Speak or Die

~ A short story ~

Tom can’t count the days of darkness. He’s been sitting in the middle of that room for what seems like an eternity. He cannot differentiate day and night. He can only feel the temperature change. He thinks it’s nighttime when his feet, tied to both legs of the chair, ache with the touch of the freezing floor and daytime when sweat drips from every pore of his body. Continue reading “Speak or Die”

A Man. An Island.

My mind is like a sketch of lots of chaotic circles on top of each other with some irregular lines here and there and some random shapes inserted in between. My heart is like an airplane amidst turbulence. I missed flying too, even though I’m not a travel freak. I missed looking down to Earth and see things from the Sky’s perspective as for now, I’ve only been looking upwards most of the time, seeing things from the Earth’s perspective. Continue reading “A Man. An Island.”

Time of Your Life

~ A short story ~

I slam my apron on the bar counter and leave as the printer vomits paper after paper of orders: beer, mojito, whiskey, cosmopolitan, tequila shots, and vodka orange. The night is young and the swelling crowd is vivacious. Gerard looks at me as I storm out the counter and head to the stage. He must think I am crazy to leave him as he sweats profusely with the number of drinks he needs to serve. But I really don’t care. I’ve had enough of life compromising my dreams.

Continue reading “Time of Your Life”

Turtles Don’t Rescue Us

Turtles rescue drowning human beings and bring them back to the shore. Their shells were hard enough to protect humans from the razor-sharp shark teeth. I used to believe that story from my mother when I was a kid. And I found comfort at the thought that if I accidentally fall off a ship, a turtle will come to my rescue. I grew up near the mountains, far away from the sea so I believed in this all my life until I found my way to an island. Continue reading “Turtles Don’t Rescue Us”

A Little Too Late

This short story was written for the theme Spooky Season. The prompt says to write about someone’s first Halloween as a ghost.

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When you die, you won’t matter to anyone or anything anymore except to the worms that would feast on your flesh until only your bones are left under your grave. Fragments of your flesh will soon be ashes or dust, subject to dissipation, and just another element that can cause a sneeze. Family and friends will keep you in their memories, but their world will continue to move without you. You will just be like another file in their hard drive, kept, to be forgotten. Soon you’ll fade away, and even the closest of person will start forgetting the sound of your laughter, your tiny nuances, and all the lines and details of your face. That is life. And death.  Continue reading “A Little Too Late”

On Such A Day

I was waiting for one particular announcement from the morning news – class suspension, that is. My eyes shifted between the TV to my plastic plate with faded pink flower prints that contained steamed rice and fried eggs which I could not call sunny side up as that would be ironic when even the faintest beam of light couldn’t get past the thick, dense, dark gray clouds. Light rain produced mellow sprinkling sound on the roof, remains of the relentless downpour the previous night. I was done with my breakfast when the news presenter declared class suspension for primary and secondary levels only so, I quickly made my move before all college students like me who waited for the same announcement could flock to the streets. Not getting a space in jeepneys or FX and getting stuck into heavy traffic was the last thing I wanted on such a day.

Continue reading “On Such A Day”