20 Fantasy Story Ideas

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Have you ever wanted to write a story, but didn't know how to begin? Use a prompt to start getting words on the page. Our goal is to create and maintain writing momentum—but you may need a tiny push to get moving on your practice.

Consider this your push. In this post, I'm sharing my best short story ideas with you, and you have my full permission (and encouragement) to use them as you will.

story ideas

I'm going to share these by genre, so expect a few weeks of prompts. I can't wait to see how you use them.

Twenty Fantasy Story Ideas

  1. A dragon drops in for the opening day celebration of a new local health food store (let's call it Hale Feeds). P. S: No one knew dragons were real.
  2. There's a snail orchestra. They decide to put on a concert for the gardener who has (unwittingly) fed them for years.
  3. Bored high school wizards decide to throw a party to celebrate tomorrow's graduation. Nothing could possibly go wrong.
  4. Weddings are stressful. They're especially tricky when one family is magical and the other hates spells, and both mothers want to control the celebration.
  5. A bored housewife wakes one day to find all her dishes are singing Hey, Jude. (Alternatively, if you want to make this a darker story, have them sing The Sound of Silence.)
  6. A witch living secretly in suburbia casts a spell to speed up the laundry, but it backfires—just in time for trick-or-treaters to deal with dancing underwear.
  7. Capitol Hill wakes one day to find thousands of fairies protesting for better media representation. Unfortunately, no one can understand what they're saying.
  8. A fed-up genie, sick of being over-sexualized and paid in wishes, throws a magical tantrum which turns everyone in the world into the opposite gender.
  9. One bright morning in May, all domestic pets start talking.
  10. Eating food turns one's skin the same color as one's last ingested item, which makes cheating on diets a challenge of strategy as well as taste.
  11. Giants are REALLY into reality TV, and one day stomp down from their hidden mountain homes to convince Hollywood to create a show about them.
  12. Mythological creatures, tired of being portrayed as Caucasian gym rats, confront their creators on a popular combative talk show.
  13. Tinnitus is actually the result of pissed-off pixies, who haven't been properly fed in a couple of centuries (hint: it involves sugar and rum).
  14. Tomorrow morning, all kings, queens, dictators, presidents, and politicians are suddenly replaced by talking dogs.
  15. What would you do if every tree you passed began whispering your name?
  16. Medieval Italy's most powerful wizard presents a challenge to his pupils: they must compete to prepare a delicious meal without using any magic at all.
  17. “Life got you down? Become a Centaur…today!”
  18. Mermaids attempt to install a democratic form of government, but the cephalopods are causing trouble.
  19. A young Fey prince runs away from responsibility to start a career as a street musician. (I admit I've used this one already, and it's wicked fun.)
  20. Boot-wearing cats are the secret rulers of the world. The twist: their superiority is being challenged by a rising cabal of top-hatted stoats.

Want to read more about writing a great short story? Check out our guide here

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Do any of these prompts tickle your storytelling bones? Let us know in the comments.

PRACTICE

It's time to play with story prompts! Take fifteen minutes and develop one of these story ideas into at least one scene. Don't edit yourself! Set your imagination free, then post your results in the practice box below. Don't forget to leave feedback for other writers!

Enter your practice here:

Best-Selling author Ruthanne Reid has led a convention panel on world-building, taught courses on plot and character development, and was keynote speaker for The Write Practice 2021 Spring Retreat.

Author of two series with five books and fifty short stories, Ruthanne has lived in her head since childhood, when she wrote her first story about a pony princess and a genocidal snake-kingdom, using up her mom’s red typewriter ribbon.

When she isn’t reading, writing, or reading about writing, Ruthanne enjoys old cartoons with her husband and two cats, and dreams of living on an island beach far, far away.

P.S. Red is still her favorite color.

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84 Comments

  1. Jacqueline Nicole

    I have to say the prompts are all whimsical and fun! Thank you for the ideas. Here we go! I don’t think I can choose just one!

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Haha! Glad you like them. 🙂 I had a ton of fun thinking them up!

      Reply
  2. rosie

    Mrs
    Putnam woke up and sighed. “Another day.”

    She heaved herself out of bed, one foot at a time on the tiles. She winced as
    they seemed to freeze her skin, and permeate into her bones. She had washing to
    do, and then hang up the clothes—oh, she needed new pegs—ironing, and then there
    was also the pile of dishes festering in the sink. Mrs Putnam sighed again as
    she brushed her teeth and decided that it was time to face the day, whether she
    felt up to it or not.

    “Look at
    me!” Tiny Teacup said. “I’m filthy!” He winced as he noticed the tea stains all
    over his body. There were lipstick stains on his rim too, and he was starting
    to smell more of tea than he cared to smell. Coffee was his favourite—coffee—when
    would they ever learn?

    “Who’re you to complain?” said Dinner Plate. He didn’t even want to take a
    breath, because the curry stains would end up in his mouth, and all the grime
    from the other dishes might touch him too. He shuddered. “It’s about time we do
    something.”

    “I think,” piped up Mrs Saucer, “that we should sing a song.”

    “A song?” said Dinner Plate. “What good would that do?”

    “Oh well,” Mrs Saucer said, “you did see that Sunshine Liquid advertisement on
    telly yesterday, didn’t you?”

    “Oh yes.” Dinner Plate shuddered. “They were eating dinner in front of the telly.”

    “Yes well, the dishes sang a song,” Mrs Saucer said. “Did you hear? Sunshine
    Liquid has the power of a hundred lemons in one bottle. I propose that
    if we sing a song, just like those dishes, we might get some attention around
    here.”

    Dinner Plate sniffed. “It’s all hogwash you know. If they did have that much
    power, they’d corrode us all to porcelain dust!”

    Mrs
    Saucer had her way, and by the time Mrs Putnam dragged her way down to the
    kitchen, Mrs Saucer had planned a three part harmony. She argued that they
    should sing her favourite song—“Here comes the sun”—but Dinner Plate had a
    better idea. He argued that with “The Sound of Silence,” they might have a
    better harmony, and besides, it was a much more artful song.

    Hello darkness my old friend, I’ve come to talk with you again, they
    began as Mrs Putnam walked in. Dinner Plate sighed because the harmony was flat
    and Mrs Saucer—as usual—had missed a half note.

    Because a vision softly creeping left its seeds when I was sleeping

    Mrs Putnam could barely believe her eyes—or her ears. She was hearing a
    song she hadn’t heard since she was a teenager, and still listened to music.

    And a vision that was planted in my brain still remains

    within the sound of silence

    Mrs Putnam sank into the nearest chair and wept. The dishes rejoiced and
    Mrs Saucer got her way. The dishes burst into “here comes the sun” while Mrs
    Putnam thought about days long past. The dishes were soon to be washed, and Mrs
    Putnam was to sing along with them, in perfect harmony.

    All was well.

    Reply
    • Jean Blanchard

      I wish my dirty dishes sang first thing in the morning! Nothing wrong with a bit of fantasy and I liked your piece very much, Rosie.

      Reply
      • rosie

        Thank you so much!

        Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Awww! I love it! You’ve done a wonderful job with this. 🙂 I can see it like it’s a movie!

      Reply
      • rosie

        Thank you!

        Reply
    • 709writer

      Wow, great story. I was really drawn in and you made me feel involved with the characters. I laughed out loud at the part when you said Mrs Saucer-as usual-had missed a half note. You did a great job at creating characters – out of dinnerware! : )

      Reply
      • rosie

        Thank you: I’m so glad you liked it. Thanks for the feedback. 🙂

        Reply
    • Griffinclaw

      Cute!

      Reply
    • Paula

      Aww, this was so beautiful and well written. It really got to me, you’re great 🙂

      Reply
    • Paula

      what rubbish!

      Reply
      • Jillian Bowersox

        Like you could do any better.

        Reply
      • Olivia Tran

        I think this person had great descriptions and because the story isn’t your style doesn’t mean you can go and be disrespectful to the author. Anyone agree?

        Reply
  3. dduggerbiocepts

    There’s a real adult reader market for this stuff?

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      There certainly is. 🙂 Don’t worry if this one isn’t your cup of tea; over the next few weeks, we’ll be doing Thriller, Sci-Fi, Mystery, and more. One of these lists of prompts will surely be right up your alley. 🙂

      Reply
  4. Jean Blanchard

    I loved doing this. I have never considered fantasy before.

    A dragon drops in for the opening day celebration of a new local health food store (let’s call it Hale Feeds). P. S: No one knew dragons were real.

    ‘Oh, Hi’.

    The voice was low and fleshy and drawn out, kind of goofy. Customers craned their necks to identify its owner.

    ‘It’s me, down here. I’m only little’.

    People drew back and formed a circle around a tiny creature. It was hard to see how it could produce such a large and goofy voice; but there he was, a little dragon, all resplendent in his iridescent green and purple skin, now spotlighted by the LED lights in the ceiling of Hale Feeds, a health food store in Lincoln city. Twirling around, he showed off his exquisite feet with their pink, pearly claws; and swished his sinuous indigo and starry tail. For just a moment he rose 18 inches off the floor and the people got a better look at him.

