lives that is. Something to do with untied shoelaces and bubblegum brings out the worst in any middle-aged person)
Monday plunked himself down in another chair and ruffled his blonde hair, a hair that was verging on floppy but unfortuanately still in a severe army-cut. He grinned and settled himself down to examine test exame results. It wasn't his fault, they just popped up wherever he went. He licked his finger and settled back to work.
There silence, broken only by Saturday coughing handsomely. More silence. It started to verge on boring when Sunday crashed into the room on a skateboard. he also was blonde, but it flopped a great deal more and had a 11th Doctore schoolboy cut to it. He wasn't wearing any safety gear, which was unfortunate, since his smashed right into the chair which Saturday had been sitting in a few mili-seconds before hand.
CRASH! SMASH! BANG! OUCH!
Saturday smoothed down his already very smooth suit and frowned unhappily at the wreckege. He sighed, snapped his fingers, and the chair reorganized itself-in reality Nothing had hit it, since in theory Sunday was just a metaphor-and Sunday was sitting cross-legged on it, with the skateboard slung on a special skateboard-holder on the back of the chair. Sunday grinned rougeishly and winked. "Thanks.I see you still haven't dropped the ol' sleezy business man look. Hey Wednesday, why aren't you sitting closer to Monday? Ya know you two would make the perfect couple, right? Say, -" Sunday was speaking in his casual skater-dude voice when he was interupted by Wednesday snapping, "Yes, and you and Saturday would be the best of buds, over my dead body, young man!" She had a very schoolmistress voice, but Sunday just winked and relaxed into the chair.
Saturday sighed and sat back into a different chair, his composure slightly ruffled.
Tuesday stumbled in, yawning and rubbing sleep from his eyes. "Is this room 3B?" He carefully peeked out into the world and saw it was just the other weekdays. "Oh, phew, thank goodness. Can you believe how many rooms that have the words 3b 3bb and 3bbb? It's a nightmare, I tell you, I almost got sued by a busness man by me mistaking him for you, Saturday. I mean, how hard is it to just name things in a real order? I mean, why not 3a, 3b, 3c, but nooooooo, it has to be really confusing. Oh, sorry, am I going on a bit? Okay, okay, I'll be quiet." He straightened up to show a brown-haired youth with blue eyes and a casual T-shirt and shorts. He sidled over to an empty chair and slumped into it. Then he remembered that he didn't have to keep a persona here and casually relaxed with his arms cross behind his head. "Aaah, much better. You know, I really hate being baby-talked to by adults who think that they're older than me." He snorted. "I mean, I am literally older than them by, like, 200 years. Remeber when we were Freya-day, Thor-day, and That Augustus guy, wow what an ego, named August after himself? Wow, that was weird. And now just because I'm not Sleezy-business-man like Saturday over there-" He jabbed a finger at Saturday "I'm expected to be envisioned as a teenager! Just an average one! Not even a distinct personality! I ask you, people are just getting more and more boring, aaaaaallll the time."
He realised nobody was listening, rolled his eyes, and changed into a snappy button-up blue-checkered-grey shirt, made his hair less average, and lengthened his shorts into jeans and added some casual sneakers to his feet. He then snapped his fingers, and a small table appeared in front of him with magazines. "Hmmm.... News, Global mail, Moving Picture by Terry Pratchett, mmm, nope, I'm not in the mood for reading." He waved his hand in the air and a strawberry milkshake appearedin his hand. "MMMMMmmmmmm...." He sucked it up through a straw.
There was slight silence, only interrupted by Tuesday slurping his milkshake. Wednesday cleared her throat and picked up The Globe and Mail, and started reading. Saturday polished his nails, and Sunday boredly and dashingly stared at nothing. Monday continued to grade exams.
There was silence, with only slurps and the russle of paper in it.
"Nock nock." A voice came through the door. "Ahem, NOCK NOCK." Sunday perked up and said "Who's there?" "Thursday not trying to make a joke." Sunday blinked and continued to stare at nothing. "Um, why is everybody ignoring me? GUYS! SERIOUSLY! WHO LOCKED THE DOOR? Okay Sunday are you jealous of me being more dashing than you?"
Sunday started, looked around, and then jumped up and angrily unlocked and opened the door. "HEY! Who told you that?" All remnants of his skater-dude voice gone. Thursday smirked. Thursday was tall, had copper-red hair that flopped only slightly and wore glasses. He was wearing a tweed coat with designer shoes and had his arms currently folded. "Just kidding. I know that I'm not more dashing than you. I'm more sprinting than you." He flashed a smile and sidled through the door past a astoniched Sunday. "Whaaa? Nevermind. When will Friday be coming? He's always late." Sunday quickly recovered his skater-dude voice. Thursday smiled and seated himself in Sunday's seat. He straightened his coat and absent-mindedly said "I'm not sure. Usually he's earlier than this, but he does like to be fashionably late."
Saturday scowled. "It's not fashionable to be late, it's fashionable to be early, otherwise I would have come two hours after the appointment. What I do is always fashionable." Thursday squinted at Saturday. "I never knew you cared that much about fashion, Saturday. Or is that just you pretending?" Saturday smiled mysteriously. "Who knows? Except me, of course. Sunday, get out of the doorway and stop smiling like a crazed orangutang." Sunday did so, and after a moment of thought, said "How can a crazed orangutang smile? What was that even supposed to mean? No, wait, lemme guess, it was a really bad insult. That it?" Saturday smiled again. "You really know me well, don't you? And I'm not just talking about this version of me, you seem to know even-" His appearance changed. Suddenly the designer suit was gone and in it's place was dark Greek armour, glinting with the light of another planet. The horse-hair smooth as velvet and his eyes sparkling dark, dark blue, a remembered form. Saturday wasn't always a time to relaxe. Saturday used to be called Saturnday. The Roman form of Zues, wise god of the sky. Zues became Saturn. Saturn-day smiled.
And Saturday was back. All the otjher Weekdays relaxed considerabley. Thursday stopped in the act of turning into Thor with a over-sized hammer at his waist. He sheepishly turned back into a brown-haired youth with a button-up shirt. "Sorry. Just got a little, uh, nervous there." There was an uneasy silence, which was interrupted by a nock at the door.
The door creaked open, and Friday entered. He had raven-black hair, which was not ridiculously floppy like Sunday's, but a cultured flop made of experience in the ways of floppiness. His eyes were a startling green, and he had a friendly, honest face. What lay beneath that face, nobody could tell. Actually, Nobody couldn't tell because Nobody and Friday had had a little agreement about that, but I digress. Friday grinned, a wolfish smile. He had a button-up shirt like Thursday, but this was a piercingly black-like green. He wore sand-shoes, and long, very black pants. Very black pants. He smiled again, and there was foxiness in there as well as wolfishness, and maybe if you pierced deep you might find a bit of catness or maybe lynx-ness of whatever other -ness you wanted. "Well. Shall we start? Nobody? Everybody? Anyone?The Others? Good. Time to begin."
Wednesday's paper disapeared and she stood up. Saturday stood up, and so did Sunday, all skater-dudness disappearing in an instance. Monday, Teusday, Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday stood up as well. Nobody, the Bodys, and everyone stood up. The weekdays were in a circle. Each changed.
Saturday became Saturday, light from an unkown source glinting off other-worldly black armour.
Sunday chose the form of Helios, shining brightly against Saturnday, balancing the darkness.
Monday, or Moonday (Yes this is for real I looke it up) turned glowing with a soft pale light, no longer an uncool teacher, with Greek period armour, white against the bright gold of Sunday.
Tuesday, or Tiw's day, the Norse god of single combat, and heroic glory. But also known in a dark form as Mars, Roman and Greek (Ares) god of war. Red eyes as red as a supernova, blackish red armour, rust and blood from the dawn of time. Tiwsday raised his red sword, and grinned.
