Writing Prompt / Story Starter 5

Michael knew something big was going to happen the moment he saw Marvin Gaye's ghost browsing the Social Sciences section of Books a Million. Marvin was whistling Soon I'll be Loving You Again and swaying a little. Michael wondered if it meant something, that particular tune, if it was pertinent to the whatever-it-was that was going to happen. He'd have asked Marvin himself but, even by the skittish standards of most apparitions, Marvin was particularly shy and liable to just vanish with that sound they always made when they departed, like ice starting to crack and about to give way entirely.

Yesterday, he'd seen Curtis Mayfield sitting on a pile of tyres on the forecourt of Howard's Used Autos. Curtis had been singing Little Child Running Wild at the top of his voice. The day before that Mississippi John Hurt had shuffled past him on Page Street, his worn out ghost shoes letting in the ghost rain. As always, John had been smiling and humming Nobody's Dirty Business.

Something big was going to happen. Michael had no doubt.

Writing Prompt / Story Starter 4

Beneath the first layer of wallpaper was another layer of wallpaper. Beneath that layer, another, this one painted over with a thick yellow emulsion, making it almost immune to the effects of the industrial-strength steamer Matthew had borrowed from his brother-in-law. After an hour, Matthew was forced to give up entirely on modern technology and resort to brute force and a craft knife.

When Marie appeared holding two tall glasses of iced tea and said, "What's that?" Matthew stepped back and was about to say, "No doubt another damn layer of wallpaper."

Instead, he found himself saying, "I don't know."

"Looks like some kind of mural," said Marie. She placed the iced teas on Matthew's work bench, stepped toward the wall and wrenched away a broad sheet of wallpaper that looked like the thick, yellow hide of some long-dead creature.

"What the hell is that?" said Matthew. Then, his voice dropping to a whisper, "Is that you?"

Writing Prompt / Story Starter 3

The mirror was beautiful, the art noveau frame carved from mahogany, its vines and flowers interspersed with birds, butterflies and grinning cherubs. The glass was flawless and smooth, the silver beneath untarnished.

It was all Lauren could do not to drag it from the wall and throw it to the floor.

Wretched thing. Perfect mirror.

Writing Prompt / Story Starter 2

It wasn't that Nataly didn't love her little brother, she did, she really did, but he was just so weird and demanding and weirdly demanding, and she really hadn't been able to take anymore.

She hadn't meant to hurt him. She'd just wanted to make a point, and maybe scare him a little. But that was all. Not this. She hadn't meant for this to happen, at all.

Writing Prompt / Story Starter 1

"What is it?" said James.

Paul said nothing, just carried on staring at the pale thing in the sandbox, poking it with the stick of bamboo he'd stolen from Mr Burchielli's garden only an hour ago, when everything had been normal.

"I don't think it's anything," said Angela. "I mean, it doesn't look like anything. Not really."

"Well, it has to be something," said James. "It can't be nothing. Can it?"

"Whatever it is," said Paul, still staring, still poking, "I think it's bleeding."