Begin a scene with a non-visual sense. Describe a specific sound, smell, taste, etc to capture your setting, then expand the story out from there.

Posted in Fiction on Sep 29, 2023

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✍️ 174 stories

“Mr. Pang” by Chris Pye

Submitted to Contest #218

The sickly sweet smell of his aftershave oozes through my attention. He's there, behind me. Again. He's looking over my shoulder as I sit, slowly moving in closer. That's the third time this morning. I want to react, to pinch my nose and pull a face, but I daren't: I'd lose my job. So I just stop breathing. There and then, as my nose puckers with the first astringent note, I just stop. I let my lungs relax and simply refuse to let them take in more air. The room is huge and airless; rows of office workers sit at their work stations ...

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“Scarlet Flower Tea” by Alison Toney

Submitted to Contest #218

Scarlet Flower Tea Waiting for the tea to take effect induced a mild panic, like a light blanket of ants settling over her entire body. Gish endured for a moment, then squirmed against the sensation. The creeping gave way to a net of nervous sweat that broke out over her skin, making a lacey cage. She allowed a little shiver, both of revulsion and excitement. Although the rufous liquid warmed her throat going down, it sat like a sliver of ice in her stomach. When the vision began—whenever that would be—the floe would move from her co...

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“And for thy peace I pawn my own soul. ” by Ross Tuohy

Submitted to Contest #218

The air was pregnant with decay. The stench of putrid meat mingled with the sharp metallic tang of dried blood and the smoky fugue of charcoal. The world crackled with a dark red energy which surged through the ruined student flat like arcs of summer lightning. Lines of blue and white police tape criss-crossed the blackened maw of the scorched doorway. "What the hell happened Henry?" Asked Kelly. She reached out a hand to touch the charred wood. "Don't touch anything!" Kelly's hand snapped back from the door and she turned her gaze toward He...

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“Blind spot” by Cybær _

Submitted to Contest #218

My fingertips run on the crisp, thin, flaky layer of the croissant; I can smell, will taste like melted chocolate and too much butter. It's fascinating, just as much as it is a shame; how many people miss it. It's beautiful, it's delicate, it's fragile, and yet, most people simply won't take the time to feel it. And maybe I shan't feel superior, because the only reason I do it's because it's the only way I can give it any attention at all. Its exterior is golden-brown and perfectly, masterfully baked; or so they say. I can feel its warm and ...

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“The Disappearer” by Z K

Submitted to Contest #218

Entering through the doorway the familiar sound of gentle, knowing thumps of bare feet and another unfamiliar sound of percussive, decisive heeltoe…heeltoe…heeltoe dress shoes vibrate from the recently polished hardwood floors and into the drums of my ears. One inevitably of Zubeida, my loyal assistant, and the second of my next receiver. I can feel the ever-so-slight warming and thickening of the air in the small room from the addition of two more bodies. It will continue to thicken throughout the rest of the session. Not even a whisper is ...

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“Welcome Home” by Lynn McGonigle-Clarke

Submitted to Contest #218

The salty smell of ham wrapped her in a warm hug as she stepped through the doorway. A softly hummed nonsensical tune mingled with the click of a utensil against a pot. Goosebumps shivered up her arm, bringing the hair to attention as she quietly set her suitcase down on the rug. She reached out, finding the hard plastic of the light switch, but didn’t turn it on. She closed her eyes and trailed her hand along the wallpaper as she crept down the hallway. The smooth gold stamped pinstripe followed by the slightly bumpy texture of the teal pin...

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“Helluva Time” by Captain Henson

Submitted to Contest #218

He woke up and nearly coughed his lungs out. His throat burned with an odd cinnamon taste. Every breath he took brought more of that contaminated air into his system. He surveyed his surroundings, but it was too dark to see anything. As far as he could feel with his hand, the ground was jagged concrete, like that of an old sidewalk. “Get me out!” “Get me out,” his voice echoed back. He hastily pulled his shirt collar over his nose in a vain attempt to cut out the bad air. Tears welled up in his eyes against his will. Wait a minut...

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“A Delicate Existance” by Tanya Humphreys

Submitted to Contest #218

Fall, New York state, 2023… More rain coming. I could smell it in the low-lying clouds above me and feel the extra weight of moisture on my wings; that fine condensation was wearing me out. I needed to rest and dry my wings, but the instincts of my ancestors made me panicky and loathe to sit idle for too long. Then suddenly… Warmth, and brightness. Motes of mist danced in the air before my eyes, sparkling reds and golds and brilliant blues. The damp steam rising skyward amplified the scents of the greenery: the sweet corny scent of the milk...

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“The Silent Divorce” by M M

Submitted to Contest #218

It is silent. Not eerily so, but in the change your life, hear a pin drop, jaw-dropping, did that just happen, way. Stunned. That was the other word for it. “Divorce?” I stammered swallowing hard; my eyes began to well with tears. My mind was too numb to ask anything else. “There’s someone else.” It was almost gentle other than the punch to the gut. I… I what, what did I want? To know who she was? To know why he went after someone else. To know who went after who first? “How long?” I settled on. “A year.” Another punch. He was really go...

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“Voices in the Wind” by Caterina Piazza

Submitted to Contest #218

Jacobo leans against the carriage walls with his eyes closed. It’s a stormy afternoon in the Florentine countryside, thunder booming across the sky like the roars of wild lions, and the wind scatters raindrops everywhere. Jacopo never paid too much mind to stormy weather, but this afternoon is different, the pitter patter of the rain sounds so soothing to him, and the howling gales keep him company in his solitude. He remembers a rumor he once heard about the wind; legend has it that those in grieving could often hear the voice of thei...

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“See me” by Sally-Ann Hodgekiss

Submitted to Contest #218

From fifty meters away it hits him. Distinctive? No. Flowers. Wine. Aromas to be appreciated, savoured, are distinctive. This. This is a scream. This is a desperate plea. This is someone’s last cry for acknowledgement. Find me. See me. Help me. This says loneliness. This says abandonment. No one was looking. No one was listening. Now no one will ever forget.The new guy is retching by the rose trellis. You tell them. They stand there, bravado brimming. No problem. Roadkill. They think roadkill, but this is concentrated. What gets out is a tea...

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“Case #01985” by Apostolos Kaniouras

Submitted to Contest #218

Raindrops were now gently dropping on the hood of his car. The calm and repetitive sound the water made upon collision with the metal hypnotized him. Slowly his eyelids were beginning to lower. Steadily with every rhythmic drop of rain, he was falling deeper and deeper in his leather seat. However, this was not the time to sleep. Marcus quickly grabbed the two yellow folders on his passenger’s seat and placed them in a nice brown leathered briefcase, given to him as a gift on his 20th anniversary as a public defender. Looking at his rear-vie...

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“Sniffer” by Linda Logdberg

Submitted to Contest #218

Sniffer Mr. Niffer agreed to grant this interview to KLML only under the proviso that his location not be revealed. His statements reflect the events that took place last June. OK so I’m a bit of a mutation myself, but I’m certainly no Germ. Germs, that’s where I come in. Phineas S. Niffer, one of a long line of Sniffers who, long ago, like the Turners and the Carpenters, changed our name to what we do--“Sniffer.” It’s my job to use my highly mutated olfactory apparatus to sniff out those scourges of humanity called Germs. Yes, lad...

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“A Camino morning” by Susan K

Submitted to Contest #218

Amy never would have considered the sound of zippers closing on packing cubes, clothes being compressed in nylon dry bags, or ziplock bags with travel size toiletries being sealed as loud. However, just like the butterfly effect, where the smallest action of a butterfly flapping its wings could cause a storm across the world, the collective sound of multiple people conducting these small actions to pack their bags woke her up once again. Amy reached into her sleeping bag and pulled out her phone to check the time. As expected, it was 6 am....

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“Stains and Secrets” by Krissi Driver

Submitted to Contest #218

It smells like wet pretzels and old piss. That’s a new combination. “Okay, Mr. Dzhambazov, don’t you worry ‘bout a thing. We’ll get this jacket lookin’ like it did the day you snagged it off the rack at Gimbels,” I say. Thank gawd he’s hard of hearin’ – I don’t think anyone is buyin’ my faked enthusiasm these days. “This is a verrrry special jacket, Irene. It abso-lutely must come back to me in mint condition. Mint. Con-di-shon. You unde’stand?” He taps his right index and middle fingers to the palm of his left with such vigor I worr...

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Begin a scene with a non-visual sense. Describe a specific sound, smell, taste, etc to capture your setting, then expand the story out from there.

Submissions are closed

✍️ 174 stories

“Mr. Pang” by Chris Pye

“Scarlet Flower Tea” by Alison Toney

“And for thy peace I pawn my own soul. ” by Ross Tuohy

“Blind spot” by Cybær _

“The Disappearer” by Z K

“Welcome Home” by Lynn McGonigle-Clarke

“Helluva Time” by Captain Henson

“A Delicate Existance” by Tanya Humphreys

“The Silent Divorce” by M M

“Voices in the Wind” by Caterina Piazza

“See me” by Sally-Ann Hodgekiss

“Case #01985” by Apostolos Kaniouras

“Sniffer” by Linda Logdberg

“A Camino morning” by Susan K

“Stains and Secrets” by Krissi Driver

🌟 Similar prompts

Start the story with the absence of a sensory detail (eg. silence when there should be noise).

‘Hit a tripwire of smell and memories explode all at once.’ Use the senses to transport a character back to the past.

Write a story that begins, ends, or changes with a song played by a busker.

‘The worst meal I’ve ever tasted.’ Imagine a zero-star TripAdvisor restaurant review: capture the customer’s evening out that compelled them to complain.

Contest #218

Enter our weekly contest!

$250

Prize money

334

Contest entries

97

Stories

Win $250 in our short story competition 🏆

Explore more writing prompt ideas: