365 Creative Writing Prompts

Creative writing is an art. It is a passion that I love to share with the world. I am not ignorant to the millions of creative writers out there, thus I want to provide 365 creative prompts to writers out there that love the written as much as I do. This is going to be HUGE in the creative writing industry. Please choose one or as many short story prompts as you would like and feel free to write on them. When you are finished, email your completed piece along with the original story starter prompt to my email address: seedlingspublishinggroup@gmail.com. This blog is where you can join forces with other writers to critique one another and get to know each other on a professional level. Think of this lens as the starting point of a wonderful creative writing workshop! As I mentioned in the introduction, this is your opportunity to do something big. Be a part of something great.

Write on these prompts, then click on the link below OR on the actual Creative Prompt to be routed to the blog that you will be able to post your finished story on! Share with the world. Want to Add Your Story? The wind howled through the window. The girl sat huddling her knees waiting for the storm to be over. He should have known better. Now the cops were going to know where to find him. Running down the street, the man held back a sob. He wasn’t prone to crying, but today was an exception. A gun went off, disturbing the quietness of the night. Jim stood up on his porch and peered into the night. There was no moon, he couldn’t see a thing. He wondered who was doing the shooting. He had been rich all his life. He didn’t know any other way. Staring down at his dirty hands, he wondered how his life had gone to hell.

The barking stopped.Maggie slipped out of bed and quietly approached the window which faced the backyard. The neighbours still had their light on, but she couldn’t see anything. The dog that lived next door, never stopped barking. So why the sudden quietness? It seemed almost eerie. This was the first field trip of the school year. Todd was excited. He was only seven, so he lived for these field trips. It was on these trips that he got to taste the real world, the world without his parents. The man stopped punching her husband John, and looked up at her. Mary Ruth had been alive for one hundred and two years. She knew things she shouldn’t know. She also knew how to keep her mouth shut. She had drained his bank accounts. He couldn’t believe he had fallen for that scam. How was he supposed to pay his bills? How could he tell anyone about this?

Tom looked sheepishly at the floor. How was he ever going to explain this to his wife. Clenching his hands, he formed a fist. He was going to teach this fool a lesson. He’d had enough of listening to the drunk shoot his mouth off. Her heart was pounding. Why had he yelled at her? Who did he think he was? Her heart was pounding. Why had he yelled at her? Who did he think he was? Cursing, the pirate threw the goblet at his first mate. The hissing grew louder. The man was scrunched up against the wall as tight as he could possibly be. He wished he was invisible. He did not want the boa to find him. A bird whistled. Didi followed the sound. She was stuck in the woods and her only hope was a bird. She would have laughed at herself if she wasn’t so worried about being lost.