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.”

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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! 🙂

Coffee and A Little Bit of Pain

I was holding a cup of coffee when I heard her spitting curses from the other room. She was sitting in front of the mirror when I came in, her face buried on a Sylvia Plath. “What happened?” I asked.

She looked at me from her reflection with an expression I couldn’t read, “I’m happy.”

This girl is insane. I try to read her mind but fail. Like I always do.

“It’s too much,” she plainly stated as she flipped through the pages of The Bell Jar. “I keep reading these lines but nothing’s working.”

She has always been fascinated with sad stories and sad songs and everything that has to do with sadness. “What is wrong with being happy?” I asked.

She walked right to me, tiptoed and gave me a kiss. “Nothing, of course. But art doesn’t work that way. I need coffee. And a little bit of pain.”

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It has been a long while blogosphere!! I miss you badly. 😭

I can never say I’ve been out for the reason that life was giving me a hard time because, truth is, I was kicking life in the butt. The past months have been nothing but blessings. And while happiness is not a bad thing, I find it hard to get back into writing. For years my muse fed on sadness and the creatures in the dark. How am supposed to handle this too much joy? Please wait for me. 🍃❤️📝

The girl who was made of moonbeams

The girl who was made of moonbeams

“It’s waning.” Her voice breaks the silence as she eyes the moon amid the blanket of stars.

She is her own kind beautiful. The type of beauty that that goes beyond the naïve skin. Her eyes, aflame, glint with passion. Two windows opening to a new world of fantasies— of hidden histories. A touch of fata organa. And her smile… Her smile was the key that fits perfectly into his heart’s keyhole. He can’t help but grin.

What is she? The thought crosses his mind as he imbibes the quiet between them. On nights like this, there is no need for tongues for they are free from the trammels of the world. No rules. No walls. Blinking in reality, he turns to face the sky and asks, “What is waning?”

“The moon… and love.” She mused.

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In response to MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie’s Wordle #169 and Sunday Writing Prompt: The girl who was made of… Image source: Favim

Head over here to join the fun:

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

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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

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

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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:

The Soloist

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

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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:

Surprise no more

Surprise no more
General Fiction

“Rose! Duck!” Jade shouted before vanishing into the bushes.

Rose, innocently, searched the surrounding for ducks to find nothing but the winter air. “There’s nothing here, Jade.”

“Not that one, you silly.” Jade’s voice faded into a whisper, then she pointed at the one and only quaint house in 6^th street. “Come here.  Look—lights!”

Rose comically crawled to hide behind the bushes and tried to take a peak. The lights are indeed turned on inside. She could see flickering, colourful lights from the glass window but the house had been empty for a long time. Could there be a burglar?

“Are those Christmas lights?” Jade gingerly moved close to the house. “There’s smoke from the chimney, too!”

“Jade, this smell…” Rose stopped in midair, eyes closed. “Cake.”

Both eyes widened in realization. “Cheese cake!” They shouted in chorus.

“She’s home!!” Jade couldn’t hide her excitement.

“She’s baaaack!!” Rose ran towards the door.

Bell rang and the door flung open. “Mariaaaaaa!!!”

A woman in her sixties with an unmistakable beauty welcomed Rose and Jade with a warm smile. “Argh! You got me. I’m supposed to surprise you two. Happiest New Year, girls!! How are my two favourite angels?”

Word Count: 198

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

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Written for Roger’s flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction For the Purposeful Practitioner and Al’s Sunday Photo Fiction.

Happiest new year, everyone!! It’s been a loooooong hiatus for me and I’m glad to be back here at blog-o-sphere. I’ve missed you and your posts! Please do bear with me. I will be hoping onto your sites in a while. Special shoutout to my two favourite girls, Rosema of A Reading Writer and Jade of Jade M. Wong. *kisses*

Enjoy more stories here:

FFftPP

SFP

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.

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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!

Cheating Death

Cheating Death

“Will you take it, child?” The old woman held out a crystal, her eyes shifted from shades of the blue sky into a deep sea.

Does she really want this? Is she really willing to give up her youth, her beauty, her future and half of her life for good? Beads of sweat trickled down Lisa’s forehead as her fingers touched the stone. Her eyes closed and images of the past swirled in her mind. She remembered his dark eyes, his laughter and his voice and the way he say her name. His touch.

Eyes flew open and she was filled with panic, fear and resolve. She wanted him back—alive and breathing by her side.

A while ago, it was her blood that dripped on a clear crystal and stained it pink. A while ago, her skin was beautifully fair. A while ago, the love of her life was dead.

But not anymore.

“It is done.” The old woman said and the last thing she saw was her malevolent smile.

Word Count: 170

© 2016 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

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Here is for Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers prompt. This week’s photo prompt is provided by my awesome friend, Jade. Thanks PJ for hosting another fun prompt. 😀

Enjoy more stories here: