Ian D Scofield, Writer

Fantasy/Science Fiction/Thriller and Freelance

Tag: Prompt (Page 1 of 4)

Writing Prompt: Turning

Blood dripped from my fingertips as I backed away.  “I’m sorry.”

~Pinterest

Blood dripped from my fingertips as I backed away.  “I’m sorry.”  I stammered as Quinn fell to the ground bleeding, unable to say another word.  The stroke had been swift and final, like I intended.  As her body fell to the ground I held her close to me.

Killing was not something that I liked doing but sometimes it simply had to be done.  Quinn had been bitten by a vampire and the turning was not something that she was going to undergo comfortably.  A tear rolled down my eyes.  A life as a vampire was not something that I would wish on anyone.

A shock ran through her body and the cut in her abdomen started to heal over.  She was now dead, but not dead at the same time.  Sweat started to bead down her head and her small body thrashed harder.  Her eyelids opened but there was nothing there.  Her beautiful green eyes started to turn dark red as she became a creature of the night and blood.

As if she were actually dying the warmth slipped away from her body.  Everything that was Quinn was starting to fade away.  There was only one thing that I could hope for, that her mind would remain once she became like me.

Trapped In A Cellar At Night

This wasn’t the first time I had been trapped inside a _________ , but it was the first time I had to escape in order to save a life. Here’s what happened.

~Writer’s Digest Prompt

Here is another Writer’s Digest prompt.  I would tell you more about it but then I would ruin the twist.


This wasn’t the first time I had been trapped inside a cellar, but it was the first time I had to escape in order to save a life.  Here’s what happened.

As part of my full moon ritual I locked myself into the cellar and was content to wait until the morning when someone would come let me out.  I didn’t want to hurt anyone when I changed.  The power of a werewolf was impressive and in my dog form I could easily kill a human.  I had done it before, before I had decided to lock myself in the cellar on every full moon.

I had just laid down to get comfortable for the change when my finely tuned ears picked up a sound outside of the cellar door.  A woman was in distress.  It sounded like she was fighting with someone and being dragged away.

That was when I heard her yell.  “Help, they are taking me away!  No, I can’t leave.  No, I don’t want to go.”

After a minute, I recognized it as the voice of Agnus, a friend of mine.  Her yells got faint and I began to panic.  Now I needed to escape.

Walking up to the door I pounded on it a few times.  From the other side of the door, I could hear a few voices but I couldn’t make out what they were saying.  I was too focused.  Must get out.

I walked to the other side of the room and scraping my leg against the floor like an animal preparing to charge, I ran at the door.  At first, it felt like the door was going to hold as my body slammed against it.  Then there was a loud crack and I fell out into the open.

Men dressed in white with serious looks on their face waited for me outside the door, as if they knew I was going to try to rescue Agnus.  Before I could move again they were running at me.  One grabbed me under each arm, lifting me from the ground.  I needed to change now, it was the only way I was going to save Agnus.

I felt the hair on my arms start to stand up, the process was starting.  I was going to be able to save her.  Then a needle was roughly jabbed into my forearm.  Fighting became harder.  A few times I almost got the best of my enemy.  Then the world went black.

 

Sliding my eyes open I tried to move my arms but I couldn’t.  They were held down at the side of the bed.  Had I turned into my wolf form and saved Agnus?  Often, after my turning, I couldn’t remember anything that happened during the full moon.

One of the men in the white clothes came back in and he walked up to the bed that I now realized I was in.  I could read the nameplate he had on his fine white uniform.  Jasper, Orderly.  Liteons Home for the Criminally Insane.

We Were Friends, Then We Were Dead

You and your three closest friends decide to go camping. You arrive and set up camp nearly three miles away from where you left your car. Late that evening, as you sit around the campfire roasting marshmallows, one of your friends reveals a deep dark secret that turns what was to be a fun weekend into one of the scariest weekends of your life.

~Writer’s Digest Prompt

This is actually only the second or third time I have ever tried to write a horror thriller piece.  Most of the thriller pieces I have written in the past have been action thriller.