Wednesday, Woden's day. Odin's day. She liked that form. But with a feminine twist. A raven on each shoulder and a grizzled facr, with messy blonde hair cascading down her back, and an eye patch, a riminder of a grisly sacrifice for Odin's knowledge.
Thursday changed to a well-muscled man with blonde-dirty blonde, dirty from blood and the dirt of war- hair and a scraggley beard. He hefted a crudely made hammer, decorated with pictures of fallen foe.
Friday...... He had many forms, but one that was only used in one mind he enjoyed. He grinned, and howled to the sky.
Together they charged into a black portal.
......
Silence. The portal, speckled with stars, disapated.
(December 29, 2017 - 6:27 pm)
Wow, I love this! Your characters are so funny and vivid, and all your writing has a gleefully unhinged enthusiasm that never fails to make me smile. I adore the idea about Nobody and would love to read something longer about that!
(December 30, 2017 - 2:12 am)
In No Particular Order, Five Books Off the Top of My Head that I Particularly Liked:
Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire
Fish in a Tree
The Name of This Book is Secret
The Lightning Thief
11 Birthdays
Voldemort
Ally
Um, I don't actually know. Let's use Pride and Prejudice instead: It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife.
Camp Half-Blood
Fantasy/Contemporary Fiction
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a large fortune must be in want of a wife. Ally groaned. Not the Aphrodite cabin again! There's a reason I'm in Apollo!
Just then, a horn blew from across camp. Ally, with the Apollo cabin, hurried to get in position. Voldemort and the Death Eaters were approaching. They deflected arrows, swords, and plants. Only Hecate cabin could do anything, twisting the Mist so the army couldn't see where they were going, and turning their own magic against them.
(December 31, 2017 - 11:51 am)
Short story: "Bye." I say.
Dictionary word: Perfection
"Perfection." I thought angrily, "What a stupid name."
In a world where a person's name is supposed to define them, Perfection is just about as bad as you can get. My friends all have normal names like Joy, Kindness, Chivalry, and Patience, and a few less fortunate people are named Ignorance or Incompetence, or even Idiocy. My mother however, expected so much from me that she named me Perfection. Now I have to strive to be perfect in everything I do. I have to have perfect manners, perfect clothes, and be perfect in school. I have to do whatever mother asks whenever she asks it, because not following her rules would make me imperfect. The only time I was free was before I learned to walk, and even then, mother would tell me when I couldn't cry, and I would have to stop immediately or else dishonor my name.
Mother has turned me into her personal maid, and I can't refuse a single task, no matter how time consuming or dangerous or boring it may be. When she asks for tea and I bring it to her, she tells me to put sugar in it. When I return with the sugar, she complains that her tea has gotten cold. I put more hot water in and then she asks for some cookies with it. When I come back with them, she finally sips her tea, and I think that I have at least a few minutes to myself. Maybe I'll read a book or go play outside. But before I can even leave the room, mother says, in a sharp, high pitched tone, "Perfection. Where do you think you're going."
"I- nowhere mother. I will stand here with my hands behind my back and await your next order."
"Very good." Mother says with a sinister smile. "Very good indeed."
(December 30, 2017 - 8:01 am)
Wow! Thank you, Abigail! I will probably post something longer about Nobody.
Hmm.. that post accelerated quickly, but I did like writing it a lot. =)
I think that sometimes my writing is verging on Terry Pratchett-ish, (I'm hoping to get better and find my own style) and I should probably read more books, like, um, The Thorn Oak in the series the Welkin Weasles. Yeah, I'm reserving that, it sounds really good. Plus the cover has an amazing drawing on it, so at the least I can stare at that if the story is back. Mmmm, what a wonderful picture of a weasel.
@Winter Lilac, that is amazingly menacing and very creepy and VERY AWESOME at the same time. I like how you end the post with such a..... menacing ending. Actually, it would be really cool if you posted more on that. Actually, I bet if you wanted to, you could write a book on it. I like the idea of people being named words lie Joy and Perfection and stuff, and the best bit is that your character could define perfection as..... her type of perfection. Not overrated perfection, awesome perfection of being who you want to be! I'd love to read more about that.
(December 31, 2017 - 5:46 pm)
Aww, thanks so much Chinchilla! That means a lot to me. Maybe I will continue the story. I didn’t mean for it to get so dark!
(December 31, 2017 - 6:02 pm)
That's such an intriguing beginning, Winter Lilac! The idea of a world where your name defines who you are has a lot of potential. I think that would make a great start to a novel.
(January 2, 2018 - 11:41 am)
Nobody stood up in the changeroom. The lockers were an identical teal blue colour, and each had a separate number on them, forming a maze of numbers and lockers to navigate through. Even if you were used to it, being at a Swim Meet in a new place, like Gatinue was disorientating, but Nobody had been here before. "Sooo, you know this place? Has anyone else here been able to see you?" Erin, a brown haired boy with freckles usually had a worried expression on his face, and his parents worried about him, but right now he talked to Nobody with a smile on his face.
Nobody shrugged and he helped Erin navigate the maze of lockers. "Yeah, I've been here before, a few times, but not many people can see me. I geuss not many people here are that alone. Speaking of, how's it going with George? You seemed happy the last time you were with him, are you guys gonna be frinds?" Erin's face clouded. He shrugged, looked away, but then decided not to, and looked Nobody straight in the face, and said "I think we're making headway. Are you okay with that? Just because sometimes people.... are jealous. Like with my other two friends. You know."
Nobody thought a bit, and when they turned the right corner said "I'm fine with that. I was asking because often the people I see....well, unless they can see me, they're very lonely, and I've been seeing you a lot, but your parents worry sometimes, and... I'm not really.... I don't really exist... physically, I mean. And I think it'd be better for you if you had a real friend.
Erin sighed. "I.... I guess that makes sense. George asked me over tonight, and Mom said yes, and we're going to see each other a lot soon.... so I guess.. I won't really be alone anymore, and sometimes even when other people aren't with me, I still can't see you. Does that mean as I get older i won't be able to-" Nobody smiled and interrupted "No, you can't see me because I'm not there. Even when other people aren't there, it doesn't mean you're alone. And since I don't think you're going to be alone ever again-or anytime soon-this is sort of.... goodbye." Nobody smiled again, a little wistfully.
~~~~~~
Sorry wil post more later gootrta go
see ya!
(December 31, 2017 - 6:01 pm)
7 letter story: Goodbye. (Someone's probably already done this but oh well.)
Dictionary word: Sign
Everyone has an Achilles heel. For some people it's sweets, for some people an illness.
For me it's making decisions.
I've never been able to make a quick decision in my life. Deciding what color shirt to buy at the mall can take a few days for someone like me. Or more specifically, me. When faced with the really hard stuff--stuff even normal people have immense trouble with, I can't deal.
Last Tuesday, I was offered two jobs.
Two jobs.
Give a person like me two job offers, and you get a basket case.
Both of my possible future employers told me to "take a few days to think it over." I wanted to tell them I need a few months to think it over. These past few days I've been agonizing over what choice to make. Thousands of pros and cons lists litter my floors, my web history scattered with research of working conditions of the two jobs. Every day, I've been praying for a sign.
Maybe my only way out of this mess will be a sign.
Sorry I had to wrap this up quickly, my parents are calling me.
(January 1, 2018 - 6:07 pm)
Oh wow, I can really relate to that story, xp! I am soooo bad at making split descisions.....
(January 2, 2018 - 9:16 am)
I haven't written my story yet, but for the first sentence on the 49th page, my prompt is from the book Marvel of Redwall, my prompt is "Death awaits you if you return to this place!" the first book I tried the sentence on page 49 was "Nowadays, it's pretty simple." so I decided to do the other one, since that isn't the best writing prompt ever.
(January 2, 2018 - 7:01 pm)
Seven letters: watch me
(January 4, 2018 - 9:40 pm)
A seven letter story: She died
(Sorrel: Well that's morbid.)
So? And who said AEs were invited? Shoo!
(January 6, 2018 - 2:41 pm)