Write about a character who develops a special ritual to cope with something.

Posted in Angst on Jun 30, 2023

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✍️ 89 stories

“Write Rite- a Mitzee story ” by Michelle Oliver

Submitted to Contest #205

TW-Mentions death of a childDear DiaryMy name is Sarah and I’m eight years old. I have gotten this butiful book from Mummy to rite in. She says I can rite all my wurries and wishes in it.Well, I wish that canser didn’t exzist! Tomorrow the doctar is gonna take away my eye, bekoz there’s a lump and it’s hurting my eye. I’m gonna be a pirate.I’m scarred :(But if I’m reel brave, Mummy said I can get a kitten.:) Sarah🙂-Dear DiaryIts been a long time since I rote in here.I feeled&nb...

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“Six Syllables” by Scott Christenson

Submitted to Contest #205

In Japan, everyone says “Itadakimasu” before each meal. It's an unquestioned tradition. There are many such rituals in Japan: the aisatsu greetings for good morning and good night, bowing to superiors, the proper way to use chopsticks, that go back so far in Japanese history, people can’t imagine it being any other way.Everyone except for our son Kenji. He likes to make his own rules and has long ago decided uttering six syllables before eating is an inefficient waste of everyone's time.In kindergarten, his teachers said, “He refuses to say ...

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“Friday, 9th November ” by Oskar Reiss

Submitted to Contest #205

TW: suicidal thoughts, death, gory detailsMadison Rydell put the roses under the faucet, pricking her thumb on one of the thorns. She reached for the scissors and cut off the ends, a sublimation of her desire to do exactly the same to one of her fingers. Snip, snip, snip. Maddie remembered what her parents’ fingers looked like when she found them, each moving with a wet crunch as she prised them from the bedsheets. How incongruously easy, she thought, it would be to chop off her fingers now, the teeth of a plier sinking into her skin. This l...

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“Waiting” by Frostie Whinery

Submitted to Contest #205

Two people are living in your home now. They stand by the windows in the front room, heads thrown back, shoulders shaking with laughter. I feel awkward, sitting here in my car in the dark, watching them like I’m some sort of creep. But since you’re gone, I don’t know what else to do. They moved into it about a month after hospice carried you out on a gurney. To them, the apartment was a clean start, a new beginning—just as it was for you when you scrawled your name on the contract two years earlier. It was the first place you had to yours...

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“BREAKING POINT” by Charles Corkery

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #205

BREAKING POINT 6.30am -slop out. 7.30am -breakfast. 8am -lock up. 10am -roll call. 10.30am -yard recreation. 12 noon -lunch. 1pm -yard recreation. 3pm -internal association. 5pm -supper. 6pm -lock up. 8pm -lights out. Get used to it. This is it. Your daily routine for the rest of your life. Yes, it’s monotonous. Yes, it could destroy your will to live. But you’re stronger than this; you’re unbreakable. Unbreakable. Keep saying it. Un-fucking-breakab...

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“Paper Planes” by Sophia Gavasheli

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #205

What is it like to fly, I wonder? The rusted metal of the bridge groans and creaks as cars hurtle over it. Standing by one of the stout lamp posts fixed to the railing, I stare at the gritty concrete, not wanting to look over the edge. The wind howls and moans under the bridge. Pedestrians rush past me, yelling into their phones and cursing as they spill coffee over their starched white shirts. Everything is moving, pushing, and pulling against the tides of life. Except for me. My skin stretches and cracks over my knuckles as ...

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“The Mailbox” by Nina H

Submitted to Contest #205

She had the backbone of an earthworm. Skin as thick as a green grape on a hot summer’s day. They said “Be ready for rejection” and “Learn to accept the silence” after a submission. Well, she tried. But she sought validation like a parking garage attendant seeking the time stamp on those little tickets. From her parents, her friends, even her cat Sophocles, who learned to purr the sadness out of her while snuggling on her lap. How many times would she write rot before her big break? Would it ever come? Oh, she also had the patience of ...

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“Why Do You Write?” by Allan Bernal

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #205

So, you went and said the word you shouldn’t have as a teacher. But that was the whole point of teaching morality and ethics – to educate on discrimination. And you thought since you live further up north, there’s no way the parents and school would react as harshly as they do in Florida, right? Well, you were wrong. Doesn’t matter if the students agreed with you in class. Doesn’t matter if some of them had reve...

