Friday, April 25, 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 (give or take a few seconds ... no pressure!). 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!

He stepped into the old saloon and everything stopped. It was not that they knew him - no, it was in the way he carried himself. The way he stopped and surveyed the room, checking the angles, realizing he was right in the middle. He knew how it would go down, though. He held all the cards. 

They were afraid. It was in the way his hands hung, calm, nary a tremor - the hands rested by two six-shooters. No one wants to mess with a man who wears two guns and a poker face. 

He stepped up to the bar and ordered, turning his back on them. Let them shoot him in the back if they wanted. He wasn't leaving the saloon alive anyway. He tossed back the whiskey - it tasted like turpentine and rot. No matter. 

The dynamite was under his coat. He knew it had to be this way. His head had a price on it anyway and, warranted or not, someone would collect the prize sooner or later - you can't outrun a name. He struck a match and lit a smoke he had rolled without anyone noticing. He took a few drags and then touched the orange tip to the fuse that he had pulled through his pocket. 

By the time he smiled, it was too late - a cloud of dust and some charred wood would be his legacy.

They rebuilt the saloon and found a new bartender. Life carried on, peaceably now that the Stern gang was taken care of, and he was remembered as something of a hero. He wasn't a hero, but heroism is never cut and dried in the west.


30 comments:

  1. Welcome to Sanctuary. You've made the right choice for your future! Before I guide you into Dr. Countbackwardsfromahundred's office for your initial interview, I'd like to go over some our ground rules. Please turn to the end of your student guide and non-disclosure agreement pamphlets and sign your name now. Thank you! Remember, at Sanctuary, we don't train you in what to think. We certainly don't waste your time or tuition money with thinking of any sort. Our pledge to you is to leave our hallowed halls with less of everything. We will remove your burden, ambition, and humanity using our twelve step program in one easy step. And the certificate you'll later frame and hang on your wall will seem vaguely familiar for years to come. At least, more familiar than your spouse or offspring. Now don't worry, while we don't disclose our methods to anyone, we can assure you that we won't do anything to prevent you from having more children in the future. You will mostly remember the ones you may already have, but it is your choice. Well, I think that about covers it. The doctor will see you now!

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  2. This is awesome, my friend. Well in. And quick on the trigger, too! ;)

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  3. You look at me like I’m a science experiment. Like I’m a theory waiting to be proven; solve for x. Tear down my elements into molecules of protons and neutrons and analyze my density and mass. This conundrum requires more tools than you have in your toolbox. I know it’s in your DNA, the solve-all-problems gene, but you can’t fix me. Not with duct tape, not with a calculator, not with an electron microscope. This is just one for evolution to handle, for erosion to smooth over, for time to wash it downstream to the silky, silty mouth of the river.

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    1. This is so good. Ace, lady. Love it.

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    3. One of the best examples of natural selection since origin of the species. I like it very much!

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    1. (from the pen of Aurora Morealist)
      In mere minutes she would be leaving the city for the last time. One bus to go and the traveling would end. She couldnt even remember when she first began running. Her clothes reeked of a body needing to bathe. Her fingernails were edged in black crescent moons she had never before seen in herself. Her eyes were half shut - or half open - from sleep deprivation and she longed ti stretch out full in a bed again. At the next stop, a gunman made all her woes seem like luxuries when he stepped onboard long enough to kill everyone in sight. Somehow, he had missed her and playing dead saved her life. Even after she heard the gunman and his cronies talking and then roar off in a vehicle, she lay very very still for a long time. She didnt know it yet but this was already the luckiest night of her life. (C) Aurora Morealist

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    2. Again, I love the tension here. Well in and thanks for joining in!

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    3. Wow, really good, really intense. Intensely good.

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  5. “But you look fine,” she said, her tone somewhat skeptical.
    “Looks can be deceiving. You think I don't look like someone who just went through a life threatening event yet you appear perfectly sane. I think we both know that is not true.”
    She looked as if she had just received the slap on the face I so wished I could have delivered. Still, despite the urge and the great lengths to which she had gone to earn it, I didn't really wish her further injury. Her dysfunctional and infectious self loathing extended far enough through her own circle without me being drawn into the gravity well that was her ego. She had sabotaged me at every turn, made passive aggressive conversation like a true succubus. I found her strangely magnetic in a way that only someone suffering from bipolar disorder can guilt upon a person. It would be entertaining if she where not a person in a position to influence so many. But it was not my arena to fight in so I simply let it go and walked out hoping for the best. The best would be that I have heard the last of her. Let me be clear, I do not think ill of her. I simple hope to never think of her again.

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    1. Thanks dude. It is a bit flawed, but you know ... who isn't.

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  8. The collector had come to town. Her heavy hobnail boots kicking up sparks on the cobbled stones, she liked to make as much noise as she could, so her victims could hear her coming.
    It seemed never failed to work them into a frenzy, but even with this warning they could never run from her, not far anyway and not without generating interest. It was the interest that was the killer.
    Todays victim had a big debt to pay; a debt that would be repaid in full with flesh and bone.
    The guy who had ordered her to collect this fee was twisted, but that's why he had gone to her.

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    1. This is a great addition ... I expect it to keep going - I love when short pieces cast long shadows. Well in. Perhaps it's a start to something bigger? :)

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    2. Thank you, I did think that as I started writing it, I have soo many projects piling up now :D
      I'm intrigued by the backstory of your bomber too.

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  9. Why have so many of these been removed?

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    1. Oh, so it's not some weird blog glitch. Jesus, blog glitch. Those two words sound awful together, like the sound of an ogre barfing.

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  10. Sorry I'm late, but here's my latest, which is a strange one. Slow start but it picks up, I think.
    _____________________________

    Friendly Enough

    "If you knew you were to die tomorrow, would you love this any more? The way the light falls creamy and pale golden on the siding of that farmhouse 'cross the way? The way skeletal branches are filling in with an almost ludicrous profusion of cherry blossom, like the world's kindest—and pinkest—mushroom cloud?"

    "I love it enough already. Got no room for more. In fact, the love itself might well become the instrument of my death, fatally straining my overwhelmed, overtaxed heart. No joke."

    "Yeah. The irony."

    "…"

    "Want a beer?"

    "Oh. Sure."

    Low-slung motel's silhouetted against a stand of broken cedars, "No Pets" sign mocked by cats in windows, most stalls filled by cars belonging to last-minute flyers out the local airport. Has some name like Shamrock or Lookout, on some street named Bakerview, perhaps, and the warm egg-yolk sun's dropping fast as autumn mercury while a raucous carful of crackheads from north of the border pulls in, looking for a place for maybe five hours so they can get royally fucked up this night, two boys two girls equally. While we all watch, warily share our pets, or at least their shadows, lend our corkscrews and local knowhow, be friendly enough.

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    1. I love this. The whole piece is great, but the ending is uber strong.

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    2. Yeah, I orphaned the ending and stuck it on my blog. Which I just saw you saw. Thanks for the Tweet, brother. I'll reciprocate.

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