I didn’t finish this yesterday. I started it, but then I got myself sidetracked by games on the phone and lost track of time. I’ve been itching to write some Sci-Fi stuff, so this is. It’s technically from a prompt last week. I had hoped to do some catch up, but that’s seeming unlikely now. I like the ideas here and may use them in future stuff.

ReTelling A Folk Or Fairy Tale

This is one of my favorite prompts of all time!

The prompt

Re-write a fairytale

<– Write Below This Line –>

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Bryce’s Painter

This is today’s prompt. It didn’t flow as well as I would have liked. Definitely one that could use cleaning up. I think there’s a solid short story concept in it.


Tell The Story Of A Painting

Today’s prompt is a reminder that it’s quite all right to be inspired by other artists work!

The Prompt

Write the story of a picture


*You can pick a favorite picture, or use one of these examples

<– Write Below This Line –>,_by_Dirck_Hals.jpg

Bryce faked the life he wanted. Everyone knew this, except Bryce. Bryce faked it so long he actually believed the lie. He believed every piece of cutlery was made of pure silver. In his mind all the chairs had real gold painted on them. The tablecloth was made from the finest silk in the world he lived in.

“Bryce must we pose for yet another painting? We really need to go out and work – fund this lie that you live in.”

Mabel gasped in astonishment. “Stephan, how dare you! Nobody is living a lie here. We only work if we want to, that is the right of nobility.”

Bryce smiled. “Thank you Mabel dear. I believe Stephan will spend this painting in the back. It will be a glorious painting, catching the true beauty of our fine clothing.”

The painter hired by Bryce looked around in confusion until Mabel started whispering to him. “Ah. Mr. Bryce, I am not sure I ca catch the true beauty of such fine clothing. The grandeur of this room blinds me and makes my work pale in comparison to the real thing.”

“Non-sense. I have seen your work. You are a true master and I firmly believe that what you paint will be exactly what is real in the moment.”

“Very well sir. If I could get you all around this table here. I will need this side of the table open so I can see all of you at one time. Now, get comfortable, this will be a while.”

The painter started his work. Mabel had told him to embellish what he actually saw, make things seem better than they were. He started with her. She had only eyes for Bryce in his world. Even though she looked longingly at his friend Theadore in this room, the painter pointed her eyes squarely at Bryce. As he looked up he noticed she now looked right at him.

Next he moved to Francis. Francis had eyes only for Edith. This felt wrong, Bryce was the center of the world and everyone wanted to be like him, so he pointed Francis at Mabel, leaning him in longingly. Stephan had been banished to the back and looked sullen. This was unacceptable for one of his paintings so in the painted world Stephan smiled, content with his place. Looking up to see who was next the painter noticed that Stephan had a small smile on now.

And so it went that painter created a painting that showed a better world for Bryce than the one he saw. Everything the painter portrayed seemed to be true to life upon his second look.

After they finished Mabel paid for the painters time and sent him away. As she looked over the painting she started to get a concerned expression. “Where did you find this painter Bryce?”

Bryce looked back at Mabel, away from the fine goblets hanging above the mantel. “I’m not sure, why my love?”

Mabel looked up, not remembering ever seeing the goblets before. “Nothing love.” Mabel wasn’t sure what to say. She liked the new decor in their room but she felt sorry for poor Gertrude who had a strange curve in her back now though.

“Look Mabel, I can touch my knee with my right hand. I wonder why I can’t do the same with my left?”

“I’m not sure my love. Maybe next time we can find a painter who does better at painting people?”

Planning for the Future

I did do yesterday’s. It was a twitter fiction prompt so I didn’t port it over to here. If you don’t follow me on Twitter then you missed it. Feel free to follow me here:

I had trouble getting into this one, but I am very happy with the resulting story. This is another one I feel I should clean up and submit somewhere, but I really don’t know where.

Inspired By Real Events

There’s nothing quite like real life for providing weird and wonderful story ideas.

The prompt

Write a story ripped from the headlines

<– Write Below This Line –>

(Inspired by the first story under The Entrepreneurial Spirit at

“We need to do this right Mary. We only get one chance and the results of this decision will reach over 100 years into the future.”

“I know Carl, I just don’t know that this is the right way to do it.”

“We’ve had this discussion every day for the last three years. In all that time neither of us has found a better option. Now that you’re pregnant we’re out of time. Honestly, we should’ve went a month ago.”

