I'm not explaining the chaos in here

Stuck in a rut?

I stumbled upon this website and I've found it to be really helpful when I want to write but don't know what to write. 

The rules on the site are simple. If you stop writing, the site will delete everything that you've written so it's very useful for those who want to just write and don't want to get stopped by things like "HOW FAR FROM XYZ IS YZX?!?" or "WHAT IS THE NAME OF THE BARISTA?!" and "IS THIS EVEN APPROPRIATE??"

https://www.squibler.io/random-prompt-generator  <- here is a link go and write my lovelies!

Mention me in a story part or send me the link to your creations, I wanna see what you guys come up with!

for those who are interested here is some things I've done with the site

(italics are the prompts) 

London Slums: Jack the Ripper type of thing

He had never seen so many homeless people in one place. Honestly, the stench itself was powerful enough to cause him hesitation, but he couldn't stop now, not when justice was so close.

He had followed the killer's missteps and miscalculations to what he believed were the biggest slums in London.

A large fat rat scampered over his boot, hissing in protest as he kicked it away. Scattered streetlamps gave the rundown factories and the destitute Londoners. a soft yellow glow A few ramshackle shelters lined the streets, and prostitutes walked the length of the sidewalk.

Yes, he was in the slums all right. But what of the killer, with a reign of terror and bloodshed over the English high society-and his family? He strained his eyes as he stalked down the filthy streets, trying to find a killer's glint in the eyes of a starving mother or a hotheaded young boy.

Somehow, all had that spark of life. Their eyes were alive with a fiery passion he could not explain nor deny. He could not recall seeing such a fire in all of his life, not in the richest heiresses or the jolliest marquess.

There!

A lone figure swiftly rounded a corner, their coattails waving behind them. Surely, that must be his man.

Thanks for the Portal

The victim had tried to write something as he was dying. The now dried blood on the walls formed unreadable scribbled and the tip of the victim's finger had been sliced open. Was this dead victim trying to warn Fort Sumner Authorities about the strange glowing rocks they'd discovered? Or was it merely someone trying to scare the public? Until we can speak with the living, they'll never know. But in just a few hours, that poor rancher will surely regret opening a portal straight to hell. Already my master has gathered an army capable of wreaking havoc across the globe. As for me, I've got a date to keep. After all, I can't keep the local authorities guessing, can I? They should probably know that I was writing in a language known only by the demons and devils of hell.

Family Traditions

They say everyone who looks into their family history will find a secret sooner or later. I wish I could have heeded that advice sooner. I can't believe I'm saying this, but I really wish I could back time and tell myself to stay far away from my Great-Aunt's cookies and cakes. How was I supposed to know what she put in those treats?

Now I'm older and wiser, and far away from my entire family, whose diet included the neighbors. I couldn't invite a friend over for a sleepover without waking up with them for breakfast.

So now I live in California, as far away from my family as I can go without going to China.

Now that I think about it, I don't think my parents have ever eaten an Asian person. Perhaps I can help them out. After all, what kind of son would I be if I strayed from family tradition and let my family starve.

I have always been a mama's boy and as I prepare to visit her for the first time in years, I'll make sure to take the tastiest treats I can make.