WritingPrompts

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[WP] A vampire immune to the zombie outbreak, has lived off the blood of the living for centuries but’s now faced with a sparse food supply. Your Apocalypse Database reader pings, “Humans, Pop. 1.” You’re only hope to reverse the outbreak, to friend a vampire. His only hope, to keep you alive.	61
[WP] As a time traveling ghost you were only able to travel as far back as the day of your birth, that was until you decided to posses your human self and then create an immortality loop upon your day of death.	12
[WP] In a deserted island sunk beneath a mystique desert oasis…an aqua-phobic pirate and mermaid with pyromania haves crossed paths while on their lost hunt for hidden treasure. Survival is paramount.	12
[WP] If it wasn’t the other side the chicken wished to get to, then what was it about the road which needed crossing?	9
[CW] An alcoholic cowboys old western horror story telling the origin to the snake in Woodys boot.	7
[WP] Weakened by rot, tiles above the science hall crumbled and from each square seas of sour milk spilled to the study below. Tears of joy filled the professors eyes as the students sobbed in horror. He turned and tapped his last piece of chalk to the board and read aloud, But you can cry under it!	6
[WP] You’re called from the waiting room into the physicians office. The hallway is eerily empty, and there’s no one accompanying the voice that called you. Waiting again, the door swings opens as a demonic Apple tree approaches. Wearing the doctors torn clothes, belching, “I had to keep them away!”	2
[WP] You’re the infamous donkey assassin. You’re an ass as in; an ass to all asses. One day you fail an attempted hit and are killed by a lethal donkey kick. Later you are reincarnated as a Donkey. But your ghost is an ass that haunts your life after-after life.	2
[WP] The comedic yet horror filled tale of what it took for two AirPods to reunite.	1
[WP] As the moonlight spilled into the room, two crayons on the desk began to glow, their colors shifting eerily. The thief froze, realizing too late that those were no ordinary crayons – they were the guardians of the artist's nightmares.	1

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