I haven't done any writing prompts in a while. Nothing has inspired me, but I found this prompt over at Story Dam and the idea intrigued me. Plus, I have the perfect picture to go with the prompt. When I walk to and from work, I pass this building. It strikes me as someplace a ghost hunting team would investigate.
Writing Prompt: What buildings are in your area that you can write about? Is it a ghost story? A story of drama, murder, and mystery that comes up when you look at an empty house or building? An Alien invasion. Take a picture of the house or building and look at it while you free write about everything that comes up. Have fun with it!
Word Prompt: Deserted
Sentence Starters:
She walked away refusing to look back…
She told herself it was just her imagination…
Writing Prompt: What buildings are in your area that you can write about? Is it a ghost story? A story of drama, murder, and mystery that comes up when you look at an empty house or building? An Alien invasion. Take a picture of the house or building and look at it while you free write about everything that comes up. Have fun with it!
Word Prompt: Deserted
Sentence Starters:
She walked away refusing to look back…
She told herself it was just her imagination…
It was just her imagination. That's it. Nothing more. A trick of the light. Hannah kept her gaze ahead, picking her pace up as she passed the huge brick building. As long as she had lived in Sault Sainte Marie, the building had been empty. Empty and dark. Whatever its purpose was, no one she knew remembered.
But sometimes when she passed, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement in the windows. When she looked, she'd see nothing.
The building vanished for a few precious moments as she walked past the tall hedges planted along the road. A twig snapped and she froze. Slowly, she turned towards the hidden building, heart picking up its pace. Through the green, pine scented boughs, she swore she saw movement, a figure in one of the windows. She bolted to the edge of the hedge. The air rushed from her lungs when she saw nothing.
"No more scary movies for you, Hannah," she chided with a laugh and resumed walking.
Her pace faltered the farther she got from the building. She stopped and looked back the way she had come. It was silly. There was no one there. It had all been her imagination. Still, a nagging sensation in her mind told her to go back.
Uncertainly, she took a step, then another. Her stomach knotted and sweat beaded across her skin despite the winter air. There were no tracks near the door of the building, except for the ones she made. She looked at the building, trying to understand what drew her back.
A face in the window on the third floor rammed her heart into her throat. Without thinking, she raced to the door and jerked it open. The sound of her footsteps echoed around her as she ran up the stairs. At the top, she froze. Softly, so soft she could barely hear it, a voice sang.
The voice didn't grow louder as she approached the last door. She pressed her ear to the wood, listening. What was it saying? She couldn't understand the words. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob. The door opened with a groan. She stared into the room, blood freezing in her veins and a scream ripping from her throat.
But sometimes when she passed, out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement in the windows. When she looked, she'd see nothing.
The building vanished for a few precious moments as she walked past the tall hedges planted along the road. A twig snapped and she froze. Slowly, she turned towards the hidden building, heart picking up its pace. Through the green, pine scented boughs, she swore she saw movement, a figure in one of the windows. She bolted to the edge of the hedge. The air rushed from her lungs when she saw nothing.
"No more scary movies for you, Hannah," she chided with a laugh and resumed walking.
Her pace faltered the farther she got from the building. She stopped and looked back the way she had come. It was silly. There was no one there. It had all been her imagination. Still, a nagging sensation in her mind told her to go back.
Uncertainly, she took a step, then another. Her stomach knotted and sweat beaded across her skin despite the winter air. There were no tracks near the door of the building, except for the ones she made. She looked at the building, trying to understand what drew her back.
A face in the window on the third floor rammed her heart into her throat. Without thinking, she raced to the door and jerked it open. The sound of her footsteps echoed around her as she ran up the stairs. At the top, she froze. Softly, so soft she could barely hear it, a voice sang.
The voice didn't grow louder as she approached the last door. She pressed her ear to the wood, listening. What was it saying? She couldn't understand the words. Her hand shook as she reached for the knob. The door opened with a groan. She stared into the room, blood freezing in her veins and a scream ripping from her throat.
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