This is barely a start to a story, just a few lines before I found myself unmotivated and at a loss of how to continue. I got the basic premise set up, at least I think so. The gargoyles, or grotesques, actually are protectors and there are actually monsters in the woods. It was going to be about the discovery about them and their history protecting the house over the years. Anyway, here is the short, unfinished work: When I was growing up, I was always scared of the gargoyles that surrounded my house. The gargoyles were big stone statues with terrifying faces that stood guard at the edge of the property. They were perched at the entrances of the stone wall, which had a small metal fence on the top. The wall outlined the entire property and only had 3 entrances. The big one in the front and the back, and a small side door. They faced out, watching over the huge expanse of woods beyond the walls. They were believed to be guardians, protectors, from evil spirits that wished to cause harm to those residing in the house.

This is another story with just the beginning that's mostly background. I got stuck on how to continue because there's so many ways this story can go, it's limited on what type of monster it can be, sort of, but I couldn't figure out how to take it forward in a way I liked. Here's the unfinished story: You know those stories you’re told as kids, the ones about the monsters in the woods. The creatures that lurk around at night or even about that one haunted house in town that you’re told to stay far away from. They’re supposed to be myths, legends, just stories so that you’ll behave and stay safe, far away from the dangers that they’re dressing up as worse than they are. For example, the haunted house could just be home to a tragic history or dangerous chemicals or molds, fungus. The creatures at night are to discourage you from wandering around unprotected at night when there is no one around to notice if you’re taken or attacked. It really could be a wild animal that ventures into the city at night for food and you just happen to get in the way. I’m getting off topic but the point I’m trying to make is that the stories serve a purpose and are usually true to a certain degree. The story I remember most from my child hood is about the creatures that lived in the forest just beyond my fenced in back yard. You see, my house was on the edge of the forest and I loved to explore it during the day when I had the time. My mother told me about a monster that lived in the woods but couldn’t cross the boundary of the forest, so stay close to the gate. Another important fact about this particular monster was that it lived in the water but could leave its home for short periods of time. She used to tell me not to wander too far and to stay far away from the pond, especially if it was raining. But, I loved the forest, the trees, the quiet, and the occasional rustle or thump from the bunnies I frequently saw. One day however, after a particularly horrible day at school, I sought solace in the woods in a hollowed-out tree I found on one of my adventures exploring and learning the woods. It looked like it had been struck by lightning many years ago. It was charred but the vegetation that grew in the years since covered a lot of the damage done. The tree itself, before the lighting, was weird as well. It wasn’t straight like the others, its branches curved oddly, and the trunk was thicker than the other trees in the forest. The place gave me the heebie-jeebies the first time I was there, but it slowly eased away the more time I spent there. It became my safe place; the only downside was that the pond was closer than I would have liked, and had my mother known she’d never let me go there again. The pond was a place I’d only visited a view times before, I tried my best to follow my mother’s advice and stay away, mostly because I wasn’t a very good swimmer.

This is the beginning of a story from the prompt "you just moved into a new house and discover a door you've never seen before." I had the general idea but didn't know how to continue with it. It's mostly just background at this point. Here's the unfinished story: As someone who moved every couple of years since I was a child, you’d think I’d be used to it by now. But nope, the move to some random small-town half way across the country from my previous home on the beach where the sun was always shining, irritated me to no end. I liked my life before the move. I had good friends. The house wasn’t the biggest, but it was warm and cozy, it was home. While I waited for my mom to find the key to the new house, which was way to big for the 4 of us, even with a new member of the family on the way. I remember very clearly that it was raining because I hated rain at the time, and I sarcastically asked the universe why it was rubbing salt into my wounds while they were still fresh. The only good side to the house that I could see so far was the woods that surrounded the property, and the fact that I’d get my own bedroom this time, instead of sharing it with my little, annoying sister. I loved exploring, I hadn’t lived near woods like this since I was still in the single digits. They looked dense, and the trees were taller than the house which was impressive considering the house was 3 stories and looked like it belonged it the Victorian era. After some digging, I found that it was a Queen Anne styled house that was about a century old, give or take. When we finally got into the house after a few minutes of my parents struggling with finding the right key to the front door. The key ring they received when they bought the house was big and held numerous keys. It seemed unlikely that all the keys were for the house, there would have to be a separate type of lock for each door, which was a highly disturbing thought at the time, but upon entering the house and checking around, all the doors seemed to need the same key except a few. The basement, the attic, and the master all had modern day locks. The basement lock was a little weird, it had an extra bolt than the others, save for the front and back door, didn’t. The house was nice otherwise, a little old fashioned but nothing we couldn’t fix with some new paint and our own furniture. I ended up with the room with the tower bay window which I was extremely pleased about because it was probably one of my favourite parts of the house. The tower structure was beautiful, and the bay window was an added bonus I was not expecting.

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