Writing prompt generator. "Meat and Olives"
Combined results from two writing prompt generators.
I didn't go back and edit jack shit, so I don't know what this story actually looks like, or how it reads. Or anything. I'll read it in the morning.
So I'm gonna do one right now. I'm really tired, so hopefully I can make this quick.
Generator 1: Random Item Generator: A tulip, a damp towel, and a ceramic figurine.
Generator 2: Bookstore owner (protagonist), evil parakeets (antagonist that gets in way of protagonist's goal), ancient ruins (where the story starts), to be on television (protagonist's goal), a strange old man interrupts(turning point of the story), a jar of olives(item that is important to the character and plot)
[If you're afraid of birds, you're better off not reading this. LOL. So that would be Brianna, Hannah, Toos, and Megan. Or, if you're really brave, go ahead anyways. Just don't read it before you go to sleep.
-----------------------------
"I don't care what mum says about me wandering the streets at night. I'm hungry and I need some fresh air. You don't need to be such a nag," Catherine said to her younger sister, Isabelle.
"She just wants to make sure you're safe and don't get mugged by some robbers. You know how things are in this town; it's dangerous at night, and she doesn't want you to go alone," her sister replied to Catherine's complaint.
"Mum doesn't need to worry about me. I'm a big girl now and I can take care of myself," Catherine reached her hand toward the bookshelf and pulled out a dusty old book, "Gee, what are these things anyways?"
Isabelle stood up and walked to where her older sister was standing, and hovered over her shoulder to observe the strange object that she was holding. Indeed it was a book; one that was old, torn, and leatherbound. Its pages were yellowed and gave off a sweet scent when Catherine opened its cover.
"I think it's a book... you know, the old-fashioned kind. I can't believe they made these out of paper at one time, and how many trees you had to cut down to make one. These are nothing like the books in my store. I remember reading that the homo sapiens cut down all their trees hundreds of years ago, and so they were forced to make books out of plastic. And then soon enough they ran out of the petroleum that was used to make the plastic. I think the War was soon after," She turned her knobby fingers through the pages, "I can't read any of this. It's in a language I'm not familiar with,"
Isabelle looked around the chamber after she grew bored of her sister's musings. Surely the ruins they were in had to have been at least two-hundred years old. Maybe even three-hundred. It appeared to be a library at one point, as there were endless bookshelves... all of which were empty, save for a few remaining books. Windows lined one side of the room, and they looked like they might have let light in at one point. Sadly, this was no longer the case. The library had somehow sunk into the earth, and in through the windows poured earth and rocks, littered with broken glass.
"Cathy, I'm going to see if there are any other books we can retrieve. It's possible that they might have some knowledge about the homo sapiens that could be of value to us. You know, like history and origins. If we could find someone to translate these texts, we may find something valuable,"
Catherine didn't even look at Isabelle as she slid the book she had found into her bag, "All right, then... And Isa?"
"Yeah?"
"Do be careful. We don't know what's in the other parts of these ruins," The older sister frowned as she shouldered her bag.
"I'll try," And with that, Isabelle headed off into the darker regions of the library ruins, charging her flashlight as she walked.
Her face twisting into even more of a frown, Catherine looked up at the skylight in the cieling. It was the only light source she had, and possibly the only one in the whole building. She hoped that her sister would be all right. No... she KNEW her sister would be all right. After all, they were both carrying a blade and a flashlight. If anything, that would be sufficient should any trouble arise. For now, she was going to head to the surface to find some food.
Catherine reached into her bag and grabbed a grapple that she had constructed not long ago, and attached her rope to it. She threw it through the hole in the ceiling in hopes that it would catch the ledge so she could pull herself up out of the ruins. Unfortunately, it missed the first few times. But eventually she succeeded and she found herself above ground, staring at a bright blue sky.
She grumbled to herself, "I sure hope I can find enough change to buy some pickled onions..."
"If you find what you're looking for down there, I can assure you that you would have enough change to buy a thousand pickled onions," A raspy and hard voice said to her as she crawled out of the sinkhole. Turning her head to the side, she saw it was a middle-aged man sitting on a bench by the road. His face was worn and weak, and he sounded as if he had difficulty speaking. He was holding his sides tightly, wrapped in a thick wool coat.
"I beg your pardon?" Catherine eyed the man as she looked over the grapple to see how secure it was, just in case there was an emergency and her sister needed to come up quickly, or if Catherine needed to descend quickly.
The man let out a slight laugh, "There are many old texts down there. I used to venture around there myself when I was younger. I think robbers may have gotten to them all by now, but few people have explored the furthest regions of the ruins," He pulled out a damp towel to wipe his brow of sweat. Why he was wearing such a warm coat on a hot day was beyond Catherine's comprehension. But she did not suggest that maybe he should remove the coat to cool off.
Catherine stood up and brushed herself off, "My sister is down there right now doing just that. And you're right: if we find something, we could be rich. That's why she's looking. Now if you would excuse me, I have to take care of some business. Do you plan to stay here for a while, sir?"
He grinned and revealed yellowed teeth and one silver tooth, "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. You coming back?"
"Yes, I won't be gone for long. Can I ask a favor of you? It's an easy one," She replied.
"Sure. What do you want?"
"I just need to you watch that rope and make sure it doesn't go anywhere. You know, like no one steals it or something,"
"Sure can do. You hurry back now, miss," Smiling sincerely, the man watched as Catherine walked down the dirt road that was illuminated by glowing signs and dim city lights.
After entering her favorite food shop full of pickled foods, she asked the clerk if they had any pickled onions. The clerk shook his head and said no. So instead, she settled for pickled olives, her second favorite food. Unfortunately, they were twice as expensive, but Catherine was pleasantly surprised that she had enough money to buy a jar. After making the trade, Catherine quickly walked back to the sinkhole where the strange man had been sitting near, plucking the plump olives out of the jar one by one and popping them in her mouth. She was in quite a cheery mood. If she really found out the ancient secrets of the human race, she could be famous. People would write books about HER. And maybe she would even be on television. All these thoughts were as pleasant to her as the olives in her mouth.
As she walked along the dirt road, she reached her hand into the olive jar and pulled out a small figurine made of fired clay. It was really one of the trademarks of the shop where she had bought her pickled foods. She liked the figurines, and she collected them. The clerk claimed that they were all hand-made, and that not only did they keep the pickled foods flavorful, but they could also ward off evil spirits. Catherine pocketed the porcelain figurine and put the lid back on the half-eaten jar of olives. Soon enough, she arrived back at the sinkhole.
"Oh dear! Oh dear, what have I done?' The man was now standing, pulling at his hair and pacing back and forth at the mouth of the hole.
"What DID you do?" Catherine's heart started beating faster, and she instantly checked for the position of the grapple; it was still there, but she wondered what the man was going on about.
"I heard a noise down below, like bats. And there were screams! And then all went quiet! Oh I would have gone down to look and see if everything was all right, but I haven't the strength in my upper body to hold myself on that rope! I would have come to get you if I had known where you were!"
Catherine's heart nearly stopped as her throat felt tight.
Without saying a thing, she tightened her gloves and descended back down into the darkness with her flashlight, as she wasn't going to wait for her eyes to adjust. She turned the flashlight on, and...
"You really shouldn't have left me here all alone, Cathy. There are birds down here! You know how I hate birds!"
Catherine sighed in relief as she saw Isabelle's face, "I'm... I'm sorry. I said I was going to get food, and you wouldn't let me. So I went,"
Isabelle huffed, "Well I would appreciate it if you didn't ever do that again. I almost got my face torn off by a bunch of parrots! I swear they were going for my eyes!"
"Isa, don't be silly. For one thing, birds don't live underground. For another thing, birds don't attack people. They were probably just passing through. There might be another entrance somewhere. And lastly, they don't tear off faces. They eat fruits and nuts," She reached into her bag to grab her jar of olives, when she realized that she didn't have her bag, "Oh, I must've left my bag at the surface. Oh well, all it had was half a jar of olives anyways. And that book. But no one is gonna know what's in it, so I suppose it's safe where it is.
"Is everything all right down there?" A booming voice, the man's voice, filled the room as he peered down into the hole.
"It's okay! There were just some birds! She's fine!" Catherine yelled back.
"You left your bag, miss!"
"I'll get it in a minute! Thank you!" Silence followed as Catherine looked at her sister's bag and said more quietly, "Did you find anything?"
Isabelle shook her head, "No. All the back rooms are empty. The ruins might have been nicer at one point, though. There were some beautiful bookshelves that had hand-carved patterns in them. Many of them were flowers that had gone extinct years ago, too. Roses... tulips... and what looked like lavender flowers. If anything, getting the bookshelves out of here would bring us quite a fortune as well. Mum would be proud, and we wouldn't really need to have that old bookstore anymore,"
"It would be nice," Catherine nodded.
As they walked down the hall, double-checking for any old texts that they could retrieve, they heard a rustling sound. Isabelle flinched.
"It's the birds again. The parrots. They're coming back this way. Please don't let them get near me, Cathy. They're funny looking. Like budgies, but their heads were all black,"
"Don't worry, I won't let them get near you," the sister replied, but then the sound of flapping stopped. She shone her flashlight around the room, looking for any corridor that the echo of wing rustling came from. But alas, she did not see anything.
The old library was a little too silent for their tastes. Other than the sound of her sister's breathing.
And then they came.
Tearing into the room, screeching loudly over the sounds of beating wings and a girl's screams, a large flock of budgies flew towards Isabelle. She got just enough of a glimpse of them to see why their heads were black.
Their black eyes were not beady and small.
The entirety of their heads were covered by two obsidian bulbous eyes that reached from the beak to the very back of the head; a perfect orb on each side. Clearly meant for seeing in low-light conditions.
"HELP ME! OH GOD CATHY, PLEASE!"
Isabelle screamed in agony as a bird flew past her ear, tearing a large portion of it from her skull. Catherine dropped her flashlight and started beating the birds out of the air with her knife, as her sister kept screaming and flailing.
The flock grazed her face like swarming insects, beaks tearing at hot flesh.
She screamed.
A bird ripped a chunk of gelatinous eye out of her socket, while a second bird finished off the rest. Another latched onto her flailing wrist with its talons and started peeling the skin from her fingertips. Catherine did not stop fighting, but soon enough her sister grew quiet in the dark, and the birds moved on to the older sister.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! OH GOD!"
Catherine screamed until her throat was sore, and fought the birds the best she could with only her knife. She screamed and cried, face twisted in pain and agony as the budgies tore her apart piece-by-piece.
Catherine screamed until she could not scream any more. She fought until she had no fingers left to hold her knife. She thrashed until the muscles she used for thrashing were pulled sinew-by-sinew from her bone. And she cried until she had no eyes left with which she had cried.
Quiet. Peace. A deafening silence.
That's all the man on the surface heard, aside from the clink of his foot hitting up against the metal grapple that was hanging on the edge of the sinkhole. He frowned.
With a twitch of his foot, the grapple and rope fell down into the hole of the ruins.
He took the bag, Catherine's bag, and slung it over his shoulder, walking down the dirt road into the city.
He was well on his way to being a rich man.
"Those old 'keets sure love meat and pickled olives,"
The man smiled.
-----------------------------
I didn't go back and edit jack shit, so I don't know what this story actually looks like, or how it reads. Or anything. I'll read it in the morning.
So I'm gonna do one right now. I'm really tired, so hopefully I can make this quick.
Generator 1: Random Item Generator: A tulip, a damp towel, and a ceramic figurine.
Generator 2: Bookstore owner (protagonist), evil parakeets (antagonist that gets in way of protagonist's goal), ancient ruins (where the story starts), to be on television (protagonist's goal), a strange old man interrupts(turning point of the story), a jar of olives(item that is important to the character and plot)
[If you're afraid of birds, you're better off not reading this. LOL. So that would be Brianna, Hannah, Toos, and Megan. Or, if you're really brave, go ahead anyways. Just don't read it before you go to sleep.
-----------------------------
"I don't care what mum says about me wandering the streets at night. I'm hungry and I need some fresh air. You don't need to be such a nag," Catherine said to her younger sister, Isabelle.
"She just wants to make sure you're safe and don't get mugged by some robbers. You know how things are in this town; it's dangerous at night, and she doesn't want you to go alone," her sister replied to Catherine's complaint.
"Mum doesn't need to worry about me. I'm a big girl now and I can take care of myself," Catherine reached her hand toward the bookshelf and pulled out a dusty old book, "Gee, what are these things anyways?"
Isabelle stood up and walked to where her older sister was standing, and hovered over her shoulder to observe the strange object that she was holding. Indeed it was a book; one that was old, torn, and leatherbound. Its pages were yellowed and gave off a sweet scent when Catherine opened its cover.
"I think it's a book... you know, the old-fashioned kind. I can't believe they made these out of paper at one time, and how many trees you had to cut down to make one. These are nothing like the books in my store. I remember reading that the homo sapiens cut down all their trees hundreds of years ago, and so they were forced to make books out of plastic. And then soon enough they ran out of the petroleum that was used to make the plastic. I think the War was soon after," She turned her knobby fingers through the pages, "I can't read any of this. It's in a language I'm not familiar with,"
Isabelle looked around the chamber after she grew bored of her sister's musings. Surely the ruins they were in had to have been at least two-hundred years old. Maybe even three-hundred. It appeared to be a library at one point, as there were endless bookshelves... all of which were empty, save for a few remaining books. Windows lined one side of the room, and they looked like they might have let light in at one point. Sadly, this was no longer the case. The library had somehow sunk into the earth, and in through the windows poured earth and rocks, littered with broken glass.