    ‘Look, look at my arms and legs,’ he cried, stretching each out in turn. ‘I’ve got all these little red bumps on them. Not only are they spoiling my handsome looks but they itch and I can’t scratch them case they bleed. ‘Cos if I bleed, all my lovely colours will just drain away and no one will want to adopt me back home.

    He dropped his shoulders and heaved a great wet sob and a huge tears formed on the rims of his opalescent eyes: there they balanced, shimmering, until they could stay no longer. Then he blinked. The tears splashed heavily on the floor and spread and spread, wetting the shoes of the people who stood, open-mouthed at the sight of the pathetic little creature. Then they wept in sympathy as if they knew what it was like to have pimples like him. They didn’t know, not really.

    Into the circle stepped Mrs Merton, all smelling of scented candles and dandelion coffee, nuts and things in brown bottles. She scooped up the little dragon in one swift movement and examined the red bumps on his arms and legs, her glasses perched on the end of her pointy nose.

    ‘Ah, yes, I see. Not common in dragons but you’ve got k pillaris. Very common in humans and very unsightly. I’ve got just the stuff for that’, disappearing into the back of the shop.

    Presently she re-appeared with a pot of secret balm, all the way from India, and rubbed it all over him. The red bumps slowly flattened and faded away and everybody cheered and the air was filled with parma violets and soft lumps of laughter. The dragon was tickled pink but that soon faded and he was back to his normal colourful self again. And then he was gone leaving Ts and aitches, As and ens, Ks and esses behind. And the people were well pleased.

    Jean B

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Brilliant!! I love this! 😀 You’ve got a really terrific story here!

      Reply
      • Jean Blanchard

        Oh, thank you, very much, indeed. It’s got me thinking and revising.

        Reply
  5. Lauren

    “Mira, where are you going?” Alexandra called after her best friend. She struggled to keep up with Mira’s pace as they swam through the Coral Village.

    “I’m going to set this all straight. I’ve had enough.” Mira called back. Her voice trailed off in the distance between the two mermaids. Alexandra looked ahead and saw the golden locks of her best friend as she swam toward the Village Square. Soon her friend would be lost in crowd of sea creatures so Alexandra kicked her fins as quickly as she could. She began to gain on her friend.

    “What makes you think the Dictator will listen to you? Plus, how do you plan to persuade an entire panel of cephalopods? They hate the mermaids. That’s why we’ve been living in oppression for so long.” Alexandra did her best to talk her boisterous friend out of whatever plan she had secretly devised.

    “I’m so sick of this. I’m sixteen. I’m old enough to make my own choices and decisions. Why must I serve these nasty creatures?” Mira slowed down to look at her friend. Her blue eyes glistened in the light of the sea. They were large and round.

    “Mira, it’s all part of our history. You know why we serve the dictator and his team of tentacles.” Alexandra reminded Mira of the fact that Hostile Mermaid History was the only true subject that the girls were taught in school.

    “It just isn’t fair. You and I were not behind the nasty stories that were passed down orally for centuries about the cephalopods. Why do we have to pay the price?” Mira crossed her arms across her chest bumping the teal bra that she had made herself from shells she had found at the discount shell shop.

    “No one ever said it was fair or justified. Nothing ever is here. But, it’s their reasoning. Don’t think for one second that a head strong sixteen year old will change the way things have been for so long.” The two girls moved closer to the town square. Their tones became hushed as they feared being overheard by the average passerby.

    “Then let’s run away.” Mira’s eyes drifted to the distance as she entertained the idea in her mind. A devious smile creeped itself across her face.

    “What are you two girls doing in the square unaccompanied?” A large squid dressed in his official uniform came within a tentacle’s reach from Alexandra. She moved back subtly.

    “We are sixteen, Sir. And we’ve only come to speak with the Dictator.” Mira spoke matter-of-factly.

    “Sixteen or not the Dictator will never hear from two young mermaids unsummoned. Run along to the village and get to work.” The officer spoke haughtily toward the girls.

    Before she could respond the squid made a lunge toward the girls. Mira acted quickly pushing her friend out of the squid’s grasp. Taking Alexandra by the arm she pushed her way past the squid toward the large public square in the distance. The squid was caught off guard and soon lost the two mermaids in the sea of creatures going to and from the shops and reefs.

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Oooh, exciting! I didn’t expect the direction this took at all! You definitely have a terrific story here with plenty of intrigue. Great job!

      Reply
    • 709writer

      I felt like I was in the story with Mira and Alexandra! I can almost feel the water around me and see the ugly, nosy squid. Great job! Very descriptive and colorful prose.

      Reply
      • melissa

        rubbish prompts, are we kids no we’re not start treating us like adults

        Reply
        • Laurie

          I agree, Melissa. Corny, tongue-in-cheek is fine (look at the success of the Xanth books by Piers Anthony), but I would have appreciated some deeper, more serious prompts as well. These are… kind of pitiful…

          Reply
        • Jillian Bowersox

          Be nice

          Reply
  6. Godfrey Coppinger

    Since I suffer from tinnitus, I’m very interested in feeding the pixies…

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Rum and sugar! 😉

      Reply
  7. Godfrey Coppinger

    By the way, I consider The Write Practice my Writer’s Play Group/

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Aww, that’s great, Godfrey!

      Reply
  8. kath

    “Hello, Darkness, my old friend.”
    Maureen cracked one eye open, thinking it was her husband, Bill, home late again from the bar. But he didn’t sing that well…She shook her head, turning back on her side and snuggling back into the covers. She was sure she had imagined it.
    “I’ve come to speak with you again.”
    There was more than one voice, she was sure of it. They had an ethereal quality; like the voices were singing solemnly from the other side of a canyon. Maureen straightened up and blinked a bleary eye at the blank television screen. She shook her head again, wondering how many glasses of wine she had had the night before.
    “Because a vision softly creeping..”
    The voices were beautiful, but they were loud, and this was five in the morning, and this was her house. Tugging her bathrobe on, Maureen padded down the hallway to the kitchen, awake enough to tell them to be quiet but not enough to wonder why there were people singing in her house.
    Emerging in the kitchen, she saw plates lying on the counter, everywhere. The dinner plates were stacked side by side, the dessert plates set out in a checkerboard pattern on the floor beside them, the serving dishes propped up in chairs. Maureen shook her head for the third time that morning, wiping a stray curl out of her eye and making sure she saw what she thought she saw. Surely, this was just a terrible prank from Bill, some sort of twisted apology… he did things like this all the time…
    “Left its seeds while I was sleeping!”
    The dishes vibrated. She realized where the sound was coming from. They rose again in perfect harmony, vibrating with each word.
    “…still remains within the sound of silence.”
    With that, the dishes rolled up on their sides and rolled past Maureen. Some swerved around her, others stopped for a moment in front of her feet.
    They paid silent tribute to Maureen, until the very last dish, an mismatched china plate Maureen seldom used, slid past her. Their porcelain voices rose once more in a ringing harmony, sounding even farther away,
    “Beneath the sound of silence.”
    There was a smashing, and Maureen ran to the living room amid the tinkling of broken glass to find all of her plates lying in shards and piles of powder. There was an unnatural quiet in the room. The mess was everywhere, and she knew Bill would be home soon. Maureen ran to the kitchen to fetch the dustpan, hardly believing what she had just witnessed.
    She sank to her knees beside the rubble, the sound of silence still pressing on her ears.

    I have no idea what this turned into. It got really dark and strange at the end :0

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      I freaking LOVE it. This turned just as creepy and delicious as anything I ever hoped. Great job!

      Reply
  9. ruthannereid

    Heck, yeah!

    Reply
  10. 709writer

    The forest was quiet, filled only with the sounds of leaves occasionally reaching the ground. Julia tightened the collar of her coat against the chill and quickened her pace through the dead leaves.

    A voice made her stop, mid-stride. She whirled, holding her knapsack tight to her chest. Someone had said her name.

    Silence once again settled over the woods. No flitting of sparrows, no squirrels skittering up a tree.

    Julia faced the east and set off again. She had to reach the end of the woods before nightfall. Otherwise, it would be too dark to make any more progress.

    There it was again. A voice. Speaking her name.

    She stopped beside an oak tree, her gaze darting from one side of the forest to the other. Her pulse hammered.

    “Who’s there?” she called. Seeing no one, she took a step and bumped into the oak tree behind her.

    “Julia…”

    She drew a sharp breath and spun away from the tree, holding a hand out. She felt its breath, the sap chugging through its veins, as psychic energy flowed from her fingertips into the air, surrounding the tree and flooding it.

    “Hello?” She moved closer to the tree. Pressed her hand to its bark.

    Silence. She shut her eyes as an image rushed through her mind.

    The tree… it had seen someone pass by here before. Expanding before her closed eyes and open mind, the image shifted and darkened, morphing into the shape of a figure. A man she knew all too well.

    The figure stalked toward her and spoke.

    “Julia, you are mine.”

    Thank you for the prompts, Ruthanne! I love # 15, it was really interesting. Any feedback/suggestions would be awesome. : )

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Oh, I love where you went with this! It feels like the beginning of an awesome story. Maybe paranormal romance or horror?

