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The Five to Fifteen Minutes Thread.
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deer of the dawn
On a mission from God

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PostPosted: Thu Sep 14, 2017 2:28 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

I am glad to see our protagonista has set boundaries.

Will he try to break them, I wonder?

Or will he break down?
Be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a great battle. -Philo of Alexandria

ahhhh... if only all our creativity in wickedness could be fixed by "Corrupt a Wish." - Linna Heartlistener

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eternal antagonist

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PostPosted: Fri Sep 15, 2017 1:22 am    Post subject: Reply with quote

Now, you've been busy. Nice.

I've been busy too, but nothing I can post. (Mostly because it would lack context.)

Burn your white flags
Refuse to surrender
And raise your red flags
To remember
To remember

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Linna Heartlistener
"The lady's fate is writ in water."

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PostPosted: Fri Oct 13, 2017 1:46 pm    Post subject: Reply with quote

You guys!
How is it that y'all - my writing group - know where my story is going when I don't?
I didn't even think my story was going anywhere - I thought it was done!
(which is irrational given that huge focus on the mom stashing the kids at neighbor's houses. And that I NEVER used that. and I guess the word "boundaries" was big-time foreshadowing early on. deer.)

Sorus- Thank you for the encouragement!
I saw that you'd been doin' writing, and I am glad.
Having enough context is HUGE, so okay, I guess I have to agree with that assessment.
(tho I selfishly wish to see your work.)

Back to my writing.
What came just before:
I came back and turned on the outdoor light.
And I opened the door, just as wide as the security chain would let me.
When dawn came, it would be a cold light, blue-white through the leaves of the trees across the alley.
But now we had the electric light, making noise from some bug stuck in it or something.

And I cut the cupcake in half and squeaked the halves through, each on their own paper plate, eyes down, focused on the things I was handling.
Cars. It had Lightning McQueen on it. Dang. He'd recognize re-used kid's birthday party fare. If he noticed.
And his hands took them.
And he ate.
"Thank you," he said.
And he looked up, looked at me through the 4-inch opening of the door.
"And I'm sorry."

I looked back at him.
"I second that sentiment. Sorry, too."

And now:

Can I see the kids now?" he asked.

I thought I was done. Wasn't my work done? Why couldn't I be done?
I'd held my peace, I'd hung in there, I'd fed my enemy when he was hungry.
You take that step forward, and then you get redemption, right? Redemption in a birthday cupcake. With oily frosting and rainbow sprinkles, right? Close that chapter in a book and turn the page, right?
So why this, now?

I wanted so badly to close my eyes, sit down on the carpet, and lean back against the wall, even if it was by the door.
But it was my turn, so I spoke:
"Why not? They're my kids, aren't they?"
"It's 3am on a weeknight and they need their sleep."
"Yeah, but they need their dad."
"Yes, they do. You are right about that."
I just wish you'd remember that on the weekends that are yours.
"You're not going to let me in, are you?" he asked.
"Yes, yes. You're right about that, too."

He took a deep breath, put his face right by the opening to the door.
I could see the golden security chain hanging down right in front of his eyes.
And then bellowed. "Michael! Annie! Chelsea! Ty!"
I acted more panicked than I was, and hissed, "Stanley! Shhh!"
And I flapped my hands around, as if I cared about placating him just now.
"Sheerrr-iie! I need my kids. I'm not around enough, and it sets me back in my relationship with them."
I pulled myself up to my full height and looked him straight in the eye: "You know it would set you back even more if..."
But then I trailed off.
If they saw you drunk like this.
I didn't say it, though. Probably for the better.
Just looked at him.
One eye glaring through the space between the door and the jamb.
One eye glaring at another two.

He turned away.
"I know I shouldn't be like this, but what am I supposed to do?"
I just waited a long moment. A long awkward silence.
"Come on, you know."
"You can't stay here."
"What am I supposed to do?"
"Go home."
"Go home to your family."
He shrugged sheepishly, then turned and started shuffling away.
Aww, no.
I called after him. "Wait!"
"Wait just a minute!"
I closed the front door, rushed to the back, opened it, and was greeted by a rush of cold - no coat, just my sweater.
Then I zipped around to the front of the apartments, where he was parked.
I was going to be fine; the storm had passed.
"You're not well enough to drive back yet, are you?"
"Well, it's not a great idea. No, it's not."
He needs to sleep this off now. Now what?

(Sowwy, folks - probably violating the 10-15 min rule... this was probably AT LEAST 30 mins. I wrote it on the train last week, w/ no internet, but plenty of distractions present.)
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