2 Minutes. Go!

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 waves pull the sand off the beach, and you watch the gold flecks sparkle in the sunlight. The fish aren’t biting, but it doesn’t matter because all you hear is the murmuring of water, and all you feel is the sun on your shoulders.

The sun on your shoulders is comforting. Like a little league coach after you strike out. The sun says, “It’s OK. Everything is going to be OK.” Listen to the sun; the sun knows things.

The seagulls wheel and pitch in the air currents that buffet the cliffs. Far up in the sky, they are beautiful. Their cries sound like childhood.

You will stand on this beach forever. At least in your mind. The beach is the place you will go to when you shut your eyes to sleep. When you need that comforting hand.

#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...#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...

Sneak

You closed the door as softly as you could - held the knob to stop the click. The house was dark, and everyone was asleep, but you knew it would only take the slightest creak, a bumped vase, a sneeze - he always slept light. They said it was because of the war, but they said lots of things. Some of them true. Some baffling and false. So, you tried to be quiet.

There was something about sneaking out. It was freedom, sure. A minor brown stamp on the rosie fucking lens used to cover collective despair. It was fun, exciting. Getting caught was part of the thrill. The fear of it. You knew what would happen.

You slipped into your bedroom. Safe. Then, you saw him sitting at the window, head canted to the side. Slumped. Fuck!

"I'm home, Dad. I'm sorry I made you worry. I know you think it's dangerous, but I was just -"

He did not turn. He did not even move. You approached slowly, trying not to startle him. You waved a hand in front of his face, but his gaze did not leave the street. You jumped. Yelled. The panic began to rise in you. Then you heard your mother's voice from the doorway.

"Bill, it wasn't your fault. Why do you torture yourself."

"Because someday she'll come home. You believe the cops if you want. I'm waiting for my girl."

And then the whole room changed. It spun so fast you thought you'd pass out. There was a cold horror in the back of your mind as you tried to put your hand on his shoulder.

It passed right through.