      Reply
      • 709writer

        Thank you! It’s kind of like sci-fi suspense. : )

        Reply
  11. Dalveen

    It was a cold Friday morning in suburbia when Nancy had woken up to a loud drilling across the street. There were children rushing to school with their bags weighing them down and parents on their mobile phones trying to explain to their coworkers why they were running late. It looked like a somewhat normal end to the week.

    As Nancy pulled back the curtain, she saw a builder bent over drilling into the pavement with his crack on show. She sighed and laid back down. It was only until Nancy looked towards the poster across the room of the Hocus Pocus movie that it suddenly dawned on her. She smiled as she remembered it was Halloween! How did she forget? How did she not remember the most important day of the year? Jumping up with excitement Nancy head toward the cupboard next to the poster where her wand was and chuckled “TODAY IS THE DAY!”

    What was the day and what was going to happen? Nancy was known to be a grumpy thirty five year old living in the suburbs of New York. She wasn’t well known however she was known for her inability to exchange pleasantries in the neighbourhood.

    Nancy got downstairs and found a stack of things to do. She was a housewife. Her husband was a corporate boss working in the city and she was the stay at home wife. This was by choice so she could work her magic during the day and while he was asleep at night. Lately things seemed to be dreary in the Brown household. Her husband Quinn would sleep in their bed while Nancy would stay downstairs watching scripted dramas and drinking cocoa. Only until Quinn would head upstairs, Nancy would take out her broomstick to practice flying across the city. Her dream was to fly around America in a week.

    There was a list on the fridge. Quinn had left her chores to do. It was expected to be completed by the time he had reached home around 6pm. Quinn was rather traditional. He expected his wife to keep their home clean just incase he had to bring anyone home from work. He also thought Nancy would have nothing better to do either. She didn’t have many friends, she didn’t want children and she certainly didn’t have many hobbies as far as he was concerned. But boy was he wrong. She did want children and she did have hobbies. She loved witchcraft. She wanted to marry a wizard and she wanted to send her sprogs to a school like Hogwarts. She couldn’t tell Quinn. He wouldn’t understand. She also couldn’t perform witchcraft in front of ordinary people.

    Flying between 2am-4am was the peak time. Other witches would also be flying and they would meet up to talk about their ordinary lives.

    Back in the house Nancy took out her wand and performed a spell to get the dishes washed, the house hoovered, the bathroom cleaned and the bedrooms upstairs. The laundry was left and there was a pile of it. Mostly Quinn’s smalls and his work wear from the week. So Nancy thought she would make lunch and watch bewitched before attending to it.

    It was 5pm and Nancy hurried to the wash room. She put his clothes in the machine including his underwear and decided to put on a quick wash. The button on the machine stopped working. Nancy had to try a spell to get the clothes washed in the quickest time possible. So she performed a spell and waited a few minutes. The machine’s door unlocked and a pair of briefs came walking out. Then another, and another. They then started to dance in sync. Nancy was gobsmacked and ordered it to stop. She didn’t know the reverse spell. She was dumbfounded by what had just happened. It was now 5:50pm and the doorbell rang. Trying to reach the door with Quinn’s pants dancing around her wasn’t easy. Swinging her arms around to get to the door, Nancy was approached by a bunch of trick or treaters. They laughed momentarily and then screamed when the underwear followed them out the door one by one. Chasing them down the street.

    Quinn and his boss were in the car watching the whole thing…

    Reply
    • ruthannereid

      Haha! What a predicament! Great job with this. 😀 I wonder what he’s going to do!

      Reply
  12. Dalveen

    It was a cold Friday morning in suburbia when Nancy had woken up to a loud drilling across the street. There were children rushing to school with their bags weighing them down and parents on their mobile phones trying to explain to their coworkers why they were running late. It looked like a somewhat normal end to the week.

    As Nancy pulled back the curtain, she saw a builder bent over drilling into the pavement with his crack on show. She sighed and laid back down. It was only until Nancy looked towards the poster across the room of the Hocus Pocus movie that it suddenly dawned on her. She smiled as she remembered it was Halloween! How did she forget? How did she not remember the most important day of the year? Jumping up with excitement Nancy head toward the cupboard next to the poster where her wand was and chuckled “TODAY IS THE DAY!”

    What was the day and what was going to happen? Nancy was known to be a grumpy thirty five year old living in the suburbs of New York. She wasn’t well known however she was known for her inability to exchange pleasantries in the neighbourhood.

    Nancy got downstairs and found a stack of things to do. She was a housewife. Her husband was a corporate boss working in the city and she was the stay at home wife. This was by choice so she could work her magic during the day and while he was asleep at night. Lately things seemed to be dreary in the Brown household. Her husband Quinn would sleep in their bed while Nancy would stay downstairs watching scripted dramas and drinking cocoa. Only until Quinn would head upstairs, Nancy would take out her broomstick to practice flying across the city. Her dream was to fly around America in a week.

    There was a list on the fridge. Quinn had left her chores to do. It was expected to be completed by the time he had reached home around 6pm. Quinn was rather traditional. He expected his wife to keep their home clean just incase he had to bring anyone home from work. He also thought Nancy would have nothing better to do either. She didn’t have many friends, she didn’t want children and she certainly didn’t have many hobbies as far as he was concerned. But boy was he wrong. She did want children and she did have hobbies. She loved witchcraft. She wanted to marry a wizard and she wanted to send her sprogs to a school like Hogwarts. She couldn’t tell Quinn. He wouldn’t understand. She also couldn’t perform witchcraft in front of ordinary people.

    Flying between 2am-4am was the peak time. Other witches would also be flying and they would meet up to talk about their ordinary lives.

    Back in the house Nancy took out her wand and performed a spell to get the dishes washed, the house hoovered, the bathroom cleaned and the bedrooms upstairs. The laundry was left and there was a pile of it. Mostly Quinn’s smalls and his work wear from the week. So Nancy thought she would make lunch and watch bewitched before attending to it.

    It was 5pm and Nancy hurried to the wash room. She put his clothes in the machine including his underwear and decided to put on a quick wash. The button on the machine stopped working. Nancy had to try a spell to get the clothes washed in the quickest time possible. So she performed a spell and waited a few minutes. The machine’s door unlocked and a pair of briefs came walking out. Then another, and another. They then started to dance in sync. Nancy was gobsmacked and ordered it to stop. She didn’t know the reverse spell. She was dumbfounded by what had just happened. It was now 5:50pm and the doorbell rang. Trying to reach the door with Quinn’s pants dancing around her wasn’t easy. Swinging her arms around to get to the door, Nancy was approached by a bunch of trick or treaters. They laughed momentarily and then screamed when the underwear followed them out the door one by one. Chasing them down the street.

    Quinn and his boss were in the car watching the whole thing…

    Reply
  13. Dragons' Geas

    These are are great. I do live writes for practice all the time using a story generator that Robyn Chambers has on his website for use. Great fun tool.

    Reply
    • Ruthanne Reid

      What a great resource! Thanks for sharing it. 🙂

      Reply
  14. Griffinclaw

    “But you absolutely must enter! I shall certainly do so. It should be quite enriching.”

    “Corelia, be you sick in the head? An entire meal? With no magic? That cannot be possible!”

    “What folly!”

    Corelia sighed. Men could be so exasperating. She and her three friends, Leonardo, Bartolommeo, and Angelo had been bickering for several minutes as they walked down the cobbled streets from their sorcery lesson. Their magic teacher, the most learned wizard in all of Italy, had presented them with a new challenge: to compete to prepare a delicious meal using no magic at all. She had expected that at least Bartolommeo, being the oldest and maturest amongst them (sixteen years of age), would enter the contest. Trying new things was hardly a bad idea, in Corelia’s opinion.

    “Boys like you are always over-exaggerating everything! Perhaps this won’t be as hard as you think.”

    “That’s easy for you to say,” said Leonardo, youngest of the four and always a bit of a jokester. “You could easily fry anything on that flaming head of yours.”

    Corelia flipped her red hair self-consciously.

    “If we enter this foolish thing, will you cease your frivolous babblings?” said Bartolommeo.

    “Yes, yes, so be it,” said Corelia, rolling her eyes.

    The contest started one week later. Corelia’s parents were both fairly successful chefs, so she approached the cooking arena with confidence, whereas Leonardo, Bartolommeo, and Angelo were baffled by what they saw before them.

    “They have everything!” exclaimed Corelia. “Fire pits, cooking pots, ingredients, utensils…”

    “We are to build our own fire?!”

    “What use are these?” said Angelo, holding up some flint and steel.

    “What have you dragged us into?”

    A bugle sounded. “Hear ye, hear ye!” The magic teacher was seated in front of the arena. “You shall have two hours to complete a delicious meal using no magic at all! I have assigned a trustworthy judge to inspect your completed products! Let the event begin!”

    Corelia rushed toward a fire pit. Lying next to it was some flint and steel needed to light a fire. She smiled and immediately set to work. Soon the fire was blazing. Corelia ran to the receptacle where meat was kept and grabbed a slab of hamburger to cook.

