Welcome to the first week of the Spring Writing Challenge!
We’re so excited to get started on these stories. It’s time to roll up your sleeves, set your fingers on your keyboard, and get writing. Will your story contain aliens? A prince in disguise? Maybe even a sweet summer romance? Whatever happens, we can’t wait to see what you come up with!
So, without further ado, here’s your very first prompt!
Week One Prompt – The Dialogue Prompt
“If you know something bad is going to happen, do you have to try and stop it?”
“I just got here.”
Wait…what’s a dialogue prompt?
A dialogue prompt is a conversation between two characters. It doesn’t matter who says it, or if it takes place in the beginning, middle, or end of your story. However, one character must say the first sentence, and the second character must respond with the second sentence.
Before you start writing, there are some important rules to follow.
Writing Rules
1. Please keep the content of the stories you post to a PG rating. Please avoid real curse words. Violence/fighting should be limited and purposeful. Please do not include any spice. Moderators may remove stories and comments for any reason at any time. Moderators may remove any member from the challenge at any time.
2. Your story must be 1,000 words or less, and must contain the prompt to be counted for the challenge. You’re not required to post it in order to “win” the challenge, but if you want it to count for your team, your story must be posted by Sunday at 11:59 PM ET, and you must include your team name.
It’s time to post your story as a comment down below! We can’t wait to see all the fun directions you guys take this dialogue prompt. If you have any questions, feel free to email us at info@writers.company!
Happy Writing!
Ava,
Your story was very well written! I enjoyed reading it! 👏
Melissa
Ooh, what a fun story, girl! Fantastic job!
Wow, this is beautifully written!
I love your writing style!
Wow, I’m very impressed. The worldbuilding here feels grounded and real, the characters fleshed out, and the prompt just flows so smoothly with the rest of the narrative. Great story here!
I hope this part of something larger. I was totally sucked in.
Thanks for sharing your work. 🙂 Enjoyable read.
great opening line!
Beautiful story! Great job!
Absolutely loved it
i NEED the rest of this asap! i would love this as a book series. its excellent! The world-building is so good. you did a great job. i especially love how the characters are already full of the knowledge of the world and there is no need for any one character to outright explain things. again, have i expressed how i literally want this in my life so much!
Great details! I was brought right into the world you built!
Such a fun story! Loved the comical banter between characters
Team 1
The Whispering Yearbook by Eliza June Sapphire
I wasn’t skipping chemistry—I was just strategically avoiding it. Yes, there is a difference. I promise.
The back corner of the school library is the perfect hiding spot. It’s quiet, a little dusty, and just out of view of Ms. Shoust’s eagle eyes. That’s where I first saw it, wedged between an old dictionary and a hardcover titled, The History of the Periodic Table. A yearbook. 1999.
It looked normal at first. Navy blue cover, gold lettering, a doodled heart in one corner. Exactly what one would expect in my new high school, complete with the school colors. Flipping through the pages—mostly to amuse myself with old hair styles and clothing choices—I found it.
The sticky note seemed as old as the yearbook itself—yellowed, curled at the corners, and no longer sticky. The purple ink drew me in like a moth to a flame: Don’t ignore the margin notes. Cryptic.
Naturally, I had to read through all the notes. It was easy to spot all the typical scribblings:
Stay cool.
Don’t change.
Friends Forever 🎶.
Huh, I actually liked that song.
But alongside all those notes, were other, strange words. Phrases that didn’t make a lot of sense.
One margin note read, “Pop quiz—3rd period. Smile anyway.” Next to it, in red ink were the words True.
Another said, “Mug explodes. Glass. Stitches.” Next to that in the same red ink were the words: True.
The bell rang twice, signaling the switching of classes as I sat reading through the margins, unable to turn away. Toward the end, a date was written in clear, all caps. It was today’s date. Frowning, I checked, just to be sure. But, there was no mistaking it, it was today’s day and the time listed was in mere minutes.
Hallway H. Spill. 1:17. Avoid.
Weird. I flipped a few more pages, scanning for clues. A minute later, a loud SPLAT echoed from the hallway. Then laughter.
I crept to the doorway and peeked out. Someone had dropped a whole tray of food.
