Fiction

As winter whispers

As winter whispers, my heart freezes. Every winter, it got colder and darker, and I could never get the image of you out of my head. I remembered your back in the dark. You were wearing a thick navy parka.

As winter whispers, the cold freezes my face and I always remember your kiss. The last time, you kissed me on my cheek. If I knew that would be the last time, I would kiss you on your lips and have one last taste of your cherry lip gloss. You didn’t even kiss me right that last time. You breezed through my cheek and told me you had to run.

As winter whispers, the cold wind blows through my hair and I remembered how it used to blow through yours. That day, a strong wind blew the hood off your head. Your blonde hair flew out and they looked sparkling under the street lights. You panickingly struggled to grab your fuzzy thick hood back on your head while crossing the street. The light wasn’t red and you crossed.

As winter whispers, I remembered your blonde hair bursted out covering half of your faced down body on the street. I remembered running towards you and crying till I couldn’t see clearly. I heard lots of noises. I heard sirens but I didn’t hear your voice.

Every time winter comes, they said I have seasonal depression. They don’t know how it feels having your loved one taken away by winter. If it was summer, if only it was summer, none of our tragedy would have happened.

This little prose is a response to a beautiful prompt this week by Go Dog Go’s Cafe.

Fiction

My immigrant Dad

Dad was an immigrant from South East Asia. He moved to the US then met mom here. Mom was also an immigrant from the same country.

In the beginning, he struggled to keep up with his Visa and legal statuses. So many requirements and so complicated. Dad was able to understand English decently, but still only decently. He wasn’t born speaking the language. So besides the time he had to spend keeping up with his legal status, he had to spend so much time trying to understand the instructions on how to do so as well.

Then when he was looking for jobs, it was difficult. He couldn’t do this, he couldn’t do that. He could only do certain things. The poor guy just wanted to feed himself and be useful for society.

He used to always be afraid of cops and officers and politics. Basically, anything and anyone that mention the word “immigrant” even though he stayed in the US completely legal. And he followed every rule he knew of to a T. He was still scared. He used to tell me “Listen child, predators and politics, they are the same thing. If they don’t chase you. Don’t go chasing them.” He avoided all political conflicts like a plague.

He was still living in the US. He had the same job for the last 15 years. He bought a house in California. The house was expensive, but he made decent money. He got his green card about 10 years ago, and he got sworn in as a US citizen about 5 years or so after that. And his attitude changed after that.

He watched all types of political debates. He knew all the state senators’ names. He concerned about what they voted because he was a US citizen then. The benefits Congress voted were for him. He disassociated himself with the “new” immigrants. He had a tough time in the beginning. It made him who he was. Now, all the new immigrants shouldn’t have it too easy. It wasn’t supposed to be easier for them than it was for him. The tax money that the government spent should not be for those immigrants. It should be for US citizens like him. The thing he used to tell me as a child “Listen child, predators and politics…”, I guess it wasn’t right anymore. He was chasing them politics now.

This little fiction story was inspired from the Go Dog Go Cafe Tuesday Prompt.

Fiction

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.