Key no. 089

Saturday

Free Write

Allow the prompt to sink in and inspire you. Shoot for 175+ words. Stretch your imagination and aim for FICTION. Don’t forget to hold yourself accountable and drop it in the comments, then move along with your life.

2 Comments

  1. A Mammory

    It sickened her to watch it bob through the air and then softly land on the water of the swimming pool, rocking with the gentle flurry of the water. Her secret was Out: she wore falsies. Everyone thought she had the most gorgeous rack of the Western world but boy were they mistaken. She had a smaller chest than a stack of flap jacks on a Sunday morning, laden down with butter and syrup. The entire class was laughing at her right now as her breast floated in the water like a serene sailboat on a peaceful country lake.

    So much for winning the prize for the most gorgeous girl in the 10th grade. So much for winning the heart of Travis, football hunk extraordinaire, I true tits and ass man if there ever was one. So much for her modeling career. And perhaps worst of all, no one would ask her to the Willy Wonka Date Switch n Hitch event.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. The tiny, little bell hanging off the splintering ledge dangled to and fro, frantic and faint.
    The old yellow paint flecked off the decaying wood slats and gently floated to the grassless dirt yard.
    The rickety rocking chair across the musty porch clung on to the old man that wavered on top of it, teetering back and forth.
    The little birch stick that stuck up from the back of the rocking chair- and jutted out crooked overhead, beneath the tall, yawning ceiling of the old porch- it just kept arcing around in the air, swinging about from a string below it something that resembled a small body part that I dare not concede it actually was. Whatever that thing was (which I know it was, but which I dare never admit) it felt like it was beckoning to me as it bobbed around in grotesque, unpredictable fits. And every time I tried to pull my gaze away, I caught it again from the corner of my eye, and it forced my attention back under its control. Even now, years later, far from that wretched place and everything awful there I shan’t will myself to recall, I still find myself glancing around from side to side like a madman as I walk through my own city, that horrible thing all the while dancing at the edges of my vision, but always evading my sight.

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