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DoodleScribbles

Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul

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The Unfinished Act

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Art transforms, Billy.

He wakes up, beads of sweat trickle down his temples as Valis’ voice scurries to the back of his mind.

It has been three weeks. The freak who sees murder as a work of art has long been dead. But why does he haunt Billy still?

Drink your tea. Tie your shoes. Go to work. Billy thought his mundane routine could stop his mind’s engine from running withershins. But they don’t. He hates the man’s bloodlust but deep in the recesses of his thoughts, he is fascinated with Valis’ ingenuity. On how he staged those gruesome acts. Billy’s grief for that passion are tentacles taking grasp of his sanity.

He stared at the ceiling. Another day, another ordinary life.

The sun sets and the night rolls in. At midnight, his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream — the performance must be done.


Written Neekneraj’s Wordle and dVerse’s Prosery hosted by Bjorn who asks us to write a piece of prose of exactly 144 words inspired by a line from Maya Angelou’s poem, Caged Bird.

his shadow shouts on a nightmare scream

Today, I finished reading Dean Koontz’s novel, Velocity. This is my twist to the ending of the story.

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

Rose Among the Ghosts

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He stared through the dissipating smoke, fascinated how this woman evolved from a wilted rose to a flower in full bloom. She loves silence now —

though there’s never a quiet time when you’re with ghosts.

“What?” Ariella asks.

“What?” He echoes, smiling.

“That look,” she rolled her eyes. “You’re laughing at me.”

“Why? You asked for peace and we left you for three days,” he shrugs, teasing her with a poker face. “Admit it. You missed us.”

Ariella’s eyes widen but her mouth curved to a smile. “Pretend you don’t see me, Gustav.”

“You’re the one who’s pretending, my rose.”

Word Count: 100


Written for Friday Fictioneers, 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 Dale Rogerson.

Last week’s prompt, I was inspired by Ali and wrote a prequel to his story. This time, I’ve decided to continue being a literary parasite (if the word exist) and take inspiration from another writer. This one is inspired by J.A. Prentice’s flash fiction titled An End to Solitude. I’m normally a scardey cat when it comes to ghosts and not-like-ours but I love how he twisted his story and gave it a lighter angle. 🙂

Head over here to join the prompt!

He sights a leash—he screams

He sights a leash—he screams—
From flattened belly—he leaves the floor—
He runs with million wagging tails—
Proceeds to play a hide and seek—

His voice cracks—circling—whines—
Tilt a head, flash a smile—
He gives a lick and I hug his neck—
Lo, what a lovely collar that is!

Betrayal flashed upon his eyes—
This necklace meant only one thing—
He raise his paws as last attempt—
Hopes he can cheat bath-time again—

© doodlescribbles


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Companions hosted by Linda Lee Lyberg who asks us to write about our love (or frustration) for our pets.

This one’s inspired by Emily Dickinson’s She sights a Bird—she chuckles. It’s a poem about a cat on a hunt for prey. I’ve always love Emily and her dashes so I decided to write about Darwin (one of our two dogs) who I always take with me to the river for a quick bath. 🙂

Head over here to join the prompt!dverse

Silent Spring: A Triolet

It was a spring without voices, devoid of man and his obsessions
Warm light bathed, for once, the stricken world that was silenced
For what worth were our gold and our Earthly possessions?
It was a spring without voices, devoid of man and his obsessions
Love is what carries weight, not money or possessions
Nor hatred and greed can answer mother nature’s siren
It was a spring without voices devoid, of man and his obsessions
Warm light bathed, for once, the stricken world that was silenced

© doodlescribbles


Sharing this piece that I’ve written for #WorldofWords prompt that I am doing with Jade M Wong and A Reading Writer on Instagram (Jade’s IG, Rose’s IG and my IG). This one is inspired by the current global pandemic and Rachel Carson’s Silent Spring, a nonfiction that became one of the most-influential writings in the modern environmental movement. The book documents the adverse environmental effects caused by the indiscriminate and eloquently questions humanity’s faith in technological progress.

Triolet is a short poem of eight lines with only two rhymes used throughout. The requirements of this fixed form are straightforward: the first line is repeated in the fourth and seventh lines; the second line is repeated in the final line; and only the first two end-words are used to complete the tight rhyme scheme. Thus, the poet writes only five original lines, giving the triolet a deceptively simple appearance: ABaAabAB, where capital letters indicate repeated lines.

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At the end of the long road

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Let it be where winds may sweep
Through forest trees soft and deep
The murmur of the giggling brook
Calm every head that shook
And the thriving eastern wood-pewee
Bring broken hearts with glee

Let it be where a bluebird freely flies
Verdant meadows lie before our eyes
Harvest fields reaped and trod
To farmers a gift from God
And falling raindrops sing
For a family hopeful for spring

Let it be where stars may shine
O’er creatures living, peaceful and fine
Where the crescent moon watches over
Longing hearts that look yonder
And the rain once again
Heal the world in pain

Let it be where men breathe with love
And intent is as pure as a dove
Into each life rain must fall
But the sun still shines upon all
At the end of the long road is peace
Let it be where hatred and greed cease


Wordsmiths and poets make a sound, it’s National Poetry Writing Month everyone! Kicking off Day 1 with rhymes instead of today’s optional prompt. What are your  April plans? 🙂

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A recipe to start the day

Take a cup of patience
Stir it with respect
Add a dash of wit
And a pinch of praise
No grilling or [pry]ing
Season with the spice of life
Top with love and kindness
And you’re all set—
Serve with the warmth of sunshine.


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Poems Stirred, Not Shaken hosted by De who asks us to stir up a poem of exactly 44 words inspired by the word “stir.”Head over here to join the prompt!dverse

A Woman’s Bite

There are no apples left for picking
At least not the ones that brought collective sin
So why do we feel like we’ve ruined Eden?
When we weren’t even named after Eve

Why do they bar our own progress?
Condemn us when we show our strength
Why can’t we be our own winner?
must thank a man for our gain

denounced
impugned
cut to the quick

Did a bite symbolize the fall of man
or was just that of a woman?


In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Apple! hosted by Ha who asks us to write use apple as a thematic or a metaphorical element in our poem.

This poem is dedicated to all women who have faced and are still battling with inequality, sexism and double standards. Like Bjorn, today’s prompt reminded me of the Forbidden Fruit. And it was thanks to Carol’s End of the Garden for inciting the idea of this piece. Let’s celebrate Women’s Month!

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

The Unravelling

she peels herself away
in words and verses—
layer after layer
of emotions, thoughts
imperfections laid out
for your lips to read,
ears to hear,
eyes to see
hands to touch—
peelings, nothing more
unravelling
in pinpricks of light
the stories she long hides

MS


In response to dVerse’s Quadrille: Peelings, Nothing More… hosted by Mish who challenges us to write a poem in 44 words inspired by the word “peel.”

Head over here to join the prompt!

dverse

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

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