Friday, September 11, 2015

Friday Prompt

Shannon Dittemore is the author of the Angel Eyes trilogy. She has an overactive imagination and a passion for truth. Her lifelong journey to combine the two is responsible for a stint at Portland Bible College, performances with local theater companies, and a love of all things literary. When she isn’t writing, she spends her days with her husband, Matt, imagining things unseen and chasing their two children around their home in Northern California. To connect with Shan, check out her website, FB, Twitter, Instagram, or Pinterest. 

Happy Friday, friends! As many of you know, I teach a mentoring class at a local charter school. This morning we'll be chatting about perspective, tense and point of view, but every time I meet with my teen writers, I like to get them writing.

And today, in a move meant to encourage teen writing solidarity, I thought it'd be fun to give you all the same prompt they'll be launching from.

Here's how it works: I'll give you a few sentences to get you started and then YOU give me five or six sentences in the comments section to follow. Keep it clean, friends, and be sure to come back throughout the weekend to read and encourage the other teen writers giving this whole writing thing a go.


  1. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was a tower. Alone, the point of its spire pricked the oddly lit sky like the narrow edge of a rapier--just as the girl in the red hood had said. His blood tingled with the magic of the round moon, and he breathed again with wild deep breaths, exulting in the night and in his success.

    At last. It had been too long since he had seen his brother prince, too many days of tracking with his nose to the ground.


    He whirled, ears pricking, to see her standing there, crossbow in hand. He gulped. Stealing those pies wasn't such a good idea after all. Time to shape-shift.

    - Savannah McPhail

    1. Beautiful! I love the world building here.

    2. :) Thank you. -Savannah

  2. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was her hunched over figure. "At last," the old woman breathed, like the wind ripped through air. "You came after all."

    He yanked the locket off his neck and dropped it into into her withering palm. "Do you have her?"

    "I never break my promises." She stepped aside, and his chained sister emerged from the darkness.

    - - -

    This was such a fun prompt, thank you Ms. Dittemore!

    1. *Oops! 'into' should have be written only once.*

    2. "At last," the old woman breathed, like the wind ripped through air.

      Love the description!

  3. His breathe caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the beast he was linked to. The Manticore. The creature instantly sensed his presence, turning its head to meet into his eyes. It swooped down and landed gracefully in front of him.

    The creature bowed, folding its wings to its side.

    "Hello," He said, as the creature tossed its mane.

    "Yes, yes. I know it's a 5 hour flight to India," He replied as he jumped onto the Manticore's back. "If you want to have a sore back, we can wait 'till your ready."

    The Manticore almost bucked him off. "Okay! I get it, alright?" He answered, clutching the beasts neck. The creature spread its wings and lifted off into the starless night.

  4. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the beast he sought. An eerie howl filled the air; then the beast turned his shaggy head and looked at him, his glowing green eyes connecting with Sam's even across the distance. It was not a look of surprise. Sam sensed that the beast calmly waited for him. And the idea made his hair stand on end.

  5. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the girl he'd never thought he'd see again.

    She locked eyes with him, and he knew he should say something, anything, but his throat felt as if it was closing up.

    "Nick." She took a step forward. A knife glinted in her hand. "How--"

    "Look, I'm sorry." The words fell from his mouth in a rush. "I should never have left."

    "It's too late for that." Her fingers tightened around the hilt of the dagger.

    "They told me you were dead."

    "And you believed them?" Her eyes burned bright with betrayal.


    He took a step closer, but she'd already turned away.

  6. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the wolf, sitting completely still on the hill with its head back and nose pointing to the sky. The shrill, haunting howl pierced the night, making Cody press his hands over his ears and cower down as if someone had struck him. As he watched the creature, suddenly the sound cut off, the remnant echoing throughout the forest, at the same instant the wolf snapped its head to the side, glowing eyes staring in Cody's direction. He blinked-- merely blinked-- and when his eyes opened again the silhouette was gone.

