Calling all creative writers! This is a column run by Nathaniel Lee to inspire readers to become writers. The column includes writing prompts, pieces by the coordinators, and occasional submissions from readers.
This month: a poem from Riley Barta and short stories from Rylie Revercomb and Nathaniel Lee.
Below is a set of prompts for different styles of writing beyond journalism. The idea is that you can create some kind of creative writing piece inspired by one of the prompts, but it doesn't have to be. You can submit any piece of writing you would like to share! All submissions should be school-appropriate. You can also suggest prompts to be featured in the next issue.
Here are some prompts to get you started. They can be used for anything, though some specify poetry or short stories. This month, the theme prompt is Winter.
1. An alien coming to Earth for the first time. (From a reader)
2. Set your story in a snowed-in chalet.
3. Set your story in a remote winter cabin with no electricity, internet, or phone service.
4. Write about someone who gets stuck in their workplace during a blizzard and decides to explore rooms they aren’t normally allowed in.
5. Write about someone scrambling to finish a goal in the last few hours of the year.
If you have any prompt ideas in mind that you haven't seen on here yet or would like to see someone else respond to, drop them in the Google Form below and I'll try to get them in the next issue! I sometimes don't see the response until after the issue is published, so I'm sorry if it takes a couple of months.
Shrek walks out of his outhouse, stretching as he lets out a huge fart. The disgusting smell filled the air, replacing the overly sweet smell of freshly bloomed flowers. A nasty grin spreads across Shrek’s face as he watches the flowers wilt from his stench, and he just knows that today will be a beautifully melancholic day.
The Ogre could hear the obnoxious sound of birds chirping off-key, and it made him frown. No one was supposed to be in his swamp. So, to get rid of the pesky creatures, Shrek committed the bestial act of strangling the birds and throwing them high over the treetops. He heard the birds shriek in terror as he yelled, “GET OUT OF MY SWAMP!”
He gave a nod to no one in particular as soon as the bird was out of his sight, and then he promptly turned on his heel and walked toward his mud pool. A few pigs were currently in his warm pool of mud, prattling on and on about how some dumb wolf had blown their houses.
Shrek could care less.
He picked up the pig by its curly little tail, listening to the creature squeal in fear, and then he screamed, “THIS LITTLE PIGGY RAN WHEE WHEE WHEE ALL THE WAY HOME!” He promptly rolled the pig like a bowling ball toward the others, watching with a proud smile as the pigs fell down and then scrambled out of the mud pool.
He was the best at getting people out of his swamp.
After that little incident, Shrek relaxed in his mud pool for an hour or so, keeping it nice and warm before he finally got up and went inside his nice little house. He was finally alone, just how he liked it.
The Ogre treated everyone with contempt; he just hated everybody and everything. He liked living alone in his desolate piece of property in the woods. No one ever came here, so the Ogre got to enjoy all the alone time he wanted.
Shrek sighed happily as he moved toward his kitchen, a smile on his face as he made up a delicious meal of worms and larvae. It was just a normal day for the Ogre until someone knocked on his door rapidly.
He ignored the first few knocks, proceeding to eat his meal once it got quiet again. However, he was only able to enjoy the silence for a bit longer before his door was met with another knock and screaming.
The Ogre huffed in annoyance as he stood up, having to take a break from his meal as he forced open the door and yelled, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?!”
Anyone else wouldn’t have yelled. They would have answered the door calmly, with forced smiles on their faces. But Shrek didn’t have time to feign any pleasantries, for he had a delicious meal waiting for him.
The Ogre was towering over the culprit of the knocks, and he glared down at a little man who gave him a wide and nervous smile.
Now, in the tale others might have told about Shrek, it would have been said that he talked to the man calmly. Whoever said that is out of their mind. No. Instead, Shrek pulverized the man before he could even speak. But not with his giant fists, or some great big weapon…
No, Shrek pulverized the man with a loud, odious, disgusting, smelly, awful fart.
The man died on the spot.
With that, Shrek was finally alone, and he went back into the house with a smile on his face, sitting back at his table to finish his meal. It was a good day for Shrek. He had committed more crimes than yesterday. And that, to the Ogre at least, was a win.
THE END
Sometimes I think my brain is butter
It's warmed up and can absorb information easily
It's chilled and the words get stuck outside
Sometimes I think my brain is butter
Days go by and it's stuck in thick oil
It splashes around
Sometimes I think my brain is butter
And that schoolwork is the bread
Sometimes I think my brain is butter
Cash Money
“My lord!” a groveling demon crawled up to the burning throne. It gestured behind it at a growing stack of letters. SATAN was scrawled across the front of all of them in varying levels of bad handwriting.
“What do you want?” the oddly cultured voice emanated from the flames that covered the throne.
