Trick Or Tweet Prompts

Like last year with Spooktober, I took part in another Twitter event for spooky prompts. This year, it was called “Trick or Tweet” but still ran by Villimey Mist. The required word will be signified by a #.

Day 1: “The #seance worked perfectly.” “We got the wrong spirit.” They stare at a spirit chilling in the living room. He’s intently watching a horse show on TV, muttering softly as a gray mare competes. “He’s a rider, not a writer. C’mon, let’s try again.”

Day 2: The #mummified remains crinkle. I freeze as it breathes loud in the small tomb. My research partner squeals, black bugs crawling up their arm, soon covering them entirely. Screaming, I don’t notice the bugs crawling from the remains until they attach to me.

Day 3: Smoke drizzles out of the #crematorium, nonstop for the last 2 weeks. A lethal virus swept through our town, affecting thousands. The survivors aren’t the same. We feel this hunger that food can’t satisfy. And I can’t admit I know it’s for bones of the dead.

Day 4: It started slowly. My skin dried out, skin growing between my fingers and toes. Skin flakes formed tiny scales. Slits grew on my neck. By the time I figured it out, I sat in the full tub, unable to speak or scream out. The #hex turned me into a fish.

Day 5: It was a simple gold #mask, adorned with accents that shimmer in the light, ebony lines drawn around the eyes. It’d do for the masquerade planned tonight. Yet, it wore heavily, weighing down their face. It pinched, slicing into skin, refusing to let go.

Day 6: #pitchforks in hand, we head into the forest. Low growls echo through the trees, surrounding us. The creature had killed dozens now, leaving us weaker. We light another torch, searching the shadows. Orange eyes flicker. Then several sets as screaming begins.

Day 7: A sweet lady lives across the hall from me. Despite our routine, I didn’t see her one night. The next day, she’s pale, almost translucent under the lights. Dark red covers her. Something terrible turned her into a #wraith. If only I can understand her warning.

Day 8: #Revenge is best served cold. Or so they say. I believe it should be hot, flaming pain that leaves them numb, constantly in agony for the pain the caused me. Until they burn to ash, leaving no trace of their existence behind.

Day 9: We never should’ve joined the #occult club. It’s fun in the beginning, but we didn’t think we’d find a cursed item. Or the cursed item would cause a plague. But, at least we’re spared the deadly, organ liquidating virus. Though we’re getting low on sacrifices.

Day 10: The town referred to my sister and I as #satanic, thinking we dabbled in vicious practices. While we had dark powers, we did our best to control them. Until they tried to chase us out of town, and everything turned red with their blood.

Day 11: The cemetery’s quiet this late at night. We wander through burial plots, searching for a headstone. “Found it!” We dash to Nia. The short #epitaph reads: Disturb the dead, off with your head. It oozes black to the ground, spilling to us and burning the dirt.

Day 12: The bowl of #candy sat on a porch, flickering light above it. A sign warned to pick only two pieces. Scattered wrappers rest on the yard. From a group of kids, one grabbed a handful. Snickering, they placed it in their bag before erupting into wrappers.

Day 13: The campfire crackles as I sit next to a young man. We exchange small talk as I warm my hands. The trek from home wore me out, but I can’t stay long, not with the monsters the plague created. Smiling, he throws a #skull on the fire. He’s one of them, a monster.

Day 14: The metal band tightens, #severing the outlaws neck. As he collapses, cheers erupt from the townsfolk. The murderer had been caught and dealt with. The bloodied wound stitches itself together, head flying to his body and reattaches. Screaming, they try to flee.

Day 15: They trekked deep into the forest, following an old map. Tales of an #eldritch creature urged then on. Vines shot up, grasping them, squeezing. An unearthly figure forms, glowing orbs scattered along it’s plant-like body. It shrieked and strangled them all.