Carl grabbed his briefcase from the office and looked around the room. “Do we have everything?”

“I think so. I have all of our financial records. You have our real-estate holdings and household goods inventories for each property?” Mary started going through her day bag.

“Yep, I have those records here. How about employment history?”

“I’ve got it in the folder with our career plans.”

Carl closed the briefcase. “All that’s left is references for them to interview and I know we have those lists.”

Mary reached out to Carl and pulled him in. “Are you sure we’re doing the right thing here?”

Carl looked Mary in the eye and relaxed. “We are. They’re the best in the business and our little one deserves that.” He pulled her in to his embrace. After a moment he gave her a gentle kiss and pulled back. “Let’s go. We don’t want to be late.”

Carl held the car door open for Mary just as he had every day since they met. As they backed out of the driveway they looked at the neighborhood. They had spent the last decade buying houses in all the right neighborhoods and renting them out. They wanted to be ready when this day came. They always agreed that their child would grow up in the best neighborhood when they finally started. Their whole relationship had been building to this.

When they arrived at the downtown office they were shown to an ornate waiting room. They huddled together whispering plans and dreams for the future to each other.

“Mr. And Mrs. Leiman? They’re ready for you now.”

Carl stood up. “Thank you.” He offered his hand to Mary and escorted her back.

They walked into a fancy conference room where a group of 9 men and women in business suits sat around a table. There were two seats open for them to take their place.

“I assume you have all your paperwork?”

“Yes ma’am.” Carl got the briefcase and bag out and started to place papers on the table in front of them.

“Thank you. Everyone, shall we begin?”

For the next three hours the group at the table went over every piece of paper the Leiman’s brought with them. They asked questions of the couple every few minutes. Finally everyone leaned back. The woman who started the meeting put the lat of the papers down and looked at the Leiman’s.

“When do you find out the baby’s gender?”

Mary spoke up. “We have an appointment next Tuesday. We also have reservations every day for three weeks after that in case there are difficulties in obtaining it, all different times of the day.”

“You should have been here four months ago, basically as soon as you knew.”

The group leaned in together and started to confer in whispers. Mary and Carl sat in silence, worried.

After what felt an eternity the lead woman pulled a stack of papers from under the table. “It will be tight but as long as you have all 50 references you provided available until they are contacted we can help you. We have a 30 year contract. Most companies will only run an 18 or 21 year contract and jack the rates up on a renewal at that time. As a result they have – results due to lack of renewals. We find those ten years are very formative and most of our clients renew.”

Mary and Carl exchanged looks. “They’re prepared to talk to you whenever you call. Is this the same contract you sent us last month?”

“For the most part. You’ll want to review addendum’s a-f, the last 23 pages, for items specific to your situation. Finally, we’ll need to know the baby’s gender immediately. We will send an intern with you to the doctor.”

“That’s fine. We’ll need a couple of minutes to go over the addendum’s.” Mary started reading the back of the stack of papers.

“Of course. We’ll wait.”

About 20 minutes later the couple leaned back, exhausted. Carl spoke up. “It looks good. Where do we sign?”

The woman smiled. “At all of the yellow marks. You won’t regret this Mr. Leiman. We’ll meet with you again two days after we know the baby’s gender to go over our proposed name and initial branding plan for your baby.”

The Living Mirror

A couple days late, but started Friday. I’ll readily admit this isn’t a new concept. As related to the prompt I’d say I didn’t relate what the protagonist’s flaw is. I would probably need to expand the beginning a little to provide this to truly fulfill the prompt.

Your Villain As A Mirror

Today were going to do something similar to — but different from —yesterday’s prompt.

Today is the turn of the antagonist or the villain.

The Prompt

Write a story in which the antagonist or villain shows the reader what your protagonist could easily become if they gave in to their flaw

<– Write Below This Line –>

Amie didn’t know the woman on the other side of the glass. In fact, Amie first saw her the previous night. Kind of. Amie would never forget last night.

Every Thursday night Amie and her friends went bowling. They were at their usual lane having a great time when all the monitors in the place flashed a red warning screen. Simultaneously every phone in the place made some kind of alarm sound.

The monitors made no noise, but the phones started reading a public service announcement. Amie couldn’t recall the exact message, something about the governor’s office being broken into and casualties reported. What came next, that Amie would never forget.

