Have you found yourself stuck in the middle of a particularly bad writer's block? Need a dose of inspiration? Or are you simply looking for some creativity to kick-start your newest novel? Then look no further!
Paranormal Prompts aims to bring you w...
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Hello everyone and welcome to our brand new prompt! This week, we're featuring a picture prompt. Remember that you're free to interpret our prompt in any manner you see fit, provided that there is a clear link between your entry and the prompt provided. You're also free to use our prompts in your own writing, be it to start a brand new story or to incorporate it into an existing one. For more information, check out the guidelines below!
PICTURE PROMPT:
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WINNERS:
Please note that winners are not listed in any particular order. To read the rest of the entries submitted, please check them out in the comments section below!
"Of course!" said Kyle. "I just think it's dumb that this 'coven' expects you to do something like this."
Em half-listened, filling a pouch with soil from around Mary Smythe's grave. She knotted the drawstring, then laid it gently against the headstone.
"This isn't some Greek hazing rite," she said. "And even if it was, so what? I want to do this. Nobody from the group is scrying on us."
She took a quick pic of the bag, sending it to the group chat.
"It's a ceremony. It means something to us, just like your poker nights or guild raids," she continued. "Besides, you're the one always rambling about herd behavior and 'pack Alphas' like it's so natural. But here you are judging me for one group activity."
Em had a burning sprig of sage in one hand and a water bottle in the other.
"All I'm saying is... if this Smythe bitch ever met you, she'd probably expect you to pick berries for her potions like a dutiful nig—"
Em cut off Kyle with her glare.
"Never mind," he said. He'd already started looking for new manga scans on the torrent app. "Look, if this matters to you, then I'm cool with sticking around 'til dawn. I'll catch up with the ninjas while you fingerpaint with your period blood or whatever."
Em dribbled some water from the flask onto the bag. Kyle gasped, dropping his phone.
"What was that?"
"What was what?" asked Em, blinking.
"For a second, it was like I was underwater."
"That's so irrational!" said Em with a grin.
"Don't lie! You did something," said Kyle. "I know cause and effect when I see it."
Em poured more water this time. Kyle fell over, as if restrained by a dunking chair.
"Now that isn't very empirical... is it?"
He got back up, panting hard.
"You crazy bitch!" shouted Kyle. "I thought you'd be cooler than this."
"Cool like Nadira?"
"Oh! Is that what this is about? Nads was okay with it, I swear! Like, she took some convincing but..."
In the darkest of nights, when even the street lights couldn't chase away the dark, a bolt of lightning flashed, revealing a woman dressed in white.
The fact that she was dressed in white was not the strangest thing about her, the fact that she was dripping wet although the rain hadn't started yet was.
Her eyes had a distant yet determined look as she stalked down the dark street with lightning following close behind like a loyal friend.
As she moved ahead, she kept mumbling under her breath while her long hair was whipped by the strong wind. Had anyone been close enough to hear her, they might have been able to catch the words 'revenge' and 'finally'.
Reaching a beautiful villa, surrounded by a huge garden, the woman changed course and went towards the front door with purpose in her step.
With the loud crash of thunder, the front door flew open only to reveal the flustered resident spooked by the oncoming storm.
"What are you doing in my house?" The man screamed.
The woman said nothing. She just started approaching him. When she was close enough for him to be able to see her pale complexion and lifeless eyes, his eyes became wide open.
She opened her mouth to say something, but all that came out was water. Then, more quickly than the man could have predicted, she got her hands around his neck and snapped it like a twig.
Upon doing that, she disappeared like she was never there.
The next morning the man's wife found the body and the message written on the wall.
'Mary Smythe witch, drowned October 31, 1654'
The woman looked at the calendar nearby only to note that it was October 31, 2019. Knowing her husband's family history he knew that the woman his ancestors had executed had come to settle the score.
