Lacking Inspiration: Dreams
I'm sorry if you don't have very interesting dreams, but maybe you can use the prompt I concocted from the one I had last night: A refurbished hotel built upon an older hotel that hides a secret society. Also, making yourself write on the prompt for only five, ten, or fifteen minutes can make you run with ideas that on closer inspection may seem insane, but insane is at least different. I timed myself for ten minutes.
It all started in the pool room or at least that's what it used to be in the hotel. Now, it was just a bland ball room, except that pressing the forgotten lever was not a good idea. Oh well, girls of only eight were quite often very curious, not to mention Jamie was there. A little blonde bob, Danny was only a year older than Jemima was.
They descended down the musty spiral stair case that was not the usual entrance for 'customers'. Jemima and Danny stopped in the archway of the door. The room they looked into directly under the oak dance floor in the bottom of the blue tiled dry pool had several gurneys lined along the walls. Slowly, the contents of the IV bags that she'd recognized from TV became clear just as Danny became awfully pale, and he wasn't even on one of the stretchers.
Black wavy hair framing a ashen compextion, the face of Danny's dad came into focus as he removed an IV from a patent, the wound seeping blood. A nurse practitioner would have covered the wound with a bandage and gauze, but instead he sucked the bright red substance. By then, both Jemima and Danny were gone up the stairs trying to not panic.
"After all," she said clapping Danny on the back, "finding out your dad's a vampire's no biggie."