Start your story with the whistle of a kettle.

Posted in Dramatic on Aug 19, 2022

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✍️ 60 stories

“Rewind” by Zelda C. Thorne

⭐️ Shortlisted for Contest #160

C/W: SwearingMondayDorothy turned off her hearing aid long before her daughter’s infernal kettle began puffing steam out like a locomotive, the whistle slicing through all other sound.She wasn’t the only one who hated the kettle. The cat, Marmalade, removed himself from the kitchen and curled up on the sofa as soon as the switch was flicked. Why wouldn’t Samantha let her buy a new one? It’s only a sodding kettle, but no. She was ‘fine’.Always fine.Strong.A survivor.Dorothy slammed the dishwasher shut. Head in the bloody sand more like. She c...

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“Sympathy for a Kettle” by Daniella Dsouza Michaeli

Submitted to Contest #160

I whistle as hard as my organs let me, letting out clouds of smoke from my long neck. I am almost breathless, but I can hear my whistles bounce off the bare walls. I can smell the stale air, filled with fragments of almost, but not completely, forgotten memories. The longer I am abandoned, the smaller my voice becomes. What used to be a whistle has now burned itself down to a mere wheeze as my lungs inch closer and closer to giving out.I can feel the bottom of my vessel begin to reach a temperature that grows more painful as each minute pass...

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“Our Girl” by Susan Williams

Submitted to Contest #160

Nora Mae stood at the screen door of the old, grey clapboard farmhouse and rubbed her lower back. The wind was a welcome relief on her hot, damp skin. The breeze was constant and had been gaining strength as the day wore on. It was blowing from the south and was too warm for this time of year. Here it was already late April. My, oh my, she couldn't believe how time had flown by! Rubbing her hand over her swollen belly, she knew it wouldn't be long now before the baby came. The contractions had grown stronger and more frequent since last nig...

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“The Transitory Nature of Earthly Joy” by Chris Campbell

Submitted to Contest #160

I sit here perched on the edge of obscurity ignoring the never-ending, kettle-like whistle incessantly piercing my conscious thought. Diverting my attention toward the vast vacuum of space enveloping our very existence, I dismiss the high-pitched scream that enforces upon me an overbearing sense of isolation. Watching for any sign of movement through my oversized rectangular portal, I detect nothing but dust and rocks stretching for eternity across its barren red vista. Somewhere out there, help is on its way, and I want to be the...

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“Wages of Sin” by Scott Skinner

Submitted to Contest #160

I guess it all started with the whistle of the kettle. Actually, the sound was more like a scream. I was on my stomach, my unshaven cheek pressed against the coffee-stained carpet. With one eye closed, I looked under my bed for the fourth time in three days for one of my little helpers. It was only another step in my compulsive behavior; I’d already turned the pockets of all my clothes inside out, searched my bathroom’s sticky linoleum floor like a sniffer dog, and ripped my dresser drawers from their slides. The sound of the kettle, the ima...

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“If a tree falls...” by W.E. White

Submitted to Contest #160

***Warning. This story contains violence, gore and profanity.***The kettle screams, begging for someone to take it from the fire, but no one hears it.The black crows fly over head, patiently waiting for the carcasses to rot, for their next meal to pick at.A hiker may venture upon the two dead men laying motionless beside the fire, bleeding from newly fashioned holes that are unable to contain their spirits, seeping out, floating above the tree tops, onward into the sky.The hiker may ask themselves what happened to these men, before realizing...

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“At 3.05 the Cuckoo Ceased to Chime” by Lisbeth Tull

Submitted to Contest #160

Maggie's whistling kettle reminded her of the steam engines her father once drove. He loved his tea too, strong, with one sugar. Pot topped up with builder’s brew, she gazed out of the kitchen window, admiring the garden he diligently tended to, the pride and joy of his retirement. His allotment thrived; sweet peas, potatoes, and marrows as giant as World War two subs; well not quite that big, but they'd won awards at the county show. His sunny, smiling sunflowers towered over the greenhouse to the admiration and envy of their green-fin...

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“Lady Monique ” by Kimberly Walker

Submitted to Contest #160

Lady Monique The loud whistle of Grandma’s tea kettle blew at 4:30 every morning. Breakfast was on the table by 4:35. This morning was no different, my job was to bring in water from the well. We don’t have running water but it was a roof over head. Everything moves in precision around the kitchen before time for school and work in this cabin, once in the main house it’s crazy here on the St. Clair plantation. Not only is it the first day of tobacco harvesting but Lady Monique is due to arrive any minute. Papa and the other men have been toi...