    The boys, however, were not doing so well. Bartolommeo was hitting together his flint and steel furiously, with no result. Angelo was hurriedly adding more and more sticks to his fire pit. Corelia caught Leonardo with his wand out, trying to surreptitiously light a fire with magic.

    “Hey, no magic!” Leonardo jumped. Upon seeing her, he grinned sheepishly. “Look,” said Corelia. “This is how you do it.” She grabbed Leonardo’s flint and steel. “You strike these together, like this, over the wood. It makes a spark, which sets it aflame,” she explained, demonstrating as she went.

    “Thanks.”

    She smiled amusedly and went back to work.

    “Yes!” Angelo looked proudly at his fire. After struggling for several minutes, he had finally figured out how to use his flint and steel to light the wood.

    Hmmm… Now what?

    Angelo sat by his fire and thought. He had a fire, but what now? What was he to make?

    He got up. His father had told him once before to trust his instincts when all else failed. So he would do whatever random thing popped into his head. Perhaps it would work.

    Corelia’s meat was nearly finished. She mixed a dough to make noodles and looked over to see how the others were doing. She heard Bartolommeo swear and saw him frantically ripping off his apron, which was on fire.

    “Are you in need of assistance?” she asked him.

    “No,” he said indignantly.

    She raised an eyebrow at him and turned away.

    Leonardo’s meat was burning. He had put it straight in the fire, with no cooking pot, and now realised that he could not get it back out without burning his hands. In a panic, he tore through the cooking arena in search of a tool that could help him.

    Finally, he came upon some tongs. After spending three minutes learning how to use them (Bartolommeo sniggered at this, being a blacksmith’s son and having more experience with simple things like tongs), he quickly pulled out his meat, which was now blackened and covered with ash. He let out a frustrated huff and glanced over to where Corelia was.

    She was doing very well. She had two fires going, one for her meat and the other for noodles. She was now chopping some vegetables.

    Leonardo discarded his ash-covered steak and hastened to copy what Corelia was doing.

    One hour had passed. Corelia was shaping her cooked hamburger into perfect, round little balls. Leonardo was feverishly cutting dough into noodles. Bartolommeo was throwing away a lasagna that looked more like a strip of rubber with chunks of tomato and cheese on top. Angelo, however, had made something very odd-looking. It was a circle of dough with tomato sauce smothered all over it. He was now topping it with cheese, peppers, and little round pieces of meat.

    Corelia took her noodles out of the fire and placed them in a wooden bowl. She made a tomato sauce and carefully spread it over the noodles. Then, she added her chopped up vegetables and meatballs and mixed them together.

    “RRGH!” Bartolommeo swore as he dropped a plateful of potatoes into his fire. Time was running out and he had nothing to present to the judges.

    Corelia finished her meal with time to spare. Using leftover scraps from her noodles, she decided to add a slice of garlic bread to round off her dish. When they were finished, she stepped back to admire her work. It certainly looked delicious.

    Suddenly, she had an idea. Mother always told her that a good garnish could work wonders. She ran to the herb rack and grabbed a handful of parsley. Just as she laid the sprigs on the plate, a bugle sounded.

    Judging time.

    The four contestants walked up to the judge. Bartolommeo, it seemed, had completely given up. Stepping forward, he presented his repugnant dish.

    “My haggis,” he said. Corelia stifled a snort with difficulty.

    The judge gave him a disgusted look and began to eat. With the first bite, he gagged and spat onto the ground.

    “It’s revolting!” he exclaimed. “Uuugh. I think I may be sick.” He drank deeply from his goblet, then said, “Bring me the next dish, and may the Lord have mercy on me this time.”

    Bartolommeo stepped back, looking very sullen indeed.

    Leonardo brought forward his plate. “It’s, erm, spaghetti. Yeah.”

    The judge raised his eyebrows skeptically at the undercooked noodles and began to eat. It was obvious that he was not impressed. “Well, at least it was not so dreadful as the haggis.”

    Corelia smiled smugly at the boys and stepped forward. “This is a spaghetti pasta primavera, with garlic bread.”

    The judge took a few bites and gave her an approving nod.

    Angelo went last. “I’ve prepared this,” he said, gesturing toward his strange food. It appeared to be a circle of dough with tomato sauce, peppers, meat, and cheese piled on top.

    “Indeed,” said the judge, puzzled. “What… What exactly is it?”

    “Erm… It’s an original creation of my own.”

    “I see.”

    The judge took a bite. As he chewed, his eyes widened with delight. “By gar!” he shouted. “This is wonderful! Spectacular! What will you call this amazing creation of yours, lad?”

    Angelo’s face lit up. He thought for a moment.

    “Pizza.”

    Reply
    • Ruthanne Reid

      Wonderful! How creative! Rodrick, I had a blast reading this. I think you did a terrific job turning this prompt into a full and delightful story!

      Reply
    • Reed Lewis

      Just a technical note about flint and steel. The spark is meant to set a piece of char-cloth glowing like charcoal. That, in turn, is used to ignite a handful of tow, the chaff of flax, as it were. The burning tow then lights your tinder and kindling.

      Reply
  15. Rodrick Rajive Lal

    Some of these ideas are rather funny and strange, I guess I could use a couple of them for my next couple of short stories.

    Reply
    • Ruthanne Reid

      Go for it, Rodrick! I was aiming for something a little “different.” 🙂

      Reply
      • Rodrick Rajive Lal

        Yes, Ruthanne, I have got your list of ideas, and whenever I have a writer’s block, I look at them for some inspiration. Thanks for sharing the list!

        Reply
  16. Kalenz

    1. A dragon drops in for the opening day celebration of a new local health food store (let’s call it Hale Feeds). P. S: No one knew dragons were real.

    Hey Ruthanne and others,

    I wrote this in a few minutes and am looking for some constructive criticism. Thanks a bunch! I hope you enjoy it as much as I had fun imagining it.

    The sun shines over the silhouette of a tiny shadow, the darkness created by the light blocked by a newborn hatchling flying over a meadow of flowers holding a randomly assortment of vivid colors, lush with dazzling brightness and varying shades in all hues of the spectrum. Exhausted from the long flight, alone and somewhat scared due to being separated from his spawn, he’s flying close to the ground just a few feet from the surface and able to smell the flowers nectar, he’s preparing to land and walk to conserve energy. The smell of flowers begin to get stronger, in reaction he realizes a gust of wind is about to blow underneath him and decides to ride the wave upwards to get a clearer vantage point of his location to survey which direction he should head towards. His wings pull back to confront the oncoming pressure, tilting them upwards from the back in preparation. Wind catches his wings as they inflate open like a sail just grabbing a headwind lifting him up while pushing him back. He adds some flutters into the mix and escalates in altitude, above the tree line, his shadow shrinking into oblivion in almost an instant.

    Thinking to himself, about half a mile in the sky now looking frantically in all directions, *There’s a small village over there… perhaps they would be courteous enough to share some food and water with me.* He begins to glide downwards, increasing his speed while using practically no energy other than holding his body straight using his tail as a rudder against the wind to prevent him from straying off course. Halfway to his destination he internalizes the reaction of the people, he knows dragons are a new thing only recently created in this world but his fatigue has gotten the best of him. He can’t hunt due to his empty stomach; there are no lakes around to his knowledge, but he doesn’t care assuming all people are like those he’s been in contact with and thinks back to the few years of the ones who had raised him with gentle care, he remembers the joy of learning how to speak and fly. Thinking again, *besides… there’s only about 50 people.*

    He lands on top of a building in order to get a feel for the area, looks around and notices a sign on top of another that reads, “Hale Feeds.” Thinking yet again during the surveying *Hale feeds huh? Well… sounds like they serve grain and oats right? Um… If I remember correctly, feed is for cattle and chickens and other domesticated animals so hopefully they’ll at least have some water. I was told to avoid most food other than meat but that I could eat almost any type of seed. I can only hope they’ll point me in the direction of some meat.*

    He jumps off the building; his wings catch the air just before landing on the ground outside the rotating door of the feed store to stall his descent momentarily. He walks in, pushing the revolving door open, and looks around to see what’s going on in the store. He sees not many people are looking around; they’re all focused on the products they’re eyeing. He see’s deal signs plastered all over “grand opening” here, “buy one get one free” over there, enjoying the chilling breeze of the air conditioning unit and smelling the fresh livestock foods. The thinks again, *should… should I steal? I have plenty of time…* pausing; considering the option he returns into his train of thought reminded by his master telling him, “You should never steal anything, there are circumstances that contradict this statement and you should use your own judgement if ever found in such a predicament.” *He’s right, I shouldn’t steal here, I could at least ask before…* He walks towards the counter hiding alongside the aisle in which nobody is currently in confused on how to confront people he’s never met, and those same people who have never heard of a dragon. Crawling to the edge, focusing his footsteps slowing, making absolutely no sound, he can see someone behind a cash register and he instantly realizes *THIS IDEA IS STUPID* *I SHOULD JUST STEAL, OMG WHAT WAS I THINKING!? I NEED TO GET OUT OF HERE* as he frantically turns around and his muscles contract to start a dash out of the store as quickly as possible. But, as he turns around picturing the empty aisle in his head straight to the rotating door, there’s a human staring directly at him on the other end. Frozen in fear he is unable to make any movements other than lowering his head in a bowing motion to signal intelligence, and appear non-aggressive. The teenage kid, roughly 17 years old walks a little closer slowly crouching downwards to seem as least threatening as possible with his arms outstretched to his side like he was grasping a large boulder on the ground. Halfway down the aisle, he stops, nearing the ground and asks stuttering, “Are?.. are you a dragon?” The dragon replies, “Yes, I am.” The kids mind screams in excitement and understands his situation quickly. “The old people here would probably have a heart attack and a massive uproar if they see you. You should get out of here ASAP,” the kid states quickly and softly in a whispered tone looking out for the dragon’s well-being. The dragon responds, “I’m too hungry and thirsty, I’m just so confused and terrified to think rationally… I’d have never come here otherwise,” as he walks along the edge trying to find an escape route from this situation. The kid says, “Get out of here without being seen, I’ll try to follow you to the edge of town so we can talk safely.” The dragon nods in agreement, and swiftly heads towards the corner of the aisle next to the door. Looking down both ways to make sure he’s safe, double checking to be certain. The kid walks past him and walks out the door looking around as well and motions that there’s nobody around.

