Writing Prompt of the Week: February 27-March 5 (Fantasy & Sci-Fi (Speculative Fiction))

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Welcome to the 37th Writing Prompt of the Week!


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Week of February 27-March 5
Submissions: February 27-March 3
Voting: March 4-5
Winner Badge Awarded: March 6

Fantasy & Sci-Fi

Fantasy and Sci-Fi encompasses the broad genres, from paranormal to space opera to high fantasy to aliens. All things fantastical, magical, futuristic and paranormal are allowed in these prompts. There should be at least one of these elements in your submission.

This Week’s Prompt

“I need to talk to a human!” they demanded.


Noo! I forgot this! I’ll still write one regardless.

The alien is disoriented. They know they can't afford any misstep. The thought of getting sent back to Mirion if they fail this crucial mission, only to be deported for the rest of their life, cripples their mind.

‘Now, how do I get out of this situation?’ They wonder whether they’ll be able to encounter a human being. As part of their mission, they have to capture one and take it to Mirion in order to get that mysterious species analyzed. Or, maybe, turned into the Queen’s slave.

The Mirionese’s search might be over. They find a park, where at least a hundred human beings are. They engage in a vast number of activities: running, strolling down the paths with prams, walking dogs, picking flowers, playing games; the only few people who don’t get caught in the bustling lie on the grass or on benches, taking naps.

The alien musters the courage to talk to one of those evoluted animals. The one they run into is a woman, perhaps middle aged, who wears a special black uniform. It has a tag with ‘POLICE’ written on it. They wonder whether it’s a special army unit, a criminal organization, or whatever else.

“I need to talk to a human!” they demand. The agent is taken aback by their voice. She glances nervously at them. She doesn’t know how she’ll be able to tell her superiors that she’s talking to an alien right now.

“What’s your name?” she asks, hoping the Mirionese is friendly at least.

The latter takes her by surprise. “My name is Rax Borg. I come from the planet Mirion, over nine billion light years away from here. Anyway, madam, you must come with me.”

“Why so?”

Rax comes up with a creative lie. “You’ve been invited to Mirion’s Grand Ball as our special guest. Our Queen looks forward to meeting you.”

“But I-”

They press a finger on the policewoman’s lips. “Don’t say a word. Just follow me, okay?”