Free Write Thread

[Vercetti21]

Jeff Hunter gazed at his tattered leather watch for the second time that night. Eleven-thirty. Curfew was in half an hour, and he wasn’t slowing down one bit.

 

The guy next to him coughed violently as he pushed the glowing blunt in Jeff’s direction. “Here,” he managed to utter as the marijuana smoke scorched his lungs. “Take it.”

 

With two callused fingers, Jeff happily squeezed the tip of the blunt and held it to his lips. He closed his eyes, fueling his ongoing high that had resonated throughout the evening. There was, at first, the familiar burning sensation: a bittersweet build-up of heat and vibrancy. But as he cleared the smoke, the euphoria set in, and Jeff took another quick hit of his beloved Mary Jane before passing it on and soaking into the comfort of the deep, leather chair.

 

He was high. Very high.

 

As the blunt continued to revolve around the loose circle of friends and strangers, conversations tossed around back and forth between various people like a hot potato.

 

“Hey Mike, remember that time we were so high, we took the lighter and burnt your nipple?”

 

“F*ck yeah. Still got a scar from that sh*t.” Mike leaned forward in his chair and lifted his shirt, revealing a singed, red mark above a flab of white belly fat.

 

Laughter filled the dimly-lit room. Jeff remained silent. He had his fun. It was time to go home.

[Abel.]

Jeff Hunter gazed at his tattered leather watch for the second time that night. Eleven-thirty. Curfew was in half an hour, and he wasn’t slowing down one bit.

 

The guy next to him coughed violently as he pushed the glowing blunt in Jeff’s direction. “Here,” he managed to utter as the marijuana smoke scorched his lungs. “Take it.”

 

With two callused fingers, Jeff happily squeezed the tip of the blunt and held it to his lips. He closed his eyes, fueling his ongoing high that had resonated throughout the evening. There was, at first, the familiar burning sensation: a bittersweet build-up of heat and vibrancy. But as he cleared the smoke, the euphoria set in, and Jeff took another quick hit of his beloved Mary Jane before passing it on and soaking into the comfort of the deep, leather chair.

 

He was high. Very high.

 

As the blunt continued to revolve around the loose circle of friends and strangers, conversations tossed around back and forth between various people like a hot potato.

 

“Hey Mike, remember that time we were so high, we took the lighter and burnt your nipple?”

 

“F*ck yeah. Still got a scar from that sh*t.” Mike leaned forward in his chair and lifted his shirt, revealing a singed, red mark above a flab of white belly fat.

 

Laughter filled the dimly-lit room. Jeff remained silent. He had his fun. It was time to go home.

Ah, I like that, nice hidden meaning in the ending . Good descriptions and word use.

[Eminence]

Up again, and I bang my head against the wall just trying to think of what to do next (though this is, of course, a simple figure of speech; I am not banging my head against any wall, nor do I truly have a wall convenient enough to bang said head against). I have work to do, I know that, but work is supposed to be fun, so when it seems like work it makes me shudder a little. I’m sure you know the feeling. We all know the feeling.

 

I’ll now stop and look at this. What should I do? Remove the parentheses? It’s a bit of an uncommon way of structuring thoughts and observations within a narrative – perhaps a little jarring – though if it works, it works. But the problem is that who knows what works and what doesn’t? I’m honestly not sure. More and more I keep thinking it’s not working. It’s simply not working.

 

So I sleep. Maybe by the time I’m up again everything will have changed. Not by doing anything, but simply by time passing. Maybe. Maybe not.

 

Clichéd thoughts are inescapable, so why try?

[bobgtafan]

Was it worth it? The blood on the door? The body on the floor? The kids crying and my wife shocked. As I looked at what I did I thought to myself I had to. If I didn't my family might not be here. As the police sirens can be heard in the background I drop my weapon and go downstairs to except my fate. Did I do the right thing? Time will tell. I just hope my life doesn't go to hell.

[SilentM]

He fell. They fell. You fell. Ashes to ashes, I assume. A line, well decorated-- plenty 'o gold. Travels around us all. We only have to find it in ourselves. l can't. I couldn't, knowing l'd lied to you; ... I fell, too. We all must, l assume.