Writing Prompt #7

October. Colourful trees, pumpkins, the return of thick blankets and that annoying sound the radiator makes at 3am. Three weeks into my second year at uni and goodness is it hard to fit writing into my full workload. But here I am, doing writing prompt #7.

Whatever pile of revision or deadlines or life obligations are eating away at your soul, just step away for a moment. Take a deep breath. Set a timer for 10 minutes and just write. Lose yourself in another world. When you’ve finished, your work will still be waiting, but you’ll be stronger and ready to conquer it.

Today’s game: Fire Starter

The rules: Write the supplied sentence/sentence fragment at the top of your page, (computer, notebook, etc. Whatever you prefer) set a timer for 10 minutes and start writing whatever you think would follow that first sentence.

Today’s sentence fragment:

Nobody breathed…

After you try this out, you can find what I wrote by clicking here (because comparing everyone’s different ideas is the best bit!). I fixed some of the punctuation and spelling to make it easier to read, but this is about fun, not editing.

My sister picked this edgy sentence and here’s what she wrote for it.

If you’re really feeling brave, you can post what you’ve written in the comments because, as with all writing games, comparing our unique takes on the sentence is the best part!


One thought on “Writing Prompt #7

  1. Nobody breathed. The air was full of sound: the water rushing underneath us, the floorboards cracking above, the trees whistling in The Outside. Nobody breathed. I stared around at everyone in the circle, all kinds of people, but no one I knew. No one who could tell me what was going on. Where we would be taken. What would be the next step. Nobody breathed. The minutes dragged on. I started to count them in my head; over and over until I was sick of the numbers. Who knew you could get sick of time? And still it crept forward, while we stood still. Frozen. Waiting.
    A gasp. From the boy opposite. Young, around my age. Blonde hair. Mouth wide open in fear. He slowly lifted an arm and pointed, straight at me. No. Through me, behind me, something behind me –
    The boy became a body, strewn on the floor, neck twisted the wrong way, eyes glassy.
    I was breathing now.
    Rasping breaths, like that of an old man scaling the stairs. Still there was silence. I couldn’t move. Whatever was behind me had just killed that boy. Before he’d been out an hour. Before he’d even seen The Outside.

    Liked by 1 person

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