Day 16: “Why are we at this #freakshow?” I elbow him and glare. “It’s a circus. Have fun.” He stares at the various stalls filled with different acts. We pass one labeled vampire. My friend snorts. “Yeah right.” The vampire snaps his fingers. My friend falls over dead.

Day 17: The #execution had failed. The killer’s magic was too strong, saving him from death. I warned the town to be cautious. And now, they needed my help to survive. It’ll be easy to go after him. After all, no one’s found my victims yet.

Day 18: The infected #bite was puffy red and oozing. Nick groaned as I touched it. He didn’t know what got him in the dark, but since it was in the backyard, could’ve been anything. Now a wolf appeared at night, bigger every time. And it was standing upright, snarling.

Day 19: #Cobwebs crawled along his skin, weaving around him. The abandoned shed shrinks around him as gossamer webs cover his face. Before his eyes are covered, he spots thousands of black orbs clinging to the ceiling, ready to drop and eat their dinner.

Day 20: Mark wasn’t afraid of #clowns. But when one shows up at night, that changes you. More so when you can’t touch it. He saw it everywhere, even when he closed his eyes. Always there laughing. It was real when Mark died in a park, strangled by a string of rags.

Day 21: The #holes appeared overnight, scattered in the ground throughout the city. They’re eerily quiet when approached. But when something’s thrown down, the rumbling started. Thousands of large, silver bugs erupt, swarming the city and tearing it apart.

Day 22: Alex waits until #fear overwhelms the sacrifices. Their master says humans taste better that way. They complete the summoning spell. From the painted circle, rises a demon. When the smoke clears, fear strikes Alex briefly before the master starts eating.

Day 23: The five wander the #labyrinth, gasping harshly. A chill brushes their feet, the entity growing closer. It’s form shifts, outreaching a claw. They turn right. Dead end. Screams echo as they’re frozen solid into statues, terror emblazoned on their faces forever.

Day 24: The #undead swarmed the nation, bringing destruction. Unlike the movies, it’s difficult to spot them in a crowd until they rip people open. Once the killing started, trust went out the window, leading to chaos as everything fell apart in tatters.

Day 25: The small house scattered among the #moors glisten in the sun. The travelers grew closer, desperate for medical help after one broke a leg. One dashes ahead. A hard crystal layer covers the house, petrified everything and everyone inside, across the village.

Day 26: The #carnival appeared one day, near the old forest. Rickety equipment swayed and creaked while workers shambled around, hunched. Only fearless patrons approached. But once they entered, they never left, becoming part of the traveling death trap.

Day 27: The stranger bared serrated #teeth, dripping in blood. Death clung to them, suffocating my sensitive nose. Snorting, I lifted a clawed hand, glinting in the alley light. They froze. “Not so tough, huh?” Before they could move, I speared my hand through them.

Day 28: The forests shadows stretch into #oblivion, emitting a grinding noise. The small group of friends shudder, but the thought of fame from catching the cryptid on film urged them on. When they step under branches, agony strikes as blood spills out their mouths.

Day 29: The entity strolled through the house, tsking. “You can’t #hide.” The family shuddered in their spots, panting. It found the dad, tapping his shoulder. Gray veins spread from the touch, melting him from the I side out. Before he could feel the pain, he died.

Day 30: The red painted #jackolantern’s black flame flickered on the porch. When kids passed to ring the bell, it turned purple. A lone kid came up, flame burning pure white. They glance at it, eyes lit gold. The pumpkin cracked, caving in and snuffing the flame.

Day 31: “Call for help!” Ivy cringed as Scarla shrieked, blood oozing from her side. Lia pressed on the wound. Their #trick went horribly wrong. Ivy stared at the knife on the floor, meant to be a prop. Through the window, Ivy caught flowing red eyes trained on them.

I always enjoy these writing prompts and I hope you enjoyed reading my responses. And now that it’s November, time for NaNoWriMo once more. Let me know if you’re participating this year, and what your story’s about!

As always, happy writing!