Fiction

Before this moment

Photo by Enric Cruz Lu00f3pez on Pexels.com

Before this moment

I thought I knew it all:

How it felt to hit a wall

                And having to crawl back,

how to cry when the joy was eminent,

how to be silent when the pain was rough

Before this moment

I thought my body could contain bliss,

                And handle agony

Before this moment

Before you cried and said goodbye

                While throwing your body off the bridge

Before I saw your little face disappeared into the cold pier

Before this moment

I thought I knew

what pain felt like











This poem is a response to the usual wonderful Tuesday Writing Prompt by Go dog Go cafe.

Fiction

Love alone shouldn’t be enough

Photo by Andrew Neel on Pexels.com

I opened the door and Drew stood there with a black eye. He didn’t call before and and had nothing else with him but the clothes on his back.

“Did you at least take the train here?” I asked.

“No.. I forgot my wallet so kind of had to walk,” Drew answered as if walking two miles here wasn’t a big deal.

“Drew…” I dreaded

“Can I come in?” Drew didn’t wait for me to say anything else.

I shook my head while opening the door for him.

Drew walked in and threw himself on my couch. I came over and sat down on one end of the couch. I reached over to his knees and rubbed on them a little, like how others comforted each other by rubbing the other person’s back.

Drew smiled weakly, “You should see the other guy.”

“But I don’t care about the other guy. I only care about you.” I sighed.

I didn’t say anything else, and Drew said nothing either. He curled himself even smaller on the couch. He already knew what I was going to say.

“Drew, this is not healthy. I don’t think you should stay with..”

“I can’t. I love him, ” he cut me off, “I never loved anyone like that and probably never find another one like him. I can’t leave.”

“I don’t think so,” I sighed, “I also don’t think you should find another one like him either.” I stood up from the couch.

I brought out a blanker for him and made him a cup of hot tea. I told him to go to sleep. He needed some rest. We never discussed what happened right after it happened.


Ding dong…Ding dong…

My alarm for work didn’t even ring yet but there was already a door bell ringing. I mumbled to myself, “Every damn time,” while dragging myself to open the door. Drew had already been awake and sat up properly on the couch. He watched me opened the door.

“Hi, good morning. I’m sorry for bothering you so early in the morning,” Colin stood there with his button up shirt ironed crisply and his salt and pepper hair combed neatly to one side, “I’m here to pick up Drew.”

“Yes, of course.” I opened the door wider while still standing there blocking between him and the inside.

I turned my head to look at Drew who looked like he has been ready since who knew when, “Are you ready Drew?”

“Yeah,” he walked towards the door and hugged me on his way out, “Thanks for last night.”

“Text me if you need anything ok?” I hugged back.


I opened the door and Drew stood there drenched liked a wet rat. I could imagine he ran all the way over here in the cold winter rain. I pulled him in the apartment while yelling at him “Are you an idiot?”

I rushed to grab a towel for him.

“I did take the train here, ” he yelled after me, “just wanted to take a short walk to clear my head.”

“Yeah, and how did that go?” I threw the towel over his head.

“I’m done,” his whole face was covered under the towel when he muttered out those words, “I’m done with him.”

“For real? Are you serious?” I tried to hide the content in my voice.

Drew nodded.

I brought him a change of clothes and a hot cup of tea. When I brought him the blanket, I told him he could stay here for as long as he wanted. He was always welcomed. He nodded his head and said he might take me up on that.


The next morning, there was that door bell ringing first thing in the morning. Colin stood there, greeted me politely like usual and said he was here to pick Drew up.

I turned to look at Drew. I didn’t need to say anything for him to know who was behind the door. Drew, again, already looked like he had been awake for forever and was ready to go for a long time.

“Are you sure?” I grabbed his arm a little while whispering to him. “Drew, you always can…”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” He hugged me. “Thanks for last night,” and walked away with Colin.

I rushed over to the window to watch them. Colin held Drew in his arm and they walked together under a blue umbrella in the morning cold winter rain. The condensation fogged up my window. The image of them under that dark rainy sky was getting further and blurry. I felt so helpless.














This post is a response to the Go Dog Go Cafe’s Tuesday Prompt.

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

Home

For the longest time, I thought you were it

All other things in life

Might not even compare

I know better now

Loving you was good, but

You’re not my most important anymore

Father is waiting for me to come home

After all the chaos in my life

Mother is getting older each day

I know better now

Leaving was good but so is coming back

Years have gone and I’m ready to be home

Fiction

Dear Michael

Photo by Karolina Grabowska on Pexels.com

Dear Michael,

By the time you receive this letter, I’m probably far away. I can’t tell you where I am, but trust me it is somewhere good. I’m probably lying in the sun while reading a book or drinking a margarita. Yes, a margarita. I haven’t had one for a really long time because doctors said I shouldn’t drink. You even gave up your wine in solidarity with me. But I’m drinking margaritas now, and you should pick up a bottle of wine for yourself as well. Now that things are almost over. There’s no need to hold back anymore.

