Ripples on a Quiet Lake

~ A short story ~
The aroma of instant coffee woke me up. It wafted into my nostrils, whirled its way into my every nerve, and woke up every bit of my sleeping body parts. I sat cross-legged; hands tucked inside the pocket of my grey sweater, absorbing every heat they can get. My eyes squinted as the tender light of the dawn entered the tent. The fog slowly vanished in the presence of the early morning sun. Puffy, white clouds enveloped the Lover’s Summit – as what everyone called the twin mountains.

Continue reading “Ripples on a Quiet Lake”

She Won’t Follow Anymore

~ A short story ~

She bounces between the glass wall and the tiny tables and finally slides herself into the chair. She gives him a wide smile and hangs her bag on the back of the chair. He crushes the butt of his cigarette on the ashtray in the middle of the table that is occupied by a wooden sugar caddy, an empty espresso cup, and his dark brown messenger bag. Continue reading “She Won’t Follow Anymore”

Malediven Express

~ A short story ~

Bound to Javahiru Rah, Malediven Express left Male’ at exactly nine on a Saturday morning of November. A thin silver line hemmed the cloudless neon-blue sky and the lazy deep blue. Frothy waves ebbed and flowed as the speedboat slammed the perfectly idle sea. Nature-trimmed palm and banyan trees on islands waved at the high-speed ocean toy. The three passengers of the speedboat were bound to Javahiru Rah which means Jewel Island, all with different reasons. Continue reading “Malediven Express”

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”

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”

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.


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”

The Girl on the Rocking Chair

Once upon a time, a happy girl lived on the country side where flowers of different colors bloom, where chirping birds can be heard all day long.

She loved to sit on her rocking chair by her veranda where she hosts her lovely friends for tea and biscuits every afternoon.

She served them tea, they shared stories.

One afternoon, she wanted to tell them a story too. But they were very busy talking about themselves that they forgot she was talking.

She felt sad.

She stopped sitting on her rocking chair.

She stopped serving them tea and biscuits every afternoon.

She stopped looking at the colorful flowers and she stopped listening to the chirping birds.

She went inside her room and turned on her laptop.

She discovered how to blog and she lived happily ever after.

City Lights

City Lights

Fiction, a Halloween treat!


We entered the café and headed to the veranda. I sat on one of the tables, he followed.

The veranda has dimmer lights than the indoor area of the café which makes it difficult to see the food served or the possible fly that might jump in, but for me, it doesn’t matter. I’m half blind anyway, even with my eyeglasses on.

I like that area, that dim area. It makes me appreciate the city lights on the other side.

I like the combination of seeing city lights while hearing the waves crash into the seawall and feel the ocean breeze gently caress my face. This place makes me feel like I am between two different worlds, in between chaos and quietude.

I looked at him and he looked back. We sat in silence.

Here’s a guy I met a month ago at this very same place, sitting on this very same chair.

There wasn’t anything special that night. I thought it was just a mere collision of two lonely souls trying to fit in to the universe of love and loss.

The night started with a conversation about love. Who believes and who does not.

I’m, as always, a firm believer of love and all the planets that revolve around it.

He wasn’t.

He was hurt once and he stopped loving. I was hurt more than once, but I loved more.

What is love? He asked.

Love is a feeling, I said, something that makes you happy but can also make you sad. Something that can make you feel the butterflies in your tummy. But love is not always a feeling of rainbows and ponies and butterflies. For when you love, you should expect pain. This is the reality.

That wasn’t our last meeting, a bizarre thing to happen to strangers with opposing notions. The world is small indeed and confusing sometimes.

Love has become the point of argument, at least for some time.  As the subject is not something that can be explained through x and y axis, nor can be found in any reference material. The subject is vast and definitions can vary infinitely.

The arguments stopped somehow, when the reasons met in between, a bizarre thing to happen to acquaintances with opposing notions. The world is round indeed and confusing sometimes.

I looked at the city lights. The sound of waves crashing and the ocean breeze caressing my face made me think of the argument we had on the first night that we met.

What is love? I asked myself.

Love is a feeling. A feeling that is actually new to me. So then, I asked myself again, have I really felt love all along?

What is love? I asked him.

Love is a feeling, he said. Something, I have felt all along.


I walk from the bus station to the building. I heard footsteps so I know someone’s behind. I kept walking till I reached the stoplight. The footsteps stopped too. A guy’s beside me. The lights turned green so we started walking. I walked in a slow pace, he kept a distance.

It drizzled so I removed my glasses. My vision’s blurry but I can still see.

I reached the building and headed to the lift. I pressed 10 then pressed the close button. The lift door slowly closed. Then it opened again. He entered the lift. He did not press any button. So our offices are on the same floor?

I took my handkerchief and started wiping my glasses. I tried to remove watermarks then I felt his stare. So I looked up to him. Our eyes met. He smiled. I’m not sure if I smiled back.  His face is a bit blurry like an image in soft glow.

The lift stopped on the 10th floor. We walked out of the lift and took separate ways. I put my glasses back on. It’s not blurry anymore.


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Weekly Writing Challenge: And Now For Something Completely Different

As this week’s challenge wants us to move outside our thinking boxes, I have thought of mixing up things I haven’t done before. My entry is a short story, a bit of fiction and true to life experience, a funny and childish way of storytelling and sketches rather than photos. I know that I am not a very good artist, ha ha but I liked the drawings. I thought that I would like to go back to pre school and draw some more of this. 🙂

For the reader: while reading this, please imagine that the story was being narrated by Gru ( from Despicable Me) with his accent (I think it is Spanish), like when he was narrating the story of the 3 Little Kittens. 🙂

So the story goes like this:


The Story of the Isolated Girl

Once upon a time in a land far far away, there was an isolated girl named Tanya. She was a very brilliant and talented girl but she was so different from all the other girls from the neighborhood that’s why she was always left behind.

While all the other girls were pretty in pink, Tanya was always in shirts and in jeans.

All the other girls go mad on their shopping sprees, cocktails and parties;


she would just sit in the park and strum her guitar or sit in a coffee shop and read and write.


None of the girls wanted to be her friend, and so sometimes she cries out of loneliness.

One starry starry night, she was humming her melody while looking at the stars from her window.

The music that she made was so beautiful yet so lonely that’s why it reached the Fairy Rock Land. Out of curiousity, one of the Fairy Rock Land entities rushed out to planet Earth to meet this girl who creates lovely music.  A Fairy Rock Mother appeared before Tanya and told her to make a wish and she will grant it. Tanya immediately said

I only have one wish, to reach out to people through the music that I make.

And so the Fairy Rock Mother waved her wand and suddenly disappeared.

On a blink of an eye, Tanya found herself singing on a stage in front of a huge crowd, singing and playing her guitar.

She saw all the other girls in the neighborhood singing her songs waving at her, taking a photo of her and taking video of her performance.

And from then on, Tanya lived playing her music happily ever after.