https://pixabay.com/en/key-heart-feather-star-pearl-love-2471007/
I've been invited to join the Over 20 Club at @freewritehouse! It is my honor to accept this invitation 😊 I've been asked to feature three or more freewrite posts that are past their curation period, and since I write both poetry and fiction, I'll include three (or more, because I can't help myself) pieces in each category here.
@mariannewest's freewrites are one of my very favorite things about Steemit. The prompts provided consistently inspire me to write poetry that is weirdly different than anything I would have written on my own. And then... there's fiction! Something I'd never even tried before. My first freewrite ("Pajamas") came out as fiction instead of poetry, which surprised and delighted me, and also made me feel a bit self-conscious. "Fiction?" I thought, "I'm not a fiction writer..." But it was so much fun that I ended up doing it again the next time, and then again... and at this point I'm starting to get used to the idea. Though I'm still slightly surprised to find myself writing stories, I love how entertaining it can be to write them.
Early on I began writing an ongoing Sci-Fi piece ("The Strangeling") that is turning out to be quite long and involved (for those following the story, don't worry, I'll be getting back to Mia and Caspian and Apricot and the Wasps as soon as my schedule IRL lightens up a bit, hopefully sometime in the next few months. Also, once the series is finished, I'm planning on going back and doing some serious rewrites, and reposting in chapter form). A list of episodes so far can be found in the most recent entry, from several months back: @bennettitalia/the-strangeling-part-xxiii-freewrite-165-record
Currently, I'm writing what looks like it will be a three or four part short story ("Old Scratch"), for which two installments have been posted, and more are in the works. Part I: @bennettitalia/old-scratch-a-fiction-smidgen-for-freewrite-199-her-homemade-jams
Part II: @bennettitalia/old-scratch-part-ii-a-fiction-smidgen-for-freewrite-201-important
The freewrite community is populated by ridiculously talented writers producing incredible work on a daily basis. If you haven't checked them out yet, take a look at some of the most recent posts on the entry pages here:
@mariannewest/day-210-5-minute-freewrite-thursday-prompt-tree
@mariannewest/day-211-5-minute-freewrite-friday-prompt-swing
@mariannewest/day-213-5-minute-freewrite-sunday-prompt-five*
@mariannewest/day-214-5-minute-freewrite-monday-prompt-home-alone
PROSE:
"Pajamas" was my very first freewrite piece, the one that surprised me by being prose. The prompt was "switch". I've done some minor editing/rewriting for the version featured here, as with most of the other prose pieces and poems featured: @bennettitalia/pajamas-freewrite-126-switch
(source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Corsage - image By Tai Gray from Provo, USA - CorsageUploaded by France3470, CC BY-SA 2.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=17578554)
Pajamas
Pajamas. She was wearing pajamas. White cotton pajamas with purple teddy bears and little pink hearts all over them. I didn't know what to do, so I just stood there staring at her. She wasn't saying anything, and the look in her eyes was definitely open to interpretation. After considering the situation carefully, and weighing the possible repercussions of any words I might speak or actions I might take, I brought out the little silvery cardboard box that I'd been holding behind my back and handed it to her. She took it, her eyes half examining its contents through the cellophane window on the front, half abstracted. "It's pretty", she said at last. Her voice sounded faint, as if it had to travel a great distance to reach me.
I coughed nervously, fidgeted, looked away for a moment to collect my thoughts. My attention was caught and held by a picture on the wall: an antique black and white photograph of a very young couple, the woman stunningly beautiful in a white wedding dress, the man dignified in black suit and tie. Their faces wore such serious expressions, frighteningly serious, and I wondered for a moment if they had even wanted to be married, to have children, to live the rest of their lives together. Which was silly: of course they had. Why else go through all of that?
I looked back at her. "I'm glad you like it... I thought it would go with that gown you had picked out".
Now it was her turn to fidget, look away. Like steps to a dance we both knew without having to learn them.
"I couldn't do it", she said. "I... just didn't feel like it tonight. I'm sorry."
I thought about the money. The limousine parked outside. The corsage. The tux rental. The hotel room. I thought about how excited she'd been to go to prom together. I thought about how she would have looked in the dress she'd picked out, the one she'd been unable to resist showing me pictures of.
I thought about the couple in the photograph on the wall. Her grandparents.
"Can I have that back?" I asked, holding out my hand. She gave me a quick, searching look. Then she handed me the box, not even looking at it, her eyes fixed on mine.
