Halloween writing prompts 2024

House Calls

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I turned the prompt for an exercise from Writober called: Sensory Imagery  into  a flash fiction challenge. I might go back later and follow the directions because it looks like something I would like to build on. But what can I say, sometimes the Muses look at a prompt and say to me, ” you know what would be really cool? ” and I go with it.

amm

ARTIST UNKNOWN

I saw an open window.  It was in the empty house across the street from where I live.

I heard someone call down to me, one day as I walked by  ” why don’t you come up, I’m home. Come in. Step inside ”

I carried my jacket, I carried my purse, I carried a ready smile

I smelled oatmeal cookies  as I crossed the porch.  I rang the bell and then I went inside.

I followed the sound of water, dripping into  a pan, it plunked and sloshed and then drop by drop it died.

The crowded room, the only room that showed any sounds of life was the kitchen- it was painted yellow and  well stocked with cutlery and fine bone china.

The slap of cupboard doors, crept through the air and slithered into my ear. The frosty breath said, ” Come a little closer, step inside. Have some cookies, my dear.”

I tasted those cookies before I took a bite, I couldn’t wait to get them in my mouth

The heat of my cheeks, turned my pale face an unnatural shade of red, I drooled.

I witness, I swear on stack of McCalls Best Cookies for Halloween cook books that when

I touch, I taste oatmeal cookies when I feast in this house and other’s like it. No matter what I find, no matter what  consume.

I taste cookies.

Checking My List

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Writober Challenge;  Write down the first ten words you think of when you think of fear. Any words at all. Anything that comes to mind.

ARTIST UNKNOWN

She smelled like cigarette smoke, she smelled liked wine, she  smelled like expensive perfume.

She didn’t laugh, she chuckled. She didn’t smile, she smirked. She wasn’t real, she was a dream

She was a lie.

Her lips were always painted red, her nicotine stained nails were polished to match

Every word that passed over her lips had teeth.

Tabby

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For Writetober Flash Fiction:

Under a Sheet by Maria L. Berg

My alarm didn’t go off on that morning.

Or maybe it did and I didn’t hear it.

Or maybe it did go off and I don’t remember it going off because it doesn’t seem very important anymore.

I jumped out of bed that morning because my bedroom was filled with blue flashing lights- not red flashing lights but blue.

I don’t know how it works in your neighborhood, but blue flashing lights in my neighborhood means that the police are paying you a visit and given that my room was lit up like a roller disco, I assumed that there was more then one car out there.

Then I heard a dog barking and I heard my husband’s voice and I heard him shout my name.

” Tabby! Tabby! Damn it Tabby! ”

My lip curled, as it always did when he said my name.

I sailed to the window from my bed- that’s what it felt like. Like I was skating or floating to the window.

I pushed the curtains aside, I pressed my face against the glass.

There he was my husband, he was looking up at me and shaking his head and then I looked down and I saw the body under the sheet and the little yellow numbered flags and the blue lights flashed and clicked on and on and my dog would not stop barking.

I called to Tris and I heard him race up the stairs and I heard his nails skidding along the wooden floor and when I turned around he wasn’t there. I could hear him barking and then I heard Cal shout for Tris to shut the hell up.

How dare he, I thought to myself. How dare he talk that way to the only creature in my life that- what I thought. What? It didn’t matter I started to pound on the window. ” Don’t you yell at my dog like that! Don’t  you dare!”

” I’m going to twist that mutt’s head right off of his neck if he doesn’t SHUT THE HELL UP!” my husband roared.

I saw three Officers surround my husband. I saw them reach out for him. I could see them trying to calm him down.

Good luck with that, I thought.

” It’s that damn dog of hers! I told her she needed to stop it from all of that barking  or else I was going to-”

They turned my husband around. I saw one of them cuff him.

Then he turned back and looked up at me in the window.

His face was pale, he was saying ” I told you! Look. She’s right there. Look! Look there she is! That’s not her. I told  you. Look up there in the window! There she is with her freaking DOG.”

“His name is Tristan you bottom feeding jerk.” I roared back.

Nobody looked up at me except for my husband.

When I was sure he could actually see me, I raised my hand. Then I flipped him off. Then I waved good bye.

My dog sat next to me. I could hear his tail swishing from side to side and for the first time in a long time-

I smiled.

 

My alarm didn’t go off on that morning. 

Or maybe it did and I didn’t hear it.

Or maybe it did go off and I don’t remember it going off because it doesn’t seem very important anymore.

Let’s Party!

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RDP Friday: EQUINOX

Photo A.M. Moscoso

First up,even though the Science says they aren’t real- I believe in ghosts and spirits and curses.

I believe in the natural world, I understand the rules and laws that govern it, I have also lived long enough to know that the world doesn’t always play by the rules, so sure I can believe that there are times when Nature busts out of it’s box and dances all over books and papers and Google and everything else that strives to define it.

So, at t his time of the year I like to celebrate all things ‘supernatural’ because – you know, it’s a hoot.

This year in my efforts to have a little fun I came  bought a book called ‘ Food To Die For “. It’s a cookbook that was written by paranormal investigator AMY BRUNI and along with pictures and stories about ghosts and haunted houses ( and prisons ) printed on beautiful slick paper and even beautifully bound, there are recipes.

Each recipe is connected to a haunted place- so along with the story about Lizzie Borden,  there is  a handwritten recipe card written in Lizzie’s hand   from the early 1900s, which is now the property of the Fall River Historical Society  a Cornbread recipe  inspired by the Villisca Axe Murder House and my favorite was meal that was served to prisoners that looks like baked dirt. 

I’m going to try that one.

The reason I love this book is that it’s deliciously creepy.

Bake a  meatloaf that Lizzie Borden served to her family and  serve it with cornbread inspired by the Villisca Ame Murder House? I mean, how weird would that be? You could whip that up, serve it and spend the meal snickering with each bite your guests take.

So this year as Summer ends and Autumn arrives, I think I’m going to have a little fun in my kitchen.

Yep. I do believe I’ll go a little crazy.