"I'm ruining your spring break," Erin accused themselves as we walked back up the beach.
"Yeah, well, I sure didn't expect having to discuss why Dickens so often used the metaphor of a post office to decribe a mouth, and how you think that was overkill. You've been going on about Wemmer and ..."
"...and his post office of a mouth for an hour and a half. It is kind of a downer"
"Your radio has horrible reception"
"You're hallucinating again. There is no radio."
"I'm talking about your personal frequency man. The vibrations are speeding up, can't you feel them? We are entering a new timeline, one where politics, money, and governments are not controlling factors anymore. We'll all be shedding our slave selves. Everyone will have post office mouths, but there won't be any post offices because there won't be any need of communication. We'll all be connected to the same source. It's going to be so beautiful, man, so beautiful..."
Erin and I were sitting on the tippy top of a very large gravel pile. I'd been tossing tiny stones into a broken screen that was sticking out. Each toss of mine gave the screen a little tip, so that several stones would slip out of the screen, onto the gravel pile, and then skitter down into the quarry pond far below. The place was dead quiet, other than Erin's prattle, and the tiny plunks of my fascinating stones.
Erin began to tune into a channel and prattle again.
"Hey hey man, HEY!!! What the fuck are we doing here man! GET BACK!!! They scrambled back up the pile down the back side, and started screaming "WE HAVE TO GET OUT OF HERE MAN!"
This trip was starting to be a real bummer.
This is my entry to @mariannewest's weekend three prompt freewrite challenge. The prompts are in bold italics. As usual, I set my timer for 4:30, but this time I had very little to say. I spent a lot of my 5 minutes for each section proofreading and making changes. Had I been using #themostdangerouswritingapp, I would have been booted out a dozen times.
This challenge is always a trip for me. I have no idea what story is going to emerge, which is true for freewrites too, but the second and third prompts are akin to entering a new dimension entirely. The stories suddenly take a sharp turn I could never have imagined at the outset of writing, a lot like having dropped a hit of acid. (hint hint)