"Thanks", I said.
I opened the box and took out the little clump of flowers and ribbon. She looked away. I reached over and, carefully, pinned the corsage to her cotton pajamas. When her eyes came back to mine, there were tears in them.
'Finally' I thought to myself.
"Should we watch a movie?" I asked out loud.
Here's one about an exotic pet. The prompt was "describe a bird": @bennettitalia/the-pet-a-stream-of-consciousness-fiction-morsel-for-freewrite-168-describe-a-bird
@tygertyger and I picked the same bird! Read her amazing entry here: @tygertyger/red-bird-contribution-to-the-5-minute-free-write-of-mariannewest
https://pixabay.com/en/phoenix-flames-heron-bird-2733938/
The Pet
"What did it look like?"
The officer looked up from the little pad she'd been scribbling on, skeptically surveying what was left of my apartment for the umpteenth time. I shrugged, berating myself yet again for telling the truth. I didn't believe my own story, why should anybody else?
"It was kind of an ugly little thing. Its feathers were pretty, though. But it wasn't my style... I mean I wouldn't have had it as a pet except it looked so sad in its little cage. There's a lot of exotic stuff in Chinatown, I didn't even stop to think it might be illegal to own one of these... whatever it was. I hadn't had it very long, maybe a month, or a little more. It was tiny when I got it. I didn't think it would grow so fast..."
The officer sighed, rubbed the side of her neck. Her eyes wandered from the smoking remains of the kitchen to the broken front window, and from there to the twisted fire escape. She came back to me with a stern look. "I just need you to tell me what it looked like. Nothing else. Ok?"
I nodded. "Well, like I said, it was kind of ugly and scruffy when I got it. Its feathers were like, a dark red. But then within a few weeks it had these huge wings, I mean bigger than a parrot. And multicolored feathers, they were mostly red, but there was a rainbowy sheen on them. It made them look like... I don't know. It was like this beautiful disco parrot bird. It was breathtaking."
"Ok", said the officer, nodding, "Ok. And then tell me again how this happened" (here she glanced around at the wreckage in which we stood).
"Ok," I echoed, wanting more than anything not to have to tell this story again, but knowing there was no way out of it... "So the weather is getting a little bit colder now, you know, and I decided to bake something in the oven, which I don't really use much in the summer, it gets the place too hot. So I had these potatoes all washed and ready to bake, and a chicken, and I set them in the oven, and then I left the room to take a shower. And when I was in the shower, I thought I heard something, and I was going to get out and see what it was, only then I thought it was probably just sounds from the neighborhood, so I ignored it. But when I got out of the shower, I heard this loud bang, and I noticed that Mitzi was missing. So I threw on some clothes and went looking around the apartment for her, but I couldn't find her anywhere. Then in the middle of looking I smelled the chicken and decided to check it, and when I opened the oven, Mitzi was in there, sitting there in the oven, right next to the chicken" I heard my voice rising in pitch, verging on hysteria... Of course I knew I should just stop talking, but what could I do? The officer wanted the whole story. Again. I prayed I wasn't going to end up being committed, though I didn't see how that eventuality could possibly be avoided at this point.
"Mmmnnhmmm," The officer replied, "and then what happened?"
"Well, just what I've already told you. Mitzi exploded in a huge ball of fire that spewed out of the oven, burning my eyebrows off and singeing my bangs to..." I looked up as best I could at my own forehead "well, what you see here, and then she flew all around the room, roaring like a thousand lions, and catching everything she touched on fire, and then she barrelled right through that front window, melting the bars on the fire escape, which collapsed slightly under its own weight, as you can see."
The officer raised her eyebrows "And what did you do then?"
"Well, luckily there was a working fire extinguisher", I began...
"So basically, you were trying to keep a pet phoenix."
"A... wh-wh-what?" I stammered.
"A phoenix. Right? Magical bird, bursts into flame when it's ready to die, burns until there's nothing left but ashes, then rises from them... Come on. Don't tell me you've never heard of phoenixes. There's a city named after them in Arizona for fuck's sake."
I nodded, speechless.
"So the question is", the officer continued, "where are the ashes?"
I thought the question was more like would my landlord sue me, and how was I going to replace all of my stuff since I didn't have renter's insurance, and was I going to go to jail, or to a mental institution? Ok, that's more than one question, but you know what I mean. Ashes were the last thing on my mind.
