View Full Version : Writing Prompt

11-29-2004, 01:41 AM
Whenever I've got writer's block, I write a paragraph with my favourite prompt. It's a prelude to horror, romance, drama, etc. Here it is:

The doorknob turned slowly...

Have fun!

11-30-2004, 12:48 AM
The doorknob turned slowly around on the dance floor, and saw me standing in the shadows, hoping to avoid him. He headed straight for me, and I exited the room as quickly as I could, aiming to hide out in the ladies' room until he had found another victim to trip in full view of everyone.

11-30-2004, 02:50 AM
How about this one:

Her stomach rumbled like a...

11-30-2004, 03:38 AM
Her stomach rumbled like a machine in a gravel quarry. Stuck in the ice sculpture in the cafeteria, Susie Q. could only watch as hundreds of her classmates quickly ate lunch. How that confounded purple cat stuck her in this sculpture was still a mystery.

12-20-2004, 09:25 AM
The doorknob turned slowly. Her stomach rumbled as she watched the door. Her knees shook, the tears rolling down her face.

They dove into each other's arms. He held her and whispered into her ear, "It's okay, baby. I'm not dead."

Eighteen months away from home is a long time for a soldier.

12-23-2004, 07:38 PM
I wrote this a few minutes ago. Hack it apart, please.

&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The door knob turned slowly. It seemed like an eternity until finally, through the door came little Jimmiy bright eyed and bushy tailed. It was Christmas morning. He couldn't sleep. He hoped to get up early enough to catch Santa. Maybe even get a ride on the Polar Express. But he was rapidly coming of age now. 12 years old. His body was changing his voice was deepening. But Christams to little Jimmay was still Christmas. It wasn't the presents under the tree or what he might get. He love being around people. He loved Christmas.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp As he emerged from his room he heard something. Something strange. Dark the house was but he knew every inch of that old thing. He could navigate it total darkness without jamming little toe on the end of entertainment center in the den. He knew off to the left was the light switch about half way down the smooth sheetrock wall. He thought of the summer dad painted the living room peach for mom as a birthday present. He thought of the good times in Christmas past. But this day something was amiss. Jimmy had the innate ability to sense things. He knew things were not right. Not right for Christmas at least. The feeling bothered him and once again he heard a faint sound. Just barely audible. The stood there in light deprived room wondering what it was. Maybe the Polar Express had truly come. “No, this isn't a train. Trains are loud. Even without the blasting their horns.” he thought. This was certainly true. Unless the Air Force had invented somekind of stealth train. After all, they had stealth jets and stealth battle ships and stealth helicopters. He realized this was folly. For you see, there were no train tracks around his neighborhood. And any self repecting human knows that trains have their most freedom on the tracks! Oh, well. He decided to follow the sound. It was coming from down stairs, so, down he went. Down, down, down. The darkness soon lifted as the glow from the Chirstmas tree lights filled the room. He walked slowly, pretenting he was looking for some treasure in an aventure movie. In fact, his whole life was like a never ending adventure. As he reached the Christmas tree the strange sound became clearer. He couldn't make out what is was. Perhaps it was a stray cat wanting in out of the cold or maybe mom was humming tune as she quite often does. However, the sense of sadness in the air told him this too was folly. He went all around down stairs and found the door to the basement open. “This is it,” he thought. Down again. The basement was a special place. Several times Jimmy found mom and dad making love downstairs. He knew the marriage bed was a sacred place. This time things were different. He knew something was seriously wrong. He made his way downstairs and found dad lying on the floor, doubled over, and crying. Jimmy had never seen his father cry. He thought crying was for kids and women, an activity not for menly men. He walked along the cold floor, knelt down, and with a gentle touch on his dad's shoulder said, “What's wrong?” Startled, dad looked over and saw Jimmy's big brown eyes. Jimmy had a way of making people feel at ease. Dad seem to losen up a little. The tears still filled his face.
“Remeber the little sister you were gonna get for Chirstmas?”
“Yeah, Maggie is to be her name. Baggie Maggie!!”
“Well, son. She isn't coming.”
“Why not,” he wondered.
“Maggie went home, Jimmy.”
“Home? Isn't this home?”
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp “Yeah, but remember what the preacher said? That earth is just temporary?”
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp “Okay,” Jimmy had an pleasant look about him as he began to understand the implication.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp “Maggie is dead Jimmy. It happened 2 days ago. The doctors call it a miscarriage.”
“So, is Maggie in Heaven now?”
“I think so.”
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp “Then what is there to be sad about? She'll be there waiting on us when we get there!”
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp With a smile the father realized that his prayer had been answered. He had been praying that someone would help him deal with the pain of losing Maggie. He thought it would be a professional counselor or something. Nope, little Jimmy to the rescue “Your right, son. Give me a hug.”
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp The pain was still there but Jimmy helped his father bear it and after several weeks Jimmy and his dad grown closer and closer. Their family never had another child but they were a good family. As good as any, ther's no doubt about that.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp As for Jimmy grew up to become a remarkable man. He never made millions nor was he elected to Congress but he became a man full of faith and trusted by many people. That Christmas morning learned that people were the most valuable asset in person's life.

Merry Christmas folks,

Betty W01
01-16-2005, 10:53 AM
The door knob turned slowly. It was ice-cold in my hand and I wanted to scream, "No! Go away! If you don't tell me, it won't be true..." How many naval officers have been left standing on the doorstep of a house, because the family of the deceased sailor refused to open the door, reluctant to face the news on the other side? That's what I wanted to do: refuse to let them in, refuse to listen to what I knew they were there to say, refuse to be a part of the scenario that every military family dreads. But the doorknob kept turning, as if it had a mind of its own.

01-18-2005, 09:52 AM
The doorknob turned slowly. A little face peered into the dimly lit room. "Mommy?" faltered the child's voice.

01-22-2005, 11:12 PM
The doorknob turned slowly. I wanted to see who was out there, and I didn't want to scare them, so I turned the knob as slowly as I could.

Good, they didn't see me. There were four of them. Big noses, bulbous eyes, bloody open wounds here and there. I knew just what to do to take care of this bunch.

I jerked the door open and stood my full five feet six and screamed, "Trick or treat, you little animals!"

They screamed and ran.

Later, I watched as the doorknob turned slowly in my hand.


03-14-2005, 05:34 AM
:scared: The door knob turned slowly and she knew that he was coming. His footsteps outside had clomped down hard against the wooden floor. Apprehension filled her as she turned to face. He would be full of questions again just like everytime he went out with his father. She wondered just how much had his father told him and then he popped into the room. "Mommy what are boobs?"