Hey, writer-type folks. AND PEOPLE WHO JUST WANT TO PLAY BUT DON'T IDENTIFY AS 'WRITERS' - all are welcome here. Every Friday we do a fun free-write. For fun. And Freedom!
Write whatever you want in the comments section on this blog post. Play as many times as you like. #breaktheblog! 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.
She walks through the department stores, auburn hair tossed over one shoulder, tips tickling the soft skin of her ribcage beneath softer silk. She has a route for every store. Every time it's the same, especially near Christmas. She can get everything she needs from every store in the mall without passing the toys. She is not prepared for the elf that jumps out at her as she skirts 'sporting goods'.
"Picture with Santa? Not just for kids, Ma'am!"
She stops, and she can feel her heart thump, her hand open - feels the bag full of knick knacks and office presents fall to the ground. The elf drops to his knees, apologizing.
"It's OK ... I ... I don't need any of this ..."
She turns, but feels a hand squeezing the top of her arm.
"Ma'am, I'm so sorry. How about a free picture? Front of the line."
She looks into his glowing eyes, hovering above a desperate smile. Stephen would have been about the same age.
"Get the fuck away from me. Don't you ever fucking touch me again."
The elf is scared, but he will soon forget. She won't. She won't hang the small stocking when she gets home. She won't try to brace herself. She won't look at old pictures and cry. She will get drunk. For weeks. Maybe until the new year.
Thanks for stopping by! I will be in and out all day but, rest assured, I'll be reading everything and commenting as I have time, so check back.