People do weird things when they're in shock. Or maybe it was my overdeveloped fear of authority figures. Whatever the reason, I found myself turning to the hall closet to retrieve my (miraculously) intact suede coat and crocheted pink scarf. "I guess we'd better go look for them?", I offered, wriggling into the coat and trying bravely to brush the ashes of what had once been bangs from my forehead.
"Yeah", the officer agreed, "I think we'd better."
On Saturdays, freewriters are offered two choices:
1: pick any one prompt from a list.
2: use the "three prompt" option. This involves using three phrases to write a longer piece. The phrase prompts are revealed one at a time, so that the writer is forced to get inventive in order to make good use of each.
For the following piece, I used the three prompt option. The phrases were:
1: "She loved both her husbands, but not as much as she loved candy."
2: "There was a feeling about the place, but it wasn't what you'd expect."
3: "The stamp on the envelope"
@bennettitalia/the-meat-market-a-fiction-morsel-for-the-weekend-freewrite-4-21-2018
https://pixabay.com/en/fantasy-biomechanically-2659483/
The Meat Market
She loved both her husbands, but not as much as she loved candy.
For some reason, she'd never had a sweet tooth as a kid, not a real one anyway. Oh, she'd eat ice cream or chew bubble gum, but it was kinda like "Meh. Ok, why not?". Sugar had never been something she'd coveted, never a thrill, never a prize or a reward, never something to pilfer from the cookie jar when her mom wasn't looking, or to shoplift from the corner store.
But now... now Taylor kept an assortment of candies in her desk drawer at work, and in the nightstand next to her bed. She'd wake up in the middle of the night, prop herself up on pillows, turn on her reading light, open up a mystery novel, and chew her way through caramels, bars of dark chocolate with chili peppers, truffles, Toranis...
She was bored. Her husbands were decent, interesting men, and keeping the fact of her polyandry a secret had spiced both the romances up. For a while... Now it felt like a game that she'd played too many times, all of its permutations explored to the point of exhaustion.
What was she to do? Get another one? She couldn't possibly manage three husbands, three separate lives... And anyway, that was sure to play itself out exactly as two husbands had. She could agonize about it all she wanted, but in her heart of hearts she knew it was time to take them back to The Meat Market.
The Meat Market. There was a feeling about the place, but it wasn't what you'd expect... She'd shopped here before, obviously, that's where she'd got them both in the first place. You'd think it would have a shady, black market kind of vibe, with an emphasis on discretion and anonymity, but no. There was a huge sign above the windows, brightly lit both day and night, the wares prominently displayed, reading books, watching Netflix on their tablets or phones, sometimes pacing back and forth restlessly. Always handsome (in window number one) or pretty (in window number two). The establishment itself was immaculately clean, tastefully appointed, well-lit, and impeccably cheerful.
Most people bought one at a time, but she wasn't most people. She liked to push the envelope. And she had the money, so why not? Two apartments in two different parts of town, two lives, two very different models. She'd purchased them separately, almost exactly one month apart, and kept them isolated from each other, not for their sakes, but for her own.
Today she had both of them with her, one standing on either side. The lady at the returns counter looked them up and down, then turned to her with genuine confusion in her eyes. "What's wrong with them?"
"I'm bored."
"Huh. They look pretty exciting to me. Especially that one."
She smiled at Jeff. He raised an eyebrow at her, tilting his head slightly in that inviting, but also challenging way he had. It was sexy. Or at least it had been, the first few hundred times.
"No no, they're great. You guys know that right?" she asked, turning to one, and then the other, "You're both incredible." Jeff looked at her and nodded. "So I've been told" he murmured. Dylan gave her a quick side hug and a peck on the cheek.
"See? Awesome. It's just... I'm ready for a change."
The salesgirl looked at her screen again, hit a few keys, shrugged. "Your contract doesn't expire for two more years."
"It's ok, I'll pay the fee."
The girl shook her head. "It seems like a waste, but of course it's up to you. The customer is always right." She flashed a grin, and got back to her screen and keyboard. A few minutes later, Taylor was walking out of the store, all by herself, unencumbered by husbands of any kind. It felt wonderful.
