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 drank wine while she cooked, and she always insisted on making dinner. And, certainly, no one thought of complaining. And she would tell them. Stay out of the kitchen while I'm making dinner. And hours would fall while she concocted dishes that smelled like symphonic need. Hell, the whole family agreed.
She did make the wine stay out of the kitchen.
Thus, it is hard for anyone, even me, to say. Hours. That's a lot of time, but they never thought about it. They had work to do - had balls to throw and fields to traverse, and they were always going forward, never in reverse.
The house was neat and orderly like a catalogue house. She had hiding places. These were for the vodka. Bottles of vodka snuggled in the linen closet beneath piles of blankets. She kept a bottle in every room. Behind a bookcase. In the back of a closet that no one ever looked in. Safe.
She was a perfect statue of poise and grace. Always. I can picture her now. Neighborhood barbecues. She stood tall, proud, hair that went from blonde to grey. The right way. She never put on weight. She wore stylish slacks and blouses. She laughed. Everyone loved her.
She did not laugh alone. She did not love herself.
Once the details were arranged, the kids decided to go through the house. Keep the treasures, give the rest to Goodwill - sell the house and split the profits.
And then they found the first bottle.
By the end of the day there was nothing to say. Shy tears hung to quivering eyelashes. The house smelled of chain-smoking.
And they sat, wine glasses in hand, wondering how much one can really bottle up.
#2minutesgo Tweet it! Share it! Shout it from the top of the shack you live in! I will be out most of the day, but I'll be back...