I blinked, stunned. I read the words again and again—unable to understand, yet knowing somehow they were true. I quickly went back to my earlier spot, but came up short when I saw Riley sitting in my abandoned seat.
“Where’d you come from? You weren’t here just a second ago.” I felt like an idiot—there was no way he could’ve gotten back here without walking right past me.
“I just got here.” He smirked. “Is that a problem?” He lifted just one eyebrow, immediately annoying me. I’d always wanted to be able to do that.
“No. I guess not. Just surprised.”
Riley nodded his head, “I see you found the book.”
I looked at him, weighing my options. I was already the new kid—did I want to be labeled crazy, too? I decided to go for it.
“If you know something bad is going to happen,” I asked, holding up the book, “do you have to try and stop it?”
Riley leaned forward, his expression shifting from amused to intrigued. “That’s the question, isn’t it?” he said. “These predictions…they’re real. Some more serious than others.”
My eyes widened. “You’ve seen it before?”
He nodded. “Found it last year. Thought it was a prank until the marching band’s tuba caught fire. On picture day.”
I blinked. “What?”
“Exactly.” He flipped a few pages forward, like he knew where to look. “It doesn’t always warn about big stuff. But sometimes it gets serious.”
We scanned the margins in silence until we found it—today’s date again, circled this time in thick, black ink. Underneath it read:
“Stairwell B. 2:03. Slip. Sprain. Don’t Run.”
“I literally just read through this whole book front to back. This wasn’t here before. I would have remembered the circled date!”
“We’ve got four minutes, you in?” Riley asked. “The messages seem to come and go, no pattern that I’ve found.”
“Guess it’s time to become hallway monitors.”
We half-jogged through the halls, skidding to a stop outside Stairwell B. No one was there—yet.
Then we heard footsteps pounding down the halls.
A young kid—probably a freshman—rounded the corner at full speed, backpack bouncing like it had its own orbit. Behind him, Coach Demming—aka The Human Freight Train—was giving chase.
“Slow down!” I yelled, flailing my arms like a lunatic. “Don’t go down the stairs!”
To our surprise, the kid skidded to a stop, blinking. Coach Demming slowed, panting.
“What’s this about?” he asked. “Shouldn’t you boys be in class?”
Riley jumped in, improvising. “There was…uh… water on the stairs? It’s super slippery. The janitor’s on the way, he asked us to stay here until he got back with the sign.
Demming frowned, but nodded. “Fine, but get back to class as soon as he gets here.” He turned to the kid, “You, my office. Now.”
As the hallway cleared, I turned to Riley, heart pounding. “Do you think that was it?” I asked.
“Pretty sure,” he shrugged. “Let’s go check the book.”
We walked back to the library, side by side. I opened the yearbook between us, half-expecting it to start talking. Riley shifted, putting his hands in his pockets.
I thumbed to the page with the most recent warning, but it was gone—as if it had never been there at all. Turning the page, I saw it—new handwriting at the bottom.
Not red. Not black.
Purple.
“New Club: Yearbook Watchers. Two Members Required.”
I gasped, glancing at Riley.
“Well,” he said, “looks like we’ve been recruited.”
I laughed despite myself. “Guess skipping chemistry isn’t the worst decision I made today.”
Riley offered a fist bump. “To the club?”
I bumped his fist. “To the club.”
And just for a moment, the yearbook’s pages fluttered, even though there was no breeze.
What an interesting take on the prompt! I really enjoyed reading this! ❤️
I loved this! Such a great premise and so much fun to read!
Honestly, I got lost in the world you created. The story was captivating to me in that it reminded me of the mystery books I used to read when I was younger. The premise of the story involving a “future-telling” yearbook was just brilliant. I love the dynamic between Riley and the first person speaker. Great work!
This caught my eye quickly. I enjoyed the read and would love more of this story. <3
Very fun premise! It almost feels like the intro to a YA novel. Great job for putting it out there!
Ooh, fun idea! Great job!
I would love to read this in a book. There is so much potential here!
Thanks for all the kind and thoughtful words! The act of posting our writing is such a vulnerable one. I so appreciate ya’ll <3 Always happy to connect and receive feedback (good and bad!)
