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| comment | | "parent_author":"",<br>"parent_permlink":"freewrite",<br>"author":"stinawog",<br>"permlink":"5-minute-freewrite-broken",<br>"title":"5 Minute Freewrite: Broken",<br>"body":"Find the prompt here: https:\/\/steemit.com\/freewrite\/@mariannewest\/day-555-5-minute-freewrite-sunday-prompt-broken\n\nBroken. Of course. The buzzer is broken. Gertel had been wondering all day why she hadn't gotten the invitation,<br> but it must be because the buzzer was broken. She ran down the hallway to the front door,<br> sliding up to it in her socked feet,<br> undid the dead bolt,<br> and threw open the door. She didn't know her own strength,<br> and the door flew off the hinges and crashed right into her father's china cabinet. Oops. She peered out the screen door,<br> sure she would see the invitation sitting just outside on the porch. Of course the mail person would have _tried_ to ring the buzzer,<br> no self-respecting mail person wants to leave an invitation sitting out on a porch for anyone to steal,<br> but the buzzer was broken! It wouldn't respond to anyone's fingers but Grandpa Joel's,<br> and he'd been dead for about a dozen years. That one aunt,<br> the one no one would talk about,<br> she had carried around one of his fingers for awhile,<br> because she came by very,<br> very often,<br> and she hated to rough up her knuckles with a good old-fashioned knock. But then when she hadn't known when the respectful amount of time to stop using a dead man's finger had passed,<br> all the family stopped talking about her.",<br>"json_metadata":" \"tags\":[\"freewrite\",<br>\"broken\",<br>\"story\",<br>\"absurd\",<br>\"fiction\" ,<br>\"links\":[\"https:\/\/steemit.com\/freewrite\/@mariannewest\/day-555-5-minute-freewrite-sunday-prompt-broken\" ,<br>\"app\":\"steemit\/0.1\",<br>\"format\":\"markdown\" " |
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