    -Mike

    Reply
    • Ruthanne Reid

      Aww! I love what you did with this, Mike! This is pretty good for a quick one-off!

      I’d suggest adding a few more paragraphs for readability next time, but I really hope you keep creating like this. Good job!

      Reply
    • Alexa

      This is great! I love it!
      For suggestions, I’m not sure if you meant to make the dragon like this, but sometimes he’s a little bit formal. In the third paragraph he thought, “I was told.” Maybe if you want it a little more relaxed, something like, “They told me.” Whaddya think?

      Reply
      • Kalenz

        Yeah, had planned to make the dragons more formal.. To be honest, I completely forgot about this story and instead focused on a much better one. It’s to common of a story arch for me to really get into. If you want, I could tell ya all the plot ideas I had for this dragon story. It’s not a bad story by any means(just not my cup o’ tea).

        Not a bad idea to make them all more relaxed, it’d make the dragons less cliché, but I do like them with the common style of them being more medieval/honor bound/proper.

        Reply
        • Alexa

          I see. It’s pretty good then! Good luck with your new idea!

          Reply
          • Kalenz

            Thanks, good luck with your writing journey. If you want, I can write up a ton of things that’d help you get into writing(I’ve planned on doing this for myself but haven’t really done so yet). It might take me a while though, there’s a ton of stuff.

            Thanks, and the title of said aforementioned story is; The Next First.

            😀

          • Alexa

            It’s alright. I’d rather you spend time writing than wasting effort on me. I wish you well on your book. Perhaps one day you could be a famous author.

  17. Alice Sharp

    9. One bright morning in May, all domestic pets start talking.
    “My…” Lucy peered out through the window in which the birds had made their nest. The old cat was unaware of this, so she was delighted but far too lazy to even try to paw at the window. “Birds? That’s quite unusual…”
    “What is it now, Lucy?” Sam growled, obviously annoyed. “You’re waking all of us.” The dog snorted. “Why don’t you go back to sleep?”
    “But Sam,” Lucy protested. “Birds have made a nest. On the windowsill!”
    Hazel yapped, “No one cares about birds! Go to sleep!”
    Hazel’s surprisingly loud yap had woken the owner, who was not very happy to see all her pets fighting. It was a while before she realized the animals could really talk, after only thinking she was hallucinating. Not wanting to have none of this, she lazily dragged herself to bed and left the animals to argue.
    Lucy, though old and fat, was a good fighter. She fluffed out her gray fur and unsheathed her claws, snarling at Hazel. “Say that again, pup.” She said the last word with such anger that she’d scared the little pup away, leaving him to hide under the coffee table.
    Sam stood, revealing himself to be much taller and stronger than Lucy, and he leaped at the cat.
    The two writhed in battle, Lucy having scratched Sam roughly on the cheek, leaving a small wound. Sam had the cat pinned down in no time, but Lucy had faked being defeated and leaped at Sam, raking his belly with her claws. A few hours later, Sam had given in, and Lucy was back staring at the birds on the windowsill in peace.

    Reply
  18. Griffinclaw

    rubbish ideas.

    Reply
    • Alexa

      Go away, hater.

      Reply
      • Griffinclaw

        but they are rubbish.

        Reply
        • Griffinclaw

          Yes Alexa they are so rubbish, babyish even..

          Reply
  19. Alexa

    Great ideas! I’m trying to do a thing where I write a short story every day, and this is really helping. Thanks!

    Reply
  20. carley

    Is it oakay to share story ideas in the comments

    Reply
  21. Lonewriter

    While these are fun, I was looking for something more serious.

    Reply
    • Laurie

      Agreed! I was disappointed that the whole list was corny stuff.

      Reply
  22. cassandra coffey

    “Jude, I saw one, I’m telling you!”
    Shane peered through the spell books he shelved to see his father talking to the old man Mortimer. He watched Mr. Mortimer’s wrinkled hands fly as he continued to yell at Shane’s dad that whatever he saw would crash their opening day celebration. Shane waited until one of the workers took the old man to find his vitamins before he approached his dad.
    “What was that about?” Shane asked.
    Jude watched the windows closely. People stood around the sidewalk, talking, reading the Wizard Solomon’s Health Food Store advertisement signs. The silver bells above the door shook constantly while crowds filtered in and out. Shane saw nothing out of the ordinary, but then again, working with magic allowed for strange things to become normal.
    “Son, do you remember the story Mom used to tell you, about the horned creatures that flew and could rebirth like a phoenix?” Jude asked. His voice was distant, clear blue eyes still scanning the windows.
    Shane nodded.
    “Tell me what you remember.”
    Shane sighed. Seventeen was too old to be reciting fairytales. “They’re called dragons. They’re supposedly smart and intimidating. They have three forms, one human, one mid, and one beastie but you can still tell a dragon when they’re human for two reasons.”
    Jude motioned for his son to continue.
    “Their eyes are gold and red because like demons their soul is fire.” Shane listed counting off on his fingers. “They have fangs, bigger than a wolf shifters and unlike a vampire they’re not retractable. In the mid-form they’re human but have wings and riveted horns. It’s used for convenience in small spaces and honorable fights with humans. Can I stop now?”
    Jude patted his son’s shoulder then crouched behind the register. Quickly he fished through the cabinet of beads and tags the wizard Solomon had soaked in magic. They provided a guise, to change appearance or protect the user. He pushed a necklace into Shane’s hand and stood.
    “I’m sure Sol won’t mind if we borrow this.” he said. “The blood of a water sprite, it repels fire so it will keep the dragon from attacking. I need you to walk around the store, maybe the street a bit. Talk to the customers as if you’re asking how they like the store, the products, things like that.”
    “Right Dad.” Shane laughed and put on the cool sapphire beads.
    Off in search for a dragon, he almost wished his mom was alive to see it but that thought was quickly chased away by the one reminding him she was the reason he was a halfbreed. Shane gritted his teeth. Hopefully he would find the mythical creature and the creature would turn out to be smart so he could ask it what kind of being she was and consequently what he partially was. Solve two mysteries in one day.

    Reply
    • katie

      anyone got any evil mermaid story ideas? I’m planning on using 5 sinners or something but it’s already on a tv show, how do I adapt this idea?

      Reply
  23. Bryan McClure

    “Fairies are real!!!!!” Newsbloger Jake Dolan turned the camera to his face
    “Yes viewers less than an hour ago thousands of God Dam Fairies appeared on Capitol Hill. See for yourself”
    Jake turn the camera to face the odd gather of mostly humanoid creature screaming in a strange language and waving cardboard signs with odd pictographs on it. Some were small with butterfly wings and gave off sparkling dust; others were tall pall with red hair and eyes that seem to change color from one moment to the next. There were short and green, one had cat ears another skin made from tree bark. They were all speak (or sing it was hard to tell) in loud angry voices. But as none of them were speaking English no one had the faintest idea what was making them so upset.
    “What could they what my dear viewers war, peace, sex? There is only one way to find out.”
    Jake paused after that last statement not for dramatic effect but because he actually had no idea what he was going to say next. He didn’t like to right scrips beforehand and tended to say whatever come to his mind at that particular moment.
    A loud noise come from behind him Jake, he turned around.
    “Look, new arrivals.”
    This group managed to be even larger than the first, at first glance they appeared to be more fairies, but as they drew closer they revealed there true nature. They were humans dressed in cheap Cosplay. They wore oversized elf ears, they slung plastic swords, and several for whatever reason were dress as vampires.
    “No my viewer it’s not more fairies it’s the American People gathering to welcome our fellow breather. “ Jake announced to his camera
    They were close enough to be heard know cries of “Fairy Power,” “Tinkerbelle forever”, and “I believe “were heard throughout the crowed. One dressed as a vampire was shouting “You can come out of the coffin”. A group of hairy men dressed in pink dresses carried a rainbow flag with “The LGT Community welcomes our new brothers and sisters.” A large fat man dressed as unicorn was singing the theme to my little pony. One guy was pretending to take aim and imaginary enemies with his plastic bow. Two, that were either homeless or trying to impersonate a medieval peasant, were trying to play some old folk song, trying and.
    As the crowns got closer the rioted police and swat teams, who had encircled the crowed of other worldly protesters in order to protect Capitol Hill from the angry fairies, now turned to protect the fairies from there over eager fans.