The stamp on the envelope that arrived in the mail several weeks later said "Happy Valentine's Day" in curvy script, with miniature pink hearts and tiny red roses. She tossed it on her nightstand, and didn't think about it again until bed time, when instead of picking up her current novel, she tore open the envelope and began rifling through the pages of the enclosed catalogue as if to remind herself how boring it all was. Several of the photos caught her eye. Hmmm.... there were some cute ones in this edition. Super cute. Two at once had been easy. Nobody had caught on, not even her real life ex-boyfriend who still stalked her on social media. She'd wanted to be caught, exposed for the deviant that she was, but no one had seemed to notice or care. But three... that might be a little tougher! And if they all lived together in the same apartment...
Finally, here's one of my favorites, a reimagining of "Little Red Riding Hood". Rosa is Red of course, Ivy is Granny, and Wolfe is... well, the Big Bad Wolf. Even Foster's name fits the original storyline: Foster means "forester" or woodsman". @bennettitalia/toys-a-fiction-morsel-for-freewrite-185-basket
https://pixabay.com/en/girl-pirate-punk-skull-woman-pirate-pira-2026924/
Toys
"What's in the basket?" he asked, looking her up and down, his eyes ignoring the basket completely.
"Sex toys", Rosa replied casually.
Wolf looked as if he'd swallowed his tongue.
"Sex t..." he began, then coughed, almost politely, when he heard the huskiness in his own voice. "Sex toys?"
"Yeah. I try out sex toys for a living, and give the companies feedback so they can get it right. You know, like, 'this vibrator needs more speeds' or 'handcuffs not fuzzy enough'. That kind of thing." She rolled her eyes. "I know, sounds boring, but really I get to road test some pretty crazy stuff. Prototypes of the latest, cutting edge tech. Experimental designs. Some of these look a bit frightening actually." She cringed dramatically, then laughed and waved her free hand in the air as if to shoo away an annoying insect. Wolfe was staring at the basket, evidently at a loss for words, so Rosa forged ahead. "I know, not the kind of stuff you'd expect somebody to be carrying around in a fucking enormous picnic basket. But I had to return it to Granny anyway, and the toys all fit, so..."
"Granny. You're on your way to see your grandmother?" He asked, looking appalled. Even Wolf had scruples when it came to grandmothers, apparently.
"No no, she's not really my grandmother" Rosa corrected him, wide-eyed with sincerity. "She's my friend Ivy. She helps me try out new toys sometimes, just for fun. I call her that because she has antique taste in erotica. You know, Anais Nin, the Marquis de Sade, Georges Battaile, the Kama Sutra... Me, I like straight up porn, the kinkier the better." She grinned mischievously at him.
Wolf licked his lips nervously. "Ah... gotcha. So... you two are a couple?"
Rosa shook her head. "No, we're both totally into guys. We just like playing with toys. And each others' bodies."
Wolf looked as if he might actually go into cardiac arrest, and Rosa began to think she'd better ease up. Not that she felt sorry for him... Wolf had been aggressively, unforgivably creepy to just about every girl she knew. Like it was his job to make women feel small and vulnerable. It was nice to have a chance to return the favor.
"Anyway, I'd better get over there, I'm sure Granny's anxious to see what the latest crop has in store for us." She lifted the basket a little and gave him a winning smile. "See ya." And she sauntered off, feeling his lecherous eyes on her butt as she walked.
"Hey", he called after her, his voice a weak imitation of the testosterone soaked growl he usually affected. She half turned to look at him, one eyebrow raised suggestively.
"Do you... I'd be happy to help." He actually almost looked embarrassed. "I mean, you know, if there are ever toys that you can't really use without... a guy." he finished lamely.
Rosa laughed indulgently. "Thanks for the offer Wolf, but my friend Foster helps us with that part when we need it." Right on cue, Foster came walking around the corner toward her. The timing couldn't have been any better if she'd planned it.
He was tall and heroin thin, but Abercrombie handsome, and he carried himself with the kind of confidence that made guys like Wolf want to beat him to a pulp, but also made them too scared to try. He lit up when he saw her, scooped her up and swung her around 360 degrees, and then placed her feet back on the pavement. She turned to wave at Wolf, then grabbed Foster's hand, and the two of them trotted off up the street toward the park, Rosa doing her best to contain the laughter that threatened to shake her entire body.
Foster gave her a quizzical look. "What's in the basket? he asked, with a tilt of his head.
"Sandwiches." Rosa could barely get the words out.
"And lemonade..." She slapped a hand to her mouth, struggling valiantly to maintain her composure.
"For a picnic!" And she threw her head back and laughed out loud, knowing that by this time they had left Wolf far behind.
