WritingPrompts

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[WP] You are the black sheep of the family. Not because you're a rebel or anything. Your family has a peculiar curse - every generation, someone in the family is randomly selected to be ostracized and blamed for any ills that befall the family, or something truly terrible will happen to the family.	83
[WP] For generations, your family have guarded the long-lost tomb of an ancient king. Now that you have come of age, you take part in the ritual to become a guard. You step into the king's burial chamber... and find an empty room.	83
[WP] The eldritch abomination took on its true form before you and started to laugh before pausing. "Wait a minute," it said, as it stares at you with mild confusion. "This... isn't supposed to happen." You are able to comprehend the true form of the Old Ones without going mad.	79
[WP] You've always been terrified of the shadow people since you were a child, but no one ever believed you. One day while crossing the street, a car comes speeding at you. Before you could react, a shadowy figure pushes you out of the way and asks, "Are you all right, sire?"	76
[WP] While working on your car, you accidentally cut yourself and get some oil in the cut. The next morning, you wake up and yawn only to roar like a V8 engine. You are slowly turning into a werecar.	73
[WP] Superpowered beings, mythical deities, alien beings... all are welcome at your bar as long as they obey the golden rule: The bar is neutral ground. And that rule is STRICTLY ENFORCED.	72
[WP] Fed up with how often heroes are being summoned from other worlds to save yours, you are determined to train and become a powerful a hero yourself, to prove that your world doesn't have to rely on outside help all the time.	72
[WP] The demon stares at you nonplussed. "Look, I know you humans have to eat, but could you take some cooking classes or something? This is the third time this month that you've accidentally summoned me."	70
[WP] When you die, you don't immediately pass on to the afterlife. Instead, your spirit remains in limbo until the last person who remembers you dies. The beloved are quickly forgotten, the hated are spoken of for decades. You have been stuck in limbo for centuries with no idea as to why or how.	68
[WP] On your 18th birthday, your father hands you a rifle and a small box of ammunition. "Good luck out there," he says as he hugs you.	68

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