Friday, February 7, 2014

FOUR 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 four 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!

They'd pushed her chair into a corner again. The spot got a lot of sun; she knew they were trying to be kind. And what could she do? She lived her days on wheels, and that changed the power dynamics drastically. So, she sat and felt the warmth of the sun mingling with the cold memory of childhood afternoons sitting in the corner. Not speaking. She tried to remember that she was not in the corner because she had done anything wrong. Most times, she did.

She did pretty well most days. That was what she thought. She was wrong, but no one ever told her different. They smiled and brought trays of food and fluffed the pillows in her room and every day was exactly the damn same. Who could tell anything in this place?

The TV was always on. It had tortured her at first. Now, she was used to it. Like the little cage of birds that were supposed to cheer them. She could not bear to look at them. They should have been outside, flying. Outside, free. Outside, where the world was not a rotating platter of jello and medication. All of them. 

The birds couldn't leave, and she couldn't leave. She often wished she had the courage to open the latch. Or to find out what the hell was going on...

10 comments:

  1. If I leave here now, it won't be for love or money. Not by hook or crook. I don't know know if it will be feet first, head first or sideways. It will be supine in pine. I'll be stiff as a board without viagra. Take me to the farm cause I bought. Quit smoking and drinking - even quite swearing damn it and you know that's a grave sign. May I rest in piece, shuffle off the mortal coil, kick the bucket, and blow this pop stand. I'm old, damn I'm old. No one will say, "it was before his time." No, they'll shake their heads and say, "I thought he died in the eighties. Well didn't we all? Didn't we all flippin' die in the eighties. One thing is certain, most of you haven't moved on since then anyway. Face it, you died in the eighties and you liked it. We all liked it. It was a good time for music, xenophobia, and trickle down the leg economics so named cause the Russians scared the piss out of us. We liked it then, we like it now, and I'm old. So very old...

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    1. Wow! This is so very fucking amazing. "Take me to the farm cause I bought." I love it. And we did all die in the 80s. Stellar piece, Ed.

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  2. Ok, I’m stupid. All I got going for me is a thick streak of curious and today that burned me so bad I am trying real hard to lift my leg backwards and kick myself in the pants. The screen lit up with “I’m not kidding! You are a winner!” and I fell for it like some greenhorn who’s never seen a scam in action, one dumb naïve fool who could not resist clicking himself into a computer meltdown. First Microsoft softly faded. Then my poker program flashed a losing hand of not even one pair, and finally, while I sat crying like a girl, I watched XP flutter away in bursts of white and black, finally going out for good. I’m dumb. Kick my ass. I’ve got a humongous virus and I can’t talk anymore.

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    1. The pathos here works so well, Sal. Great piece. Perfect tone. Damn, so far so good this Friday! :)

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  3. “What do you think?” She turned from the mirror to face him.

    She looked beautiful, that’s what he thought. All glowy and soft, and the new dress, which was presumably what she’d asked about, suited her simplicity, her girl-next-door appeal. When he noticed the soft drape of the fabric over her belly, the answer he’d almost gotten out of his mouth choked in his throat. She’d be leaving him. She’d deny it, of course. They all did. “No, we’ll still stay friends,” they all said, but when the baby came, they’d disappear into the land of the progeny, the land of diaper genies and ways to game the system to get into the best preschools. Another friend gone.

    “I think you’re amazing,” he said, and turned away before she could see his face. Because she always knew. She knew every look, every displeased expression, every thought, it seemed. This one, though, he didn’t want her to see.

    He ventured a blank glance in her direction. The softening of her eyes told him he’d failed. “It won’t be like that,” she said. “I promise.”

    He wasn’t as sure.

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    1. That was wonderful, Laurie. Thank you for stopping by as always - you class up the joint. ;)

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  4. "I can't believe you take that stuff seriously," Paul said.

    Carolyn just shrugged. What could she say. Nothing would change Paul's mind. She moved her laptop slightly so that he couldn't read the screen without leaning over.

    "The power is within you," the screen told her. The curly white font on the faded image of a forest felt so calming. She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and reached out with her mind. She pulled air into her lungs, and tried to feel the power. She could feel the corners of the room. She could feel the lamp and the laptop and the coffee table. The only thing she couldn't feel was the other end of the couch. An unexpected emptiness made her shiver.

    She opened her eyes. Paul was still there.

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    1. Wow, that was rad. Thanks for sharing it, Beth. Really dope balance and the end is wicked. :)

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  5. The sound is still somewhat muffled by the blanket of snow, but that will soon change. Thaw is sneaking its way into the world. Drips of snowmelt plunk upon flat rocks on the rivers edge. Rivulets play notes at the far right edge of a piano keyboard. Fucking annoying if you ask me.

    An angry Blue Jay yelled at me when I went outside for a smoke. It's a bit early in the season for him to be swaggering around already, but there he is.

    Another cycle about to begin. The death of winter almost gone. Christ. How many more cycles do I have to go through?

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    1. So much here. I really like it. "Drips of snowmelt plunk upon flat rocks on the rivers edge. Rivulets play notes at the far right edge of a piano keyboard. Fucking annoying if you ask me." +1, so nice.

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