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Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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fiction

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

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.

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:

Archangel’s Last Fight

His body slowly crumbled as if he was devastation itself. Peering through the blur, he saw the snares of evil vanished into the pits of hell.

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to Shapeshifting 13 #74 KICKOFF: GHOUL FESTIVAL!

During Ghoul Festival, you will be provided a picture prompt and an audio prompt. The prompts should create an atmosphere for you that (we hope) will elicit some amazingly creative writing that is incredibly diverse. Let the image and the audio guide you through your imagination.

Visual Prompt: “Nike” by Cordray Parker (Located in the Birmingham Botanical Gardens, Birmingham, Alabama)

Audio Prompt: Beethoven – Moonlight Sonata

P.S. The 26-word limit is a tricky task and does not equate with Beethoven’s deep, dark and ferocious sonata. Phew! That was quite a cavernous chasm I was in!

War on Drugs

 

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War on Drugs
Realistic Fiction

“How are we doing?” Police inspector Stone inquired, pouring another glass from his bottle of Jack Daniels.

“Seven-hundred deaths, eight-thousand surrenders, sir.” Bates answered aptly.

Disgusted, Stone felt the liquor boiling from his insides. “That’s a lot of mouths to feed. We’ve had enough of these pushers and addicts. This is war on drugs, kid. I want you men to purge.”

“What about due process, sir?”

“Call it resisting arrest or self-defense, I don’t care. Just get those body bags out—fast.”

*BATES’ PHONE RINGS*

With a lump in his throat, he voiced, “Sir… It’s your son. He’s…  He’s dead.”

Word Count: 100

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers 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 Ted Strutz. Thank you!

I was watching Senator De Lima’s privilege speech last night and regardless of she has done or has failed to do against the proliferation of drugs as a former justice secretary, I stand by her side when it comes to extrajudicial killings. This do-it-yourself justice is inhumane, an impunity that must come to an end.

“Drugs destroy lives, but we need not destroy lives to destroy drugs.” -Leila de Lima

 

Enjoy more stories here:

Kicking Butts

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Kicking Butts
Realistic Fiction

“Hey, Chev!” Dorothy called out to the 1967 Chevrolet Impala. “Going out with that horse? It’s not my favorite pair but suit yourself.”

Ace snorted loudly as he eyed the white Cadillac beside them. “Is this the one, Chevy?”

Chevy has seen Dorothy the day Marcus, her owner, received that dreadful foreclosure notice. Marcus lost his home to the bank, concurrently, losing his whole life, too. She hated Dorothy and the bank since then.

“You’re looking rather sleek today.” Ace walked towards Dorothy, appraising her body. “A Cadillac Escalade?”

“2016. The latest model.” Dorothy grinned with pride.

“I see… So your owner came here to take the Marcus’ ranch. Four decades— the man has been working up a sweat living his own life.”

Dorothy noticed anger in Ace’s voice and refuted, “He’s just doing his job. He didn’t—

A loud smashing sound left Dorothy startled. The last thing she remembered was the sight of her shattered headlights and damaged wing before Ace gave one last angry jolt, “Tell that professional crook I’ll kick his capitalist butt.”

Word Count: 175

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


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

P.S. I missed this!! ❤ :)

This one is inspired by a documentary I was watching last night. Michael Moore’s Capitalism: A love story.

Enjoy more stories here:

 

First Dance

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First Dance
A Mythic Fiction

Cybele, the goddess of nature, came in the earliest crack of dawn. Soft gust of wind kissed on her cheeks, flirted with her long drape, and tousled her golden curls.

“Oh! Good morning, Boreas! You’re awfully playful today.” She said in between chuckle, whisking the wind away.

“All for you, Cybele,” Boreas, the god of wind, replied and with all the pride and air he could muster, gave a ceremonial bow, “May I have the honor to be your first dance?”

“You’ve always knew for whom my first dance is,” she softly whispered. With that, Cybele started moving slowly, her long dress flew gracefully with every bend and every curve as she performed her morning mantra.

Flourish my children, spread your verdant greens
Bloom, oh sweet buds, show those smiles to me
Creatures in the wild, live and run freely
Breath with pride my mountains and rivers in between

With one final pose, she pointed her toes and lifted her foot to an arabesque.

“What a pleasure it is,” Boreas exclaimed, “to hear your prayers, dear Cybele. You are as refined as a queen and as graceful as a swan.”

“Thank you, Boreas! But you still won’t get your dance.”

Word Count: 200

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


Written for Sunday Photo Fiction’s prompt.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Alastair Forbes where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. The piece doesn’t have to center around exactly what the photo is, it can be just used as a basis for a story. Thank you, Al!

*Cybele is known as the mistress of wild nature and  goddess of fertility. She personified the earth and its abundant benefits, and was regarded as the Great Mother and unceasing producer of all plant life. She was also believed to exercise unbounded sway over the animal world including wild animals, especially the lion.

Enjoy more stories here:

Not Tonight

arena

It’s Saturday date-night. My boyfriend, Bran, is staring with intensity as if the rest of the world has gone silent—as if it’s just him and the TV.

Yes. The TV.

Not at my golden curls or my beautiful silk dress. Nor at the makeup that I so gracefully wear. He didn’t even bother to breathe my scent! Bryan was whole-heartedly, all-eyes on ESPN’s coverage of the Lions VS Calgary game.

My head hurts from watching the endless throwing, running, passing, and tackling yet I don’t understand a thing.

Oh, for sure, my boyfriend loves me… but just not tonight.

Word Count: 100

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.


In response to this week’s Friday Fictioneers 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 C.E. Ayr. Thank you!

P.S. I know nothing about football except “touchdown” and David Beckham (but as pointed out by the lovely Dajena, Beckham plays soccer not football). Haha! See how bad I am at this game? XD Are most guys like Bran? 

Enjoy more stories here:

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