"Cathy, I'm going to see if there are any other books we can retrieve. It's possible that they might have some knowledge about the homo sapiens that could be of value to us. You know, like history and origins. If we could find someone to translate these texts, we may find something valuable,"
Catherine didn't even look at Isabelle as she slid the book she had found into her bag, "All right, then... And Isa?"
"Yeah?"
"Do be careful. We don't know what's in the other parts of these ruins," The older sister frowned as she shouldered her bag.
"I'll try," And with that, Isabelle headed off into the darker regions of the library ruins, charging her flashlight as she walked.
Her face twisting into even more of a frown, Catherine looked up at the skylight in the cieling. It was the only light source she had, and possibly the only one in the whole building. She hoped that her sister would be all right. No... she KNEW her sister would be all right. After all, they were both carrying a blade and a flashlight. If anything, that would be sufficient should any trouble arise. For now, she was going to head to the surface to find some food.
Catherine reached into her bag and grabbed a grapple that she had constructed not long ago, and attached her rope to it. She threw it through the hole in the ceiling in hopes that it would catch the ledge so she could pull herself up out of the ruins. Unfortunately, it missed the first few times. But eventually she succeeded and she found herself above ground, staring at a bright blue sky.
She grumbled to herself, "I sure hope I can find enough change to buy some pickled onions..."
"If you find what you're looking for down there, I can assure you that you would have enough change to buy a thousand pickled onions," A raspy and hard voice said to her as she crawled out of the sinkhole. Turning her head to the side, she saw it was a middle-aged man sitting on a bench by the road. His face was worn and weak, and he sounded as if he had difficulty speaking. He was holding his sides tightly, wrapped in a thick wool coat.
"I beg your pardon?" Catherine eyed the man as she looked over the grapple to see how secure it was, just in case there was an emergency and her sister needed to come up quickly, or if Catherine needed to descend quickly.
The man let out a slight laugh, "There are many old texts down there. I used to venture around there myself when I was younger. I think robbers may have gotten to them all by now, but few people have explored the furthest regions of the ruins," He pulled out a damp towel to wipe his brow of sweat. Why he was wearing such a warm coat on a hot day was beyond Catherine's comprehension. But she did not suggest that maybe he should remove the coat to cool off.
Catherine stood up and brushed herself off, "My sister is down there right now doing just that. And you're right: if we find something, we could be rich. That's why she's looking. Now if you would excuse me, I have to take care of some business. Do you plan to stay here for a while, sir?"
He grinned and revealed yellowed teeth and one silver tooth, "Yeah, I'm not going anywhere. You coming back?"
"Yes, I won't be gone for long. Can I ask a favor of you? It's an easy one," She replied.
"Sure. What do you want?"
"I just need to you watch that rope and make sure it doesn't go anywhere. You know, like no one steals it or something,"
"Sure can do. You hurry back now, miss," Smiling sincerely, the man watched as Catherine walked down the dirt road that was illuminated by glowing signs and dim city lights.
After entering her favorite food shop full of pickled foods, she asked the clerk if they had any pickled onions. The clerk shook his head and said no. So instead, she settled for pickled olives, her second favorite food. Unfortunately, they were twice as expensive, but Catherine was pleasantly surprised that she had enough money to buy a jar. After making the trade, Catherine quickly walked back to the sinkhole where the strange man had been sitting near, plucking the plump olives out of the jar one by one and popping them in her mouth. She was in quite a cheery mood. If she really found out the ancient secrets of the human race, she could be famous. People would write books about HER. And maybe she would even be on television. All these thoughts were as pleasant to her as the olives in her mouth.
As she walked along the dirt road, she reached her hand into the olive jar and pulled out a small figurine made of fired clay. It was really one of the trademarks of the shop where she had bought her pickled foods. She liked the figurines, and she collected them. The clerk claimed that they were all hand-made, and that not only did they keep the pickled foods flavorful, but they could also ward off evil spirits. Catherine pocketed the porcelain figurine and put the lid back on the half-eaten jar of olives. Soon enough, she arrived back at the sinkhole.
"Oh dear! Oh dear, what have I done?' The man was now standing, pulling at his hair and pacing back and forth at the mouth of the hole.
"What DID you do?" Catherine's heart started beating faster, and she instantly checked for the position of the grapple; it was still there, but she wondered what the man was going on about.