    The fairies had stopped wave their signs and chanting, now they just stared at the crowed there eyes wide, there face caught mid-way between shock and disgust.
    The crowed pushed against the wall of officers trying to hold them back. Soon a handful of welcome broke through and began to run toward the fairies screaming “we love you.” As one the Fairy Folk vanished but not without giving their fans one more disgusted look.

    Any feedback would be appreciated

    Reply
  24. Aaditya Arya

    I love these ideas so much! If you don’t mind, I’ll be using these for a DnD campaign I’m doing!
    I wonder how the players would find out that kitten-folk run the government? Could it be that they stumble upon some clues that lead them to the kitty-headquarters? Or are they hired by the weasels to oust the government from power?

    Reply
  25. Atia

    14. Tomorrow morning, all kings, queens, dictators, presidents, and politicians are suddenly replaced by talking dogs.

    ———————————————————————————————————————-

    “Checkmate,’ he coolly declared. Which shouldn’t have at all been possible. It didn’t matter though; it had already happened.

    We had lost.

    Humanity had lost.

    With a laugh something like a bark, Clifford raised himself up. Onto four paws, that is. Humanity had just been lost to a canine over a game of chess. It had to be chess you see. Paws don’t work very well in games like tennis.

    Wesley, the unfortunate human who had just lost to a dog, could only gape at the board. And then gape at the audience, who had placed their bets of freedom on his shoulders.

    “I don’t understand how this happened,” he murmured dejectedly.

    “I’m sure it was hard to understand the first time it happened, but at this point we’ve played seven games. I think the answer is quite clear,” Clifford offered, pouring salt on a gaping wound. With a series of short barks, two enormous doors opened in the walls behind the stage.

    One by one, the world’s leaders moved at a snail’s pace towards a ship. Their forlorn expressions had long since faded, replaced with perverse amusement. You see, as they saw Clifford win game after game, they realized that there was no hope left. So they laughed. And it was sort of funny. To lose your position as leader of the free world to a bilingual and frankly verbose Rottweiler was nothing short of science fiction. And so it was that they were living a story.

    The audience gasped as queens passed their crowns to Labradors. A rebel leader passed his beret to a Doberman. Even Donald Trump wrestled a Poodle for his toupee.

    —————————————————————————————————————-
    15 minute short stories are hard when you’re an over-thinker! Still this was fun and only the first day, so there’s a lot of room for progress.

    Reply
  26. Charlotte

    This isn’t exactly fantasy, but I feel like I could add an element of fantasy into it?

    My hair blew in the wind as I stepped outside onto the porch, lit by only an old lantern, and the glow of the sea in moonlight. The constant crashing of the waves against the cliff is reassuring, the constant reminder that I am not alone in the world. The distant sound of laughter brings me out of my reverie, and I reluctantly walk back into the little cottage, the smell of sea breeze following me in through the screen door.

    It’s jarring, hearing the voices of other people in this secluded little bay. I’d rarely had to see anyone before what happened, and now the idea of it sends chills down my spine. The laughter had brought back memories, many of which were not as pleasant as I would’ve liked. I stand by the door for a moment, thinking about laughter and how it imposes itself upon people.

    I wrapped myself into a mini cocoon with my cardigan, walking over to my little kitchen that constantly smelled of seafood. It wasn’t my favorite choice of meal, but it was easy to find and the little market down the road meant I rarely needed to make a trip to the grocery store in the city, always a bonus. The crowds had never been quite comfortable for me – everybody rushing around and what sounded like hundreds of voices pounding against my ears.

    I blink once, hearing a crashing sound different from what I usually hear. I turn around, expecting to hear the same thing again, but all I hear are the waves roaring as they break against the cliff. I considered going outside and investigating, but the idea of running into the laughter made me reluctant. In the end, I decided to go out and walk on the beach, looking for something to calm my nerves. It was out of routine, and the walk was a long way from my little cottage, but the idea of complete darkness and silence was so overpowering I decided to just go with it.

    What I found was rather… unexpected. In the reflection of the moonlight on the waves, I found comfort and ease. I walked for the longest time, reminiscing. Since the beach was so clean and flat, I closed my eyes. I heard a crackling sound, and it scared me so much I almost opened my mouth to scream. I opened my eyes, startled by the sudden brightness. The yellow glare was obtrusive, hurting my eyes and making me angry. I abhorred anything that would disrupt the careful routine I had made for myself, and this was one of those things. The fire was built inexpertly, interspersed with tinder all throughout, but for some reason this calmed me.

    It was obvious the fire-starter hadn’t been gone long, and I couldn’t help but wonder if they’d return. However, the idea of someone else coming onto my secluded beach and ruining my silent wonder made me want to cry out in fury. I turned the other way and ran, running away from everything. I made a silent promise to myself that I would never return to that treacherous fire until it was extinguished, along with those vagrants who had set my world on fire.

    When I reached my cottage, the screen door was blowing around, making loud noises that were unpleasant on the ear. I walked in quickly and locked both of my doors behind me, wanting the beautiful silence that I was used to. Click, click, click – the locks falling into place made me feel like I’d put in the last piece of a puzzle. I turned around and stood there, facing the inside of my cottage for over an hour, staring at the empty space where a vase used to be. That calm satisfaction I had was shattered – somebody had entered my home! I’d never moved the vase before, it had always been there, each and every time I looked until now. Somebody had to have taken it, it was the only logical answer-

    But if they took one thing, what’s to say they didn’t take more? I quickly looked around my home, in denial about the whole situation. Maybe… Maybe I had moved it and forgotten, thinking that the Feng Shui would be better if the vase were in a different place. I gave up when light started coming through the windows, knowing that the vase was gone by now, and I collapsed onto the hammock hanging in the living room.

    For 15 hours I lay in that hammock in a different world, and for a few blissful seconds after I awoke I forgot about that vase. I got up and stretched, wanting to begin my day the way I usually do. I walked by the front door, and as soon as I saw the empty space where the vase used to be, I broke down and fell. I was paralyzed with the idea that I’d have to find a new one. The vase had been part of the sanctuary I had built, and not having uprooted the entire sanctuary.

    For two whole days I lied there on the floor, wasting away. Noises gradually came back to me, and I heard the sound of the waves crashing. A single tear fell down my cheek, like a drop of water escaping a dam. After that one tear, the rest came crashing down, like clumsy children just learning to walk. I closed my eyes and laughed, looking for the constant reassurance that I was offered here, yet I found nothing.

    Reply
  27. Mimi Walden

    A Newly Wed Disaster
    Weddings are stressful. They’re especially tricky when one family is magical and the other hates spells. Unfortunately for Maria, this was exactly her case. Her fiancé, Marcos, was a part of a normal family, but Maria herself was a witch, which wasn’t useful for Marcos as his family was strongly against witches and wizards. She knew their wedding would be extremely difficult (given the conditions) but they would have to get through it somehow.
    In three weeks, they were supposed to organise a wedding. “Impossible!” All of Marcos’ family said it. “Easy.” Maria’s family disagreed. They disagreed on almost everything these days without the help of their parents and grandparents.
    On Marcos’ side, they were cooking and baking to the fullest extent.
    However, on Maria’s side they were sitting back and letting they wands do it all.That, as I am sure Marcos knew, was not the type of thing they would normally do.

    Reply
  28. Bisma

    “I have to continue” the thought was a bit bizarre, scary. Who was he if not Sam. Sam got up to his feat, he had been sitting on the rough pavement staring and reflecting of what was ahead of him.
    He sighed and straightened himself. A few hours ago he loved his parents but now he didn’t know if he wanted to see them. What did they mean by the world not being what it seems to be? What did they mean he was not sam ? What did they mean by the last one standing ? What did they mean they werent his parents?
    Sam took another sigh and stepped on the muddy moist ground right after the pavement. The path ahead was green, and brown wherever he glanced…..where was he going ? Who knew. He walked through the trees when he snapped out of his thoughts,
    “Sam” he heard whispers everywhere “sam”
    “Who is there! ” sam said puzzled by the continuous hundred whispers.
    Were trees talking to him?

    Reply
  29. Noname

    Weddings are stressful. They’re especially tricky when one family is magical and the other hates spells, and both mothers want to control the celebration.
    …………
    The Hawthorne family has always despised witches and when their only black sheep son decided to marry one, more than a little protest were made.

    “She’s the one I will marry.” The son claimed. “It’s about time this family put our hatret of witches behind us. They are people too, you know.”

    And so, it was decided. There would be a wedding in May, and the carefree happy couple didn’t care how the wedding would turn out. So their mothers made it their business to make sure everything went smoothly.

    “A week?!”Mrs Hawthorne gasped in horror. “We need atleast a month to prepare!”