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“The Feast” by David Ader

Submitted to Contest #205

Leaving the market, Mabel constantly adjusted her heavy grocery bags to maintain a hold. It was a struggle, but she managed to find them a resting place against the soft protrusion of her ample belly. She also held an ear-to-ear grin anyone would see if it weren’t for those overflowing bags largely hiding her face. She was going to have a feast; crab cakes, a lobster roll, a bottle of Sauvignon Blanc, chosen because of its pretty label, coleslaw, fried-up sweet potatoes, ...

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“Humbrol no.23 Duck Egg Blue” by Chris Miller

Submitted to Contest #205

A Spitfire. Possibly a Mk. V heading back to Coningsby after a display. It throbbed down the coast, low enough to be seen through the front window of the café. A brown-green dream machine. He’d slept under one for years. It dangled on fishing line, high above his bed. They'd built it together on the kitchen table. Just the two of them, when that was a good thing, before the illness killed his patience and then finished off the rest of him. They’d used pungent glue from a metal tube. It had a marker pen tang and comprehensive warning symb...

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“The Boba Master” by John K Adams

Submitted to Contest #205

Adrian dragged the last of his stuff into his freshman year dorm room. ‘First dibs on the bed…’ he thought. He arranged his luggage to unpack as needed. He left space for his roommate, whom he had not met. Adrian sat on the bed and checked his list. He had his class schedule and books, a heavy load. His counselor said to go easy first semester. Adrian wasn’t there to party. He aimed to finish in three years. Tuition paid, he hoped he saved enough to finish without loans. Once done, he’d walk unencumbered into his new career. Whatever that ...

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“SPEECHLESS_a walk in my shoes with AFOs_” by KANGEE GREEN

Submitted to Contest #205

tw – physical, sexual, and caregiver abuse, ableism, self-harm, and mental health....I screamed for 37 minutes this morning because I wanted to wear my Cheetah t-shirt. My aid put on my plain gray one, but I didn’t want to wear it. She didn’t see the point in changing me, even though it is my shirt and my body she is putting it on. I am 27 years old, but my aides cut my hair short so I can’t suck on and eat it and they cut my nails without asking.I screamed, but I didn’t even try to. I cannot control my body. I cannot control my mouth or my ...

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“Butterfly” by Myranda Marie

Submitted to Contest #205

No full moon tonight, no dancing naked or any other magical cliche from a pop culture movie or book series. She was serious, digging deep into her psyche for answers, or at the very least, divine guidance. Admittedly, it had been some time since she called upon her ensorcelled inheritance, but her autopilot seemed to be malfunctioning. She knew it was time to invoke celestial assistance. At one time, asking for help was as easy as making a call or getting a ride across town. She couldn’t control her spontaneous smile as she recalled...

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“To The Grave” by David King

Submitted to Contest #205

After forty-five minutes of standing in one spot, I placed the sunflowers at the foot of her grave. The sky had gone from a vibrant baby blue to a slowly darkening purple. The cemetery would be closing within minutes and I had to accept I couldn’t stay by her grave forever. My hands were in my pockets and my eyes stared at the floor. The pathway was covered with freshly fallen leaves. I stepped on the ones that were darker than orange, looking for a satisfying crunch under my feet. My gaze shifted to my Nikes and one of the laces that wa...

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“Ritual Rules” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #205

Ritual Rules I guess you could say that I am ruled by rituals. I do not change how I regularly do things, even regarding some of the smallest aspects of my life. I get up at exactly six o’clock every morning, even if I awaken a little earlier and I feel like I have to go for a pee. I mean when I really have to go pee, and I force myself to crouch in the bed until I see that the minute hand is on the twelve and the hour hand is on the six (in that order). I always put my left sock on first, my right one second. I hav...

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Write about a character who develops a special ritual to cope with something.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 89 stories

“Write Rite- a Mitzee story ” by Michelle Oliver

“Six Syllables” by Scott Christenson

“Friday, 9th November ” by Oskar Reiss

“Waiting” by Frostie Whinery

“BREAKING POINT” by Charles Corkery

“Paper Planes” by Sophia Gavasheli

“The Mailbox” by Nina H

“Why Do You Write?” by Allan Bernal

“The Feast” by David Ader

“Humbrol no.23 Duck Egg Blue” by Chris Miller

“The Boba Master” by John K Adams

“SPEECHLESS_a walk in my shoes with AFOs_” by KANGEE GREEN

“Butterfly” by Myranda Marie

“To The Grave” by David King

“Ritual Rules” by John Steckley

🌟 Similar prompts

Start your story during a full moon night.

Make your protagonist go through a rite of passage.

Make a character perform a ceremony to set something or someone free.

Write about a character who breaks free from a tradition to create a new one.

Contest #205

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

305

Contest entries

129

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

Explore more writing prompt ideas: