Creative Writing Prompts taken from The Writer's Book of Matches: 1,001 Prompts to Ignite Your Fiction #3

Prompt of the Day: "You know, it doesn't take a detective to see that you've been screwing around behind her back."

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"You know, it doesn't take a detective to see that you've been screwing around behind her back."

Andrew looked his accuser over and sneered. "Let me guess, because you are a detective, you had me pegged from the beginning. Is that right, Beauchene?"

"Something like that. I'm going to tell Diane the truth about you, Mr. Russell." Marcus Beauchene's eyes had a steely, unforgiving look about them. The look clearly stated that he meant business.

Unfortunately for him, Andrew Russell chose to ignore the gravity of Marcus' statement. He scoffed, laughing at the detective. "Go ahead and tell her! Diane will never believe it. It's your word against mine."

Marcus decided not to burst the arrogant businessman's bubble. So, he left with nothing more than a cryptic smile at Mr. Russell. There was no need to warn the man that he was in possession of photographic evidence that could prove Marcus' accusation to be correct. Marcus had plenty of evidence, as a matter of fact, two copies of every photo, to be exact. One set was for Diane, and he was going to keep the backup set, just in case.

Creative Writing Prompts taken from The Writer's Book of Matches: 1,001 Prompts to Ignite Your Fiction #2

Prompt of the Day: Tears run down the face of an old pirate as he sits at a table, surrounded by treasure. In one hand, he holds the sketched portrait of a woman.

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A scrawny cabin boy, clad in little more than tatters, knocked warily on the door to the captain's quarters. "You wanted to see me, captain?" The boy, whose name was Elijah, wondered what could be wrong. Had he done something to displease the captain? Was he going to be beaten? Discharged from Captain Burns' crew? Elijah had no idea how much his fortune was about to change for the better.

"Enter." Captain Burns did not bother to hide the raw pain in his voice.

Elijah swung the door open, his brow knotted with worry at the unfamiliar sound in the captain's voice. "Is there something amiss, captain? Are you wounded? Your voice...it sounded as if something was paining you." The treasure crowding almost every corner of the room and piled upon the table had not even registered in his mind; his focus was consumed by the captain's face. It was wet with tears and contorted with anguish.

Captain Burns laughed, and it had an ironic sound to it. "My wounds are not physical, Eli. I sent for you because I knew I could trust you to honor my wishes. Shut the door and sit down."

Creative Writing Prompts taken from The Writer's Book of Matches: 1,001 Prompts to Ignite Your Fiction #1

Prompt of the Day: "Look...I'm making eggs. There's no deeper meaning to anything I'm doing here. It's breakfast. Plain and simple."

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"Look...I'm making eggs. There's no deeper meaning to anything I'm doing here. It's breakfast. Plain and simple."

"And it's going to burn if you don't watch it."

When and how did my mother get here? And since when has she started drinking mimosas before ten in the morning? A part of me wants to chuck the skillet, eggs and all, at her for being a smart-ass. The rest of me is really glad to see her, even if she has managed to drop in on me during the most frustrating situation I can EVER remember experiencing.

"Mom? Could you finish up these eggs, please? I need to look up an exterminator for the pest who's sprawled out on my couch."

"Maggie! Is there a particular reason you're being so openly hostile to your guest, or are you just PMSing?" Mom arches a challenging brow at me, and the urge to fling the skillet at her is returning. Go figure. I move the eggs to an eye that isn't on and turn the stove off, glaring at my mother and the cop lounging on my couch. He's supposed to be protecting me, but if he doesn't stop attempting to flirt with me, he'll be the one who needs protection.

Creative Writing Prompts taken from The Writer's Book of Matches: 1,001 Prompts to Ignite Your Fiction

Okay, so...I feel like starting a fun little creative writing game for my friends, fans, and partners in crime.

This is how it's going to work. I'm going to put up a different prompt from Creative Writing Prompts taken from The Writer's Book of Matches: 1,001 Prompts to Ignite Your Fiction every day. There are different kinds of prompts in the book, if you need one explained, just ask. Basically, I'll put up the prompt, be it dialogue, situation...whatever. Then, you respond with the piece of creative writing that the "match" (prompt) ignited. Only post as much as you can come up with in a single sitting. When you hit a creative wall, stop and post it.

If you're posting a response to the prompt, indicate that in the first line of your post. If you're commenting on someone else's response, indicate that in the first line of your post, etc. State your intentions in the first line, and then have at it!

I look forward to working out my creative muscles with you all!

♥ Chelsea ♥

Prompt: Write about what you'd say to an uninvited guest.

"How many times have I told you that you are not welcome here, Dimitri?"

Anna knew that where Dimitri Petya Sokoll appeared, trouble was sure to follow. He was a gypsy, a thief, a vagabond, and an excellent con artist. She knew this because they had been friends when they were children. Things were different, now. She was married to a wealthy Englishman, Sir Richard Anderson, Baron of Westminster. Could she afford to have a wanted criminal in her home, even if they were lifelong friends? Certainly not.

Dimitri swayed on his feet and clutched at his right side. It was then that Anna noticed how pale her old friend was, and her heart wrenched. "Sod it! Come in and let me see to your side."

He nodded and winced as he did so. "I have terrible news, Anna. Your husband, the Baron, he has been murdered."

It was Anna's turn to pale and sway on her feet. "What? How? By whom? Were there any other witnesses? Dimitri, you must tell me what happened at once!"

She shut the side entrance door quietly and led him into the kitchen, glad to see that there were no servants present. It wouldn't do for them to see her bringing a strange, wounded man into the kitchen on the very night that her husband was murdered.

As Anna guided him to a chair, Dimitri began speaking in a strained voice. "There were plenty of other witnesses, but you may not like what you hear. He was killed in London. Apparently, he and another man were arguing over an actress that your husband has been having an affair with for months. The younger man shot your baron several times. He died within minutes. I tried to stop your husband's killer, but he managed to stab me with a small dagger and he got away. I'm sorry."

Anna's voice was very tired when she replied. "There's nothing to apologize for, Dimitri. It was no fault of yours. Just sit still and allow me to see to that wound for you."

((I may continue this later on. Suggestions?))

Prompt: Write a mini-story that begins with the words "They had nothing to say to each other."

They had nothing to say to each other. It was a strange thought, that they were married and they had absolutely no common ground on which to start a conversation. The whole thing was the result of errors in judgment, or a complete lack of judgment in general. Actually, it had quite a lot to do with their friends Jack, Jim, and Evan, followed by brief encounters with Jose and the Captain.

They were friends, in a way. They wrote letters to one another when he was in boot camp because he was friends with her boyfriend, at the time, and didn't have many people to correspond with. He had beautiful handwriting. It was neat, legible, and controlled. There was nothing controlled about the circumstances surrounding the commencement of their marriage, however.

They were just supposed to be hanging out, catching up since she was no longer involved with their "mutual friend." But he was a Marine, and they were out with other Marines. So, of course, drinks became involved and everyone had a few too many. She didn't remember anything after 10:30 that Saturday evening, and she'd awakened the next day in bed at home, with a wedding band on and a message on MySpace that read "Hey, wifey. Do me a favor and give me a call about the annulment." It would have been a great plan, only she'd misplaced the small scrap of paper with his phone number on it. So, she'd had to wait for him to call her.

And now, on an early Monday morning, they were on their way to the courthouse to undo what they'd done at a cheap 24-hour wedding chapel across the Florida state line.