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
Max swore under his breath. That was the fourth branch that had slapped him across the face.
“How much farther, Fitz?” he huffed. They had been trudging along for an hour now.
“Almost there,” Fitz replied jovially. He was no older than fourteen, and seemed oblivious to the older boy’s rotten mood. “So, how much do you know about the Pirates?” he asked, pushing a branch away.
“As much as everyone else in Germany does,” Max replied, catching the branch before it smacked him. “They sabotage the Gestapo, spread Western propaganda, vandalize government buildings. Annoy Heinrich Himmler in any way they can.”
Fitz smirked. “That about sums it up.”
“So who am I meeting again?” Max asked, stumbling over a tree root.
“Eric, the leader of the Oberhausen sect,” Fitz replied, hopping lightly over a log. “He’ll decide if you’re in.”
Max tried to calm his nerves and failed. He wasn’t some roguish hero of the oppressed, just a punk who had a bad reputation with the Gestapo. If he acted up again, he was told, he would have to join the Hitler Youth or be arrested. The secret police were giving a rare show of patience. He should be grateful, they had chided.
“Anyway, what happened to you?” Fitz asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re a wreck.”
Max was a wreck indeed. His lip was split and he could feel bruises beginning to bloom across his cheekbone, but he only shrugged offhandedly. “Got whipped.”
“How?” Fitz queried, again ignoring Max’s attitude.
“Showed some decency,” Max explained coolly. “A Gestapo was about to beat a Jewish woman who wasn’t cleaning a street fast enough. I stepped in, tried to cool it down. There was a misunderstanding.”
“Misunderstanding?” Fitz looked over his shoulder and raised an eyebrow.
“I punched him.”
Fitz’s eyes widened. “You punched a Gestapo?”
“If I pull another stunt, though, I’m not getting off easy,” Max added.
“How did you get off this time?” Fitz cried, tripping over the underbrush. “That would usually land you in a camp!”
“My family is favored,” Max grumbled. “Big supporters of the Third Reich and all that.”
Fitz frowned. “Some justice that is. Playing favorites and enslaving the ‘inferiors’ that help support society.”
Max halted at the appearance of a cave’s mouth looming ahead. Fitz never slowed, marching into the cave and giving Max no choice but to follow. A path had been worn through the wide cavern, curving deeper into the earth. Max squinted into the darkness and could see traces of light reflected off the cave walls farther down the trail. The cave bore more marks of exploration as they walked; a hand print here, a drawing in the clay there, and two sets of initials encircled by a heart in the rock. Fitz suddenly rounded a corner, drawing Max behind him, to a hidden cavity flooded with torchlight. Propaganda posters had been pinned to the wall and painted with mocking doodles. Wooden tables around the room were littered with anti-Nazi pamphlets and note paper. Most surprising of all, both boys and girls filled the cave, a striking contrast from the militant separation of the Hitler Youth and League of German Girls.
It was a secret world of teenage rebels.
Max was awed by the bit of freedom these kids had managed to carve for themselves. One Western pamphlet alone could get its owner detained, but in this little hideout underneath Oberhausen, he could speak his mind without fear of the Party. That, in his mind, was paradise.
Fitz nudged Max out of his reverie and gestured toward a boy approaching them. He was tall, imposing, and carried himself like a leader. Not proudly, but confidently, as if this cavern was his natural element and all the kids were his brothers and sisters. “This the new kid, Fitz?” Eric said warmly, slapping the boy’s shoulder.
“Yes,” replied Fitz proudly. “This is Max. Do you know he slugged a Gestapo?”
“Did you now?” Eric raised an eyebrow at Max, who gave a devil-may-care smirk. Eric suddenly pinned Max with an intense gaze. “Tell me something, Max,” he said lowly. “If you know something bad is going to happen, do you have to try and stop it?”
“I just got here,” Max stammered. The smirk fled his features and was replaced by confusion.
Eric still held him under that look. “That’s not an answer.”
Max swallowed, intimidated. “Yes,” he answered after a beat.
“Even if it goes against the Fuhrer?” Eric pressed.
“Especially,” Max replied before he could stop himself. “Hitler is just an angry man taking out his frustration on the Jews. I’ll die before I’ll serve that monster.”
The surrounding chatter of the room hushed. Max almost kicked himself. Why would he declare such dangerous ideas out loud? Those sorts of things were never meant to be spoken. He met the eyes of some of the closest kids and, to his surprise, saw in their eyes not shock, but admiration. He realized that he had just put into words the same revolutionary thoughts that all of the other teenagers held. He caught a girl grinning at him from a few yards away and grinned back, making her cheeks flush.
Eric smiled and nodded. “Couldn’t have said it better myself,” he said approvingly. “You’ve got a good eye, Fitz. Hey, Frank!” he called over his shoulder. “Get me the pins.”
A skinny boy hastened over with a box of silver disks. Eric grabbed one and held it out to Max. Max took it and ran his thumb over the surface, which was engraved with a bunch of blossoms he knew to be edelweiss, the mountain daisy. The name Kittelbachpiraten was emblazoned above them in proud letters. Dangerous, revolutionary letters.
Eric clapped him on the back. “Get ready for the most fun you’ll have in your entire life,” he proclaimed. “Everyone, listen up!” he shouted. “Welcome our newest Kittelbach Pirate!”
Welp, that was amazing. Your writing flows so well; the story and the characters are great. No notes, just praise.
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.