And with @jayna cooling her heels in sunny California, the rest of the 50 word camp toils away in the depths of the steemit blockchain dungeons. We pick away at the walls of our prison in the hopes a glorious 50 word nugget might spill forth so we may offer it up to our betters. Maybe someday we’ll see the sun. Maybe someday we’ll be free.
But for now, in a prison of our own choosing, we offer up stories.
“Eh. It’s in bad shape, mom.” Lucas looked under the hood, frowning. “See, your jeezlebabbus broke off your jehoshaphat valve, and that’s going to be a really expensive fix—”
“Pretend I don’t know anything, Lucasssssssss…..” I hissed, letting out air.
“You’re leaking, mom.”
“And so is your car.”
This particular vignette has a couple nuggets of memory for me. I had a friend back in elementary school named Lucas. (Unrelatedly, I always thought it was interesting his name rhymed with mucus, but I would never say it to his face. He was a big kid and had a mullet). Our teacher back then (one Mrs. Froom) had a tendency to drag out syllables when she was deep in thought. Lucas, a very unusual child, often confused Mrs. Froom. She’d look at some of his test papers or schoolwork, and it’d be like “I don’t know what you were thinking here, Lucasssssss.” And she’d frown, trying to make sense of something nonsensical on the paper. I always thought it sounded like Mrs. Froom’s brains were leaking.
A great community of writers there, helping each other get better at what they enjoy doing.