Writing 101 day nineteen: just write.

“Today is a free writing day. Write at least four-hundred words, and once you start typing, don’t stop. No self-editing, no trash-talking, and no second guessing: just go. Bonus points if you tackle an idea you’ve been playing with but think is too silly to post about.”


I’m gunning down the streets of Los Santos, the cops are after me, again. There’s a red light ahead, the world slows down as I manage to squeeze between an 18 wheeler and coupe, metal screeches but I don’t swerve into a telephone pole. Two streets later, I angle right into a side alley and lie in wait. The sirens resound around me but the coppers won’t find me. It’s a good hiding spot, I know, I’ve used it before. When everything goes quiet I slowly come out. Maybe I’ll go back to that asshole Lester and try to steel that truck again, maybe I’ll try not to run over a blond bimbo on the way from there, that way the cops might not bother me again. I decide against it and instead I start cruising the streets. Maybe I’ll call Michael, see if he’s up for some drinks or maybe a lapdance. I end up on the sea-front, people are jogging there, lounging by the pier or riding the Ferris wheel. Some are even walking their dogs. I pull to the curb and get out. The sun is shining over the waves, some people are on jet-skies doing flips over the blue surface, others are sailing in the distance. A couple is walking toward me, hand in hand, I walk up to them and punch the lady in the back of the head. She screams and falls to the ground. Her hubby tries to put up a fight but I smack him around a few times and then stomp on him. The lady gets it too. People are screaming now, running around like headless chickens. Shit, the cops are gonna be on me soon. Fuck it, I think. I pull out my handgun and start randomly shooting people. When the cops show up, I pull out my machine gun and empty a clip in the hood of their car until it blows up in a firy crash of metal and body parts. Now, that’s gonna get reinforcements on the way. I run to the end of the pier and jump into the sea. Maybe, I’ll hide down there. Bad idea, the cops are shooting at me from the pier. I swim back to shore and run to the interstate nearby. I punch an old lady out of her car and drive away. Soon, the cops are on my tail. I swerve into the opposite lane and manage not to hit anybody. I can see in my rear view mirror that the cops can’t do that, they crash into people left and right. Running away is not fun though, so I stop right there in the middle of the interstate and start blowing up cars and trucks with my grenade launcher. Fireworks’s the word. In no time I’m surrounded, there’s a helicopter taking pot shots at me from above. I blow it out of the sky, right before I take one to the head and collapse on the ground. It all goes dark. Then I wake up outside the hospital. I’m down another $2,000. Totally worth it.



Talk about silly. I’ve been playing GTA5 this week.

Cyril Bussiere 06-26-2014.


About cyrilbussiere

Author (Author.to/CyrilLCBussiere), Writer, Scientist, and Nurse-to-be. I'm into writing, reading, gaming, raising chickens, playing guitar, and traveling. Man, do I love traveling!
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One Response to Writing 101 day nineteen: just write.

  1. vivachange77 says:

    I wondered where you were going with this. Good twist.


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