Just a single chapter

Only nine days left before this challenge ends, so why not read my entry for this one: Tap, Tap, Malady

It’s not much of the typical writing style that I post, but I hope anyone who reads it can still enjoy the story. This is only one of the chapters that I plan to work on for this particular story. I am not sure if I will be able to post the entire story or I’ll just complete the manuscript in another online platform. Anyway, here’s to more writing. 🙂

Fire Starter

This is the last day that I see the light.
The last day I hear the people’s cries.
The last… the first time I shall scream back.

I’m innocent.

“Liar, liar,” they shouted.

“Hang him.”

“Kill him.”

I’m innocent.

When did it all start? 

Firebreather, firefighter, fire eating people alive

The last… the first time I scream back
“You are all right,”

before I set the place on fire.

This is my final wish, I whisper in the flame,

“Now, I shall bring them all to the fire.”

Love Story 101

Nonexistent
No one took a risk

Some wanted it ASAP
Others later,
Never

But fear took over

Step one
Stare

Step two
Heart beats faster

Step three
Fear takes over

Still nonexistent
‘Coz no one took a risk

No one wants to risk
A friendship
A connection
A lasting relation

Step four
Miss the chance
A love story remains
Hidden,
Slowly being forgotten

Patalastas

I haven’t seen much TV shows for the couple of years that I stayed here. Mostly because I can’t understand the rationale about the neverending cycle of love-fight-love-trial-happy ending stories bombarding the tube nowadays.

Still, it’s a continuous fascination of people around the globe. Young, middle-aged, old, single, in a relationship, or married, everyone loves romance.

As I was moving around and searching for my own little space in this massive world, I learned to deceive myself. It felt like a sudden interruption from my fast, simple, and boring life show.

Continue reading

Burning Desire

Boiling with hot steam coming through
Tingling more than usual
Thoughts fill the empty space
Between myself and the dying race

Dreams stay for a while
Until someone shatters them apart
With words that pierce across the heart
Burning but not killing the self inside

It’s worst than any other things
Surrounding the days that pass by
Denial comes after the great plunge
It stings, deep within the rush of blood

Veins burst but life still flows
Through all the trials it lasts
Unknown to the self until the end
It is the desire to survive

A desire to do well in this time
Hoping to continue even when failure is the end
It burns inside the self beyond understanding
To live and live well, let it burn, let it grow

Nurture the burning desire until the end is at reach

Metallic Memory

Three-thirty in the afternoon, the whole small town of Shale grew quiet. The cool, strong winds came and Alex looked out of the window and saw it all. The sky was blue with the peaceful shades of soft white clouds. The sun was hiding behind them, taking a break. Alex knew better, and closed her eyes as she inhaled all of it. The sweet smell of the fallen leaves from the mango tree nearby. There was a moist forming on her cheeks when the wind touched her face. This made her smile.

As she continued to get everything all at once, her hair tossed over her eyes, then a rusty smell of rotting metal followed. Her eyebrows started to curve. She didn’t like the smell. Still, she opened her arms wide open, eyes closed, and putting her arms slowly across her chest for an embrace.

I hope he was…

Continue reading

Guest

The clock strikes three-thirty
Everyone stayed quiet and still
A glass shattered on the table
No one was silent, screams!
Everyone, all at the same time

The doors locked suddenly
People hammering them to be free
One screamed, he got splinters on his hands
Then the place slowly lit up
Five minutes, they though, no it was longer

Someone opened the door outside
Flood of red fluids rushing to his feet
He showed a crooked smile
With a bucket on his right hand
A camera on the other with a long string

The clock strikes four-thirty
The man covered with the red water
Stood, walked slowly, shut the door behind
Cool, clear water showered from the top

There was a scream. Again!
The man’s eyes widened
He rushed and unlocked the doors
It was raining cold water inside

Soaked.
Blood and sweat.

Clean, clear.

Who was it?

Books for an Old Soul

Personally, there is a different feeling whenever I flip through pages of books. The new and the old ones, I tend to be more attracted to the latter. The smell of old, thrift shop books are intoxicating, and yes it’s strange but I sniff through some of the pages. It’s just me 😉

Every reader has his/her own style to pick. I think the uniqueness of the writers (and their stories) is also searching for the right, equally distinct reader. It’s like whenever you try to find that perfect spot to spend your night, that’s how you choose your book. Something to comfort or to accompany you through sleepless nights or sweet daydreams.

Continue reading