Friday, November 20, 2015

2 Minutes. Go!

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. 

You can make as much noise as you want, fly your banners high - up where birds and pollutants have quaint cocktails in the sky. You can be a bright orange sunburst, a snippet of melody - you can be a summer evening, dotted with firefly glow. You can be one continuous scream.

Trees drop their leaves, and that makes sense. They don't have drawers or hangers - they don't know how to fold. You? They've been teaching you how to fold your whole life. Maybe you just aren't doing it right.

Every so often you get a chance to sit back, relax, kick your shoes off - do you? Feel the pebbles beneath your feet? It's not a hard thing to do, but it is a choice. Sometimes, you open the right door and sometimes you open the wrong door. Sometimes, it's unintentional. Sometimes, you open the wrong door on purpose. 


Now shut up, get in the tiny car. This ain't that kind of circus.

ATTENTION, I WILL BE GONE MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ WHEN I GET HOME! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo

Friday, November 13, 2015

2 Minutes. Go!

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. 

The cold slips in through the cracks in the window; it drips from the ceiling and the drops send shivers through your body. This is not natural, you think, looking at thin skin on old hands - feeling bad for yourself. Were you always this thin-skinned? No, there was a time when the cold was a friend. The cold brought clouds of morning breath and ... what's the word Mother always used ... vitality. 

You are not vital. It's a cruel thing to think about yourself, but it slips in like the wind and you can't stop it. Might as well try and stop gravity. Might as well try and stop people from living in little bubbles, clutching small devices that transport them somewhere, but do not keep their hands warm.

You have no use for the mirror now. There is no one you know who lives in there - the mirror shows you a halloween prank, and it is past Halloween. You know it. Just like you know why it's hard to stay warm lately. Every dog has his day. Mother always said that, too.

And your dog died about a week later.


ATTENTION, I WILL BE GONE MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ WHEN I GET HOME! Get 'em! :)

#2minutesgo

Friday, November 6, 2015

2 Minutes. Go!

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. 

He rested, head on fist on elbow, in a slice of moonlight - a bright ray through the damp Autumn night. His hands were filthy, nails torn. Around him, there were holes. He had used his hands to make those holes and, still, he had found nothing. He knew it was there, though, and he would not stop.

His black suit was covered in dirt and clay, but he didn't care. His brother was in the ground now, but he would not think about it. He pounced on another patch of bleak scrub grass and dug in with his nails. He was this close to using his teeth. He needed to keep digging.

It was morning, and there were holes everywhere, when he finally found it. The coffee can was just as he remembered and, inside, he found his brother. Just like he knew he would.


ATTENTION, I WILL BE GONE MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ WHEN I GET HOME! Get 'em! :)