Wanna bet?

Photo by Porapak Apichodilok

I don’t like children.

They are always whining, crying and they are so weak. I had to be careful around them. Last time I accidentally pushed one of them, he felt on the ground and hurt himself. Everyone started screaming and yelling at me. After that, I tried to not come close to any of those weaklings. Not worth my time.

They are also stupid. Things that people obviously know, they don’t. Jane has been in school and private tutoring for how long already and she still didn’t know how to do basic maths properly. Last time, I was forced to help her with her homework. It was just multiplication. There was nothing complicated about it. I had no idea why she didn’t know the answers already. She was just sitting there, scribbling on a piece of scratch paper with numbers that had nothing to do with the right answers. I lost my patience and hit her head very gently while calling her stupid. Mom ran out and yelled at me, again. I avoided Jane and other children like a plague after that.

However, thing was a little different today. Aunt Rose stopped by and she gave each of us $20 as gifts. I needed to come close to her to trick her out of her $20. She doesn’t do anything fun. What she needs that money for anyway. Me, on the other hand, can use that extra $20 for an epic battle in the arcade with Andrew. Time to stop avoiding Jane. So I approached Jane when she was watching some sparkle princess show on TV.

“Hey Jane.” I tried to smile as big as I could.

“Yeah?” She hesitated. “What’s up?” Of course she would find it strange that I came talk to her.

“Wanna play a bet with me?” I still smiled.

“What bet?” She finally showed some interest in this conversation.

“You are the tallest girl in your class right? So you are probably stronger than the rest of the girls,” I was starting my luring speech.

“Probably. Very likely.” She perked up, quite proud of herself.

“Me, I’m not even the tallest guy in my class. I think if we wrestle, you would probably win.”

“I don’t know about that. But may be…” She started to think.

“So how about we wrestle for the $20 that Aunt Rose gave us? The loser lost that $20 for the winner.”

“Uhm…I don’t know…” Now that money was involved, Jane started to wonder.

“Come on. You are for sure stronger than me.” I was pursuing her hardcore. “Isn’t extra $20 is amazing? I’m setting myself up to fail here.”

“Yeah…yeah. You are right.” She got hyped up. “I’m gonna win. I’m gonna beat you so hard you have to run back and cry to mommy. Let’s go!”

“Yes, you will” I was hyping her up even more.

While she ran away to get into her “fighting outfit”, I rolled my eyes so hard. Jane? Winning? Oh please. I was already laughing so hard inside. That $20 was for sure mine now. There was no way I could lose. She was nine years old, and she never had a chance.

This was a response for a Go Dog Go Cafe’s Writing Prompt Challenge.


In another universe

Yuko was at the door. At this hour, I knew it could only be her.

“Hi Yuko,” I cracked the door open a little.

“Hi there. I thought I stopped by, cause you know…well, today wasn’t so bad.” Yuko’s cheeks blushed in the cold wind. She was shivering, shaking like a leaf.

“Come in.” I opened the door for her.

She hung her scarf by the door. I hugged Yuko from behind. She smelled like whiskey and salty air. She leaned her body on me, not saying a word.

“Where have you been?” I sniffed her hair and slowly kissed down her neck.

“Just a stroll along the beach,” she tilted her neck towards me, enjoying my advances.

“Did you drink a lot today?” I slowly lead Yuko to the bedroom.

“No, I told you. Today wasn’t a bad day…Uhm…” I bit her ear gently.

I took off her clothes. Her skin, which was already cold as ice, startled with the sudden exposure. Yuko unbuttoned my shirt clumsily. Her hands shook under the influence of alcohol. She kissed me. Her lips were salty and her breath was full of whiskey. I pushed her down the bed. She moaned. We had sex.

I was cold. So cold that I woke up. The other side of the bed was empty. I saw Yuko smoking on the sofa next to the open window.

“What are you doing? Why are you up Yuko?” I asked with a tired voice.

“Shit. Sorry. Did I wake you up? I was trying to be quiet.” Yuko apologized.

“No, it wasn’t you. It was the wind.” All of a sudden, I wasn’t sleepy anymore. I got off the bed to come over to the sofa. I cracked the window open a little wider.

I grabbed the cigarette Yuko was offering me. The fire from the lighter kept flickering. It took me a few tries to light up the cigarette.

“You wouldn’t drink with me, but smoking with me is ok.” Yuko smirked.

“Cause you are a depressed drunk.” I threw the lighter back on the table.

I took a long draw. Outside the window, from a far, was the pitch black ocean. I couldn’t hear the sound of waves from here, those little groans. But I knew they were there. The whole ocean was just there, massive, pitch black and ready to swallow anyone who happened to fall into it. It looked like a silent merciless monster lurking in the night. How could people look at that darkness and not afraid that it would get them one day?

“Have you ever heard of parallel universes?” Yuko asked. Her eyes were still staring out the window.

“Tell me about them Yuko.” I stubbed out the cigarette and lighted myself a new one.

“In another universe, just like the one we are living in, but not actually the one we are living in, there are other versions of us. They are essentially us. They look like us and probably have the same personalities too. Me, you, John. We all have a copy in a parallel universe.”

“Oh yeah?”

“But they don’t live their lives the same way we do. They make different decisions and that lead to them having different lives from ours.” Yuko stubbed out her cigarette and lighted a new one.

“So me in the parallel universe is probably happily married,” I smirked. I felt a familiar stabbing pain in my chest.

“Probably,” Yuko curled herself up, getting her knees closer to her chest, “that parallel universe John, two months ago, probably didn’t take a shit tons of sleeping pills then laid down next to his wife in bed. He perhaps just drank a cup of peppermint tea before bed. He would toss and turn a little, and then the dreams came. Simple dreams. He would just lay there being a mundane beautiful dreamer.”