The talking heads on the screens disappeared. In their place, the same picture as suddenly appeared on their phones. Amie’s face. Not just her face, her face, hairstyle, makeup, earrings, everything. The picture pulled out to show Amie in full. The picture Amie wore a slightly different outfit than the real Amie, so similar that at a glance they looked the same.

Amie’s friends looked at her in horror. Silence settled over the bowling alley. People in adjoining lanes backed away. An eternity passed for Amie followed by the bouncer from the bar walking toward her in slow motion.

“Don’t move Ma’am. The authorities are on the way.” The bouncer held a stun gun obviously at the ready.

Amie responded by passing out. She came to this morning I this room.

A woman in a suit came in. Amie looked at her, trying to focus her mind. “Hi Amie. I have good and bad news for you. The good news is that we officially believe you had nothing to do with all of this. The bad news is we believe it because the DNA tests are back. It’s an exact match.”

“I think I need to go in there and speak to her.”

“Amie, you know the rules. Technically you are family, meaning you can’t be part of the investigation.”

“That’s nice. If you think it’s going to be a problem then turn the camera off.” Amie stalked out the door.

As Amie opened the door to the next room she heard her own voice talk to her. “If you aren’t my lawyer you might as wel-” The woman went silent as she turned her head.

Amie felt the woman’s eye’s on her as she calmly sat down across from her at the table. Internally she wasn’t sure if she’d be able to look up. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, then looked across the table, at herself. She fully expected the mouth across from her to move when hers did as she started to speak.

“Hi Annie, assuming that’s your real name. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” She paused to see if any kid of response would be forthcoming. “You’ll probably be pleased to know the Governor is dead. The blood found on your clothing tells a fairly compelling story.”

Annie sat silently, barely registering what this image of herself across the table said. What she really wanted to do was reach out and touch her, make sure this wasn’t some kind of hallucination brought on by the drugs.

Amie sighed. “To be honest I don’t really care that much. I didn’t vote for him and we’ve got you pretty much dead to rights. Video of your entrance and exit, prints and DNA on the murder weapon, blood on your clothing matching the crime, it’s really just about as close to slam dunk as it can be without the video of you actually knifing him. We’ll likely even have motive when we’re done tearing your life apart.” Amie paused at this. The woman across from her sagged at the shoulders.

Amie closed the folder of paperwork in front of her and pushed it to the side. “What I really want to know is, who the hell are you?”

Annie looked up defiantly. “Fuck you bitch.” Who the hell am I? Good question.

Amie slammed her fists down on the table. “I’ll find out. By this time tomorrow I’ll know your life better than you do. By this time next week you’ll be in the deepest cell of this building, and by this time next month you won’t see the light of day for years. If you’re lucky you’ll live for years, but this state doesn’t guarantee that – the death penalty is a very real possibility here.” Amie swiped up the folder from the tale and stormed out of the room.


“What Suzanne?”

“We’ve got info on her. I think you’re going to need to sit for this.”

“Why, because our DNA is an exact match?”

“Kind of. She was adopted, kind of.”

Amie sat. “So? Lot’s of people have been adopted, including me.”

“She was found the same day as you, at a hospital just ten miles from the one you were found at.”

Amie leaned forward, interested now.

“She grew up mostly in foster care. Most of the homes she lived in have since been closed down for problems ranging from poor living conditions to abuse and child labor allegations. She was finally adopted at 14. At 16 she filed for, and was granted, emancipation. Her adoptive family continued what happened to her in the foster care system.”

Amie sat horrified. It sounded like this person, who she was 99% sure was her twin sister, had the worst hand life could possibly deal delivered to her.

“At 18 she dropped off the grid. Her house tells quite the story though. She spent the last 23 years tracking down her birth parents. She found her mother 3 years ago in a drug house. According to records she died last year, gunned down in a police raid initiated by the Governor.”

“So, motive?” Amie could barely speak, using work to stay grounded.

“Partial. She found her dad recently. Based on her writing and research her dad raped and beat her mom resulting in twins. They were left at different hospitals so they wouldn’t be able to easily trace themselves back to her.”

“Her dad?”

“The Governor.”


This one was kind of fun. I drew inspiration from an old Seinfeld episode. I think this concept could be quite fun to build into a collection of short adventures for the protagonist.

Your Flawed Protagonist

Today we’re moving on to another element of story: your protagonist

The Prompt

Write a story with the flawed protagonist

<– Write Below This Line –>

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Moving On

This one was hard for me. I think I tend to write character driven stories, so featuring a setting so prominently felt wrong to me. I gave it a go though, part of this month is about challenging oneself and becoming better through those challenges. Hopefully when it’s all done I will have gotten better.


Paint A Vivid Setting

And now for something completely different!

The Prompt

Write a story in which the setting is key


  • Choose a setting for your story based on a real place that you know intimately. You can change details, of course, but this just makes it easier to summon up images in your mind. You can change it to be it futuristic, or historical, or on another planet, but base your buildings on building as you know, base the weather on whether you understand. Use your experiences to make this story shine.

<– Write Below This Line –>

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Fred Pinkerton

So I figured out a different way to export from my writing application today that should make reading the rest of these much easier. I also struggled to write anything. I think the problem was a late start. I didn’t really get to write anything until after lunch. I had a lot of trouble getting into a writing place at that point in the day, with whatever else having already happened. I do know that if I’m writing earlier I can get back to a writing spot after lunch without much trouble. Granted, my desire to flip the standard a little and have the life-changing moment appear to be a good thing versus a bad might have hampered me, but in the end that shouldn’t matter too much. The characters should still do something, there should still be ideas of situations to put them in.


Write A Hansel & Gretel Structured Story

Today we’re looking at the third of my ‘Life Changing Moment’ writing prompts (find the first one here, the second one here)

The Prompt

tell a story using the Hansel & Gretel story structure

This story structure is very different from the last two. The life-changing moment happens BOOM right up front.

<– Write Below This Line –>

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I guess I’ll take the weekends off for the month, unless I have time on one of the other weekends. I like the premise here and may try to clean it up and submit it somewhere, or eventually expand it to a full novel/novella.

The Ugly Duckling Story Structure
Continuing our look at story structure, today I have a structure based on the story of the ugly duckling.
The prompt
Write a story based on the Ugly Duckling structure

How To Write An Ugly Duckling Structure Story
Write a story based on the ugly duckling structure, with a life-changing moment or realization or event that comes in the middle.

