I stood there, staring at my husband’s desk. I should’ve known it’d be too good to be true. Neat-freaks and scatterbrains aren’t opposites. They don’t attract. They repel.
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: Untitled” →
“What cha doin’?” George asks.
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: Just Another Day” →
Mr. C stares at the sign and sighs. Still gone as it has been for 50 years. He’s stranded in this desolate place as his brain kept wandering back to that fateful night. What went wrong? “I triple-checked that spirit-meter, didn’t I?” He muttered.
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: The Stranded Mr. C” →
“They call this the “Scrooge Farm”. Instead of Christmas decoration each year, around Christmas, there would be scarecrows dressed in rags and sandbags for heads popping up in random places ’round the farm. Now, no one has ever seen the owner as there’s no house on the hundred-acre property. “
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: Christmas Bedtime Story” →
Tossing his jacket onto the table, he sat down and sighed. He couldn’t believe it. Another pandemic. I’m 109, how many more events do I need to go through?
Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: Another Pandemic” →
Great, fantastique, awesome, super.
Just how many more different ways can I exaggerate this situation?
I don’t know what gave anyone the idea or the impression I can single-handedly put together a Thanksgiving dinner in 4 hours.
4 HOURS!!!
There I was, slaving away in the kitchen – turkey, vegetables, and stuffing in the oven, potatoes ready to mash, and all there was left to do was dessert.
“Marge!” Came a holler.
I must had turned too quickly because next thing I knew, I was on the floor. “Ow,” I moaned. My leg was turned at an awkward angle. Crapulous.
“Marge, you okay?”
(100 Words)
Please note: the word “Crapulous” in this story does not mean what it actually means if you define this word in the dictionary. In this story, this word is the antonym of Fabulous. Crapulous, Fabulous, get it?
Sitting on this park bench, I am supposed to feel cold but somehow, I feel nothing except exhaustion and resignation. Continue reading “Friday Fictioneers: Chaotic World” →
No Foreshadower today. I know some of you are really looking forward to another episode but I just didn’t get to it even with my week-long break. So instead, I’ll post the comics I did this week for my Behavioral Management class’s group project. It is all about the chapter we are set to present on Thursday, Conflicts. Hope you enjoy.
The links for each comic is below the image, that is if you’re having trouble reading the texts.
There are two rocks in the field not far behind the cemetery. Everyone calls them the “Spirit Rocks” because they believe on every Summer Solstice, when the barrier between our and the spirit world is at its weakest, spirits would cross into our world to complete their businesses. Continue reading “The Spirit Rocks [Full Story]” →
I have been nominated by Charles French – Words Reading and Writing for this interesting challenge. Continue reading “One Liner Challenge” →
She stood at the edge of the pond. Continue reading “Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers: Annabelle” →
Today’s prompt asks: Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you. Continue reading “Great News: Done and Finished” →
Today’s prompt asks: Write a summary of the book you’ve always wanted to write for the back cover of its dust jacket. Continue reading “A Quick Synopsis” →
I recently began to compile all the short stories I have written into a mini-collection. There’s almost enough there for me to turn it into a book. So who knows, it might be my first published work. I even already have a title for it, “A Light in the Dark: A Collection of Short Stories”.
So is a blurb really necessary? Because I know that most people nowadays read ebooks. At least I can’t remember when was the last time I picked an actual book. Also there’s no book jacket in ebooks. So what’s the point?
But since that’s what today’s prompt asks, I might as well write something. Enjoy. 🙂
So here’s the gist…
I believe at some point, everyone experience sadness, darkness, misery, you name it. It all just depends on when. This collection of short stories is about my fantasy and life. A few years ago, I went through a period of misery, sadness, and anger. I lost my interest in school and life. I watched the days just slide on by.
One day, I decided to get over it, to shine a light in all of this darkness. What did I do? I closed my eyes and whisked myself to another world. Then all of a sudden, a part of my fantasy came to life.
It was hard to believe that a few months ago when I peeked into my files that I discover I have written so many short stories. I am so excited to be able to share such collection with you and I hope you enjoy my short stories as much as I enjoyed writing it.
No one was fated to spend a life in such a small space, especially not these brothers, just barely getting by, dependent on its caretakers to feed and bathe them. The book, Temporary Home, chronicles the brothers’ daily life and reading their story will bring you to tears.
Temporary Home begins in the brothers’ early days when they had spent in an aquarium. They had many great friends but somehow their friends would disappear now and then. Their then-caretaker told them he had found a great home for their friends. On that fated day, their future caretaker, a girl with long silky black hair and glasses approached the tank. “Which do you like?” Their caretaker had asked the girl.
The girl pointed at the brothers and at that moment, they knew the girl would be their new home. The moment they arrived at their new home, the girl fed them pellets she had bought at the store, just three. The brothers ate hungrily and after that eyed the container of pallet, wanting more but their owner had stopped caring for them.
A few months later, the brothers were passed onto their owner’s friends while their owner went on vacation. The brothers’ life at the friends were even worse. They spent day after day, almost drowning in their urine and feces.
A few months later, the brothers were once again passed onto another. This time, a lady and a girl. At first glance, the brothers knew they would be the same as the friends but at the same time, they knew this would be different. They were right.
Their new caretakers made sure they were well-fed, clean, and warm. This was the best home they ever had but they knew this is not forever. Eventually, they would have to return to their lives of starvation and misery.
My review: five out five stars, definitely.
I love the personification of this book. The author portrait the turtle brothers like real people. Reading it the first time, you can never tell whether it was talking about the life of a person or animals. The brothers seemed so real.
It definitely made me cry, alright especially the part of the brothers not getting enough to eat. I felt so bad for them. No one should be starved. So yes, I will definitely recommend this book even if it’s not written.
Okay, I’m going out of order here so I can catch up with this week’s writing 101 assignments. This is Day 9’s assignment. I hope you will enjoy my bit of flash. 🙂 Continue reading “Writing 101: Point of View” →
Today’s prompt asks: A hundred years from now, a major museum is running an exhibition on life and culture as it was during our current historical period. You’re asked to write an introduction for the show’s brochure. What will it say? Continue reading “The Museum of New Ages” →
Head throbbing, throat aching, voice going coarse, and my bottle of anger is full again.
My weekend was crappy, worse than usual but I’m not going to complain. I’m going to let it out another way, a story. I’ve weaved my crappy weekend into a tale between two roommates, Leslie and Sarah. First, I should apologize for this incredibly long post (I can’t help it) but anyway, enjoy the dramatic tale. 🙂
Leslie sat before her computer on a Saturday morning, studying for an afternoon exam. After more than 6 months, she still hadn’t adjusted to fact that she had to find her own time to complete the exams for her classes. At least this one’s open-book, open-notes, she thought happily. She wouldn’t had to go through the tedious process of making a half-page note-card.
By noon, her stomach was growling. She often skips breakfast to save time on studying. So she quickly went to the pantry, pulled a ramen from a plastic bag with her name on it, and popped it into a bowl. She dumped the tiny bag of soup mix, added the water, and popped it into the microwave. By the time she finished with her ramen, she heard a click of the locks. Sarah was home.
“Hey, Les, can you help me with these groceries?” Sarah was carrying at least six bags of food.
Leslie took four bags and hurried to the kitchen. “What are you trying to do? Feed an army?” She dropped the bags on the counter.
“They’re for both of us, duh.” Even then, it would be too much. Leslie went to the sink and clean up while Sarah put her purse on the chair. “Listen, I need your help with something.”
“What?” Leslie asked as she wiped her hands dry.
“I have this paper due Monday and I’m wondering if you can help me since, well, your writing is better mine.”
“What is it on?” Leslie asked quickly.
“It’s a research paper, 6-9 pages. I don’t know what’s on yet. The instructor wasn’t clear.”
“Well, you’ll have to wait. I have to go take the exam.”
“Then go,” Sarah replied. “We can talk about it when you get home.”
Three hours later, Leslie finally came home. The exam took much longer than she had thought. It was 24 questions on 30 pages and each question took forever to complete. Tired but still full of energy, she knocked on Sarah’s door and almost instantly, Sarah wrenched the door open, shoving a paper in Leslie’s face.
“You see this?” Sarah shrieked. Leslie grabbed the paper and looked at it carefully. It was the rubric for the assignment. “It makes completely no sense! He doesn’t explain anything. He just gives the assignment and expects us to understand it at a snap of a finger.”
“The paper said to pick four or more variables affecting the operating environment. What kind of operating environment?” Sarah led her to her laptop sitting on the desk and showed her a PowerPoint presentation on Argentina. “What does Argentina have to do with anything?”
“He assigns us each a country and we’re supposed to apply the variables.”
Leslie frowned. “I don’t know. What do you want me to do exactly?” Sarah handed her an index card. On it are the words, “political, military, economics, social, information, infrastructure.”
“These are the things I need you to research and write about. I will write the rest.” She switched the screen to a word document. “It’s all formatted. All you have to do is fill in the information.”
By then, Leslie only vaguely understood the assignment. “And why can’t you do this yourself?”
“Do I look like I have the time to do both?” Sarah snapped and Leslie threw her hands up and retreated to her room. “I want this done by tomorrow.” Sarah called as Leslie shut the door to her bedroom, she leaned against the door for a minute and sighed.
Sarah always does this, wait until the last minute and just snaps her fingers. Just like that, Leslie to the rescue. She was like one of those nerds that does bully’s homework. Leslie went to her computer and opened the file Sarah had just sent her over dropbox.
That night, to decompress from the long exam, Leslie decided to watch a few shows on TV. She’s already had two pages completed. Lounging on the living room couch, Sarah joined her. “So, roomie, have you completed my paper yet?”
“Not yet, almost though.” Leslie replied.
“May I make some suggestions though?” Leslie nodded. “Focus more on how each variable affect the environment.” Leslie wasn’t exactly listening but Sarah kept blathering on. If you want me to do your assignment, don’t tell me what to write. I have my own methods. She thought.
Leslie screamed when she opened her eyes the next morning to find Sarah hovering above her. “What are you doing?”
“It’s 8, time to get up.” Leslie glanced over at her alarm clock, it was only 7:30. She moaned and sank her head back on her pillow. “Come on, Les, I want it done by 10 am. You do want to have time to do you own thing, don’t you?”
She went to the window and opened the blinds, the light streaming into the room made Leslie shrank and curled. Leslie groaned. “Fine, I’m up!” Leslie stumbled out of bed over to her computer. She yawned and clicked open the file. It looked like Sarah had updated it, she added a few more sections and miraculously, it was completed.
Groggily, she made her way to the kitchen to scour the fridge for breakfast. She settled with a yogurt and ate it over the sink, her head was still throbbing from the blast of sunlight. She stumbled back into her room and sat before the computer, the words blurred and the more she read, the more it was becoming more puzzling.
“Is it done yet?” Leslie jumped, suddenly realizing Sarah was behind her. Had she been watching me this whole time? Leslie wondered. This was beginning to feel like Sarah’s got a gun to her head forcing her to write.
“Almost.” Leslie answered.
“Almost?!” Sarah shrieked. “It’s been two hours!”
Leslie rubbed her temples and said tiredly. “I’m doing the best I can. It’s not that easy, you know.”
“Hurry up,” Sarah snapped. “I’ve been waiting on you all morning and you can’t even write two paragraphs? I am way faster than that.”
Leslie bolted up, “Fine, then write it yourself. I’m tired of your bossing around. My head hurts, I’m not in the mood.”
“Fine!” Sarah screamed. “I don’t need your help. I will write it myself.”
“Fine!” Leslie shouted back and pushed Sarah from her room and locked her room. They didn’t exchange a single word the remainder of the day. Leslie worked on her own homework. Now and then, she could hear Sarah rehearsing in her room, always the same line and this is how their story ends (for now) because do stories ever end?
Last week, I was surprised and amazed when I received a ping-back from Izzy of Izzy-grabs-life. Izzy has nominated me for the Blog Tour Award! I didn’t even know such award existed, I’m so honored.
WHAT ARE YOU WORKING ON AT THE MOMENT?
I’m currently working on my homework. Ha ha, just kidding, I’m taking a break from my cost accounting homework.
Um, at the moment, I’m actually about half-way done with what-I-think is a short-story but it’s turning into a novelette. I’m think probably another 3000 words on top of the current 4800 should do it. It’s a rewrite and it used to be called “The Forgotten” but I think the title’s a little lame. So I’m coming with a new title at the moment.
HOW DOES YOUR WORK DIFFER FROM OTHERS IN YOUR GENRE?
Honestly, I do not know. We all get our inspiration somewhere, whether be TV shows or movies or books. I pull ideas for my stories from those places but at the time, I would try to add something different, my own touch but I suppose, in a way, my work can be comparable to others in my genre.
WHY DO YOU WRITE OR CREATE WHAT YOU DO?
My head is filled with pictures and ideas. Every time, I watch a TV show or a movie or read a book, I instantly get pictures, pictures that once I lose them, I am not getting them back. Since I am not an artist (I can’t even draw a car right), I choose words as my medium. So writing is really my way of painting those mental pictures. The paper is my canvas, as some would say, and I’m painting it with words.
HOW DOES YOUR WRITING/CREATIVE PROCESS WORK?
Well, like I said, I get pictures and I just writing it down as to artist painting the canvas. I don’t exactly have a process. I just get these flashes in my head and as soon as I get them, I would jog them down somewhere, anywhere, be it an existing story or a new story. Otherwise, it will feel like what Maya Angelou says.
However for the flash fiction challenges and prompts, it’s different.
It is my pleasure to nominate the following individuals:
I am looking forward to hear about everyone’s creative process!
Today’s prompt asks, Tell us about your favorite meal, either to eat or to prepare. Does it just taste great, or does it have other associations?
I don’t think I have a favorite meal. Oh, wait, nah, my favorite meal involves a banquet and a roast pig. Oh man, you have no idea how gruesome it was to find a suitable picture. All the roast pig pictures are so graphic. I almost feel bad for looking at it.
Anyway, I’ve been to a few of these banquets, always either someone’s just had a baby or they are getting married or it’s just one of those family reunion things. In a word, celebration. It was one of those occasions where we just eat and talk insanely loud. The noise bothers me but the food is insanely good.
So I have to go change the turtles’ water. It’s been three days (I’ve been busy) and the house really smells of turtle waste now. Boy, turtles poop a lot, don’t they?
I’m going to leave you with another flash fiction piece I’ve written about the curious boy name Michael. I think it fits the prompt since it’s food-related. See ya!
Michael sat at the table in the breakfast nook as he waited for his mother to bring him his favorite weekend favorite breakfast, Scrambled Eggs and French Toast.
A moment later, his mom slid a plastic plate onto the table. “Here you go, sweetie.” His mom smiled and sat across from him.
Michael stared at the eggs and asked, “Mommy, did you lay those eggs?”
His mom’s fork was half way between her mouth and the plate, she paused and dropped her fork, “What? Of course not, why would you say that?”
Michael pinched a piece of his toast and shoved it into his mouth, “Because some boys at school called me a chicken. Since I’m a chicken, you are a chicken too. Chickens lay eggs, don’t they?” His brows knitted together.
“Honey, those kids don’t know what they are talking about. You’re not a chicken and I didn’t lay these eggs. Now eat your breakfast.”
The mystery I may never solve and I may never forget it… Continue reading “The Paintbrushes” →
I’d like to thank Priceless Joy for nominating me for the Five Photos-Five stories challenge, where I post five photos, five stories, each day for five days. Continue reading “Five Photos – Five Stories Day 1” →
Jithin, PhoTrablogger, the host of Flash Fiction Chain, had decided to continue the previous flash fiction chain due to an inconclusive ending. The following parts are inspired by the above image. Due to her busy schedule, Priceless Joy has asked me to write Part 15 of the chain and since she had asked so kindly, I couldn’t refuse.
Other characters:
If you’re not caught up, may I recommend you to read the previous part before venturing this part.
“H-hi,” Anna stammered at the sight of the man on the other side of the door. It took a second for her to notice his bruised lip and cheek and all of a sudden, she was speechless. She cleared her throat. “Alex, wh-what are you doing here?”
Alex shoved his hands in his jeans pockets and shrugged and then followed by a light chuckle. “I just want to check to see if you’re okay and I’m sorry for what happened yesterday what with…”
“Oh, no yesterday wasn’t your fault.”
“But how are you? I’ve been worrying about you all night.”
Really, Anna wanted to ask but instead, she replied. “Oh, I’m fine, just fine.” His eyes wandered while she stared awkwardly at the wooden floor and wondered. Can Alex be it? Is he the person I’d been wanting to fall for all along?
“So, you want some breakfast?” He nodded in the direction of the kitchen and smiled. “The caterers’ gone which means I can finally show you what I can do.”
Anna laughed. “I’ll be the judge of that.” She shut the bedroom door behind her and followed Alex down the hallway to the kitchen.
The caterers had managed to pack up and leave within minutes after the wedding. Upon her arrival in the kitchen, Anna was amazed at the transformation. She remembered when she arrived three days ago, the kitchen was a complete mess, flour and egg shell were all over the beautiful granite counter-tops and even the beautiful porcelain tile floor was dusted with flour and powder sugar. Alex pulled a skillet from the rack above the range. “So what would you like?”
Anna sat down on the other side of the counter and rested her hands under her chin. “Hmm, what can you cook?” Alex went to the fridge and grabbed the carton of eggs. He transferred it to the counter when they heard a blood-curdling scream. Alex froze and Anna jumped off the stool. “What’s that?”
Alex swallowed. “I think it’s coming from upstairs.”
At the landing, a maid rushed to them. “What’s wrong?” Anna asked.
The maid shrieked frightfully, “He’s dead!” She cried.
Chills crawled up Anna’s spine as her heart hammered. “Who’s dead?”
The maid led them down the corridor and pointed at the library. The door stood ajar. Anna slowly pushed the door open and gasped. Lying face-down in the middle of the room was Toby. She covered her mouth, shocked. Was this after the fight? She pondered as she entered the room.
Moving closer like she wasn’t afraid, she clenched her fists and bent over his bodies. Who would do this to him? She skimmed over his ruffled blond hair and slightly ripped jacket. Something caught her sight. In the middle of his back was a small hole. This wasn’t not a bullet hole, she was sure for she’d seen an actual bullet hole before. It was from something thinner but thicker than a needle. She scanned the room, hoping for a clue and there it was, lying on the other side of Toby’s lifeless body was a thin arrow. Its feather tip red and the pointy end was in the shape of a heart.
Uh oh, who could be Toby’s killer? Stay tune for the next part written by whoever it is.
16. Itchy Quill
17. Dr. KO
This is Another Story