Gloomweaver and the Deep Dark
Being a hero is frustrating work.
It beats slinging mochas at the local cafe dive or my old job- funeral assistant- but it’s soul-sucking, mind-numbing, brain-wants-to-explode work anyway. And my fellow heroes? They keep talking about all these virtues and heroic qualities and blah, blah, blah.
Fine, maybe the real problem has more to do with me than it does with them, I gripe, pulling my cape closer about my shoulders as I step into the training room.
I grab a subatomic gun from the wall.
“Simulation 1.” I say in a monotonous voice.
The room whirs to life and water forms all around me. Vicious little fish-like monsters, fictional and cartoon-like, float towards me and I finish them off one by one, relaxing in the blast of my gun.
This is what my life has become. The equivalent to stress gaming.
My simulation cuts out before I can finish it completely.
“What on earth?”
The doors open to reveal one of my colleagues, Amina Parquette, also known as Bubble Wonder. Her powers are chewing gum manipulation. The kind of hero I try to stay away from at all costs.
“Hey. I noticed you come here a lot.” she says, her dreads bobbing up and down as she talks, since she’s bouncing towards me in an annoying way. It’s the way she walks, and I admit. It’s who she is, but through my current perception of the world, it irks me. She’s everything I can’t be. I clench my fist inside my gloves, my jaw in a similar state.
“Not in the mood to talk, huh?” She smiles. Nauseating.
“No, of course not.” I can’t restrain the growl in my voice. It’s always there lately. Always. She recoils, backing away from me, one step.
“Gloomweaver, if you need to talk-” The attempt to regain her courage is touching, really, but I only feel what she doesn’t say. She’s afraid of me. They all are. Why wouldn’t they be?
“If you know something bad’s about to happen, do you have to try and stop it?”
Her brows knit together and she purses her lips, looking at me harder to see if she can figure out what I’m talking about.
“I just got here.” she says, putting her hands on her hips and tossing her head a bit. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Me.” I wander back to the gun rack and put my weapon back, settling onto a bench by the racks. A water cooler is within reach, and I wonder at once if I should go get a drink since my throat is dry as dust, but make no move to do so.
Bubble Wonder kneels down in front of me, meeting my teary eyes like I’d do to comfort children who had their homes wrecked by supervillains.
“Don’t tell me you know one of their plans.” She says, and the comment stings.
“You think I’m a traitor?” I cross my arms.
“That’s not what I’m saying. Maybe you overheard something? Were threatened? It happens to the best of us.”
I reach up and touch my hair. Finger the communication earring I’d convinced myself was a good investment.
My brain backpedaled to find an answer like it usually does, for a few suffocating moments under her gentle stare.
“What if the problem I’m talking about is me?” I spoke out loud, finally. It didn’t seem like those were my own words.
“Now, you’re really not making sense.”
“It’s not going to be long before I absorb someone’s happy emotions again and leave them numb and broken.” I finally admit. “Besides, I’ve been a menace lately. I’m so sorry, but.” Tears were flowing down my face freely now and I cringed as my coworker gave me a hug. Everything in me screamed as I fought to avoid sucking up her warmth, her joy, her enthusiasm. Things my heart beat with jealousy for.
“You’re not understanding everything. I’ve seen you with those children. You’ve returned smiles to their faces. It’s beautiful.”
“And then, they don’t understand me because I’m the gloomy Gus.” I retort as she sits down beside me, hand still on my shoulder.
“I see.”
“I probably should have said this from the start, that every negative emotion I encounter and take, I have to live with it, and soon I become a menace and a monster.”
“Does absorbing happy emotions work for you?”
“No. I can’t siphon those either, since I become nothing but a happy idiot with no restraints. I’ll spend my money on frivolous things, and end up skipping around with my head in the clouds. It’s more addictive than it is helpful, and no, I don’t generate my own emotions. Since my powers manifested, I’ve felt nothing.”
“Okay.” She bit her lip, focusing really hard. “Let’s try something. I know I speak for the team when I say we still want you aboard. You do your best and have a heart for helping people, and it shows. But- you do need to get a handle on this ability before it consumes you. Yes, you have to stop something bad from happening when you know it will.” She smiled.