    Panicked, he began to run in the other direction. But the wolf was unpredictable, and when he turned around there it stood in his path. Cody screamed and started to run toward the moon again, but before he had time to face it he felt the creature's claws grasp his back as if they were human fingers. Only a moment later, he watched in horror as his hands began to transform, and he felt his throat burning until a howl rose to the surface. *Not again!*

  7. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the Faerie, standing at the edge of the cliff. She turned to look at him, her face a mask. But her slanted black eyes burned with malice.
    He shifted nervously, hand gripping the hilt of his word until his knuckles turned white. "I came. But you knew I would, didn't you?"
    She didn't say a word. Unfurling tattered black wings, she strode menacingly towards him. Her voice was threateningly low. "Give me the key."
    He instinctively reached for the key around his neck, placing it reluctantly into her clawed hand. And with an air of ceremony, she turned to the sky, and held the key to the moon. And it unlocked its molten chambers, and fire rained on the earth, burning all it touched in an instant.
    He immediately wished he had never played a part in this.

    ~Savannah P.

  8. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the solitary figure of an Indian. Or someone who held himself like an Indian. Because what would an Indian be doing in the year 2015? The strange thing was, he knew exactly who was standing there. Aaron Hurst was supposed to be at home. In his room. Asleep. For pete's sake. He shook himself. His worst enemy. Out on a country hillside. Miles from home. At midnight on a full moon. Silently, he slipped into the tall grasses.

    1. Great idea, great execution. I especially like the last line.

  9. His breath caught,rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the royal bat. It flew down gracefully, meta-morphing into a women with sleek black wings. Magic worked to clothe her in a midnight blue gown.

    Everytime time he saw her silhoutted against the ever changing moon, he drowned in despair, wondering why he could not be just another courtier or even a soldier. He wished to show her his face, to talk to to her, but that was not to be..

    Her dark eyes raked over his hooded face and his tattered white wings, curious to see the lethal assassin. But never once in the past four years had he shown his face. He was always careful, it was a code ingrained from birth.
    " This is your new target" she handed him the scroll stamped with the royal seal.
    He nodded once and took the scroll from her hand. This time she didn't ask anything, just flew away.

    Her visits were getting more sporadic and her mind seemed to be occupied by faraway thoughts.

    He opened the scroll.

    Dark eyes stared at him, her eyes, her face.

    It was captioned.
    To be assassinated immediately for conspiring with enemies and general treason against the crown.

    The wind swept away the scroll from his immobile hands.

    1. Very twisty there at the end. Great job!

    2. Love the concept behind this. Good job!

  10. Oh my goodness I would love to do this! But, unfortunately, I can't. :(

    I did have a question though. I'm trying to describe a character in my story and his features are blond hair, green and has the structure of Batman. Would I have to get permission from DC Comics to use Batman's name in my story, even if it's that little part?

    1. It's okay to use pop culture references in stories.

  11. Fear Itself


    His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the one thing he was trying to outrun.
    The thing that brought chills to his otherwise warm heart. The thing that kept him awake in the night, so that he was too exhausted to do anything but stumble away from it in the morning. No matter how fast he’d force his legs to run, he would never be able to outrun it. Because it was fear he was running from. And nobody could outrun fear. Not even the fearless.

    He released his breath and felt his muscles tense, already anticipating the desperate sprint through the darkness to who knew where? No. He’d known this day would come. He just hadn’t expected it to be so… soon. No, he couldn’t run.

    It was time to face his fear.

  12. I'm just popping in to say I TAUGHT MY FIRST WRITING CLASS TODAY!!! It was such an exciting feeling. I gave my kiddoes the choice between doing NaNoWriMo or just writing the stories at their own pace, and they were all like, "Let's take on the challenge." I love this group already. :) I have four 3rd-5th graders and it was so exciting to see them picking up on how to come up with a plot and character motives and how you can use obstacles to show the characters', well, character and help them overcome their fears. Whoooo!

    Sorry, a little writer freak out moment right there. So looking forward to the rest of this year. :)

    1. Oh yay! Congratulations. Enjoy it. I enjoy my mentoring class so much more than I anticipated.

  13. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the noose dangling from the limb of a tree. His steps slowed and he dug his feet into the rocky ground, trying to delay the inevitable. The man behind him pushed him forward closing the gap between freedom and death.

    Hands tied behind his back he shuttered as the bag was placed over his head and he breathed in the sickening smell of final anguished moments left behind by past prisoners. His breath came in ragged gasps and the rough rope came in contact with his bare neck.

    This was it.

    1. Love this. Great image here, ". . . final anguished moments left behind by past prisoners."

    2. Thank you so much, Mrs. Dittemore!

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  15. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the Beast. It was looking silently down at him from the hillside, as if expecting the imminent battle and already knowing the outcome.

