Short stories

Discover the serene beauty of rocky shores and vibrant waves at Ho'okipa Beach, Maui.

Parts of Me I Left Behind

#Prose, Emotions & Mental Health, