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 sat back, stretched yourself against the blue, plastic resistance of the chair, arms braced against the desk - the one they made for right-handed kids. No one ever talked about that. It was one of those things. Like how Billy got to act crazy and not get in trouble for it. How Michelle couldn't get the words to come out of her mouth in any sensible way.
The way Mrs. Johnson looked so, so sad sometimes. You felt bad, but it didn't stop you.
It's all an electric mystery. It's spice on the wind that you can't place, but that feels as familiar as an old mitt. You killed hours in those musty rooms while your mind was outside; you braced for the onslaught of boredom. The hours they would take from you - you could already see them evaporating.
So, one day you just ran. Got up and nobody stopped you and you made it home just in time to collapse laughing. And Mom didn't even get mad.
Then again, she didn't get much of anything since Dad died. And it had been years.
ATTENTION, I WILL IN AND OUT MOST OF THE DAY. BREAK THE BLOG FOR ME! AND GIVE ME SOME STUFF TO READ! Get 'em! :)