suspense fiction

Writer’s Prompt: Last Call for the President: A Bartender’s Deadly Secret”

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He was pouring drinks, not looking for trouble—until he overheard a plan to kill the President. The question is: will anyone believe him in time?

Opening Paragraph:

Drew McKay didn’t want to be a hero. He wanted to close out the register, wipe down the bar, and be home in time to feed his cat. But that night, a man and a woman walked into The Stag and Lantern and ordered bourbon with the calm confidence of people hiding something. It wasn’t what they drank—it was what they said between sips. He heard the words “presidential route,” “blind spots,” and “no margin for failure.” Drew froze. Pretending to mop, he memorized everything. He called the Secret Service hotline before his shift ended. Agents came. They questioned him. Then they left. Case closed. Nothing there. But Drew knows what he heard. He’s watched the couple return twice, always quiet, always watching the news. They’re not done. And he can’t shake the feeling: if he doesn’t act, the President won’t survive the week. Problem is, someone’s now watching him. And in this game, the only thing more dangerous than being right… is being alone.

3 Questions to Dive Deeper:

  1. What would you do if you were the only person who believed a national tragedy was about to happen?
  2. How far would you go to stop something terrible if the authorities dismissed your warning?
  3. Who can be trusted when the lines between truth, paranoia, and conspiracy begin to blur?

Writer’s Prompt:  No Moon, No Mercy: The Night the Lights Never Came Back On

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Three Essential Quotes About Good Writing by Ray Bradbury

  1. “You must stay drunk on writing so reality cannot destroy you.” (On writing as both obsession and salvation.)
  2. “Don’t tell me the moon is shining; show me the glint of light on broken glass.” (Bradbury echoing the spirit of Chekhov, underscoring the power of imagery and sensory detail.)
  3. “Write a short story every week. It’s not possible to write 52 bad short stories in a row.” (His advice on consistent practice and letting creativity flow without fear.)

Starting paragraph for a thriller


It was a moonless night. The kind of night that didn’t whisper secrets—it devoured them. Streetlights flickered, then died, one by one, until the neighborhood sank into complete black. No stars, no silver trail of clouds—only thick, tar-like sky pressing down. Detective Mara Quinn stepped out of her car and into the suffocating dark, flashlight in hand, gun at her hip, breath held. Dispatch said it was a false alarm. Dispatch didn’t hear the phone call that came after. A whispering voice. One name. Hers. The smell hit her first—iron, copper, something burnt. Then came the silence—not the kind that rests, but the kind that watches. The front door of the old colonial creaked open just a sliver, swaying on its hinges. Inside, her partner was already gone. No backup. No sound. Just a string of Polaroids scattered on the porch, and on each one: her face, asleep, unaware, timestamped. Tonight, the dark wasn’t just outside. It had come looking for her.

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