“Letters, sir. They’re pouring in!”
The voice chuckled. “Is it really that time already?” Two arms stuck out of the flames and a calendar appeared, floating in the air. “It appears so.”
The calendar disappeared and the body that the arms were connected to stood up. The man wore a bright red three-piece suit that seemed to flicker with flames. His wild hair smoldered and smoked.
He took off a pair of red-tinted sunglasses, revealing burning eyes. “Prepare my chariot, Morgul. We’re going on a road trip.”
Several hours later, the man was standing in a chariot, bundled up in several red coats. A sack of letters was tied behind him. Two flaming horses were in front, ready to pull the chariot.
“Morgul! Come on!” The demon ran up and jumped into the chariot. Instantly, the horses shot forward, running through a large set of doors. The flames illuminated the dark tunnel, and the horses jumped off of the ground. Though they had no wings, they flew through the air, easily pulling the chariot behind them. Morgul gripped the side of the chariot tightly, while the man's arms hung at his side.
The side of the chariot cracked under Morgul’s hands, and the man took off his sunglasses. “You’re fixing that when we get back.”
“Couldn’t we have traveled through the flames?”
“With all these letters? Not a chance.” The horses swerved through the tunnel, dodging rocky outcroppings. After a few minutes, they reached a crossroads. The left tunnel led down, and the right went up. As the horses moved toward the left tunnel, the man pulled out a flaming whip and cracked it on the right side of the chariot. The horses turned, going up the right tunnel. Several moments more, and then they broke out into daylight. Snow covered the ground and fell from the air.
“It’s so cold!” Morgul shrieked, cowering on the floor of the chariot.
“Shut it.” The man pulled off a jacket and dropped it on top of the howling demon.
The chariot flew through the blizzard. In the distance, red and green lights were flashing. They went straight at them, and an enormous building came into view. It looked like someone had glued it to the side of the mountain. The bright red paint contrasted sharply with the white snow. A large hatch opened up on the side of the building, and the chariot flew in.
“What are you doing here?” a booming voice called.
The man turned around and bowed low to the ground. “Ah, Mr. Claus himself.” A towering man walked in, an aura of power surrounding him. He wore a leather apron over a red t-shirt and jeans. Despite his white hair and beard, he looked young.
“Enough with the theatrics, Lucifer. What do you want?”
“Nick, you won’t believe it. Guess what I’ve got for you!” Morgul dumped the letters out onto the ground.
“I see. Well, thank you. Goodbye.”
“Not so fast.” Claus turned around and Lucifer grinned. “It must be difficult delivering all those gifts year after year.”
“I don’t need your help, Satan.”
“No need to get all professional with me. Just give me one letter, one gift to deliver! Please?”
Claus sighed. “Fine. This one.” He picked up one of the letters and handed it to Lucifer.
“Stupendous. When is Christmas, anyway?”
“Tonight.”
-----
Lucifer’s chariot burned through the sky. Morgul had returned home, so he stood alone, looking at a map.
“Why couldn’t I just ride with him? He’s got a fancy map! Oh, here it is.” The chariot swerved down and landed on the roof of an ordinary house. As he got out of the chariot, he heard yelling from below.
“Still awake. I’ll just go invisible. What does the kid want anyway?”
He looked at the letter and his eyes widened. “Dear Satan, I don’t want any gifts this year. I just want to be happy. Can you do that?” The sound of a child screaming made Lucifer crumple the paper in his hand.
He went to the chimney and dropped down, landing in the living room. “Hello there.” The little girl was cowering on the couch as her father stumbled toward her. Lucifer grabbed the man and realized he was drunk.
“Mortals. So uncivilized. This should sober you up.” He transformed into a large snake and hissed at the man.
He returned to his human form as the dad ran out of the room in terror. “Who’s screaming now?” Lucifer turned to the girl.
“Are you nice?” she asked.
“Me? Of course. Now, Jackie, you wanted happiness, right?”
She nodded vigorously and he picked her up. “You won’t get that here. Is he your only family?”
More nodding.
“Then you’re coming with me. He’ll never hurt you again.” Lucifer went back to the chimney and waved his hand. Every sign that Jackie had ever been there disappeared. They went back up the chimney and rode off in the chariot.
Lucifer took her to his home first, and told all the demons to treat her like they would treat him. Then, he went back to speak with Claus.
“You knew, didn’t you.”
“What?”
“The letter. You grabbed that one on purpose.”
“Maybe. I’ve learned that Fate often has more control over us than you think. What did you gain from this experience?”
Lucifer thought for a moment. “Compassion, strangely.”
“Well, maybe that’s what you need. I guess you really can be dear, Satan.”
Lucifer grinned, flames seeping between his teeth.
