Three Creepy Writing Prompts for October: Days 16–18
I was away, then got sick, so our October horror challenge took an unscheduled intermission. Very inconsiderate of the germs.
We’re catching up with three prompts about things that should be comforting: a family dinner, a basket of yarn, and a familiar voice.
Naturally, I’ve made all three a problem.
Pick whichever image makes you the most uncomfortable. Give yourself ten minutes and see what happens.
October 16: The Extra Place Setting
The prompt: Every evening, you set the table for the people who live in your house. Every evening, another place setting appears after you turn away. Tonight, you leave it there.
When dinner is over, that plate is full of wet earth.
Your mother looks at the empty chair and says, “You weren’t supposed to invite him back.”
Well. That seems like information she could have shared before dinner.
There’s something especially uncomfortable about a family acting like the terrifying thing happening in front of you is an old disagreement they’d rather avoid.
Start with the meal. Let someone ask for the salt. Let someone complain that the potatoes are cold. Then have your character notice the dirt.
Questions to explore:
Who used to sit in that chair, and why does the family refuse to say their name?
What happens when your character tries to clear the plate?
Try this: Write the scene without showing the guest. Let the family’s behavior tell us how frightened we should be.
October 17: The Yarn That Won’t End
The prompt: You bring home a secondhand knitting basket with an unfinished scarf inside. While putting it away, you notice a strand of yarn disappearing between the floorboards.
You pull.
Something underneath pulls back.
I would like to believe I’d immediately leave the house. Unfortunately, I know myself. I’d probably give it another little tug to make sure, which is exactly how people end up being the cautionary tale.
Give your character an equally believable reason to stay. Maybe the basket belonged to someone they loved. Maybe they recognize the pattern. Maybe the person downstairs starts knocking in a rhythm they haven’t heard since childhood.
Questions to explore:
What changes upstairs each time another length of yarn comes free?
Is the knitting keeping something trapped—or putting it back together?
Try this: Build the scene around touch and sound: wool tightening around a finger, a scrape beneath the boards, knitting needles clicking when nobody is holding them.
October 18: The Last Voicemail
The prompt: While sorting through a deceased relative’s belongings, you plug in their old answering machine. There’s one unheard message.
It’s your voice.
You’re begging whoever finds the recording not to play the next message.
Then the machine announces that a new message has arrived.
No thank you. I have enough trouble listening to recordings of my own voice under normal circumstances.
For this one, think about what would make your character keep listening. Curiosity is a start, but something personal makes the choice harder. Perhaps they hear a loved one in the background. Perhaps their recorded voice mentions something they’ve never told anyone.
Give them a reason to reach for the button even while they’re terrified.
Questions to explore:
What sound in the recording proves it hasn’t happened yet?
What does the next message ask them to do?
Try this: Write the first message in fifty words or fewer. Include one ordinary detail that becomes frightening when your character notices it in the room.
Choose Your Nightmare
An unwanted dinner guest, something beneath the floor, or a message you apparently haven’t recorded yet.
Which one are you writing?
Tell me your pick in the comments—and if you know a writer who enjoys making perfectly ordinary objects upsetting, send this their way.