I didn’t say anything. I knew it was today four months ago. Last month, Yuko didn’t sleep on that night either. She was afraid of her bed. She came over and cried.

“After all of his dreams were gone, he would wake up. And life went on.” Yuko’s voice got hoarser with every draw she took.

She paused and sighed. She didn’t cry tonight.

His life went on,” Yuko lighted another cigarette.

“So our parallel universe versions were less dumb than us,” I concluded.

“Ha” Yuko bursted out a wry laugh. “Yeah, you are right. Look how we treated ourselves like the dumb fucks we are.” She took a long draw. Her chest flatted out as if she used all of her air for that one smoke.

“My John is dead. But there are other Johns out there carrying his existence in another universe somewhere. Isn’t that neat?”

Neither of us said anything after that. The cigarette smoke filled the air. Once in a while, a wind lured the smoke out, leaving behind a lingering cold.

It was almost morning. I stood up and grabbed the Jonny Walker from the cupboard. I poured one for her and one for me.

“To being beautiful dreamers and not dead,” I raised my glass with my left hand and held out two sleeping pills on my right, “now let’s get some sleep”

Yuko hesitated. Then she raised her glass.

“To not being dead,” she grabbed one of the pill from my hand and chucked it down with whiskey.

I also chucked mine. The whiskey flowed down my throat, burning.

This was a reply to a Tuesday prompt on Go Dog Go Cafe. The prompt asked for the use of “beautiful dreamers” in the prose.


See you soon. I missed you.

Close-Up Photo of Lighted Incense Stick Near Candle

I rushed to my mailbox. It definitely looked like the mailman stopped by today. No one else mailed me anything. I purposely cleared out all my mail just so I never missed yours. My mailman knew that. He only delivered me letters and packages with handwritten addresses. So the one he dropped off must be from you. I opened the mailbox and the green envelope looked familiar. Damn it. It was my mail to you got returned-to-sender. I knew you no longer lived at that address, but I was hoping this mail got to you in time. It didn’t.

Wire transfer completed. That was the last of the payments to Madam Zuzu. She should be sending instructions on preparations to me soon. This had to be perfect. So you shouldn’t worry. I’d make sure to prepare everythins right. Double, triple checking all the things she requested.

I knew you were more of a text person than a phone call person. But I wanted to hear your voice so I called you anyway. I memorized your number by heart. I never saved it into my phone. Firstly, because I would never, as long as I lived, forgot your number. Secondly, I didn’t know what to save your number under. No word could describe what you were to me. No word deserved to be the description of you. Dialed. Beep. Beep. Beep. I can’t pick up your call right now. Please leave a message. Thankssss!

Ouch. The needle poked me. I quickly licked my finger so the blood didn’t stain my work. Whatever. I was done with the your doll anyway. Madam Zuzu said it needed to be a handmade doll. This better worked. I only had a few of your hair left and I had to stick a strand inside this doll already. So hopefully that would not be a waste. Bought some sage today. Some incense. A best quality bottle of absinthe. I told Madam Zuzu that you hated absinthe, but she said that wasn’t for you to drink.

I brought fresh flowers for you today. Sunflowers. Your favorite. When I got there, there were already some white roses. Who did this? You didn’t like roses. I threw those roases away. Nobody understood you like I did. I squatted down, tracing my finger along each letter of your name on the tombstone. Carefully, one by one. It wouldn’t be much longer darling. This time we would really be together forever.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Madam Zuzu.

Yes, I have everything you told me to bring. I will be there soon.

I kissed your tombstone one last time before I left. Darling, next time, I would kiss your lips instead of this cold stone. This stone was in no way deserving to carry your name and this dirt ground should have never held you. Madam Zuzu guaranteed that it would work. A million dollars and half of my soul was a cheap price to pay.

I couldn’t wait to see you again. I missed you.

This little story was a response to the Go Dog Go’s Cafe prompt: End a piece of prose or poetry with the phrase “I miss you” —> Their prompts were always a creative boost for me. So much fun writing the stories.



I came across a challenge on Writer’s workshop on Go Dog Go Cafe and decided to give it a shot. It was a great exercise for writing structure.

Write a story under 300 words (a micro fiction) that includes all the parts of ABDCE structure, give your protagonist a strong desire, have your protagonist learn that he or she only has 24 hours to live, and give your character a choice between their life or their great desire. 


Paul locked the door behind him then blocked it again with a table. He walked around, checking every corner of the room. Nothing was allowed to go wrong today. He pulled out a long black case. Lying inside the case was his favorite rifle, customized and upgraded. Hailey was a beauty. He took out the tripod and placed it by the window. Paul adjusted its height, made sure its stand was stable. He took Hailey out of her case. He had her loaded and placed her on the tripod. Five hours left.  

Paul lighted a cigarette. He supposed to quit since its one of Hailey’s last wishes. But who the fuck care anymore? He only had 24 hours to live. When he met her in heaven later, he could apologize to her for not quitting. Four hours left.

Paul lighted another one. Hailey was depressed for a long time, and that was why. Everyone told him so. That wasn’t why. She did that because that motherfucking mayor raped her. She wrote in her last letter. Hailey hid that from him all these years because she was afraid Paul “would kill him.” She was right. Paul would kill him. He would shoot that son of a bitch right in the face when he was waving happily on his parade float. Three hours left.

Two hours left.

One hour left.

Paul’s phone rang. He picked up.

“Boss, we got that quack doctor. He had the antidote at his lab. You need to come now. It’s at 123rd…”

Paul hung up, cut off the voice yelling on the phone.

Paul bent down, looking through the optic adjusting his aim. His finger was ready at the trigger.

The parade music sounded closer and closer.

It’s time.