3WW CXCIX — Free Write (No Relation to Willie)
3WW rolls around yet again, like weekly clockwork and I took one look at the words and realized that they didn’t fit into poetic thoughts I be thinking, so I elected to Free Write instead. I had no idea where this was going to go once I started and was pretty surprised with what I ended up with. I woke up in the middle of the night last week with horrible leg cramps, but the rest is not autobiographical. Much…
Thom G’s words this week are: abuse, cramp and hatred. They conspire to bring forth dark, sordid thoughts…and they did. Thanks, Thom!
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Michael awoke with a leg cramp screaming in his left calf. He tried to make his foot move, but the pull of the muscles was too strong. He had no choice but to get out of bed, putting his full weight on the left leg and forcing his muscles to relax. That short flood of relief was quickly followed by a shot of anger at his leg muscles for betraying him, waking him up in the middle of the night when he had to get up earlier than usual the following morning (just a few short hours away, actually) and he needed all the sleep he could muster.
Since he was awake, Michael went to the bathroom to get a drink of water and take a leak. Between his bladder and his calf muscles, Michael felt his body conspired against him. He hated it when it seemed to happen. Even though rational thought told him that his feelings were unreasonable, he couldn’t help feeling the way he did.
He slumped back into bed, dreading the abuse that his dreams would bring him, praying that he didn’t dream at all. His smoldering hatred had slowly been eating him alive since Alison left him, but he seemed to be the only one who didn’t realize it. It ate him like a cancer because Alison no longer gave a damn what Michael thought or felt. Hatred with no place to go only afflicted the hater, not the hated.
Maybe one day Michael would get it, but not this night. No sooner had Michael returned to sleep than his left calf cramped up and he was once again vaulting out of bed trying to stretch out muscles conspiring against him.
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Mark — we are kindreds!!! I scoffed at the three words this week. They are so not poetically matched to me and instead, wow, they took us to intriguing zones, didn’t they?
Bravo… and I wonder what might happen if you crafted a poem from your free writing?
My 3WW exploration and call to further writing action.
I dunno, Julie. Probably reveal more than would be prudent. One never knows…
I’ve also never taken free writing and made a poem from it. The two just seem so totally different from each other, like I use different muscles and it would be very strange to do so.
Ah, so much conspires if we let it.
Nice one.
it might not be a poem but there is poetic justice here!
Oh, this is good — I like the layers of “conspire” here, and how, ultimately, Michael is only conspiring against himself, leg cramps notwithstanding.
oh. this was amazing.. true, not very poetically inclined words, but u made a damn good story out of it.. amazing one!
“Hatred with no place to go only afflicted the hater, not the hated.”
Great quote. That hatred stuff can eat one alive. This leaves the reader hoping his misfortunates will turn around soon.
really enjoyed this cramp story.….