Here is a five minute free-writing warmup I did this morning. Nothing fancy, i just started writing what came to me at the time.
He remained seated on the living room couch as his responsibility rest within the womb of an unscrupulous woman resting on the loveseat. With no education, job or form of income, he considers himself a hopeless and defeated man. Sure, he can try his best to raise his unborn child to become a doctor, maybe give it hope to become a future president, or a lawyer perhaps. There aren’t many black lawyers these days, but he couldn’t stand to know that his child will grow and become smarter and more successful than he once hoped to be. Jealousy runs through his veins, corrupting his brain and darkening his heart. He never thought that he would be the one sitting around broke, wondering how he could ever support and feed anyone other than himself.
The plan was to stay in that tiny little room over at Mama’s house, now mama kicked him out and forced him to fend for himself. He kicked back long enough, enjoying the easy ride through life on his mother’s back as she busted her hump to make a lane for her only son, and now her only son is a bum, living off of woman, blind to the future and not expecting a positive outcome.
They say that God gives you another day as another opportunity to change, and instead, this man choses to spend it in the living room, praying that his baby’s mother has a miscarriage. The last thing she said to him was “I’m keeping it.” words that played over and over in his little brain, knowing that he’ll have to step up and become a real man, but he never knew the true definition, as far back as he can remember, a man has always been absent in his life. So how can he be a good father when his father was never present? That’s what he questions.
As the clock counts down and time passes each second, the fear bubbles up in his heart, causing his hands to quiver. Watching the woman sleep comfortable, knowing that one day the two of them will become enemies. He could hear it now, those sweet moans and sexy voice that he once loved will be similar to hearing nails run down a chalkboard. She’ll soon start demanding that he hands her the cash to buy a box diapers. Sending him out late in the night to purchase formula. Begging him to get a job or go to school. A middle-school dropout, and job corp. cop-out.
It’s the path that he created but a life never wanted, So in the tradition of his absent father, he walked out.
>> Finished in 5 minutes.
“Deadbeat dads are like magicians, they pull lifetime disappearing acts.”