First off, I wanted to say I’m very sorry. I knew you probably panicked when you couldn’t find me. I hate to leave you this way, but if I ever face you, I would never be able to leave and you would not let me go. I didn’t leave you because of anything you did. I left because I chose to have the last few days for my own. I’m selfish and I’m eternally sorry for that.

Next, I wanted to thank you. Thank you for everything, Michael. I’m grateful to have met you, to have live my life with you, to share every meal, to cuddle on the same bed, to have you on my hospital bed side. You know I’m not a religious person but I believed ever since I met you. How could I not? I met an angel and I felt in love. A literal angel from heaven. The ones that people often seen drawn naked in fancy art museums. That would make anyone change their minds.

Michael, you are the best thing that ever happened to my short little life. You are my dream, my love and my life. I don’t know much about all the rules of Heaven but I knew you had to fight to be here with me. Then, me, being the selfish jerk I am, had to get sick and wither away. I didn’t want you to see me in the last moments of my life. I didn’t want the last image of me you see as a living person was on a cold hospital bed. I wanted you to always remember me as the young, bright 18 years old girl you met in front of Central Park. I will live a short life. But you, you’ll live for eternity. When I die, everything ends with me. But you, you’ll have to carry the image of your love dying in your arms. I would rather not, for both you and me.

Michael, take good care of yourself. Love yourself, love someone else. Find peace in the pain. May God give you a blessing. Please forgive me and forget about me. In the end, we were just a moment in your eternity.

Love,

XXX



This little quick write was a response to the Tuesday Writing Prompt of the Go Dog God Cafe. Such a great prompt this week. https://godoggocafe.com/2020/09/08/tuesday-writing-prompt-challenge-tuesday-september-8-2020/

Fiction

If we never

Photo by Jeffrey Czum



If we never

left our homeland

for the overglorified city fairyland,

If we never

escaped the family barn

for the forewarn urban chaos,

If we never

waved mom and dad goodbye

while crying till our eyes hurt,

If we never

abandoned the childhood friend

for all the pretend acquaintances,

If we never

made the decisions we regretted,

If we never

thought we could outrun our past,


If we never,

Would we be happier?







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.



Fiction

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.

Fiction

Even a rose has thorns





Even a rose has thorns







Why do people say it like that? Are roses not supposed to have thorns? Why not? – Because they are beautiful, they are not supposed to have thorns?

When she was 15, her mother left her. For a better or a worse life, she wouldn’t know. She imagined her mother having a better life because then her leaving made more sense. She left for greener pasture. But she also wanted her mother to have a worse life. Because no child-abandoned mother should have a good life. She was the one deserved a good life, not her mother.

When she was 20, she finally made it to a university. It took a little longer than her peers. She worked for two years after high school. So she could save up a little bit, take out a little less loan and use her dad’s retirement fund as little as possible. Money was the issue, not her grades. Her mother leaving made her poorer, less supported, not dumber. People talked about her going to college as if it was a miracle. She took out a loan and she was there.

When she was 30, she walked on high heels and in designer dresses to talk to clients in her high rise office. Her hair curled into big waves. It had that good shine of expensive products. She was doing well and beautiful. She was half way paying off her student loan. She helped dad pay his rent so he could keep whatever left of his retirement fund for his actual retirement. He was not the best dad in the world. He stumbled and struggled. But he stayed. And a non-child-abandon parent deserved a happy life. She would be there to help him get one.

Are thorns good or bad? They protect the roses from being eaten by herbivores and insects. They are essential for the survival of the plant.

When she was 24, the love of her life asked her to move with him to California after graduation. Love was great but she said no. She couldn’t move her whole life and depend on a single person for happiness. She still thought about him sometimes, not with regret but with adoration. She hoped he had a good life. He left but he asked her to come with. He deserved a good life.

When she was 28, she met the man of her life. Love couldn’t conquer all. Neither was a man but a man was a bit more real. They met at a bar. It was fun memories.

When she was 30, she was proposed to. She said no. She wanted him to be in her life. She didn’t believe in marriage. She didn’t want neither of them to become a sinning liar for breaking a promise with God. Might as well not make a promise.

Even a rose has thorns. Thorns protect the roses. But they hurt the people around.






This post is a response to the Go Dog Go Cafe Tuesday writing prompt challenge that asked for a post about anything related to “Even a rose has thorns”.