This time I thought it was genuine, even though my feelings said otherwise.
“What I want you to do is to take from the team in small amounts, whenever you see us have an abundance of positive emotions. Bask in the small things, enjoy along with us. I’ll ask you in a week how it’s going. Hang in there.”
“Okay, I will.”
I admit, I was hoping for them to kick me out like my parents did or find some way to remove my powers. Not advise me to treat life like a balancing act. Bubble’s words helped me to rise from that bench and go back to my quarters, and from that day forward take step after step.
Yes, when you know you’re headed to a dark place, it’s important to do something about it.
Thanks for reading- I appreciate it.
Loved the yearbook story such a creative spin!!
To Change the World, by Ava Murbarger
P.S.- sorry I missed the meeting, we were out of town. I hope to be at the next one!!
The sky was bleeding again.
Rust-colored clouds hung over the City like bruises, pulsing faintly. Rael kept her eyes fixed on them, one hand on the rail of the Watchers’ Tower. Her gloves were too thin. The steel was cold enough to bite.
Behind her, a door creaked open.
“You’re late,” she said without turning.
Boots scraped against the stone. A new recruit, probably. They sent one every week now. Fresh eyes, fresh loyalty.
“I got lost,” the boy said. He sounded too young to carry the badge. Too soft to hold a blade. “Sorry.”
She turned and looked at him.
Dust-colored coat, too long in the sleeves. Wide eyes. Not from the City, then. One of the Outer Rings. Maybe even farther. She sighed.
“If you know something bad is going to happen,” she said, “do you have to try and stop it?”
The boy blinked. “I just got here.”
“Well, obviously.” She crossed her arms.
He shifted nervously on his feet.
Rael turned back to the cityscape. “The answer is yes, by the way. At least, if you’re cursed with a conscience.”
He joined her at the rail. Together they watched the distant flicker of drones weaving patterns in the smog. A red warning rune glowed briefly on the horizon, then faded. Rael knew what it meant. The Reclamation Agents were moving again. Soon, another neighborhood would vanish.
“Why do you do this?” the boy asked.
She laughed without humor. “Because no one else will. Because the High Council stopped caring two winters ago. Because someone has to.”
A long pause. Then, “Is it true the Watchers can see the future?”
“We read the signs,” she said. “Patterns in weather. Seismic anomalies. Political shifts. The Council says it’s superstition.” She paused. “But when the streets burn exactly seven hours after the rats vanish, over and over again, you stop calling it chance.”
He was silent. Good. Maybe he was listening.
“You said you got lost. But you still came up here. Why?”
“I heard the bells.” He hesitated. “They said you can’t hear them unless you’re meant to.”
Rael glanced at him. The brass bell on the tower hadn’t rung in years. She narrowed her eyes.
“Name?”
“Wren.”
“That’s not your real name.”
“It is now.”
She smirked. “Fine, Wren. Welcome to Watcher’s Hill. Welcome to the losing side.”
Another alarm rune lit the smog. Closer this time.
Rael pulled her scope from her belt and scanned the eastern edge of the city. “Sector Four. They’re burning the food lines again.”
“That’s the second time this week,” Wren said quietly.
She lowered the scope. “Third.”
He didn’t speak for a long time. Then he said, “My sister was there.”
Rael’s fingers tightened around the rail. She didn’t ask if the girl had survived. That wasn’t the kind of world they lived in anymore.
Instead, she reached into her coat and handed Wren a folded map, inked with lines and red X’s.
“There’s a storm tunnel under the old trainyard,” she said. “It’s not on any schematics, and it’ll get you to Sector Four faster than any street. But it’s dark. And crawling.”
Wren took the map with trembling fingers. “Why are you helping me?”
Rael looked at him, really looked. The wide eyes weren’t wide with fear, not completely. It was fire. Just hidden under the ash.
“Because sometimes the only thing worse than seeing the future,” she said softly, “is doing nothing to change it.”
Wren nodded. His jaw set. “Then I’ll go.”
Rael watched as he turned, vanishing back into the tower’s dark. When the door slammed shut behind him, the bell gave a soft chime. Just once.
And far below, the wind began to shift.