Best way to get out of writer’s block? Just write.
I’m probably not going to do these every single day, and idk if I’ll do all the prompts, or all in order, and I’ll probably sprinkle in some other prompts I find, but I thought I’d just put out what I write as a bit of motivation for myself!
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Prompt 1: An impulse buy leading to intergalactic warfare.
The bell above the door rang clearly through the hot summer air, the door eliciting a gentle creak as it was pushed tentatively aside to allow a small gust of wind to flow through the shop, accompanied by the quiet thud of a pair of boots stepping over the threshold. A curious pair of eyes scanned over the well-worn shop, filled to the brim with what could only be described as knick-knacks, or odds-and-ends, most lightly blanketed with a thin layer of dust. Again, the boots made their quiet thuds as the soon-to-be-customer crept into the quiet shop, allowing the door behind them to drift shut, disturbing the bell once again. The customer called out, their hesitant greeting nearly matching the clear tone of the bell, and upon receiving no response, carefully tread further into the maze of tables and shelves lining the shop, fingers occasionally sweeping a line through the dust gathered on the trinkets displayed haphazardly around them.
It was at the very back of the shop that they paused to see a small stained-glass window revealing a nearly overgrown garden full of plants they couldn’t quite recognize. After taking a moment to appreciate the gentle greens and vivacious hues the garden and the window had to offer, they began to turn back to the center of the shop, when the sunlight caught just so on the side of something smooth and shiny, catching those curious eyes and turning their head. A gasp nearly rang out through the quiet shop at the sight of the object, delicate and beautiful, shining in the yellow sunlight in a way that made the metal it seemed to be made of glisten and almost appear to move, as if it were alive, a heartbeat thrumming in it’s center. As the customer crept closer in awe, a sudden creak of the wood floor behind them finally forced the gasp to escape and bounce loudly off the crowded walls of the shop as the customer whirled around in surprise.
Their fear was quickly assuaged by the kind smile and gentle welcome of the shopkeeper, who appeared as if she herself could be sold as one of the antiquities or odds and ends in the shop, and whose gray hair almost seemed as if it was simply covered in the same layer of dust as her surroundings. The shopkeeper glanced behind the customer at the object, still shining in the brilliant sun, and stated to the customer, that if they would like to make a purchase, they may do so by the front door, and they must not waste any time in doing so. Then the little woman weaved swiftly between the tables and knick-knacks, in way that would have been described as scurrying if it had not been somehow graceful, and planted herself firmly in behind an ancient looking cash register, staring straight ahead as if the bell above the door was her next customer.
The customer was left standing in the colored light cascading through the stained-glass window, still partially in a confused daze. They turned to look again at the strange object on the table, then to glance again at the shopkeeper, who appeared to have begun tapping her foot in impatience, then finally turning again to deliver a contemplative stare to the object still drawing their eye on the table. The longer they stared, debating internally back and forth, the more they were intrigued by the object, the more they could hear the tapping of the shopkeeper’s foot, the more they could almost imagine a heartbeat thrumming in the center of the object. Finally, they decided. Why not? They gently scooped up the object between their palms, it felt warm against their cool skin, surely from sitting beneath the hot sun all day, and they began to weave their way to the front.
The placing of the object down next to the worn metal cash register finally ceased the tapping of the shopkeeper’s foot as she glanced incredulously between the object and the customer, who was surprised when she asked if they were sure, as she had seemed so eager for them to make a purchase. The customer confirmed their intention to purchase, and inquired the price. This brought a strange smile to the wrinkled face of the shopkeeper. The price, she explained, would not come today. The price would come soon enough, but they must decide now if they are prepared for it. And the confused customer could do little else but agree, as the shopkeeper quickly placed the object in to a small velvet bag, and ushered them out the door as the bell sang their swift exit. And so that is how they would themselves, standing on a quiet street on a warm summer’s day, wallet not a cent lighter, and yet a new possession snuggled firmly in a soft bag in their hand.
It was only much later, when the sky now shone a color that was decidedly not blue, when screams echoed through every street, when light shone down in beams of destruction, when unfamiliar entities now walked past homes where families huddled close in silent terror, it was only then that they understood the meaning of the shopkeeper’s few words. It was only as the light came swiftly toward them, a tattered velvet bag clenched in their hand, and tears flowing from their eyes, that they understood the price.