"I heard a noise down below, like bats. And there were screams! And then all went quiet! Oh I would have gone down to look and see if everything was all right, but I haven't the strength in my upper body to hold myself on that rope! I would have come to get you if I had known where you were!"
Catherine's heart nearly stopped as her throat felt tight.
Without saying a thing, she tightened her gloves and descended back down into the darkness with her flashlight, as she wasn't going to wait for her eyes to adjust. She turned the flashlight on, and...
"You really shouldn't have left me here all alone, Cathy. There are birds down here! You know how I hate birds!"
Catherine sighed in relief as she saw Isabelle's face, "I'm... I'm sorry. I said I was going to get food, and you wouldn't let me. So I went,"
Isabelle huffed, "Well I would appreciate it if you didn't ever do that again. I almost got my face torn off by a bunch of parrots! I swear they were going for my eyes!"
"Isa, don't be silly. For one thing, birds don't live underground. For another thing, birds don't attack people. They were probably just passing through. There might be another entrance somewhere. And lastly, they don't tear off faces. They eat fruits and nuts," She reached into her bag to grab her jar of olives, when she realized that she didn't have her bag, "Oh, I must've left my bag at the surface. Oh well, all it had was half a jar of olives anyways. And that book. But no one is gonna know what's in it, so I suppose it's safe where it is.
"Is everything all right down there?" A booming voice, the man's voice, filled the room as he peered down into the hole.
"It's okay! There were just some birds! She's fine!" Catherine yelled back.
"You left your bag, miss!"
"I'll get it in a minute! Thank you!" Silence followed as Catherine looked at her sister's bag and said more quietly, "Did you find anything?"
Isabelle shook her head, "No. All the back rooms are empty. The ruins might have been nicer at one point, though. There were some beautiful bookshelves that had hand-carved patterns in them. Many of them were flowers that had gone extinct years ago, too. Roses... tulips... and what looked like lavender flowers. If anything, getting the bookshelves out of here would bring us quite a fortune as well. Mum would be proud, and we wouldn't really need to have that old bookstore anymore,"
"It would be nice," Catherine nodded.
As they walked down the hall, double-checking for any old texts that they could retrieve, they heard a rustling sound. Isabelle flinched.
"It's the birds again. The parrots. They're coming back this way. Please don't let them get near me, Cathy. They're funny looking. Like budgies, but their heads were all black,"
"Don't worry, I won't let them get near you," the sister replied, but then the sound of flapping stopped. She shone her flashlight around the room, looking for any corridor that the echo of wing rustling came from. But alas, she did not see anything.
The old library was a little too silent for their tastes. Other than the sound of her sister's breathing.
And then they came.
Tearing into the room, screeching loudly over the sounds of beating wings and a girl's screams, a large flock of budgies flew towards Isabelle. She got just enough of a glimpse of them to see why their heads were black.
Their black eyes were not beady and small.
The entirety of their heads were covered by two obsidian bulbous eyes that reached from the beak to the very back of the head; a perfect orb on each side. Clearly meant for seeing in low-light conditions.
"HELP ME! OH GOD CATHY, PLEASE!"
Isabelle screamed in agony as a bird flew past her ear, tearing a large portion of it from her skull. Catherine dropped her flashlight and started beating the birds out of the air with her knife, as her sister kept screaming and flailing.
The flock grazed her face like swarming insects, beaks tearing at hot flesh.
She screamed.
A bird ripped a chunk of gelatinous eye out of her socket, while a second bird finished off the rest. Another latched onto her flailing wrist with its talons and started peeling the skin from her fingertips. Catherine did not stop fighting, but soon enough her sister grew quiet in the dark, and the birds moved on to the older sister.
"HELP! SOMEBODY HELP! OH GOD!"
Catherine screamed until her throat was sore, and fought the birds the best she could with only her knife. She screamed and cried, face twisted in pain and agony as the budgies tore her apart piece-by-piece.
Catherine screamed until she could not scream any more. She fought until she had no fingers left to hold her knife. She thrashed until the muscles she used for thrashing were pulled sinew-by-sinew from her bone. And she cried until she had no eyes left with which she had cried.
Quiet. Peace. A deafening silence.
That's all the man on the surface heard, aside from the clink of his foot hitting up against the metal grapple that was hanging on the edge of the sinkhole. He frowned.
With a twitch of his foot, the grapple and rope fell down into the hole of the ruins.
He took the bag, Catherine's bag, and slung it over his shoulder, walking down the dirt road into the city.
He was well on his way to being a rich man.
"Those old 'keets sure love meat and pickled olives,"
The man smiled.
-----------------------------