<— Write Below This Line —>

It’s another day in paradise. That’s what we tell each other anyhow. Every day when we step out of our rooms to face the day we tell each other it’s another day in paradise. None of us know when it started. Truth is, we don’t know much of anything.
I know this life. Getting up, saying it’s another day in paradise. Going to the small room to eat, going to the big room to ride. Back to the small room to eat, and back to my room to sleep. I don’t know anything more. I don’t know how many days in paradise there have been. I don’t know what happened to the person a little while ago who stopped coming to the small room to eat. I don’t know what there is to not know.
I want to know. I want to know why we say it’s another day in paradise. I want to know why we ride in the big room whenever we are awake. I want to know how many days we’ve been riding. I want to know why I cannot go to a different room. I want to know what happens when we stop coming to the small room.
I want to, but I can’t. When I open my mouth to ask someone the only thing I say is that it’s another day in paradise. When I try to stop riding I cannot. When I try to go to a different room after we eat I find myself in my room. I can’t know. Instead I return to my room after another day in paradise.
Something isn’t right today. The door is open. It never opens until after I am ready for the day. Today it is open and I just woke up. Every day I wake up, get up, get ready, and the door opens. I haven’t gotten up yet. I am awake, the door is open, but I am not getting up. Something is definitely wrong.
I start to get up and feel my ear sticking to the pillow. I turn my head and see red. My pillow isn’t supposed to be red. I look around. The room looks right, except the pillow. And the door. I get ready.
The water is red when I wash my head. My right ear. It hurts a little, on the inside. Putting my clothes on feels strange. They don’t fall gracefully into place. I struggle to get them fastened. This is not right.
I step outside to say it’s another day in paradise. Nobody is there. The hall is empty. The doors are all open. I go to a different room. It works. I can go to a different room. I know it’s a different room. The pillow isn’t red. The number above the sink is different. I go to another room, another. Room after room all with different numbers and white pillows. I don’t say it’s another day in paradise. I don’t say anything.
I go to the small room. It is almost empty. There is a plate of food in my spot. I open my mouth to speak, but don’t know what to say. I look around again and still see nobody. I go to my plate and eat my food. After I eat the plate sinks as always. I look around again, then go to the big room.
Here they all are. All the other people are riding. The noise is deafening. This is wrong. There has never been noise before. I cover my ears without thinking and the sound becomes bearable. I look around. My ride is empty. Nobody looks at me as I go to look at it. I sit, but I cannot ride. As soon as I take my hand off my ears the sound hurts. It takes hands and feet to ride. I go stand by another person. I bump them, but they keep riding.
I notice a door on the far side of the room. It opens when I walk up to it. When it closes behind me I can take my hands off my ears. I know what to say now.
“Hello?” The sound of my own voice shocks me. I don’t remember a time when I wasn’t speaking in unison with everyone else. “Hello?!” I look around and see nobody. I see nothing but a hallway in front of me.
Click. Click, click, click. Click click click click click. Clickclickclickclickclick.
Lights appear in the hallway. They start by me and extend to a bright spot in the distance. I follow them. I can’t help myself, I need to know.
At the end is another door that opens for me. Inside is a chair.
“Please sit.”
I didn’t see anyone. “Hello?” This is not right.
“Please sit.”
I sit down. “It’s another day in paradise?”
“Hehehe. That won’t work for you anymore. Let’s see here…”
In front of me part of the wall fades, words and numbers forming in it’s place.
“Looks like you’ve been in there 3 years, 7 months, and 22 days. One of our shortest times.”
3 years, 7 months, and 22 days. I know how long. “My, my pillow was red. The door was open and my pillow was red.”
“Yes yes, that’s what you tell us when you come out. It’s not your fault. The implants have a failure rate just like everything else we make and remembering tends to tax them to an early failure.”
“The other pillows weren’t red. They were white.”
“I see. Had you looked at the other pillows before?”
“No. When I thought about going to another room before I always ended up back in mine.”
“Yes and no. The implant told the room who you were and gave it the right number. We find that tends to stop the decline more often than overriding your steps. Makes corralling the displaced unit a pain in the ass though.”
The rooms changed. I was able to go to another room. “I just wanted to know.”
“That’s interesting. Usually when someone ends up here they feel wronged. They think we made a mistake so strongly it overrides the implant. Often they’re right.”
Others have come here. “The ones that stop coming to the small room. They come here?”
“You got it. The lighting in the gen room covers their exit quite well, but they come here.”
“Gen room?”
“You call it the big room. It’s a generator.”
Generator. We ride in the generator. “I know now. I know why we ride. “The generator is paradise?”
Muffled voices. “What? Paradise? No, the facility is owned by Paradise Power. The generator is just a generator, and far from paradise.”
“Far from paradise?”
“Yeah. Look. Your case is going to be examined. If everything checks out you’ll be set free. If not you’ll restart your sentence. In your case that’s, let’s see, 50 years.”
“My case? Sentence?”
Muffled voices. “Yeah. Look, buddy. Something is different here. The implants usually fail due to strong feelings of innocence and remembering why you are where you are. You don’t know what’s going on at all?”
The voice sounded distressed. “I wanted to know. I know now, I can go ride again.” I just wanted to help the voice. “All I ever wanted was to know.”
A door opened to the right.
“Look. Go through the door on the right. I promise everything will be figured out. Either you’ll get to ride again, or you’ll know more than you could ever imagine.”
I stood up and looked around. I saw the words and numbers. I looked at the door. I know now. I know enough now. I walked back down the hallway.

Grandpa’s Dog Story

Today my computer crashed, and I had a web conference I was trying to pay attention to. As such I didn’t get as much written. On the bright side, my novel is full of characters that aren’t me. One of them needed to tell another one a story, so today you get an excerpt from the first draft of the novel.

When Your Character Is Not Like You
Today we’re turning yesterday’s prompt inside out.
The Prompt
Write a story about a character as unlike you as you can manage

<— Write Below This Line —>

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First Flight

In the interest of readability I am deleting the tips from the writing prompts going forward.

This one feels pretty good. I figured out the ending about 1/2 to 2/3 of the way through and on a quick scan I’m happy with how it turned out. If I knew more about short story publishing I would probably hold it back, do a good thorough edit, and then submit it various places. Since I don’t really know much about the industry I’m posting it here for all to enjoy. (And share. Please, feel free to share.) As always feedback is appreciated, whether public or private. In addition to getting ideas which support the novel I’m writing I am trying to become a better writer through this.

When Your Character Is Like You
Today I’m limiting your character choices.
The Prompt
Write a story featuring a character very like you

<— Write Below This Line —>

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