    He took a step forward. He had created that Beast. He was responsible for the destruction it had caused. And now he would more than likely die at its claws.

    The Beast growled. It took a step forward. His hand flew to his sword handle, but he hesitated. Could he truly defeat it? Was he strong enough? Was he brave enough?

    Before he could answer the questions, the Beast leaped down in front of him and wrapped an enormous paw around his throat. He pulled in panic at the iron grip, but it held fast. Breath was leaving him. His eyes closed. He was going to die.

    Then a flame, a reckless courage, ignited in his heart. This was his last chance. He had to make it count.

    He would not die tonight.

  16. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the water tower. It loomed ahead of him, and his strides shortened as he neared it. She stood right in front of it, just as she'd said she would. A sinister smile crossed her face when she saw him, and she took a step closer. He took an involuntary step back. "You've come." She stopped directly in front of him. He took a deep breath. "I stick to my word." She nodded slowly and gestured behind her. Two armed guards stepped out of the shadows. He felt like his head spinning as he forced himself to stand his ground. "You tricked me!" She turned away from him, as if content to leave him in the hands of the guards. They advanced on him, closing in. "Sir, you're under arrest."

  17. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was his wife. He backed away from as far as his chains would allow. This had to be a nightmare, she couldn't be here.
    "Get away from, me," He yelled.
    His wife frowned at him. "I go to the trouble to rescue and that is all you can say?"
    "You don't understand," He said gesturing to the moon as best he could with one shackled hand. "Just leave go."
    He had hoped that his brother was late, that she could leave before he was forced to do something awful, but Angelo materialized between him and his wife.
    "What have we here? A joyful reunion," Angelo said.
    With a gesture the apparition freed him from his chains. "I'd hate to see it end without a hug. Brother, you may give her one last embrace and then you must kill her."
    His wife's eyes widened. "Run," He yelled and then he fell to the floor in seizure. He heard the staccato of his wife's footsteps as fled. He tried to fight the magic but he rose to pursue her.

  18. The World Down Under

    His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the robot that had been programmed to kill him. It's metallic eyes starred down at him. "You again." he said trying to sound brave.
    "Yes. Yes indeed. I am a fan of SAMSUNG and I'm here to kill you." the robot replied in a robotic voice.
    Quickly, he began to pick himself up and start running. He pressed a button on his watch. It started beeping, faster and faster, then it formed a hover board. Going much faster now, the man sped ahead of the robot running and creaking to catch up with him.

  19. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was Tillo, the black cat. Jacob stared wide-eyed at the nimble animal, his presence towering above the boy like he was a menacing giant, instead of a small, feeble feline. Gulping, hands shaking, Jacob reached into his pocket and drew out a small pouch. The cat had not taken his yes off of him, the golden pupils never moving. He placed the pouch on the ground, a few paces away from his paws. Trembling, he bowed low to ground. Jacob sensed the cat rise and take the pouch in his teeth. Smiling, Jacob thrust his hand into his pants pocket and retrieved a small ruby studded dagger. The cat screeched in alarm, dropped the bag, and tried to run, but was frozen in place. Jacob grinned.
    "This is the last time you peeve me Tillo." Was all he said before swinging the blade.
    The corpse lay motionless. Satisfied, Jacob picked up the pouch and sheathed the dagger. Slowly he retraced his steps into the night.

    1. Wow! Jacob's a scary dude. I would like to see dagger though.

  20. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the ancient shack along the cliff. Did his mother really expect the strange old man that was rumored to live within to be able to answer his questions? But what if he could? Wasn't it worth the risk to his reputation among the townsfolk if the riddles could be solved? He swallowed, trying to soften his raspy throat, and pushed open the door.
    “Welcome, I've been expecting you. All Illuhe has been expecting you.”

    1. Thank you! I was thinking and thinking about what to write for the prompt, then a sudden idea sprang into my head, in the opposite direction of what I was thinking about writing and I couldn't type it out fast enough.

      These prompts are great! Thank you for sharing. :)

  21. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon the broom fell, fell onto the tiled floor. Broom…the house was dark entirely, the moon’s feeble light serving only the make it spookier. They said they rode on brooms, the old stories, the ones about dragons and robbers and castles and knights, but he didn’t believe that. Of course he didn’t.
    A strange laugh came from upstairs. The broom had fallen from there too. The house wasn’t big, it was barely a hut! So why couldn’t he leave? He wanted to. But the whisper told him to walk, the same whisper that had walked him here. To walk upstairs, where the laugh was coming from. Enthralled, he climbed the creaky spiral stairs, stumbling in the dark, till the only sight before him was the empty room. Red eyes shone from the corner, foul smell rose and fell. A pointy had stuck out in the darkness. And all of a sudden, he believed the stories.
    He just didn’t believe the ended well.

    1. Thanks, Mrs. Dittemore! Oh, and that's *hat* not *had*. I really need to proof-read my work more.

  22. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was her familiar figure. He had hoped to have a few more minutes to himself, to make a plan, to collect his wits. He was no match for her like this.
    "You came back," she said, taking a step toward him.
    Trembling, he fell to his knees on the ground. "Please," he begged, rummaging in his coat. "I have what you asked for. Let me go."
    She laughed softly. "I like it," she murmured. "I like to see you this way, completely in my power."

    -Grace (

  23. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was...
    a small, spherical, alien spaceship. Smoke billowed out from a dented hatch, glinting slightly in the darkness. Little lights flashed green and red. Rubbing his sleep-deprived eyes, he stared at it again, certain it would disappear, only something worse happened. It didn't. Worse than that, the dented hatch popped open too forcefully, as though propelled by an object, sending the broken door flying off where it hit the ground a few yards away with a nerve shattering clatter! The smoke was so heavy now it obscured the UFO, so he saw nothing, but heard a strange metallic scraping, and the sound of heavy steps retreating into the woods. "Hey wait!" The words stuck in his throat and he choked on them. Kicking himself, he thought, "What was I thinking?" There was an alien, no doubt sent to destroy the human race, or spy on it, neither of which welcomed being witnessed with a smoking transport..."but where had..." His spine crawled, and swallowing a rock in his throat, he looked behind his shoulder.
    The last thing he remembered before the shadows dragged him down was chilled, bony fingers encircling his neck, and a weird wheezing noise.

  24. I was so excited when I saw this prompt in my inbox. This website has the best writing prompts in the known universe!

  25. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was Henry's imposing figure. Keith noted how he gripped his signature shovel tightly in his rough hands. Henry meant business tonight.

    "The Harvest moon is full." Observed Henry. He turned to me, looking me straight in the eye.
    "It's time to release the Jackal." He continued. Slowly I nodded my head.

    He smiled grimly before returning to the house, leaving me to my thoughts.

    I will be leading the charge, then. This will be my first time.

    As I look out over the plain, I can already see the sickly light of their lanterns casting an eerie glow through the fog.

    The Jackal will feast well tonight.

    Will I regret the deeds done in the Hunt? Yes, I always will.

    Desperate times call for desperate measures.

    I will always Hope that one day, we will be free. One day the Harvest can pass peaceably with no fear of the Hunt.

    But until that day, we will defend our borders - or rather the people within.

    The sun will continue to rise in the morning, and the Harvest moon will continue to come.

    We will be ready.

    And the Harvest moon shines on.

    1. Fascinating! Really original concept. I'd love to see more.

  26. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was his prey, the beast he'd been hunting for days. The dragon. But was he ready?
    He drew his sword, holding it aloft in a challenge. Fight me if you dare. Or if I dare, he though to himself. But it was too late now.
    The silvery-grey beast swooped down, thumping onto the grass. "Is that a challenge?"
    He took a deep breath, chill with the autumn air. "It is."
    "Then you have gravely overestimated yourself, knight. But I accept."
    A figure peered over the side of the dragon. Hooded in a red cloak. Face invisible in the knight.
    It was with that figure that he had his true quarrel, not with the Wolf- for so the dragon was known. That figure had killed Rose. And stolen her magical Red Riding Hood.
    And for that, both dragon and rider would die.

  27. His breath caught, rattled into his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was a girl in a black dress. He couldn't see her face, just her dark hair blowing in the almost non- existent wind.
    He was speechless. A second ago when he looked back, no one was there. She looked familiar, her body shape and dress were implanted in his mind.
    Her hand stretched out, palm open, as if she was reaching for him. It took him a moment to realize she was. Against his better judgement, he stepped forward, intent on reaching her. She seemed to step back, moving backwards but her legs not moving. He took another step forward, to find her just out of his reach.
    "Come." She whispered, a voice softer and more enchanting than a thousand roses. In that moment he forget about the thorns.
    He studied her, knowing that she wouldn't move back without him moving forward. Suddenly, he focused on her face, and saw something he didn't see before. Her lips were red, cherry red, standing out against her black silhouette. Besides the moon, it was the only colour.
    He walked forward, quicker than before. She moved backwards again.
    "Sorcery? On your part?" He asked. No reply.
    He ran forward this time, intent on reaching the beautiful girl with the cherry lips.
    The last thing he saw was her cherry lips stretched out into a smile as he lost his footing and fell down.

  28. His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the thing he so sought... hanging from HER hand. He rushed forward, reaching for it, eager for it, even as he wiped his blood from his cheek.

    "You found it!" He clutched for it, but she pulled it out of his reach, a superior grin on her face. "Give me the medallion!"

    She pulled it further from his reach. "You didn't tell me it could carry one through time."

    "Give it to me!" He barely heard her words. The medallion was finally in his reach. The power of the medallion called to him already. How could she not feel it as she held it in her hand? What did it matter what power she experienced from it? It was HIS medallion... He was a prince! He had paid her to fetch it for him!

    She tossed it up into the air, caught it in her palm again. "I do not know if I shall give it to you." Oh, that sickening grin... "I seem to like its powers." She nodded to a man behind her.

    The man came forth to the light of the moon, and the prince caught sight of scraggly dark hair over a pale face.

    "Tisis! You are supposed to be dead."

    The girl smiled cruelly, the sight of it wrenching the prince's heart. She placed her hand across the older man's shoulders. "I see you have met my father. He, too, finds... pleasure... in this medallion."

  29. My breathe caught, rattled in my chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the dragon. The eldest king's reptilian form rose up, black against the moon, and fell again with each swoop of his wings. The king was hunting tonight, and it was only sheer luck that he was hunting without his brothers. That, and he wanted his revenge alone.
    I'd be dead by morning, no doubt about that. Or, worse, back in the caves, with him. I wouldn't escape again. The kings would make sure of that.

  30. My breath caught, rattled in my chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was Ella, waiting impatiently at the top of the hill. Out of breath, I stopped, craning my neck to look up at her, “Wait up!”
    “What do you think I’m doing?!” she grinned
    Lord save me from little sisters. I start back up again, my third attempt at tackling the rocky slope. At this rate it would be midnight before we returned home and instead of having to keep up with an annoyingly energetic 12 year old, I would have to keep up with an almost fully-grown wolf.

  31. My breath caught, rattled in my chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was Nick, shadows surrounding him. It fit him more than it could anyone else. I noticed his chest moving and could hear his heavy breathing as he approached me with slow determination. My chest felt tight, we hadn't talked since the time he told me he didn't want to work with me anymore.

    "What are you doing here?" His voice was raspy and came to my ears almost like a whisper.

    "Mother Andromeda sent me." I honestly hope that is explanation enough, but I doubt that it is. "You can't go out alone Nick." I try to control my voice, to stop it from sounding as worried as I am.

    "I said I didn't want you to be my partner anymore..." His voice sounds like a mixture of anger and confusion.

    And I getting, after what he said the logical thing to expect is that I would also want the same. But that is not the case. "I know."

    He shakes his head, an unspoken no. A negative to what my response implies. He turns towards the moon, refusing to look at me. "Go home, Adam. I can handle this."

    The dreading sense of Deja Vu is disconcerting, it forms into a tight ball inside my chest as I watch him leave. I ran all after him only for him to tell me the exact same line again. How on earth am I going to fix this?

  32. Lily Spinner's Little BrotherOctober 15, 2015 at 2:10 PM

    His breath caught, rattled in his chest. Silhouetted against the orange moon was the blue police box. All of a sudden, a man came out. He was dressed in a blue suit, a trench coat, and converse.

    "Who are you?" asked Alonzo.

    "I'm the Doctor," the man said. "I'm picking up a biometric rift in the space-time continuum. I don't suppose you've noticed anything strange?"

    "Like what?"

    "Oh, you know, the usual. Planets in the sky, alien invaders, evil prime ministers..."

    Alonzo stared at the man. Was he just joking, or just mad?

    *Yay Doctor Who!