If you write fiction, every once in a while you need a little push to get some new ideas flowing or to get to know your characters a little bit better.

Writing prompts are a great way to practice your writing. Plop your characters into a new scene and see what they do.

Looking for a writing prompt? Look no further!

Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to
see you again any time soon.

Write what you will! Who said this? Why did they say this? Who did they say it to?

Feel free to post your response in the comments. I’d love to read what you come up with.


Oh, hello. I didn't expect to see you again any time soon. Writing prompt on trishajennreads.com | Photo of yellow shoes on cobblestones.

  1. Oh, hello. I didn’t expect to
    see you again any time soon.

    I shuffled my feet on the gravel path and drew a shuddering breath. “I’m sorry!” I blurted.
    Aunt Mazie wheezed in and out of her long, sharp nose and eased back into her porch rocker. I don’t know as I ever saw her out of that rocker. “Y’re ma put you up to it?”
    I squeezed my tears with both fists in my pockets and nodded. The steps of the porch and her hound dog, who was too old to raise his head even though his nose twitched in greeting, swam in a blur. “She ‘splained me some,” I mumbled.
    “What you sorry for?”
    “Well, Ma ‘splained that them apples is yours. That takin’ them, even when they’s hanging over the fence into the road, and there being a bunch more still on the tree on your side of the fence …” I drew a breath and glanced up.
    Her wizened, knotted thumb steadily stoked her forefinger. She’d knitted all my baby clothes, and it almost looked like her fingers were remembering long ago blankets.
    “Even when you’re not making pie from ’em any more, even when the squirrels and birds is takin’ their share, you seem to give them apples …” I look her directly in her white blurred eye. I didn’t take nearly so many as them birds.
    Aunt Mazie wheezed some more. Her collar bone seemed to have raised itself up out of her chest. Her skin lay over it and sagged into the deep hollow around it like the mud sagged in the deep swimming hollow off the lagoon.
    The hound dog whiffled a bunch, then started twitching, an achy, jerky twitching after a rabbit long dead.
    “Want some pie?” Aunt Mazie thrust her chin out at me.
    Suddenly I smelled the most delicious, warm aroma envelop me and heard the creek and bang of her old wood stove.

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