Friday, February 14, 2014

2 Minutes. Go!

Hey, writer-type folks. Every Friday we do a fun free-write. No reason. Just ending the week in style.

Basically, you can write whatever you want in the comments section. You have two minutes. Have fun. The more people who play, the more fun it is. Play as many times as you like (doesn't have to be today, even). 


So, tell a friend. If you have one. If not, tell your enemies. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play.

Have a great weekend! Happy Valentine's Day.


The paper lunch sacks were taped to the desks, decorated with glitter and stickers, begging for validation, recognition. Zack's was overflowing in seconds. He had that kind of thick blonde hair that goes so well with an Izod shirt. He didn't stutter either. 

You passed your cards quickly like a croupier on crack. You wanted it done. You wanted to know if everyone noticed that your bag swung a little more freely than the others. None of it mattered though. Cardboard and chalky hearts and girls with cute sweaters they had been given just for the day.

You told yourself it didn't matter all the way home. And when she asked, you told your Mom that it had been the best Valentine's ever.

It sure wasn't the worst.

8 comments:

  1. I changed my password. Still he found me sitting there frothing white at the mouth, my dagger eyes pierced for killing. I thought, okay, now I’m safe; he’ll never find me, but I clicked for more research sites. A deadline a day away, and there he was again, popping up obscene ads from lonely women, taking me places no happily married man has any business going. I called to Becca sitting in the living room eating up TV like sugar treats. “He found me! He found me!” She walked into my man cave, stood beside me and didn’t say a word, just grinned what I took to mean, Good! I’m happy as hell. I hope he turns your computer into a dead thing, the screen a snow sky, and you’re forced to sit with me on the couch like the old days before all this crap started. But I ignored her silence and changed my password one more time.

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  2. My first name is Russian. I don't feel Russian, but I most likely am. At least my real parents probably were. Or Polish, or some other nationality. When I was born, where I was born, it was all the same. For some reason unknowable to me I was smuggled out of East Germany as a baby. Most everything about me is made up. I could take the view that it is all a lie. I prefer to think of myself as a work of fiction. Like something from a great Russian author. Depressing, long, and complicated. I am as cold as winter in many respects except that I am as hot as the sun inside.

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  3. Maggie wasn’t a hearts-and-flowers kind of girl, but it was their first Valentine’s Day and Brian felt like he was supposed to do something. A couple of his buddies had bought roses for their girlfriends, but that was way outside his budget, and he wouldn’t see another paycheck for a week and a half. He cruised the card aisle at the store in the mall, but it just made his stomach flutter with panic. Puppies? Justin-what’s his name? Love and kisses? It all made him cringe. A couple other guys lurked around looking just as clueless. They traded shrugs and embarrassed grins. “It’s a conspiracy,” the guy next to him said, and Brian had to agree. “Get the kitten,” he said, pointing at one of the slots. “Can’t go wrong with a kitten.”

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    Replies
    1. Love it. And true. Nothing a good kitten can't fix. Like duct tape.

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  4. She stared down at the contents of the drawer, the ring of steel hitting steel still hovering in the chilled air. The body looked too small and pale to be Rick, but maybe that was from the white walls or the confusion of a brain still in shock. She still felt afraid of him, as if he’d open his eyes and shoot upright and grab her around the throat. And if not for the task she’d been assigned, she would have bolted from the room. She nodded at the man in the blue scrubs. He gave the drawer a hard shove, and the monster who’d tried to kill her disappeared.

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    Replies
    1. Woah, that was intense. I just read it like ten times. Nice work.

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