His paddle-board is all he had left. His house, car, and belongings, all gone when the 40-foot tsunami-wave came. He somehow survived by holding onto the paddle-board.
“Is it Halloween already?” I watch the truck full of hay bales rolls through the normally tiny sleepy French town.
“I’m telling you, he isn’t a good man.” Her sister’s words came echoing in her brain as she crouched lower behind the shrubs. Despite the roaring river beside her, all she could hear was her heart’s thump of terror. “Oh Val, where are you?” Her boyfriend sing-songed, cracking his knuckles. “Come out and play. You…
“He tried to fly before he could ride a bike.” The homeless old man said.
“That’s it!” Grinding his teeth, he hurled his creation to the ground and stomped on it until it was unrecognizable. Then he jabbed a finger at his sister, “I don’t want to hear a peep from you.”
Sometimes, having a daring heart isn’t a good thing.
All it took was a momentary flash.
It is never easy. It has never been easy for me to let go but this must be done. The inevitable has been dragged on for far too long. Just to do it, say it.
It’s easy to forget things sometimes like the fact that just five years ago, I was living in the van that’s now gathering dust in my driveway, that whenever I’d go in for job interviews and scribble a random address on the form, that I might be the luckiest person in the world.
Ladies and gentlemen, I am a bookworm. (audience laughs) After digesting hundreds if not thousands of book, do you know what I think is the worst possible story ending?
Kissing up, kissing a$$, whatever you want to call it, I’m not a fan even though I am someone who’s eager to please. I have my limits and would never stoop so low as to kiss someone’s behind to keep them happy.
“I dreamt you were an ax murderer,” I told my mom once. I think I was around eight or nine. She had immigrated to the U.S and began calling me every weekend. She laughed and I could feel her rolling her eyes on the other end of the line. To this day, she still reminded…
Are hoarders sentimentalists? I think they are and it’s the reason why they often struggle to get rid of stuff. When my grandpa passed away in 2015, his home office was at last unveiled to the family. His home office has been a mystery for as long as I can remember. I think I might…
Believe me when I say this, I did not used to be a rebel. I was a goody-two-shoes who did everything I was asked to do and please my mom was my life until…
Sometimes, I wish I can go to the top of a mountain and scream, “I am a capable person.”
When life gives you lemons, you do whatever the hell you can with it.
“Next stop, Central Station, the end of the road, as far as we go.” The robotic Siri-like voice announced.
Approaching the Mystical Tree, she whispered, “Grandfather?” Slowly, a white, bony hand emerges. “You’ve come, child.” “Yes and I brought nourishment.” She handed him the bags of blood. Thirstily, he devoured bag upon bag. “I wish I brought more.” “You did good, child. I will be satiated for days. Besides, it isn’t as though I…
I am the epitome of true love. For almost 25 years, he had dominated my dreams. Whenever I closed my eyes, I could see him in my dreams. Whenever I looked up at the stars, his face would be the only one I saw.
With her picture in hand, he gave the red building before him a disapproving gaze. After a year of waiting, he finally received the great news his PI has located his MIA daughter.
Re-reading my sister, Bethany’s Will, I sighed, “My dear sister, you shall be the death of me.”
In the spirit of Valentine’s Day, this week’s MMLM Sunday Writing Prompt is “A Story of Love.“