POEMS:
As with "Toys", this first poem is a reinterpretation of a familiar fairy tale. The prompt was "before midnight": @bennettitalia/the-slipper-a-stream-of-consciousness-poem-for-freewrite-157-before-midnight
https://pixabay.com/en/sad-lonely-sadness-alone-mourning-2668488/
The Slipper
It's beautiful
Really
Crafted
By fairies
But why would I need
A slipper to find you?
I saw you run off
You can't have got far
On foot
Without your pumpkin car
And one shoe missing
The one in my hand
Glittering crystal
Understand:
It isn't the gown
I care about
It's the woman inside it
Who wore it out
To brave the soul-sucking
Monsters at court
(The kind who
Hunt people for sport)
To dance with me...
You could be clothed
In tatters and rags
Truth be told
I'd recognize you
Nevertheless
So paint your face
As pale as death
Paint your face
As if for war
Tart up like
A two bit whore
Smear
Your stepmother's blood on that dress
Just after you've slaughtered her
While it's still fresh
Then chop off your hair
And roll in the cinders
Thread a necklace
With stepsisters' fingers
Set fire to
Your childhood home
And live in the wild
Gnawing on bones
Drinking from creeks
Sleeping in barns
Pilfering liquor
And smoking cigars
An outlaw for life
A ne'er do well
This prince will still find you
My angel in Hell
True criminals live
In the castle you see
The wickedest are
My family
You think you've had it rough?
Ha! Try sleeping
With thumbs in your ears
To stifle the screaming
As a child
I learned to keep silent
To dance with sadism
Cruelty, and violence
I was taught the art
Of hunting people
Of swallowing poison
And breathing evil
I've undressed you with
My eyes all night
I don't need this slipper
I know what you look like.
This innocent sounding little poem came out of me when I was feeling pretty lonely and depressed. It cheered me up. The prompt was "scout": @bennettitalia/exploration-a-stream-of-consciousness-poem-for-freewrite-157-scout
https://pixabay.com/en/the-scenery-prairie-river-sunrise-river--679011/
Exploration
Trying to see
Around the next bend
Just a little ahead of where I am
Mapping the continent of my life
Its forests
Wastelands
Rivers
Canyons
Dangers everywhere
And wonders
And how can I be sure
That I'll end up safe
And warm
And loved?
I can't
This land is wild
No houses
Roads
Let alone a city
Just empty
Sky
And sea
And wind
And rain
And mountains
Islands
Starlight
Sun
I walk
And walk
And the landscape changes
Cloud-cast shadows
Slide over valleys
The light polarizes
Rusts
And fades
To inky black
And silver
Moonlight plays tricks on the eyes
And then the pink dawn
Soft and luxuriant
Waking and stretching her arms
Languidly
The gentle swell of hills
Embrace of breezes
Sleepily greeting the new day
Rolling over to nuzzle my cheek
And whisper in my ear
"Just a few more minutes."
This one is pretty much self-explanatory. The prompt was "housecoat": @bennettitalia/if-the-house-is-the-body-a-stream-of-consciousness-poem-for-freewrite-186-house-coat
https://pixabay.com/en/fire-matchstick-house-burning-matchstick-2086370/
If the House Is the Body
If the house is the body
And the house is on fire
And you want to rescue the children trapped inside
Then standing out here
Outside of yourself
In your housecoat and slippers
And no safe way in
And back out again
Means the children will die
unless
You leave the coat
And slippers
And pajamas
And even your glasses
Here on the cold gravel driveway
And let the flames
Lick
Your skin
As you cross the threshold.
And finally, a reinterpretation of the crucifixion story. The prompt was "nail": @bennettitalia/instructions-a-stream-of-consciousness-poem-for-freewrite-187-nail
https://pixabay.com/en/cross-jesus-jesus-christ-christ-crucifix-2215417/
Instructions
If heartlessness is strength
Then ok
You win
Because none of us
Can
Not feel it
The way you can
So when you take man
(1)
And place him on cross
(2)
Inserting nail (E)
Into palm (F)
Nail (G)
Into palm (H)
And Nail (I)
Into feet (J)
After first making sure
To fit crown of thorns (A)
Snugly into place on head (B)
And after also
(Carefully)
Slicing open side (C)
With spear (D)
We look at what you've made and think:
This is the symbol we've been waiting for.
This
Is love.
poems and prose ©2018 Bennett Italia, All Rights Reserved.
horizontal rulers courtesy of @cryptosharon
