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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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Writer’s Challenge

Empty

The moment I heard that the streets of Divisoria have been cleared of sidewalk vendors, I flew to Manila to witness the momentous sight. This once busy section, riddled with various bazaars and people, has finally been stripped off its chaos.

As I stride aimlessly on one of its thoroughfares, I couldn’t help but sigh. It feels different. Everything is new to the eyes. Who would have thought we were walking on square blocks of concrete before?

“It’s so empty,” I voiced out.

“So are our stomachs,” the man from behind replied. He is Renato, a vendor for 45 years.

Word Count: 100


It has been a while since I’ve written for Friday Fictioneers and I am happy to be back for this week’s prompt.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a hundred-word piece of fiction. The photo prompt this week is a courtesy of Rochelle herself. 🙂

This one is inspired by the ongoing road clearing operations in the Philippines. Last July, the Department of the Interior and Local Government gave local executives 60 days to reclaim public roads from private use and to clear streets of obstruction. While this project scheme comes with good reasons and intentions, it could not be denied that the street vendors, whose lives relied on their meager earnings, were greatly affected. When the stretch of roads have all been emptied, what happens to those who strive to make ends meet. Is change truly for all? Here’s a photo of the real Divisoria.

Credits: Philstar

Up for a challenge? Join the fun here:

Pink Froggie

Remember, remember

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Remember, remember, the fifth of November. Leaving home by the faint light of the rising sun. Its streaks bathing the canopies with hazy gold, as your feet forged their own path. Clambering down the slope of soil, a long bed of rock awaits. Into the very womb of nature, you walked the forested trails.

Remember, remember, the fifth of November. You fancied seeing him for the first time. Curious as a cat on how he’d talk or react if you ever say poetry or love. “He won’t arrive,” you surmised. Indeed, he was nowhere to be found. And so you remember this day as a matrimony of both happy and sad.


Borrowing this phrase from the English folk verse, The Fifth of November. This one’s for the soul who let me watch V for Vendetta and introduced me to Guy Fawkes. The very same one who didn’t show up a year ago on this day. 😂😊

Pretender

It’s 9:52. The night is young yet the house is full. People are coming in and out of the front door. On a dim corner, behind the gate, a man is throwing up.

“I need a drink,” he thought of storming in but stopped at the sight a familiar face.

Five years— she never changed. Laughing with her head back, he guesses her black shirt still carries a statement. Like “Down With Big Brother” or “Go Queer”.

“Don’t,” the word came late and before he knew it, he was walking towards the one who got away. The dice is rolled. Fuck what ifs and the mutilated could-have-beens.

“On the worst-case scenario, at least I can act as drunk fool.”


Took this photo on a poetry night at a local coffee shop here in Cebu. The place was filled with too many hopeless romantics that night.

Fragments

She pushed herself through the crowd. Away from the hoard of bodies rocking to the music, sweating and screaming on top of their lungs. She headed southeast, walked the dimly lit boulevard and reached the familiar place she’s been missing. The quaint diner is still shy of people and the Day of the Dead has left it empty. From a distance, the concert went on.

“Why are they celebrating death?” She mused.

Finding a vacant bench, she sat side by side with nostalgia. Fragments of memories played on loop. She had to laugh. “It really is the day of ghosts.”

MS


Starting today, writers and bloggers around the globe join the National Novel Writing Month (NoNoWriMo). It is an annual one-month quest where literary minds commit to writing 50,000 words in the 30 days of November. But since an average of approximately 1,667 words per day is a far cry for my turbulent mind, I’ve decided to get back into micro stories. A hundred word a day for the lazy muse. Who’s doing the same? 😀

Best of luck to all NaNoWriMo entries! 🙂

The Hiding Place

The Hiding Place
A Realistic Fiction

Her favorite author once wrote, “Life has many ways of testing a person’s will, either by having nothing happen at all or by having everything happen all at once.” This day, she believes, happens to be one of those awful tests. And she is on the edge of failing.

Maya always strives to be a better person— to be a better version of herself at least. She wants to learn kindness and patience, and give humanity a chance. But one glance at the corner, a woman snickers at an old homeless man. Apathetic of his shaking empty hands. On a bus ride home, men talk about war and how this world is better off without Syria. Unthinking that those people, too, are victims. And to add to her outburst, someone just carelessly wrote all over the sketch she’s been working on for days!

With all the patience she could muster and all the kindness she could hold, Maya took a deep breath and hike to her hiding place. “Now this is what peace looks like.”

Word Count: 175


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Pamela S. Canepa. Thanks PJ for hosting another fun prompt. ❤

It’s been a month of hiatus and glad to be back (hopefully for good this time). So… someone just carelessly wrote all over the sketch that I’ve been working on in the office and I badly need a peaceful place like this. Sigh. How could some people be inconsiderate?

Enjoy more stories here:

Unceasing

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Unceasing
A Realistic Fiction

A piano sits in the empty room where Amy used to play with her heart poured in every key, her fingers tapping to the tune of Beethoven, Mozart, Bach, and Debussy. But one accident and, in the blink of an eye, those days were gone.

“Do you know the first thing I did after I find out I have ALS?” A voice came from behind and she turned to find her mother’s weak smile. “I started swimming. I lived my life doing the thing I love the most. I swum rivers, beaches, and pools until this disease finally took away my strength. That morning, I felt like I died a thousand times and all those years of fight were pointless.””

Her mother paused, catching her breath. “But there are things that even death cannot take.” She walked slowly towards Amy, with eyes brimming with tears. “Love. My love for water never ceased… And so should your love for music, my child.”

Word Count: 162


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt was taken from a hidden paradise near our place. It was not until last year that the locals discovered how beautiful this river was.

P.S. My deepest condolences to PJ and her family. You have my prayers and love. Please take care and stay strong PJ. ❤

Enjoy more stories here:

Not Again!

Not Again!

I am back at Pemberly—again. This time, I am playing the piano with Lady Catherine de Bourgh watching from behind. I cringe to the shadow of her majesty. Her regal grace is creeping on my spine like a snake.

Wait… what am I doing here in the first place?

As if to answer my query, Mr. Darcy came barging into the hall with his eyes fixed on Lady Catherine. “Your highness, I am baffled and enraged”, his voice raised. “Why do you have to take her here?”

“My nephew, you astonished me.” Lady Catherine, with all her arrogance and flair, walked towards Mr. Darcy. “I expected to find a more reasonable woman. But heaven and earth! Are the shades of Pemberley to be thus polluted?”

“Leave me and my choice be, please!” He retorted and snatched me out of the mansion.

“Ria…” Mr. Darcy stopped, his breaths catching up to mine.

“Riaaaaa!” a loud voice came out of nowhere, “RIA. Wake up!” mom yelled, shaking my senses.

“MOM! Not again!” I wailed

“What again?!”

Word Count: 175


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt by Louise of The Storyteller’s Abode which surprisingly reminds me of my favorite classic, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. It was January 2016 when I first wrote the fiction, Daydreams, which fantasizes Fitzwilliam Darcy and I believe it’s about time that I write a follow-up. Sorry Lizzie!

Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers is a weekly writing challenge where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using 150 (+/- 25 words). Thanks for another fun prompt, PJ! 😀

Enjoy more stories here:

 

The Soloist

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The Soloist

Deeper than the ocean
Higher than the sky
Fighting laws of motion
When there was you and I

You’re the force to my inertia
Heartbeats accelerate
Our actions and reactions
Are signed and sealed by fate

Alice couldn’t help but smile at the sound of the man’s voice. She knew that soulful tone for as long as she could remember. How could she not when she calls her ‘dad’?

They are not homeless nor do they live a pitiable life. But her dad has always been a great man. He would rise early in the morning and take out his guitar ensemble out to the center of the town.

“This world could use some music”, he would say.

Looking at the audience gathered around the soloist, she does agree.

Word Count: 130


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by Sunayana MoiPensieve. Thanks PJ for hosting another fun prompt. 😀

Enjoy more stories here:

The Tale of the Mad Cow

The Mad Cow

It was a perfect time for rocking chair and morning coffee when suddenly his grandson came barging in from the backyard.

“Grandpa! Grandpa!” Nathan yelled, his face flushed from the sun.

John let a sigh and spoke sternly, “Kid. I told you… No running inside the house.”

“Grandpa, you would be proud.” Nathan said abruptly as if not listening. “I found a mad cow in your herd and I set the cows free! You should have seen them. They were running so fast. I knew they were so scared of—

“Wait, what? What mad?” John knew his grandson is too hyperactive for a seven year old but he must have heard wrong.

Nathan, his eyes brimming with pride, led him towards the backyard. “Remember? The one you and Uncle Jerry were talking about—mad cow disease! I found one who never stopped staring at me. He was totally mad.”

And then John was at lost.

Word Count: 155

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by MajesticGoldenRose. Thanks PJ for hosting another fun prompt. 😀

Enjoy more stories here:

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