I hope you enjoy this writing prompt.  It is a little different than most of my work.


Riding in a car with four other people shoved together always gave me mixed feelings, now being around the campfire, I was able to be free.  Sharing stories and being with friends in the great outdoors is the best way to get to know those you care about.

Jim stood up with a marshmallow on a stick and leaned towards the fire.  For a second the circle was quiet as we all watched the marshmallow turn brown and then catch on fire.

“Dude, that’s on fire.”  Someone yelled but Jim just held the marshmallow in place.  He didn’t look up and at first didn’t say anything in response.

Then with his head tilted up and a sinister smile on his face, Jim started to speak.  “I want to tell you all a secret that I have been hiding for a while.  One that I need to get off my chest.”  He paused for a minute as his eyes made contact with each of us.  Something told me not to respond though, and I think the rest of my friends got the message too.  “You know all of those disappearances around town?  I have been practicing my ability to kill, to end life in various ways.  All to lead up to this weekend.  To a great hunt in the forest.”

Nervous laughter filled the circle.  Ghost stories at the campfire had been tradition for ages after all.  But when I saw his face I knew he was serious.  Only someone with a mind for killing could have a face like that.  I don’t know how I knew it but I knew it.  Plus, the fact that there had been actual disappearances around town, it just clicked.

“The hunt starts now.”  Jim said as he stood and moved slowly towards the car.  So casually in fact, that it didn’t fit with his statement.

I looked at the other three around the campfire and as our eyes met we knew we had only two options.  Fight or run.  While Jim’s back was turned there was only one option.  Run.

Hastily I grabbed Austin’s hand in mine and pulled her towards the tree line with me.  For our first three years in high school I had had a thing for Austin but now that we were seniors I had only just started to flirt with her.  Early bloomer, I know.

We disappeared into the forest but a loud bang from behind, I knew not everyone had made it out of the circle.  One of the other two weren’t as fast as I had been.

Together Austin and I did our best to become one with the forest.  We found a large bush that could serve as a hiding spot and were able to hide there until daylight.  When the bullet finally came, the only warning I had as I looked into Austin’s eyes and took in her grey irises, was the bang that preceded the bullet by only a second.

The blood, the loss of life in her eyes was only mine to take in for a second before everything went dark.

Goodbye Writer’s Block

I was on the Writer’s Digest website the other day and just reading through the large number of writing prompts that they have there when I stumbled across this one.  This writing prompt is essentially writing a breakup letter with writer’s block.  I thought the idea might be a little cheesy at first and was a little hesitant to start it.

Then I started to think about the idea and thought that it might be a great way to break the ice once again.  When I started writing the breakup letter with writer’s block, I felt empowered.  It made me feel creative and strong.

Want to try the prompt for yourself?  Take a look at it here.

I think that I might try to do one of these letters one a year or every so many months.  The amount of writing freedom I felt afterward was empowering.


Dear Writer’s Block,

It’s not you, it’s me.  I have been suffering from our relationship for months, and before that on and off for more months.  The amount of time that we have been having this love/hate (mostly hate) relationship, has been detrimental to my fiction writing career.  I have been writing only my paid writing and have been ignoring most of my fun writing.

With a relationship as long as ours has been, it is hard to break this off.  But it is time this stops.

I mean to use prompts to make a difference in breaking our relationship but more importantly, I plan to use my joy of writing to terminate this relationship.

I know you will try to follow me in the writing world.  It is the poison of the creative to be followed by writer’s block.  You will not follow me.  This is my notice to you that it is time to stop.  If you do not stop, all that will happen is that you will be pushed back time and time again.  No matter how many times you have appeared in the past, you have always been burnt.  Remember these times, remember this letter, next time you choose to try and make an appearance.

Creativity cannot be beaten, it cannot be kept down.  Especially by something as pesky as a blockage of the mind.

Now it is time that this letter comes to an end.  I am sorry that I am not sorry we are terminating this long-term relationship.  All the best to you, somewhere other than my mind.  Preferably in some eternal nether where you will never attack another writer’s mind.

With Sincerity,

Ian, Chief of My Own Creativity

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