Old April 1, 2018, 09:53 AM   #1 (permalink)
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Camp NanoWriMo Project

Serale and Vedui, everyone!

This thread was made so that we could provide each other with writing prompts to help get through this camp alive.

So! Feel free to post prompts (from your character or ooc) and let’s get this done! We’ve got this \o/
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Old April 1, 2018, 10:17 AM   #2 (permalink)
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So are you thinking of something like this?

Poker Face

Write a scene in which your character is frantically bluffing his/her butt off, either pretending to be knowledgeable of something about which they are ignorant, or to have some situation firmly in hand that they really don't.
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Old April 1, 2018, 10:25 AM   #3 (permalink)
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Not in Moonstone Anymore, Toto

Your character wakes up somewhere they’ve never been before and have no clue how they got there.

Although there was a mighty bad storm the night prior...
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Old April 1, 2018, 01:20 PM   #4 (permalink)
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Prompts for Days

Here are more:

Over time, she came to the realization she was no longer made of substance, but something more like shadow.

Suddenly, the hanged man starts to speak.

Two goblins sit in a forest arguing over what to do with six slivers of gold they found by the river.

The old man stares hard at him, seeming to see into his soul. “I will tell you your future,” he says. “But first, you must tell me mine…”

People are spontaneously combusting.

Soldiers take souvenirs from their fallen enemies, which proves to be their downfall.

The flowers from this garden are the most precious commodities in the realm… for a very good reason.

At this auction, people are bidding a lot more than money.

This muse inspires artists, writers, and musicians to great work, but when she leaves them, they become so despondent they sometimes die.

A worker learns that the tower they are building will serve a much different purpose than what they were all told.

Lightning strikes a person and leaves mysterious words or a map burned onto her or his skin.

An unlikely POV.
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Old April 3, 2018, 10:38 AM   #5 (permalink)
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Egg Meridian

Write about an episode from your childhood in the style of one of the authors/books you listed as favorites in your profile.

(Since I mentioned Cormac McCarthy and Thomas Ligotti, mine should be interesting)
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Old April 3, 2018, 08:24 PM   #6 (permalink)
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Since somebody asked...

One of my writings from one of my own prompts:

Little Tommy Ligotti is complaining about his parents asking him to clean his room.
This is what I have so far:


I have found myself, in all the years of my life-few though they admittedly are- confronted, or rather *beset*, by the most preposterous of demands. These preposterous demands seem calculated less to extract some sort of advantage from me to benefit any other known party than to insult me for the perverse amusement of some inchoate, unpersonified interest. The treasures levied, the offices exacted, the observances required by these preposterous demands seem less like offerings to placate named deities, and more like senseless, nihilistic renunciations, as if the faith desired proved itself in the very uselessness of the sacrifices, rather than in the details of their content. And the pointlessness of these demands, along with the undefined nature and dubious existence of their beneficiaries, are only the most conspicuous features of their preposterous makeup. There are others I could name, and indeed, those features are the only things connected with the source of these preposterous demands that I *could* name.

These bizarre exactions are numerous, for as I said I am *beset* by them. But there is one in particular that stands out in its outrageousness, its enormity lending it a degree of monstrous individuality among the otherwise deranged and disordered horde of ridiculous stipulations that afflict my existence. I am referring, of course, to the preposterous demand that I clean my room.

It might seem that the fact that this demand stems from a cleary-defined and identified set of agents, namely my parents, would undermine any suggestion that they emanate from some howling void of inanity, but this is not the case. On the contrary, the very fact that the void has taken the guise of something as vulgar and banal as mom and dad to clothe its preposterous demands merely calls that much more attention to its horrific emptiness. The nameless demander could not show its own face, perhaps does not even have a face to show, yet it appropriates the guise of my parents, throwing its voice like some demonic ventriloquist into an imposture of their mundane familial authority. The effect is as if Satan himself has possessed a person, only to have that person write down a perfectly normal-looking shopping list of items nobody really wants.

