Wacky Writing Prompt Scavenger Hunt
I follow this blog called The Write Practice. They publish fun writing prompts and tips. This one used a scavenger hunt to collect the different items and elements that need to be included in your story.
1. To find the first sentence of your story: Take the third book from the left off of your book shelf. On page forty-two, third sentence from the top, is the first sentence of your story. (If it is a blank page, keep going until you find a page with type.)
Answer: Eclipse by Stephenie Meyer
2. The leftovers in your fridge, is what the main character ate for breakfast. ( If there are no leftovers, your character has to eat a fried egg.)
Answer: Polska Kielbasa
3. The conflict in the story is what is under your bed. If you are one of those organized minimalist people like Joshua Becker, and don’t store anything under your bed, then I will give you another option because I am so nice. Not just nice, but, so nice. Here’s your other option: your protagonist wants the last item you purchased.
Answer: Cardboard box
4. Your main character, okay, okay, the protagonist, is wearing what is hanging in your closet, fourth item from the right. I will give you another option, if you hate what is hanging fourth from the right. Your character may wear whatever clothes you left on the floor last night. If there are only your white socks that you didn’t put in the clothes hamper on the floor, here is a terry-cloth house coat, and a pair of pyjamas for you.
Answer: White and silver teeshirt
5. The protagonist’s hair color is the color of your dog, or your cat, or your neighbors dog or cat. If both of your neighbors have pets, go with the neighbor on your right.
Answer: Reddish tan/strawberry blonde (I don’t have a dog and neither do my neighbors, so I’m going with the color of my mom’s dog)
6. The protagonist will use whatever is in your pockets to win their conflict.
Answer: Cell phone
7. Please, please, please, use this word at least once in your story, “bacon.” I said, please, please, please, so I didn’t sound so bossy. (To be nice, I will give you a choice of three words to choose from. One of these words has to be in your story.) Did you notice the word has was in italics, and bold? That means I really mean it.
c. page seventy-four in your dictionary, left-hand column, fifth word from the top. If the word is a dirty word, go to the next word. (i.e. dirty words, as in body parts, or bad words, as in you wouldn’t want your children to read the word. )
8. The Antagonist, the person trying to keep the protagonist from getting what they want, has the same name as the person you had a crush on in grade two. (If you didn’t have a crush on anyone in grade two use the name of your best friend in grade two.) The name of my antagonist is Dug. In the basement of a house on Avenue K, in Saskatoon, Saskatchewan, Canada, on a two by four, is written in pencil, I love Dug.
9. The location is where you spent your last vacation.
10. You will get help to resolve your conflict from a brown paper bag.
It looked to me like Edward was trying to avoid my questions.
“Kielbasa and eggs for breakfast?” He said with a scrunch to his nose. “I would have preferred bacon.”
“Well, this is what we have,” I said, not bothering to hide my annoyance. “You’re changing the subject.”
“Hayley, you’re making a bigger deal about this than it needs to be.”
“What’s in the box?” I glanced at the cardboard cube nestled in the corner.
I shook my head. “You show up here, like you didn’t just break up with me a week ago, and ask me to store this thing without telling me why or what it is.”
“Don’t even say, it’s complicated.”
The doorbell silenced our argument.
“Another surprise?” I asked him, but received no reply.
I straightened my white and silver teeshirt and tucked my strawberry blonde hair behind my ear before answering. The warm summer air wafted my face as I opened the door. It was a record high for Colorado.
A man I didn’t recognize barged right past me.
“Edward here?” He said, jaw tense.
“Excuse me? And you are…”
Edward was already standing by the time we reached the kitchen.
“Butch, what are you doing here?”
“You told her, didn’t you?”
“Tell me what?” Though I was completely ignored.
“Actually, I was about to,” Edward said. “Did anyone follow you here?”
“No. And don’t. What makes you think we can trust her?”
“Trust me with what?” I said louder.
“She’s helping us. We owe her.” Edward’s hands balled into fists.
“This is my call. We owe her nothing.” Butch.
“What’s in the box!” I yelled.
Edward, fuming by now, bounded to the box and ripped the side open. Foam popcorn spilled to the floor, exposing a clay jar with ornate engravings circling the rim.
My hand raised to my mouth. “Where did that come from?”
“Where do you think, Sweetheart?” Butch said sarcastically.
“You two stole it?” I yanked my cell phone from my pocket. Butch jumped up like he might tackle me. “Chill, Mr. Paranoid. I’m not calling the cops.”
I pulled up the news on the internet and played the first video that came up:
‘A touring history symposium, sponsored by Valet Corp, was robbed this morning of a rare clay jar dating back thousands of years…’
I stopped the playback and looked at them. “How much is it worth?”
“Six figures, easy.” Edward said, looking at his feet.
“You should see this,” Butch tossed me a paper bag. I didn’t even realize he’d been carrying it.
Inside were police files on both Butch and Edward.
“I swiped these off a nearby detective. They know it was us.”
I paused for a moment.
“Count me in,” I said, gently setting the files on the table. “Now, who wants breakfast?”