Writober is an event for the month of October where you get a writing prompt a day! It's usually a single word or a line of dialogue. You can write anything with your prompt. It could be a story, a poem, long, or short! 

The official list for this year;

1) Welcome

2) Photograph

3) Crisis

4) Trail

5) Doubt

6) Abandoned

7) Zeppelin

8) Labyrinth

9)  Ephemeral (Example: Things that don't last forever are ephemeral.)

10) Cherish

11) Homesick

12) Joy

13) Devestation

14) Sunrise

15) Epiphany (Life-changing realization)

16) Nemesis

17) Friend

18) Lantern

19) Renaissance (Rebirth)

20) Lullaby

21) Silhouette

22) Blossoming

23) Train

24) Wonder

25) Slumber

26) Solitude

27) Sequoia (It's a huge redwood tree, mostly found it California)

28) Stargazer

29) Map

30) Love

31) Farewell

You could use the prompt or make up your own. Hope this helped! 

Also, I don't know if I did this write, but I attempted something for the first prompt, is this around what I was supposed to do?

1) Welcome

To anybody who is in danger of making my mistakes:

You must listen to me. I didn’t listen to the stories, and the fairies welcomed me with open arms. They threw a feast, congratulated me on making it through the gateway, asked me all about my travels and my experiments and my theories.

And oh, those theories! They were right, everything was right, I wish I could be happy now. It is every scientist’s dream to make discoveries, prove what was previously disbelieved, undermine the sureties of life, but science and magic are not all that different, and where do we draw the line?

The fairies drew me in, but the stories were right - their wide grins only reveal pointed teeth. Their grace is a facade perfectly designed, while the fairies sit poised to strike.

I don’t have much time, I may not be able to write again. As I write this I am trapped on the other side of the gateway in my room. I pretend to be content, endlessly complacent in this illusion, but sooner or later the fairies will tire of their games, and there is no escape.

I should never have crossed into their territory. I didn’t listen to the stories, for what scientist believes myths from the poor and uneducated? I was wrong, the poor and uneducated often know the most (the world is their school) and the fairies know everything now. All the knowledge I have gathered is in their hands. They have everything they need, and as soon as a voice prevails above the others in their petty courts, they will come to you.

I hear elfsong, they will want me again soon. Do with this what you will. Please, do not repeat my mistakes.

Please give feedback, I still have no idea if I'm doing this right.

2) Photograph
He holds a small rectangle in his hand.
The corners are curled,
The edges are weathered,
The paper is yellowed with age.

But the faded colors still form
A curl of hair, so blond as to be white,
A relaxed smile, head thrown back in laughter,
A twinkling eye, hinting at some shared secret.

He looks at it, and doesn’t see
Curled corners or
Weathered edges or
Yellowed paper
But instead carefree summers
And days spent under
A willow tree;

He sees memories.

3) Crisis
Alarms blare. Red, white lights flash through the hallways. Cover my ears, my eyes, my ears. Stand up, walk into the hallway. (We were always told single file, but that’s an adult fantasy). Shouting, whispers. It’s just a drill (just a drill, just a drill, just a drill). Someone’s bumped the fire alarm and didn’t realize. Walk out the door. Freezing air on prickling skin. File down the street. Wait. Faintly in the background, the shriek of alarms. We’re down the block, it’s just my imagination (just my imagination, just my imagination). Wait some more. People are getting restless, cold. Wait. The go ahead will come soon. Still waiting. (Soon, soon, soon, soon). We wait.

4) Trail

It was a beautiful summer’s day. Peaks of perfect painter’s mountains and large squares of idyllic farmland sandwiched a dark forest, not impenetrable, but with great size and just enough danger to keep centuries of civilization from cutting it out entirely. And running through the woods: a dark haired child, with short hair and a face smudged with dirt almost beyond recognition.

I watched as she ran through the woods, looking frantically behind him as if he expected me to catch up at any moment. I chuckled. He should know better than that. If I wanted to chase her, I would.

Instead I watched from eight miles away as she stumbled over roots and under fallen trees, occasionally falling, but always getting back up. I chuckled. She was a fool. Perhaps she knew that I would find her anyway, but her trail was obvious and her occasional backtracking was not nearly enough to mask her true direction. Her footsteps left behind dark spots after patches of mud and broken branches in clear paths.

And so noisy! Behind her were entire swaths of forest where not a single animal was willing to sing anymore. Her loud footsteps and heaving breaths, not to mention the crashing cacophony she stirred up through her snapping of branches and rustling of shrubs were hardly even enough to make watching her fun anymore.

She slowed to a walk, still clearly fearful, but beginning to feel hope for what she had done. I laughed again. She could have another day. After all, what was another sunset and sunrise gone? Besides, it would be cruel to cut off her hope so soon.

Would it not?

I'm trying to do writober, but I write my stories about by hand and they always get a bit longer than intended. So far I've done Photograph and am currently doing Crisis, I decided to skip Trail and haven't done today's yet. Maybe I'll post them, maybe not. Depends how long they get. 

5) Doubt
I bite my lip. This is a big day. What if something goes wrong?
After all, this isn’t just me. I am not another firedancer today. I am a symbol. My people are watching. They’re relying on me. Today, I am flame itself. The torches have to be lit, the hearth must warm us for the coming winter, and I am afraid.
What if I am not ready? After all, there are a million things that could happen, a million mistakes I could make. I could stumble, and then next thing you know I trip and I fall and I’ve ruined it? Or even worse, I take someone else down with me?
I shake my head to clear the doubts. I have been preparing for this for four years. Nothing could go wrong now… right?
The other four dancers have all done this before. They each got their turn to light the hearth before relinquishing the spotlight to the next person, becoming simply a torch, helping the cycle remain. They all did fine. I’m sure I will too.

I take a deep breath, smooth my fiery red pants. Then I check myself in the mirror one more time, mutter a quick prayer to Afzar for good measure, and walk into the setting sun to light our nation’s flame.

Doubt

Elena hesitated in front of the castle, trying to discern movement at the window in the tower. All that she could see was the tiny flutter of the green curtains. 

The man she loved was in the castle - and she had to get him out.

How could she? What would she do? Doubts rushed over her, and she found herself trembling.

Then she looked up. Her fine-featured face, with its expression of resolution and determination, was a challenge to the enemy. She loved Prince Danrer - and she was going to save him if it cost her everything.

She stepped forward toward the great wooden door of the castle.

Oh, thanks, Hunter! Reading it over, it seems to me to be more about determination than doubt :/ but I had fun writing it!

Here I go with the prompt for today: Abandoned. Hmm, sad topic. 

I felt like crying. What had happened to my friends? Bella and Corinna had always been like sisters to me. Bella used to listen to whatever I wanted to tell her - which was a noble deed, because I'm dramatic and sometimes make a fuss over nothing. Corinna could always cheer me up - she had great ideas, and she was so fun to be with. We'd always done everything together. And now - this!

It was like they were grown up all of a sudden. So what if we were already fourteen? That didn't mean we had to have boyfriends, and talk about nothing but clothes! I tried to talk about what we always had discussed - global warming, Greta Thunberg, writing books - but Corinna just shrugged, and Bella said, "Yeah, well - what do you think about the new teacher, Alison?"

Since then, I knew quite clearly that they didn't want me. It was easy to see in their expressions and their false nicety - no more funny jokes, playful teasing, honest-to-goodness kindness.

I tried to convince myself that I didn't care - and then I knew I didn't.

I would always be myself. Bella and Corinna had given that up in order to become popular. I wasn't about to follow that path. My identity was worth more to me - and if they were the kind of people who would abandon me, I knew they weren't worth being friends with.

Just then, I saw Corinna heading across the lunchroom toward me.

"Hi, Alison," she said quickly, meeting my gaze steadily. "I just want to say I'm really, really sorry for the way I've acted, and do you want to come over to my house this afternoon?"

"What??"

"Yeah, well, I've seen your point. You were right after all - those popular girls aren't that much fun. I don't want to hang out with them after all, and i don't think Bella does either. But I might now have realized if you hadn't refused to join us."

From that day on, our friendship was stronger than ever, because it had been tested - and we never separated again.

The thing about writing about sad things is that you should make it somehow be all right in the end. Even if the ending isn't happy, there has to be some sort of fittingness or positive effect of a tragedy. Like in Romeo and Juliet, for instance. That's what distinguishes literature from ordinary novels.

Not that my stuff is great literature :/ I just thought I would share what I try to do when I write.