Friday, October 25, 2013

2 minutes. Go!

It's FLASH FICTION FRIDAY again. Basically, all writers are invited to do a free write for five minutes in the comments section. It is definitely more fun when we have thirty people playing instead of five, so tell a friend (and have a lovely weekend from the folk at JDMader.com), ;)

You got to make sure you're playing in the right key. That's the most important thing. Otherwise it's going to sound like shit. Otherwise, you won't be hitting it right and it will sound like cats fighting.

You don't want things to sound like cats fighting do you? It's an even worse sound than cats getting it on. Cats can make some Godawful noises, that's for sure. I know, I saw them one time on Broadway making the most sentimental racket you ever heard. 

I stepped in vomit on the way out of the theater. 



18 comments:

  1. The ginger cat spat on the mat and was not impressed. Me make a racket while having a spot of how’s your father or singing? I think not. You’ve got another think coming if you think I’m not going raise my fur at that little dig, mister… I didn’t catch your name.

    I’d like you to know that I consider myself a connoisseur of many things... fine milk, fine felines and fine song. When the moon is full and the stars are a-twinkling in the night sky, I like to perch my big tom ass on the tallest fence and tickle my ivories. Ah, I can sing with the best of them. And I’ve always done it my way, purrrfectly.

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    1. :) Alright, I retract my claws. Thanks for playing!

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    2. mew! That's my whole creativity for the day... 2 minutes! :)

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  2. He stood back and surveyed his work. a self satisfied smirk played on his mean lips, ahh he was indeed a master craftsman.
    Her dull eyes regarded him resignedly before turning their attention to the wall where his lamb chops and potatoes traced a trail of gravy in the decent.
    Her lack of reaction had irked him somewhat when he had thrown his plate bellowing "do you really expect me to eat that shit?!"
    Normally ....(ran out of time!)

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    1. Very nice. Evocative. You should keep this one going.

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  3. Normally although still under his control, she would come back with a furious retort, Her angry eyes flashing, wave upon wave of venom pouring out of them but always knowing when to stop.
    He loved that about her, her passion, her courage when she stood up to him even though she could never know if this time he would hit her. He hadn't done so yet, somewhere deep inside him it was he who was afraid. That's why he had to keep her under control. Why couldn't she understand that? He was so scared of losing her the only way to stop that from happening was relentless emotional assault on her.
    He had chipped away at her self esteem for years now. Chisled away her happiness and lust for life.

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    1. DOPE! Yeah, you definitely got a story trying to come out with these. :)

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  4. Let's lighten the mood, eat food, drink wine and dance,
    Let's walk in the moonlight, my head on your shoulder,
    Step into the unknown, take a chance.

    We could live in the moment, forgetting the past,
    We could breathe in the now, exhale our regrets,
    We could create a memory to last.

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    1. I totally read that all in Frank Sinatra's voice. Sexy. ;)

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  5. I don't think I can do this...

    "Sure you can. Don't be a pussy."

    But I've never done it in front of someone...

    "Don't be silly, what difference can it make. Just get up there and do it."

    The stage spreads out before me like a vast beach lining an ocean of humanity. The house lights go down and there is a blinding flash before my eyes. I amble toward the microphone. Steadying myself with my left hand finding the stand. I put my right hand out palm up and raise it toward the ceiling.

    And I begin to sing.
    And move.
    Like Jagger...

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    1. Jaeger? ;) THAT, I would like to see.

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  6. I own this fucking stage.

    The crowd explodes with cheers and applause as I amble slowly from the stage right, breaking stride to shuffle a bit to the sultry music.

    Damn right, I own this stage.

    The spotlight narrows as the music rises. The crowd is a crashing wave surging forward. Trying to get that much closer to me.

    Microphone in hand, I perform by rote. Belying the gut wrenching fear I feel.

    They don't know I can barely afford to rent this fucking stage.

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    1. Wow, that was amazing. The implied backstory and reveal. In that few words. I'm impressed.

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  7. A spider web kissed Rosie’s cheek and she sputtered it away. William was crazy. There weren’t any ghosts in the basement. Just some old power tools and junk from when his father used to live here. Although the vise at the edge of the workbench was all clean and shiny. Beside it sat a couple of weird, shriveled things that sort of looked like parts of dead frogs. She swung her head toward William, but he was already picking the lock on the door in the corner. That seemed really weird, she thought. If his father was gone, why keep it locked? But maybe he was trying to keep someone from getting in. Or maybe…from getting out. She took a step backward, batting blindly behind her for the door to the stairs. “Um…I’m supposed to be going home for supper,” she said, but it came out more like a question, and the smile he gave her froze her where she stood.

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    1. Holy crap, that was creepy. Seriously, gave me chills. Not the happy kind. Fucking good, G.

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