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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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fiction

Heartaches

147 03 March 13th 2016

“If this be heartache, let it be mine to endure,” she voiced as she solemnly stared at the raging storm that seemed to mirror her feelings well. The sky was as dim as northern seas, dramatically staged with lightning that made the clouds flicker. Rain hammered the earth and outside was already sea of puddles. The wind was still in full fury.

She’s uncertain of a thousand things. Does he love her truly? Will her heart be spared from distress? Friends have warned her before. But she melted into a languid pleasure of gentle sea breeze and curling waves. On that fleeting moment, a tiny wisp of time, they were infinite— or she so thought. And just as the calm sky before the first drop of rain concludes, she looked up, then knew why typhoons were named after people.

Katrina, Joaquin, Ivan, Wilma, Ingrid, Dianne, Lenny, Jose, and the list could go on for names that have left people devastated, ruined, and overthrown. As for her, Alex must be the worst of all.

Be it a storm or a person.

Word Count: 180


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!

Enjoy more awesome stories here:

 

Mrs. Grelina: A Eulogy

GEDSC DIGITAL CAMERA

I remember Mrs. Grelina when we were five. She was a large woman, the size of a teddy bear. Each morning, she would clap her hands and yell, “Kids! Round them up!” Then our little arms would push and drag the tables and chairs, in between squeals and laughter, to form a huge circle. It was always my favorite part.

She never needed a strict class to make us learn. While most teachers make seating arrangement, we were seated facing each other; while most teachers carry a stick, Mrs. Grelina carried a colorful wand. She would call it The Talking Wand. We would then raise our hands to recite or ask a question—just to get a hold of her wand. She taught us to share and to listen. In that round circle, we were make believe artists, musicians, architects, presidents and she would talk to us like we were such.

Now, the boy with a messy hair holds an art exhibit. The loudest kid in class sold a concert. The one in big glasses designed Shangrila, and the girl that always sleeps, the one who loves to dream, is now a poet standing in front of you.

Thank you, Mrs. Grelina.

Word Count: 202


Written for Sunday Photo Fiction’s prompt. I don’t remember much from my prep school but I remember crayons, shared laughter, and children seated in round tables. I believe it was fun. 😍

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.

Enjoy more awesome stories here:

The Hourglass

PHOTO PROMPT - © Sandra Crook

 

Bill Ortega, the world’s wealthiest man with a net worth of $143.7 billion, sat weak and powerless on the bedside. For sixty years, he lived life as a race, never stopping to take a break. But how he wished he did.

Lying on deathbed was his wife Ligaya, her body a shrunken leaf. He couldn’t help but let out a sob. “Honey?” she asked, her face lined with pain.

“I should have slowed my life down.” he lamented, “I don’t want to lose-

“You’re not, you never will.” she differed, “Remember your favorite hourglass? I tilted it.”

Confused, he asked why.

“To slow my time down.”

Then Ligaya gave him her sweetest smile.

Word Count: 113


Here’s for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. The photo prompt is a courtesy of Sandra Crook which reminds me three things, 1) to seize the day, 2) live life to the fullest, and 3) to savor every moment. 🙂 🙂 🙂

Friday Fictioneers s a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a hundred-word piece of fiction.

Enjoy more stories here. 🙂

24 Gloves

Leap Day marks the opening of the path to Castle Peak- a medieval castle demonstrating the power and significance of its Lords- to every maiden in Naga City. Every four years, on the 29th of February, all maiden above sixteen will walk the unsteady pavement, brave the roaring waves, and  fight the gusting winds in search for a dashing prince or a knight in shining armor.

This year will be her third try. Hesitant, she stopped on the side of the path and stared down her shaking hands.

“Lisa! The ball will start soon. Why aren’t you in dress?” asked one of the girls passing by.

“Ssshh! Don’t you know? It’s her third time this year. A shame!” whispered the other.

“Come on, leave her and her gloves alone!” called out the rest.

With tears in her eyes, she decided to walk away from this place, tossed twenty-four pairs of gloves into the grey sea, and  forget the path to grandeur.

“Love will find me, if it’s meant to be.”

Word Count: 170


Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This photo prompt from TJ Paris reminds me of my first love. The I-have-no-idea-why-I-like-him-but-I-did-anyway kind of guy, born on the 29th of February, who turned me down (unknowingly). Ha! I moved one. I moved one. I- fine… maybe just a little bit bitter. I should just shut up here! 😀 😀 😀

P.S  According to ancient history, St Brigid struck a deal with St Patrick to allow women to propose to men and any man who refuses a woman’s proposal has to buy her 12 pairs of gloves to hide the embarrassment of not having an engagement ring. (Source)

Thanks for another fun prompt, PJ! 😀

Enjoy more stories here:

 

“A”

PHOTO PROMPT © Erin Leary

He always takes the long bus ride and walks his way home as the day slowly fades. It gives him peace of mind but most of all, it reminds him of Alessa.

Upon reaching the tree near the swamp, he couldn’t help but marvel how big it has grown. Back then, it was always about the lily pads and the lotus flowers, the sunrise and the sunset, the horizon and the skies. Back then, it was always about his wife. Tears trickled down as he ran his fingers on the letters carved around it which read,

“Got your back from up here, A.”