    “Nonsense.” Said Mama fortune, the swamp witch queen. “With a little magic, a week is more than enough time to get a wedding planned.”

    Mrs Hawthorne turned an unpleasant shade of red. “Look here. This is my only son’s wedding. I am not going to let anyone ruin this with magic, least of all some witch.”

    Reply
  30. Noname

    I stared at my broken washing machine in dismay. Great, I thought, it will take a week to get this thing fixed.

    Unless.

    Unless I use a little magic to fix it myself!

    I immediately shook my head. No, no, no. I can’t do that! Be strong, Meredith, you promised yourself, no more magic.

    But the idea wouldn’t go away. I hated the thought of moving on to the next item on my to do list without finishing the current one. I guess you could say Im OCD that way.

    So I did it. I broke my rule. The rule when living among humans, and used magic. On halloween, when magic tends to be especially unpredictable.

    It’s just a washing machine, I told myself. What harm could a little fixing spell do?

    “Magic, and mayhem knows no bound, spin my laundry round and round!” I blew a kiss at the broken machine.

    For a minute or two nothing happened. Maybe my magic’s rusty?

    Then it started shuddering and trembling. I ducked behind the couch just as the dirty clothes burst out of the washing machine and started… dancing?

    Out of nowhere, music started blaring. I recognized it as “You spin me round like a record” by Dead or alive.

    “You spin me right ’round, baby, right round…” My t shirts and jeans danced around me to the music. Like a laundry party. It was a scene of chaos.

    “Like a record, baby, right ’round, ’round, ’round…”

    As I wracked my brain for a solution to my new problem, one of my floating bras nudged my panties and pointed to the open window. I made a grab for them and missed as they darted outside.

    Oh no! All the other clothes started scrambling for the window too. I grabbed as many of them out of the air as I could.

    As I watched in horror, my now enchanted clothes started harrasing the trick or treaters out on the streets. Scaring them and stealing their candies. Children ran and screamed in terror as the dancing clothes tried to dance with them. I saw one of my white nighties chasing after my neighbor’s kids like a spooky ghost.

    Those kids are gonna need a lot of therapy after this. Hopefully the witch council wouldn’t hear of this and come after my ass.

    What should I do?

    Reply
  31. mrfuge

    not a chatting website

    Reply
  32. George Foster

    Hello, here’s a sample of a fantasy story I’m working on. Hope you enjoy!

    The last thing Alex Smith could remember was the light bulb in the living room that sat high on the ceiling. Alex had spent two or so minutes with his eyes fixed upon that light, as if something was hypnotising him with it. His friends were strewn over whatever furniture and floors would accommodate their intoxicated bodies; one laid over a single chair with his legs over the armrests and sang some hip hop song under his breath. Another had his cheek planted in the side of the sofa and his legs crossed over each other. A light mist of smoke lingered over them all, invading every open airway built into these boys. Their ears were filled with music that encouraged them to sink into some trance that resembled sleep, and every tick of Alex’s watch made him imagine the light bulb swinging like a pendulum, putting him closer to blissful slumber. He felt the bulge of his phone tucked deeply into his trouser pocket, ready to respond to petty Facebook messages and texts at the first jingle.

    In this time and space, Alex had not the pressures of university to worry about, nor his tragic family life to dwell on. In fact, he had nothing to worry about at all.

    But Alex wasn’t in that time or space anymore. He had woken up on a tarmac surface, and his watch had frozen. Darkness enveloped the area, limiting his vision to roughly ten metres. His eyes tried to calibrate to his new environment. Maybe he could see a sign or a lamppost somewhere that may indicate where he passed out. Alex raised his eyes only to see more of the darkness above him, and he assumed that it was still nighttime. It seemed like the only rational judgement he could make, despite the non existent glow of the Moon.

    Frosty plumes emitted from Alex’s mouth, and he still couldn’t see further than ten metres through the darkness. He looked to the floor and felt the tarmac on his fingers. It brought him relief, like the carpet in his house, and gave him the sensation of being somewhere not too far from that living room of stoned students. He glanced at his frozen watch, which read 11:12 p.m., his cold breath angling around the casing. The rectangular bulge of his phone no longer shown through his trouser pocket. Where am I? he thought. Is this a dream? Did my friends leave me out here in the cold?
    No answers would come if he asked those questions to himself. He scaled the darkness in search of answers, folding his hands together to combat the cold.

    Out of the blackness emerged an elderly man, dressed in business attire. His red tie was wrapped impeccably around his collar, and one could suspect not a single crease embedded itself on his shirt or suit. The tie and shirt stood out amongst the blackness with the bright-white beard on the gentleman’s face. Well-polished shoes gave a tap every time they set foot on the ground, all in rhythm with a black walking stick he used to navigate the floor. The taps reminded Alex of a scene in a musical, a dancer who had rehearsed this routine many a time before the main performance.

    The gentleman’s voice was deep with a thick posh accent, similar to that of a butler.

    ‘I see you’re here for the procedure, young Alex.’

    Young Alex? Alex’s frost breath returned to his lungs. How on earth does this stranger know his name? And what was the “procedure” this man was referring to?

    ‘Where am I?’ Alex asked.

    The gentleman gripped the tip of his walking stick.

    ‘This is where I meet everyone who hangs from the tightrope of life.’ He lifted the stick upwards, revealing what looked like the head of a white horse where his hand held it. ‘You have wasted the gifts you were given at birth. Your sins have encouraged suffering towards the people around you, as well as yourself.’

    Alex scrutinised the gentleman’s eyes as those words entered his ears. They were a normal-shaded grey like any other person would have, just like his own. He wondered whether he was hallucinating, or having some weird dream manufactured by his intoxication.

    The air became colder with Alex’s uncertainty, and his frost breath became thicker with each breath he exhaled.

    ‘Who are you? And what do you mean? How can you know anything about me?’ he asked.

    The gentleman raised his stick higher, and the white horse’s head now glared at him with ominous eyes.

    ‘Why, I am Death, of course.’

    Reply
  33. rikkodia

    hei seckse ieam heyseckse337, yuo butifol

    Reply
  34. Petrus

    I feel like some people who come here looking for ideas might be disappointed to find all this corny stuff, when they are looking for something more serious. Actually, some people in the comments gave me the inspiration to write this comment. I personally am working on two projects now, but have come up with other concepts on the way. I would love to share some concepts with you guys. Well, here are just a few, but hopefully they can help you.

    1. A warrior wakes up in the forest. Last thing he remembers is the war fought between humans and orcs. He wanders around only to realize that the war happened 10 years ago, and that he has been unconscious for that time.
    2. An ordinary man travels to the North to prove that the supernatural sightings seen by people in the are not real. Oh how wrong he is.
    3. An ordinary girl has troubles distinguishing between dream and reality, rapidly snapping in between different events. The only way to get away from the dreams is to determine what is real what is not, and die in that dream.

    Reply
  35. Rea

    “Taxes, Bills, Decrees, schedules, appointment reminders, more paper work, oh yes, the insanely long line of citizens waiting for their turn to complain. Each one expecting me to fix their lives with a wave of my hand.” Prince Feyn groaned, ramming his head onto the desk.
    What was the good in being a prince when all you could ever do was work!
    For once Feyn wanted to do something for himself, not his people. Duty was important, he got that but wasn’t personal sanity just as important?
    The wondrous thoughts soon died, killed by the ‘do everything right’ side of his brain. Turning back to the scatters of papers and detailed daily planner Feyn picked up his quill pen.
    Another glance at the list of Princely duties and a headache grew behind his eyes.
    “I can’t do this!” he gritted his teeth against the now throbbing pain.
    Moving to the balcony, Feyn breathed in the fresh outdoor air. He’d never understand how anyone would want to be in such a stuffy castle when they could be out there. Living off the land, in the great outdoors.
    Day dreaming helped. Believing that once he became King, he could finally do as he pleased. Though Deep down Feyn Knew the fairy kingdoms must be ruled by someone and that someone just so happened to be him. Sadly it wouldn’t be all fun and games either. It would be the exact same, dull, boring, work he was doing now. All the taxes, bills, decrees, appointments and ruling that were already apart of his daily life.
    Last year, Feyn enjoyed life, horseback riding, playing instruments and writing music.
    Music…. even the thought of it brought a ache to his heart.
    But that all changed when he turned 17 and had to assume his royal duties. Since his birthday last year, Feyn hadn’t touched his fiddle, nor his flute.
    Flexing his wings, Feyn flew up to the secret ledge he’d found in his room when he was little. It had been a lot easier to fit through the small opening back then, thankfully he was still a pretty small guy.
    “Seriously, why did i have to put my instruments up here of all places?” grunting Feyn shoved his way into the hidden space just beyond the ledge.
    The space was small but glowed with a natural light. The walls where made of Lumenglow a rare stone that filled the room with rays of soft sunlight. The Lumenglow had been the reason Feyn had hidden his instruments there, it had always been the best place to practice. Especially late at night as the stone held the sunlight long after dark. The other reason was because it was the most secure place he could think of. It was always a terrifying thought, worrying his parents would take them away from him if he didn’t concentrate on preparing to become the next fairy king.
    Gently lifting his fiddle out of its case. Feyn ran his finger’s over the smooth wood before bringing the instrument up to his chin.
    A soft sweet melody filled the room. Joyful yet laced with pain and sorrow and regret. As if the music understood that the path marked out for Feyn by his parents held no place for her. That today could very well be the last day, the last song ever played. The prince poured out his soul into the fiddle, creating a haunting tune that sent goosebumps down his spine.
    Tears streamed down his face, as he smiled. Every emotion he’d felt over the past months swelled into a tune, one so complex and detailed it consumed time.
    In the ever light room time was endless. What felt like a moment was hours. Only when Feyn’s natural sparkle – as all fairies had – started to fade did he stop and listen to the silence.
    As a spark is born out of thin air, then erupting into a flame, was a plan within Feyn’s head. Bitterness and longing fueled this new hope.
    With the music still in his veins Feyn crept out of the secret room back into his study. Clutching his fiddle and flute he fluttered into the adjoining room placing them upon his bed.
    Vaguely he noticed the darkened sky and starlight leaking through the opened windows.
    Grabbing an enchanted knapsack, Feyn threw in some coins, clothes and his instruments.
    With one last glance around his room he vanished into the night sky. Hope and dreams as his only guide. The world of a prince left behind, forgotten. A new song taking its place.