My parents do not in any way that I can tell benefit from my room’s being clean. They never use it, never show it to guests; indeed, the only time they set foot in it at all is to recite the inevitable preposterous demand. Complying with that demand, arranging my congeries of puppets into some pretense of order, removing extraneous items of clothing from the floor, making my bed, and so forth, does not seem to provoke any sort of satisfaction in the agents speaking the demand, nor in the howling void throwing its voice into them. Defiance and non-compliance seems to provoke little more than the slightest of annoyance and the pettiest of punishments, along with the simple repetition of the demand. “How many times have I asked you to clean your room?” my mother often asks me. And the tone of befuddlement suggests to me that she genuinely does not know. The void speaking through her apparently does not keep count.
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Old April 6, 2018, 08:55 PM   #7 (permalink)
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1. This was a world where the vilest creatures came to roost. Even her mother, always so brave, wouldn't dare utter its name. This was a world where the snow fell black

2.Mirrors are doors to another dimension and you can just walk right through. Well you could, if the beings known as 'Reflections' weren't hired to keep you out.

3. Its dangerous out there, with the lost and the wild.

4."I'm leaving"
"Where will you go? There's nowhere else"
"Oh but there is"
"Dont tell me you believe the stories"

5. He stared down at his blood covered hands in horror. " What did you do?" The woman smirked. "Oh I didn't do anything. This was all you."

6."I don't keep secrets". The lie slid fluidly from my tongue.
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Old April 7, 2018, 06:57 PM   #8 (permalink)
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Scene with nekked man on a couch.

Warm rays of sunshine streamed through the windows of the studio where a nude man posed on a fainting couch for an artist. One of the windows was open and as a light breeze wafted through the man gave a shiver.

“It’s cold in here, can I close the window please?” he requested. A petite woman peeked out from behind a large canvas perched on a wooden easel, her eyes peering at the male model over thick black rimmed glasses. There was a paintbrush in her mouth and paint on her nose, forehead and cheeks. Her milk chocolate coloured hair was all twisted up in a knot at the crown of her head, the handle of an old paintbrush holding it in place. She gave the model a once over and then sighed. “Fine,” she said after taking the paintbrush out of her mouth. “Just stay put.”

Walking across the room to the window, her paint-splattered smock flaring as she moved swiftly to her goal. Quickly she pulled the window shut with a bang, before walking quickly back to her easel.

“Thank you,” the man said a grateful look on his face.

Once again, he struck the pose he’d been hired for. His hand once more came to cradle his head, his other arm resting on his hip while the rest of his muscular body was stretched out across the length of the couch. He gave a sexy smoulder.

“Hold it riiiiiiiiiight……..there,” the artist said, giving him a thumbs up.
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Old April 7, 2018, 07:20 PM   #9 (permalink)
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Just had this random funny idea for the old fortuneteller one:


Hoskuld scowled at the old man, examining his ears to make sure they weren’t pointed. Usually it was elves that caused him this much aggravation. Without opening his mouth he emitted what sounded like the angry groan of a rusty hoist being worked for the first time in eras.

”Alright, Mister” he responded, glaring at the fortuneteller through the gloom that lay across the table ”I shall tell ye your fortune. I sense a presence nearby, poised in the darkness, something powerful although small. It means you harm, aiming to strike unseen at the first sign of weakness or folly.”

There was a brief commotion under the table, followed by a sharp cry from the old man as the dwarf’s toe found his shin.

”There, it is fulfilled,” Hoskuld declared crossly. ”Now tell me my fortune or give me my swords back, ya faker!”
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Old April 10, 2018, 08:03 PM   #10 (permalink)
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And another totally random prompt that just occurred to me while I was having a conversation with Vree:

Imagine a character who has a pet rock. Narrate an event in the protagonist's life from the pet rock's point of view.
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