Today’s prompt: “What was the most recent incident in your life that made you laugh?”
The moment when the cultist plunged the fake knife into you. You roared with laughter and relief as he pulled the plastic blade away from your chest, then waggled his eyebrows as he pushed the knife tip into the hilt with his finger.
It was all very, very funny until he pulled out the actual knife.
Today’s prompt: “You’re the high school sweetheart from the above (Aug. 22) prompt. Write your reply to the breakup note.”
Dear Taylor,
If you’re receiving this letter, it’s because I’ve been killed in combat. A ballistic missile to the base, maybe, or my vehicle triggering an IED while I was out on rounds. Or maybe the food here just sucked so much that I gave up the ghost. I can only imagine why I’ve died. My friend Matt promised he would send you this letter if I died, unless he dies at the same time, in which case Aaron in the 124th has a copy.
I hope you never read this letter. I hope we get to get married when I go home. But if you are reading this, just know that I never stopped loving you. I hope you find someone else who’ll treat you right, and I hope you have a good, long life.
Much love,
[Your name]
Today’s prompt: “Write a ‘Dear John’ letter, breaking up with your high-school sweetheart who’s in the army.”
Dear John,
It’s not you.
It’s the fact that I’m about to be murdered by a group of cultists who need a human sacrifice to bring the Old Ones to earth and usher in the end times.
I guess they’re big fans of closure?
Stay safe. Much love,
[Your name]
Today’s prompt: “Three people (one might be you) at three ages looking at things they shouldn’t be looking at”
8-year-old Tobin McIntyre pulls the wrinkled magazine from underneath his brother’s mattress, curious what his brother and his brother’s friends had been so excited about. He’s not sure why all the ladies in it are naked, and he doesn’t know why they’re standing in those weird poses. A phrase from this show his dad watches, Mystery Science Theater, echoes through his head: “She’s presenting like a mandrill!” He’s not sure what it means, but it feels related.
22-year-old Alexis Carver scrolls through her boyfriend’s texts with Darcy. And scrolls. And scrolls. Looks like the dick pics started about a month ago, but they were flirting long before that. She’s past the original angry stage and is now trying to think of ways to tell him off without letting on that she was snooping.
You stare right into the open jaws of K’nar’st, its three tongues unfurling toward you, drooling in anticipation.
Today’s prompt: “What did you wear to prom? How did you get your outfit, and what happened to it?” [Apologies to the male-identified reader, but we are talking dresses today.]
You and your girlfriends did a lot of looking online and shopping at the formal/bridal stores before you picked a dress. You’ve never tried on so many dresses in your life, and yes, it felt like a shopping montage in a movie where you’d walk out of the dressing room and people would shake their heads until you found something that suited you. And suit you it does. Your prom dress is a dark navy chiffon off-the-shoulder affair with a floor-length skirt, an A-line waist and a ruched bodice. It looks incredible paired with your drop earrings, your upswept hair, and your 3-inch platinum-colored spike heels.
Your choice in footwear was your first regret of the evening. They’re terrible for dancing, and even worse for running away when Ny-Rakath crashes the party. Your second regret of the evening was your choice in your prom date. When Ny-Rakath was headed straight toward the two of you, they pushed you aside to clear the way for their own exit. That wasn’t very nice. And your third regret, as you die, gored by Ny-Rakath’s many horns, is that your dress was so bloodied and torn in the attack that you won’t be able to be buried in it. Which is a shame. It really does look good on you.
Today’s prompt: “Pick one decision you’ve made in your life – a move, job, or relationship. How would your life be different now if you’d made a different choice?”
Your life would’ve been a lot longer if you hadn’t moved to Innsmouth.
Today’s prompt: “Write a paragraph in a language of your own invention.”
“Ah’mglw’nafhay, ahn’mnay uggothshay azanahothay,” afh’drnhay ai-ay.
“Ah’mglw’nafhay, ahn’mnay uggothshay azanahothay,” uh’e-ay otay onray ai-ay.
Afh’drnhay mg’yay ahh’mglaglnay uiph’nglay ebumna-ay.
Translation:
“Die, worthless human worm,” the priest says.
“Die, worthless human worm,” the cultists say.
The priest pushes you into the pit.