Friday, March 28, 2014

2 Minutes. Go!

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

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. 
So, tell a friend. Then send 'em here to read your 'two' and encourage them to play. 

Have a good weekend!

They sat awkwardly, french fries splayed out in front of them, glistening on the red, plastic tray. He tried to think of something to say. She tried to remember why they were there. They both felt the excitement of the "date" while secretly wishing they were playing stickball per usual.

All the kids were doing it. Going to get burgers, sodas, going to movies. Jack and Zinny had been friends their entire lives. It seemed natural when their other friends pressured them into the date. I mean, it made sense. Except that it didn't. They had talked for hundreds of hours. They were closer than a married couple. But, with the french fries between them - along with the expectations they didn't even understand - they felt a million miles away.

(for the record, I cheated a little and went back and edited - I am a terrible person) ;)


  1. There wasn't much left of him. The creature's claws and convex paw had literally scooped most of Fred's face out like ice cream from a cardboard container. Fred stood there shakily for a second, his remaining eye turning dull as the blood poured frothily from the serrated tissue. Part of his forebrain slid from the jagged hole in his cranium slurpily, and his body fell, accordioning down from his knees. The final impact of his head upon his shoulder caused even more of his grey matter to slop out, as a fountain of red drizzled upward from the remains of his carotid artery.

    1. Jesus, I should not have read this while eating. ;) Gruesome goodness, brother.

  2. If we split today no one would know my pain. You're such a 'nice guy'. It must all be my fault. For trying so hard. For fighting to make this work. For caring. For never giving up. You just sat there, Mr. Computer, calm, accusing, subtly twisting things until you could come out looking good and i somehow got the blame. Now no one will ever see it. And I will be alone. But then I always have been, haven't I. And you will go on, still always the 'nice guy'.

    1. Take him to task! This is a neat piece, lady. :)

  3. The willow tree sways and its weeping strands trail soft tips on the soil beside the lake's rippled surface.. The sun glances off the surface of the water and into my eyes. Cover his face. Mine Eyes dazzle. I can pretend I didn’t see the blood and I can turn and go back to the house and wait for them to tell me there.. No one knows I was here, no one need ever know. The willow-branches will in time wipe away all evidence both my presence and his blood. I can leave, and no one will ever know. But to leave him there, no, I can’t do it. It feels like a betrayal, to abandon him as he first left me. I sit on the bank. I reach out and take his cooling hand in mine and I wait. They will find us here together, and I will have left this world to be with him once more.

    1. Oooh, I like this one a lot. Thanks for sharing, Caron. :)

  4. Eek so out of practice! How many times did I say 'and'??? Yvonne, loved it - funny and sooo true!

  5. Everything would be perfect if I used the right emoticon. The one that says, “I’m sorry I didn’t think before I said those really stupid things,” or “I’m sorry that your mother dropped you on your head,” or “You should have said you were Amish before we rented the crop duster.” Nobody thinks of the people who really need these devices. We can tell you’re smiling. We can tell you’re laughing even without the lol and the uppercase LOL really means you’re spitting coffee on the keyboard. No, we need the subtle keystroke gestures, the ones that convey more, the ones that with, say a comma and a left caret and a dash that I’m sorry I got the wrong brand of peanut butter, please don’t take out your bad day on me.

    1. This is awesome. :) “You should have said you were Amish before we rented the crop duster.” - Win!

  6. Its a daunting task to portray an older character. It requires a special kind of writer, regardless of the author's own age. Real or imagined. The older character in a longer narrative will likely have to die. The art is to make the death a kindness rather than the cruel joke that it is in real life. In fiction, you can't get away with the ridiculousness of real life. The unfairness, the randomness, the mess. Yet you have to put some of it in there. Make it all unicorns and glitter, the reader doesn't buy. Just don't make it too real, because the reality is that nobody wants to read that shit.

    1. Love this. Especially: "In fiction, you can't get away with the ridiculousness of real life."

      You said you'd stop giving me shit about the secret sparkly unicorn trilogy.

  7. It should have worked perfectly. The sun and moon were in perfect synchronicity, blue bells highlighted the meeting place and a soft breeze whispered promises.
    You sat there stunned, your clothing in disarray. A riot starting in your head and a barbecue in your stomach.
    I only wanted to nurture the wayward child inside, it was an accident. You shouldn't have glared those fiery eyes, your amphibian emotions always result in tears! You fuel my rage, stoke it with the bellows of your wrath.
    Purposely provoking me so what did you expect? Well?

    1. Word. This is a strong ass piece, lady.

      A riot starting in your head and a barbecue in your stomach. - Dope

  8. I stepped into the elevator on the first floor. It was one of those elevators with a computer voice. The door slid closed. A moment later, the door slid open.

    "SECOND FLOOR," the elevator said. "WATCH YOUR STEP."

    A few seconds later, the door opened again.

    "THIRD FLOOR," the elevator said. "WATCH YOUR STEP."


    And so it went until it reached the top floor.


    I chuckled to myself and thought, hmm... now they've got a computer that tells you where to get off. What a boring job that would be. I guess that's the benefit of being a computer. No feelings... no human frailties... no awareness of human emotions...

    Then something strange happened. The elevator continued going up. "This can't be," I said to myself. "The building only has twenty-two floors and we were at the top." Nevertheless, it was going up.

    Then it stopped. The door slid open.

    There, in the midst of a misty soft, multi-colored glow, stood the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. As I gazed into her eyes I felt a tingling sensation throughout my entire body.

    "LOVE," the elevator said. "WATCH YOUR STEP."

    1. Watch your step indeed. Love is a tricky landing. ;)

  9. Euphemism. It wasn't like he never used the word before, but here he was, lying in bed with Lilla, in the middle of a story, when the word stuck somewhere in his brain where he could not for the life of him dislodge it.

    "Run through the alphabet," suggested Lilla, sounding embarrassed for him. "Start with A –– "

    "I know the alphabet," Carlos snapped. "Then comes B, C, and all the way to Z."

    Lilla yawned. "It ain't that important," she said. "So you forgot a word. You're a writer. You got millions of words up there in your head."

    Carlos glared at her in the darkness. "But I want the one I can't find!"

    "What letter you up to?"

    "L, M, N. It's not coming, damn it!"

    Now Lilla was releasing her arm from where it lay under the covers against his leg. "Find another word." Then she sighed to cover a multitude of angry words. "I need my sleep, Carlos. I've got an interview tomorrow. I don't wanna fall asleep in the middle of 'Why do you feel you are qualified for this position?' Know what I mean?"

    "Position," Carlos said in disgust. "More like a euphemism for slave labor." Then he snapped his fingers, let out a lion's roar of laughter. "Euphemism"!

    "That's it?"

    "Yeah, I got the freaker out."

    "That mean we can roll over now and go to sleep."

    "Euphemism, euphemism," Carlos kept repeating like a schoolboy memorizing his lesson for the Big Quiz tomorrow. "Man oh man," he said before "Good night." Then he leaned over and planted a kiss on the back of Lilla's head.


    1. I really like this piece, Sal. It's got a kind of waving, rhythmic grace to it. Well in, my friend.


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