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 couldn't stand the noise. The noise is what did it. And it wasn't even an awful noise - no scraping, screeching horror. Hell, he'd liked the noise at first, but it never stopped. It never fucking stopped. In white-trimmed sitting rooms with sheer window dressings and fancy couches, the noise ate at him, making him question his resolve, his sanity.
And he laughed and smiled with the rest, well-dressed. He presented a good public figure. He was loved by all, but, sometimes, in a twitch of moonlight, his mouth would twist - and you could see that it was winning.
No one else heard it. That was the rub of it. He'd established that quickly and then clammed up so as not to sound crazy. He had to pretend that nothing was wrong.
That he couldn't hear it.
And that is how we find him here, wrapped around a bottle of whiskey, naked, with both guns in reach - praying. He's damn near begging.
"Something stop the noise."
#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...