Everyone In This Building Dies At The End
Writing Stories That See the Future—Prompts and Tips Inside
Prophecy has always fascinated me—not in the crystal-ball sense, but in the way we let what might happen shape how we see the world. Sometimes it’s obvious; other times, it’s subtle, like the feeling that something’s just slightly off. That’s the thread I pulled on when I wrote this week’s story.
It started with a simple idea: someone living in a high-rise apartment, and the word endeavor. I imagined the kind of person who peers through a peephole more often than they probably should. The result? A narrator consumed by their own thoughts, where paranoia and possibility twist together until you can’t tell them apart.
What I love about writing prophetically is how it lets you play with tension. You’re not only predicting what happens—you’re creating the sense that something will, even if it’s all in your character’s head. In this story, the dread builds slowly, pulling you along with the narrator’s spiraling imagination. Horror? Maybe at first glance. But by the end, you might wonder if the scariest thing here isn’t the hallway outside—it’s the mind inside.
This week is all about writing with that edge: how to infuse your stories with a sense of inevitability and keep your readers questioning where reality begins and ends.
⚡The Story⚡
Harper will spend today speaking into the void again. Her latest endeavor, True Crimes of the Bay will consume her. She will adjust a pop filter. Her sentences will blur fact into fiction.
Later tonight, her thoughts will loop on repeat. The echo of #7B’s hammering — a killer hiding evidence? A shadowy figure shifting in the hallway. Was that a knife handle?
This case, this man, will pull at her focus like a noose. She will peer through a peephole. #7B’s door will stand ajar, revealing nothing. Yet nothing will reveal everything.
If she disappears, this will be the episode.
⚡The Comic⚡
⚡The Basic Prompt⚡
Write a story where the narrator describes a day that hasn’t yet happened. How does the use of future tense shape the tone and tension?
Examples to Explore:
A first date that the narrator anticipates going horribly wrong.
“The waiter will spill wine on her dress. He’ll laugh nervously, and she’ll smile like it doesn’t bother her. But the night will end before dessert.”
A dystopian world where tomorrow promises disaster.
“The air will hang heavy with smoke. They will gather at the square, clutching their rations like lifelines. By nightfall, someone will vanish.”
A mundane day turned extraordinary by a single event.
“She will hit snooze three times before trudging to the kitchen. At 8:13 AM, the phone will ring, and nothing will ever be the same again.”
This exercise invites you to play with the tension between what’s expected and what’s unknown, giving your future tense writing an eerie or anticipatory edge.
⚡The Advanced Prompt⚡
Create a piece that alternates between future and past tense to suggest that events are inevitable yet already decided. How does this affect the mood and stakes?
Examples to Explore:
A character reliving the final day before a tragic event they know is coming.
Past: “I woke up at 6 AM, the alarm screeching.”
Future: “Tomorrow, I will wish I had slept in, unaware of what the morning would bring.”
A cyclical story where the ending loops back to the beginning.
Future: “She will stumble into the bar, the rain soaking her coat.”
Past: “She had already seen his face, but tonight would be the first time she spoke to him.”
A narrator trying to rewrite their own future.
Past: “I always made the wrong choice.”
Future: “This time, I will get it right. This time, the outcome will change.”
This prompt encourages a layered exploration of inevitability and choice, showing how time frames affect narrative tension.
⚡The Writing Tip⚡
Future tense creates a sense of inevitability, giving your narrator an almost omniscient perspective. It’s perfect for stories where fate, obsession, or destiny are central themes, as it gives the impression that the narrator knows exactly how events will unfold—but leaves the reader wondering why. Here are some famous examples to inspire you:
McCarthy’s sparse, haunting prose turns future tense into a tool of inevitability. In sentences like the one below, the future tense doesn’t offer hope or possibilities—it locks the characters into a fate they can’t outrun.
He would raise his head from time to time to listen. But he would hear nothing.
The repetition of “would” adds a rhythm, almost like footsteps toward the void, reinforcing the novel’s bleak tone. The future isn’t a question here; it’s a sentence, already written, already inescapable.
Orwell uses future tense like a dictator’s decree. Lines like these hammer home the inevitability of the dystopian world he’s built. It’s not just that these things will happen—it’s that they’ve already happened, again and again, in an endless cycle.
Always, at every moment, there will be the thrill of victory, the sensation of trampling on an enemy who is helpless.
The future tense doubles as a psychological weapon, robbing both Winston and the reader of the ability to imagine any alternative. The Party’s control isn’t just absolute—it’s eternal.
The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald
In The Great Gatsby, Fitzgerald uses future tense to lay bare Gatsby’s tragic optimism. When Nick says this, he’s not just speaking about the future, but about the myth of progress, the illusion that we can keep reaching for something just out of grasp.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but that’s no matter—tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out our arms farther….
The tense gives the line a breathless energy, as if Gatsby’s dream is alive and inevitable, even though the reader knows it’s already crumbling. The future isn’t where the tragedy happens; it’s where the hope dies slowly, inch by inch.