    Reply
  36. Olivia Tran

    “…Fine, we will make a school of wolves, vampires, elementals, shapeshifters, dragons, mermaids and witches and so on. That is the only way to restore peace between them.” Ms. Larina stated rising slowly pushing her weight off the glossy, glass table.
    “Absurd! That could bring more problems to the table!” Mr. Stone shouted slamming his fist on the arm of the golden chair, pulling it away in pain.
    “…Or it could restore peace. We would be able to see hope for our kinds..a true definite future..” Ranya mumbled softly.
    Mr. Stone was quiet for a moment as he glanced towards her. He stares for a while in amazement, her beauty overwhelming him.
    “That is a possibility. I guess so.” He replied reluctantly caving in to his desires.
    “We need to name at least one student. We need the most powerful…” Larina ordered looking towards Shane who was quietly sitting placing his finger tips together one by one.
    “Tatiana. …The hybrid of a wolf and a vampire. An elemental and a witch. A shapeshifter and a dragon. A mermaid..I am surprising myself by repeating these but I believe the rumors on what she is might be true. A fairy both light and dark. The only female who can compete against men.” He humbly spoke.
    Ranya grimaced at the last part he had said but stayed silent not willing to stir a racket.
    “We will notify students about the school tomorrow. We have people sign up and then we build the school if having enough applicants. We don’t need this to be pricey we need to base it off of skill. They will be taking a test to get in and have a physical assessment. And if this so called Tatiana does show up…she will have a test where if she cant perform well enough she will die.” Larina said as she calmly sat back down in her seat. “Those in favor say I.”
    “I.” Ranya said.
    “I.” Stone whispered.
    “…I.” Shane mumbled.
    A slight smile seemed to appear before Larina’s face. She stood and glided out of the grand room. “Delightful.” She turned and said before lightly shutting the door with her silky white gloves and soft, gentle touch.
    Shane smiled turning to the others. “I’ve seen what she can do. Be careful she is ruthless.” He stood and walked out of the room.
    “…Luckily she is in check with reality.” Ranya spoke standing as Stone could see how little hope she had that this Tatiana girl could possible exist. Ranya left without another word leaving Stone sitting there in silence.
    “Ruthless…” He repeated to himself before rising and leaving the room.

    Reply
  37. Olivia Tran

    For people who are looking for things more serious, I think I would like to be pointed in any directions so can someone read this story and give me some criticism?:“R-run.” Her father spit out before his expression turned blank and not another breath came from him. She turned to her mom who also had no breath, and cried. Then, she had heard growling from behind her. The girl stood and darted across the meadows through the forests onto an open street where a carriage passed by.
    She felt a sharp pain in her hand so she winced but kept running until near civilization. “Help!” She yelled as the lightness turned into a blurr.

    Blurry vision was there to greet the girl as she glanced around. She only heard few voices as she faded in and out of consciousness.
    “She’s alive! She’s stable!” Someone had shouted close to her a male voice about in his thirties.
    She heard footsteps of others running towards her and more voices erupted among the crowd.
    “We saw the bite…it was the same as the thing that has killed her parents and all the other victims when we went to look for her guardians.” A female voice replied.
    “That thing killed crowds of powerful adult men! Why is a young female girl who hasn’t even unlocked her powers so different?” One exclaimed.
    ‘This is a miracle.” Another said. But soon everything had gone black again for the girl.

    Years and years later when the girl had turned nineteen, everyone had heard of her, the lies and rumors spreading. This girl kept quiet and to herself as the years in her past pained her and her life now. She grew up after the bite knowing nothing, being alone. After she blacked out all those years ago, most of the camp she had been taken to was slaughtered by that thing that gave her this burden. Or so she thought. She was kept alive for some unknown reason but people only knew of her powers because of fights she had with others and accidentally using her talents. She grew to learn of them and how to use them, eventually perfecting them. No one knew of her past only the rumored version was spread. She never had anyone to tell and never needed to. Her life had been kept isolated.
    This girl had a slim body type with very pale skin, dark purple eyes and small golden specks. Her hair was past her elbows and light brown with highlights just at the tip.
    Tatiana Santia. That’s her name. Everyday her life turned up mostly the same. Until she had received a scholarship from the college of “Mixed Creatures.” That was when her life changed dramatically. This is where the real story begins.
    Or:
    The full moon followed them watching every turn until the fog went away just as quickly as it appeared and there lay in front of them the mysterious town of Locksville. The down pour of the rain slowed down as the droplets became quieter and softer.
    Elena paused and the engine quieted as the car slowed down, nearly stopping. Jeremy glanced around looking out the window facing the direction of a silhouette of a wolf on a clifftop where the moon was setting down to rest. Elena stopped the car completely as she opened the car door silently, looking at a small baby blue house that glistened in the moonlight. It had flowers surrounding the miniature house and a bush with roses on it were located at the front steps.
    Elena walked around to the rear end of the black, small car where all the luggage was located and slowly opened the trunk as Jeremy had stepped out of the car. Each one of them held four bags of luggage and walked slowly over to the shiny, dark brown, wooden, door. Each step was a struggle as they heaved the bags up in front of them trying not to slip on the glistening floor beneath their soaking wet shoes not a word to be said.
    Elena knocked on the door quietly setting her bag on the concrete stairs. They heard two pairs of footsteps that confidently marched over to the door. Slowly the glass door knob turned and the door creaked open. In front of Elena and Jeremy stood a couple that looked as if they were in their thirties. The woman had red hair with small freckles just on the bridge of her petite nose that extended to underneath her small eyes. Her skin was clear and radiant and she had a slim body. Her eyes were white and bold that matched the radiance of her skintone.
    Elena had seemed almost the exact opposite of her. Elena had light brown hair with dirty blond highlights and dark brown eyes with a slim body. Her skin was also clear and radiant only it was light tan. Elena was eighteen and you could sense the youth in her eyes just by looking into them.
    The man had black hair with his hair in a bun and he had a scruffy beard located near his chin. His eyes seemed black as the night and he was brown. His body shape was proportional but he seemed kind as he rested his arm on the woman’s shoulder.
    Jeremy looked similiar to him but not quite. His hair was very dark brown that looked black and was cut short. He had dark brown eyes that most people also called black and his skin town was closer to Elena’s. He had a muscular build and was just as tall as the man.
    “Hi! I am Lucinda but you can call me Aunt Cindy!” Lucinda exclaimed breaking the awkward silence that overwhelmed everyone.
    “I’m Cisco but you can call me Uncle Co or just Cisco no need for formalities.” Cisco spoke cheerily as each of them held out their hands.
    Elena shook their hands as Jeremy followed and then one by one they introduced themselves.
    “I’m…Elena..Keys. I uh…I guess you already new that.” Elena spoke softly as she gently picked up her luggage.
    “And I’m Jeremy Keys.” Jeremy spoke with excitement as he slung the luggage over his shoulder and smiled happily. He glanced at Elena who shook her head and breathed heavily.
    “Yea…hi!” Elena repeated more excitedly than before as she brightened her smile.
    Lucinda smiled as she gestured her soft gentle hands towards the inside of their small home.
    “Well please come in we are so glad to meet you.” Lucinda exclaimed again as she slowly entered the house.
    “Here let me get those for you.” Cisco offered as Elena and Jeremy entered the house.

    Reply
  38. JJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJJ

    Way to cheesy, looknig for something more serious

    Reply
  39. Imagine

    I want to write a story about a girl who is born with magic but it’s illegal. Is this a good idea?

    Reply
  40. Iita

    Thank you for keeping this site and educating us amateur writers! I just found this website and I’m already pumped up with new ideas for my storyline based on viking era and a fantasy world made completely by myself.

    Reply
  41. Veggie

    I am a published author and I was just randomly looking around when I found this website and I was totally hooked. The prompts are great, the stories are great, and the website is amazing!

    Reply

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