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“Whistle ” by Diamond Keener

Submitted to Contest #160

“What did you say?” I didn’t even bother to take the kettle off, I let it whistle as I repeat myself. He still hasn’t heard, and is miserable at reading lips. To tell him this while making my usual cup of tea, casually, as though I didn’t have this planned for the last ten months, seems fitting. Like there isn’t an alarm that will be going off on my phone in the next hour congratulating me on making the biggest step in my adult life. A step made five years too late, that’s my style for most things. It’s too late for me to cry over the...

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“keeper of the kettle” by L J

Submitted to Contest #160

He was parched. His tongue was swollen. It was getting hard to breathe. The drought had been going on for 100 years. He'd forgotten what trees looked like. There were no more animals. The world was barren and dry. He sat down on a rock. The only thing that survived the drought. He thought back about his life. One hundred years ago when the world was green; there were fish in the sea and animals everywhere. The unicorns lived in herds and the fruit that grew on the trees were sweet and juicy .He thought about his beloved Elizabeth, with her l...

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“I Dreamed” by Margo Harris

Submitted to Contest #160

Most people think the sound of a whistling kettle is annoying, but to me it sounds like peace. A cup of tea in the morning while I watch the movement of the forest around me is the perfect way to start my day. I walk over to my stove and turn off the burner, removing the kettle and pouring the hot water into a mug. The steam fogs up my glasses, so I remove them and the world instantly becomes blurry. It amazes me how someone’s perspective can change due to something so simple. I put my glasses back on and the world changes again. I u...

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“to the lost” by Jay Wayne

Submitted to Contest #160

Content warning: drug use, child abuse Jin flinches when the kettle starts to shriek. He’s not familiar with the sound—when has he ever used a kettle?—and in his current state of tension, the shrill noise feels like claws piercing his eardrums. Fortunately, Arav is quick to take the kettle off the woodburning stove, handle wrapped in a thick woven mat of some kind. He doesn’t notice Jin’s startled wince, or if he does, he’s being unusually tactful about it. “Have you ever had ojanis or moonflower in tea form?” the truthwitch asks, casual, ...

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“Finding Peace” by Andre LeFosse

Submitted to Contest #160

The sound of the kettle whistling on the stove reminded Cassie of her Nana, may she rest in peace. Peace was the first word that came to mind whenever Cassie thought of her grandmother. Calm, contented and serene. She seemed to always be in a state of grace, alone or with friends, relatives and the loved ones who came by to chat and say hello. It seemed like the kettle was always on, a cup of tea being heated for a welcomed visitor. Cassie took her kettle off of her stove and poured the hot water into a cup with the tea bag inside. She...

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“Drink” by Jed Cope

Submitted to Contest #160

Screaming. A pitch so high it rattles my eyes and rabbit punches my brain. My hands are at my temples and I don’t know how they got there. Breathe. You’ve got to breathe. That’s it. My eyes settle and I can see again. I scan around the room and some of the panic leaks out of me. The kettle. It was the kettle. Not screaming after all. I turn the hob off and the steam dissipates, the pressure drops and what I thought was a scream has now gone away. There is a silence that isn’t a silence at all. There is a cacophony of ...

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“I don't believe my ears.” by John Steckley

Submitted to Contest #160

Opening Scene What is that sound? My ears are telling me that what I am hearing is the whistling of a kettle. But I just can’t believe my ears. It just couldn’t be. Do people actually hallucinate sounds? That’s probably what it is. I sometimes see things that aren’t really there, so why not sounds as well. I could be that lonely these days that my mind overrules my senses in what it wants to hear. Two Weeks Earlier &...

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Start your story with the whistle of a kettle.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 60 stories

“Rewind” by Zelda C. Thorne

“Sympathy for a Kettle” by Daniella Dsouza Michaeli

“Our Girl” by Susan Williams

“The Transitory Nature of Earthly Joy” by Chris Campbell

“Wages of Sin” by Scott Skinner

“If a tree falls...” by W.E. White

“At 3.05 the Cuckoo Ceased to Chime” by Lisbeth Tull

“Lady Monique ” by Kimberly Walker

“Whistle ” by Diamond Keener

“keeper of the kettle” by L J

“I Dreamed” by Margo Harris

“to the lost” by Jay Wayne

“Finding Peace” by Andre LeFosse

“Drink” by Jed Cope

“I don't believe my ears.” by John Steckley

🌟 Similar prompts

Set your story during a drought.

Write about someone seeking an oasis in a desert — whether literally, or figuratively.

Write about a character whose job is to bring water to people.

End your story with someone dancing in the rain.

Contest #160

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

266

Contest entries

110

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

Explore more writing prompt ideas: