Forums » Art & Creativity » 300 Writing Prompts (dice roll writing activity)

I bought this cool book that is called '300 Writing Prompts' as you can guess it has 300 writing prompts each with space to write underneath it. I figured we could do something fun!

I am struggling especially lately with writing. Feeling a bit lackluster, my book hasn't gotten much done on it lately. I feel writing little random snippets based on prompts might come in handy and spark creativity. Get out of this slump!

I'm sure many others could use it too

Basically I will do a roll everyday, and that number is the prompt number for that day. I'll post the prompt and everyone including I writes based on that prompt.

I will be rerolling everyday, new prompt everyday. So 300 days of this! Then I will probably get the second book which is called '300 MORE Writing Prompts' haha, and we can do it again!

So you only have one day to do that days writing prompt. I will roll everyday around 3am eastern time zone.

Messed up the dice roll lol!!! Rerolling

OK...

Edit: Prompt 112!

'You have magic soap. What does it wash away?'

Magical soap. Benny held the small bar in his hand, a slight look of awe in his blue eyes. He had never seen something so... Mystical. It was as if he was holding a magical cloud in his hands. Smirking he pocketed it and headed outside.

Benny wondered what it washed. It obviously wasn’t just a normal soap bar, and it definitely had some magical properties. Taking it out, he spat on his hands getting the soap wet. Slowly he felt an agonizing pain take over , starting from his hands and soon onto his arms. The soap was washing him away! Within minutes the bar of soap had melted completely washing him away!

(What the heck? What is wrong with me, lol! Just made this up randomly)

Sasha pulled the green bar of soap out of her back pocket, looking around her to make sure no one else had seen it. It was dim outside, but the streetlamps provided just enough light to allow her to see the soft and pleasantly round bar in her palms. She knew she wasn't supposed to take things from the houses that she visited while babysitting but something about the soap that had been sitting in a beautiful marble holder on the farest end of the counter had seemed so... intriguing.

Mrs. Donner was always so specific about not touching her things. Sasha felt guilty, but at the same time, the woman was wealthy as ever yet barely paid her the minimum to watch her unruly daughter. Perhaps after this she wouldn't show her face around there again...But she did need the money.

Swallowing hard, she wandered over to the water fountain near the edge of the park, and used her knee to push the button as she got the soap wet and started to scrub it around on her hands. Her hands tingle, and it felt...nice; she leaned down and washed her face with it. Feeling the bubbling tingel along her face, making her feel more relaxed, and rinsing the anxiety sweat from her brow. She used the water to rinse her face; but as she opened her eyes and looked down into her reflection in the metal fountain, she saw her eyes, they seemed much larger in comparison to her face, her lashes longer, her nose smaller, her lips thinner. The soft bags underneath her eyes that had started forming more intently once she turned 23, were gone!

Her eyes widened in fear and confusion as she stumbled back. She looked down at her hands, and they were...thinner, the blisters on her skin were gone, the scar she had gotten a summer before on her knuckles was gone! She looked at least three years younger.

Ohh this is great, I love it, thanks for participating.

Aww thanks! As was yours! I like this forum! And I’ll try to post regularly!

Minty coconut scent wafted up from the small bar of soap that rested in the palm of Heidi's left hand, the compact rectangle's surface smooth as her thumb rubs over the dyed baby blue surface. She felt the tingle of confusion touch her brow as the two furrow together and she looks up and around before back down at it again, unsure of where the soap bar actually came from. Weird.

Spotting a remaining puddle from the last rain she steps over and squats down, catching sight of her reflection as she leans over and dips both hands in, sending little ripples through the shallow water that distort her face. Slowly she begins to rub the forming suds over her skin, the tiny bubbles covering the small and awfully done tattoos that resided on the backs of her hands, products of a bad drunken decision.

Whatever possessed her to wash her hands in the puddle Heidi did not know. But what she did know was that the soap was ridding her of the ink! With an awed grin she continues scrubbing, the pale suds slowly turning dark as the tattoo ink lifts from her skin and into the water, continuing until they have fully disappeared.

~This was actually very fun! I'll be on the lookout for more prompts for sure. ~

Alrighty, day two, new prompt...

Edit: Prompt 182.

' An item you would love to inherit from a relative, or have inherited. '

Liliana held the doll in her hands. It was almost as tall as her, at least it seemed so. Her thumbs ran over the smooth cold parceline of the dolls face; it's curly hair draping down over it's shoulders and falling downwards towards the floor. It felt heavy in her small hands. Yet in that moment she still didn't quite understand why her mother would never let her play with the dolly. It's soft pink victorian dress drew Liliana's attention each time she wandered by the shelf.

"Liliana! What are you doing on the chair, with t-...no, no, no, you can't play with her!" A surprised and concerned maternal voice gasped and Liliana heard heels clicking on the hardwood floor.

Liliana's legs swayed on the seat of the kitchen chair she had dragged over from the dining room.

Day three! New prompt!

EDIT:

'What traffic sign best reflects your life right now?'

(Ok strange but interesting...)

I really like this idea! I'm about to run out of the house but I had a few minutes...we'll see how this goes. Not answering in-character since I read it as directly relating to me, plus I get to vent a little bit, lol.

Yellow.

Yellow, because I don't know whether I'm slowing down, or speeding up. I feel like I've been approaching everything in my life lately with a certain sense of caution - I don't know whether to slam on the gas, close my eyes, and hope for the best, or if I should take a minute to stop and evaluate things. If I stop, I might loose the momentum I have, but if I keep going, I'm afraid I'll miss something. I feel conflicted, I keep weighing my options like I'm on some sort of timetable - but my deadlines are mostly internal. The ticking clock is all in my head, and I know that, it's just I forget sometimes when life gets too overwhelming.

Do I keep driving straight and fast, or do I pause and think about turning down a different path? That yellow light is terrifying, because whether I slow down to stop or speed up to go...that decision is all on me. The light doesn't dictate my action, and in a moment in my life where I almost wish someone could tell me what to do I feel envious of others with a more clear-cut path. I'm in the driver's seat, though, and I know I need to make a decision eventually.

Jessica looked at the cars up on the highway as she drove down the service road. They were whizzing by so fast, on all different levels, high on the intertwined, multi-level structure. "Highway 10, stay left" the sign said as she slipped into the left lane. But she couldn't go fast enough. Cars were behind her, honking at her, waving her over. People were passing her.

"What the &$#@ is wrong with you?" someone yelled through the open window of his SUV. "If you want to drive on the highway, speed up!" As the cars passed around her one by one, and the honking and cursing increased from behind, she had to make a decision. Would she speed up and get on the highway? Or would she get off the ramp?

Finally, she put the right blinker on and changed lanes, letting the honking hoard of cars speed up and get on the highway. Down the access road, she continued to drive. Down the access road, where it was safe. Where there was no stress. Where she wouldn't get to the next place very fast, and where she could blame the stoplights.

Great job! mine is fairly late as always.

---

The 'no left turn' sign. It feels a little like even though turning left is a technical option I could take, it's against the rules, and could cause serious danger. My life seems to be going in the 'right' direction, no pun intended, and it's not all good, not all puddin' and lolipops, but I can't turn left and try to take a different route, because it would probably be even worse than turning right.

New day mew prompt! Day 4 I believe

EDIT:

'What is your mom like?'

LOL this is a BAD one for me so idk if I'll take part in this one, but alas. Take the prompt however you like, you can write in character or about yourself specifically.

Oof. Understandable.

---

I love my mom. My mom is a nice person. She's a microbiologist, she's a teacher, but she hasn't done those things in years. She's 81. She's smart. She's got a great sense of humor. She often worries about everyone else more than herself. She's old-school Southern charm, full of etticute and hospitality. She likes the movie Gone With the Wind.

She played piano beautifully, before she had a stroke. She played in church for 20 years. She can still play, but only with one hand, and even though she can still play better with one hand than I can with two, it's still not the same, and so she doesn't play much anymore.

My mom's a positive thinker. Her two favorite scriptures are, "all things work together for the good," and "if there's anything good, think on these things." She's also a Longhorn (a graduate of UT) and likes to watch UT and the Cowboys play football. She's a Texan and loves the outdoors. She's a scientist.

However, she has a disorder that sometimes causes her paranoia. She's kind, except with regard to homosexuality, except with regard to Sandra, my wife. She thinks Sandra is a CIA spy. She thinks that Sandra might kill me. Neither of those things are true, of course, but she thinks they are. Sometimes she doesn't think about it much. Sometimes she seems to think about it a lot. Sleep is a big factor. More sleep, fewer crazy ideas.

I had to stay home from work today because, first and foremost, my mom is feeling unconfident about getting up and down, but she's also not getting enough sleep, and she starts getting all these crazy, ridiculous ideas when she can't sleep, like that Sandra is using my car to sell drugs (????) o_O or that we have a house somehow fully paid for in San Antonio or California and we should move to it (we don't own any houses). *sigh* It's frustrating and I'll probably have to take one more day off work, maybe two.

We just need to excersize and she needs sleep and she'll probably start acting normal again. Hope so. I love my mom.


My mom: "They want to build
a wall over the Southern border? The same border that El Chappo has a network of tunnels underneath?"

Me: Yep. That's the one.

My mom: Well that doesn't make any sense, does it?

Me: *laughs head off* No, it really doesn't, does it? *shrugs*

Disclaimer: This is a long one about one of my side characters when I was obsessed with the idea of maenads.



Ava Marie received little information about her heritage. Her mother lacked the concern and the maternal instinct to properly educate her. Before finding the cause of her differences, Ava knew that her mother was far from your typical "normal." That fact was solely based on the premise that the two of them were physically different. Mama had eyes as black as coal and blood that somehow managed to be darker. Sharp claws adorned the tips of her long, slender fingers and a thick curtain of dark hair flowed behind her like a flag. She was beautiful but nightmarish when angered. Though her mother was warm and made her smile when she cooed "Ahhh-va Marie". In comparison, the child preferred her mother over most. Mostly because she was all that she knew in their small, secluded cabin in the woods. Long ago, she was shown a picture of her father. A worn, barely visible figure that Mama bitterly called Connor. Supposedly, he had wild unruly strawberry blond hair. Locks that resembled the mass that haloed the child's head and cascaded down her back in ringlets. She had also inherited his bright green gaze and freckled skin. Compared to Mama she was the light to her darkness but internally they shared more than a few similarities. 

"You share my wrath, child. That's all you truly need to survive," she spoke one night. The flames from the fire between them casted an orange glow on her face, igniting a lovely flickering reflection within her eyes. 

She was only partially right however. Sure, inherited power aided her survival but more than that, her seemingly normal appearance proved way more successful. 

The Hunt divided the two of them when she was about six years old. When the hunters saw a child on the hip of a monster they automatically assumed that Mama had taken her. She could remember Mama fleeing, her tiny arms wrapped tightly around her bony shoulders. 

After hiding Ava in some vegetation she left her with the promise of returning. The darkness cloaked her like a blanket and her mind was preoccupied with the hunt surrounding her. It continued for what seemed like ages until a howl shook her. The sound was so familiar and pained, denial met her instantly. 

Denial lasted only until first light when  the hunters finally found her. When one of them lifted her into his arms, realization came with the smell of sweat and black blood all over his cloak. The smell of a successful hunt. 

That was four years ago. Her story had closed the moment she was dropped off at the nearest orphanage. 

Sounds of shouting filled the street before the slam of a door accompanied the echo. A rather large, red faced woman had exited an old and weathered building with a meaty hand gripped tightly on the arm of a strawberry blond that was fighting hard within her grasp. The child had successfully managed to return her arm when the woman began her verbal lashing that went on in what seemed like one angry breath. 

At the end of her lecture, she concluded with some inaudible jumble about Ava sleeping outside before slamming the door again.

I forgot to do todays prompt, opps.

Edit:

rerolling.

Okie.

Edit:

'In what ways do you not fit in with the family you grew up with?'

I was always the social butterfly. Still am, haha. My family is great though, just more on the quiet/smart side! Still, they aren’t social recluses, they just don’t understand the point of having lots of friends and going to multiple social events!

I don't fit in because I'm gay and because I have mental health issues, and we have always been poor.