Word Count: 103


Better late than never! 😀 Here’s for this week’s Friday Fictioneers prompt. Photo prompt is provided by Erin Leary.

Friday Fictioneers s a weekly writing challenge hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction.

Enjoy more stories here. 🙂

Anatidaephobia

141 01 January 31st 2016

The sun was beginning its marvelous descent over the horizon and Ted is still in disbelief. Of all the places in Jessie’s hometown, she led him to the backyard.

“Here? I read Abington is famous for its trails and coves. We could go fishing while we’re at it there!” he conferred, hoping she’d change her mind.

“Probably, tomorrow… But this, my grouchy fiancée, is my favorite place in Virginia. And those are my old friends.” She beamed while pointing to the pond. Ted couldn’t help but shiver to the sight of the waterfowls which Jessie didn’t fail to notice. “Hey… You’re not, by any chance, afraid of ducks. Are you?”

He shifted, trying to explain his defense, “No. I just don’t like those black mallards with treacherous beady eyes, acting all calm and serene, while waiting for the perfect moment to dart at you and give you its vicious bite.”

Astonished, Jessie walked towards the pond and bent over the water. Then she turned, looking snootily, before planting a kiss on his cheeks, “We definitely need to talk.”

“What was that about?” He asked.

“We made a pact, the ducks and I. Nothing you need to worry about.” She smiled.

Word Count: 200


Written for Sunday Photo Fiction’s prompt. The title, Anatidaephobia, refers to the irrational fear of ducks, geese, or other water fowls. Hope you enjoy this. 😀

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.

Enjoy more awesome stories here:

Bag of Memories

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© http://publicdomainarchive.com/public-domain-images-vacation-palma-fruits-sun-apartments-black-white-building-balcony/

The last time, everything fit in three duffles. Four years ago, mom and dad left me here to perish—that’s what I thought then when your parents sent you to college in Belgium, a foreign country with foreign faces, foreign culture, and foreign language. Just me, my three duffel bags, and I in a jumbled mess.

I never would have thought I would come to miss this place. Its stinky corridors and noisy neighbors is a complete contrast to its neat façade but somehow I learned that it wasn’t so bad after all. My neighbors were fellow students from different countries and by the end of our fourth year, we’ve already become a one big, happy family. We laughed at each other’s flaws and cried for each other’s woes; one’s fight is everyone’s battle at the end of the day.

As I stopped before the cab that is taking me to the airport, I couldn’t help but take one last look and sigh. There’s so much memories and love in here. The last time, everything fit in my three duffles. I wonder if there’s a duffle bag huge enough to fit this place…

Word Count: 185


Written for Roger Shipp’s flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction For the Purposeful Practitioner. An opening sentence is provided and we are to craft a story to under 200 words length. This week’s prompt reminds me of my college days. I was sent to a boarding school, too- not to perish but to have the best experience of my life. 😀

This week’s prompt is: “The last time, everything fit in three duffles…”

Enjoy more stories here:

Daydreams

One morning, we were striding the path of Pemberley’s garden where sunflowers bloom and wink to the sunny skies. I have never seen such stunning place devoid of artificial façade.

Mr. and Mrs. Gardiner paced slowly in front while Darcy walked by my side. I blinked my eyes in disbelief—I’m with the Fitzwilliam Darcy!

He was talking endlessly, something about the flowers, arts, Netherfield, and breakfast but I only nodded mechanically and my thoughts were fixed on his face. My eyes traced the strands of his hair, I want to touch them. And as he speak in fervor, with those lips—cherry and inviting—I couldn’t help but bit mine.

“Young lady, if you’re not going to stop staring like that, I’m afraid I’m going to kiss you.” he teased.

I blinked trying to make sense of what I’ve just heard.

“Ria…” he paused, his face closing to mine.

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

“MOM! Not before the kiss!” I wailed

“What kiss?!”

Word Count: 175


Here is for  Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt by Sonya of Only 100 Words which surprisingly reminds me of my favorite classic, Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice. P.S I’ve been ogling  Fitzwilliam Darcy ever since I read the book. I hope Lizzie forgives me for fantasizing her beloved. 😀

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:

 

Heart status: Mending

mending_a_broken_heart_by_artboycat
© quotesgram.com

How strange it is to have a broken heart

Shattered not by a person but words

In a clever play of thoughts and emotions

A hopeless romantic heart broke in two

My heart bleeds for the fallen petals

And the wreath upon a grave

Two souls in love but was never together

They could have had better days

The other story that ripped me apart

Was a heart that has lost its worth

Lifeless and withered in a garage sale

For a crumpled 10 dollars was sold


This morning, my heart met an accident. Not the fatal crash of falling in love— or out of it, nor the serious threat to mortality kind of mishap. Simply saying, it’s one of those catastrophic accidents of stumbling over two very sad stories from An Alchemist’s Diary and Rambling Ink in a row. They were very well written, very well done that I could still taste the bitter tang of misery and gloom. My hopeless romantic heart couldn’t help but broke in two.

So, I hope these little astronauts mend it quickly than it should. Until then, I’m afraid, I cannot write a happy thought…

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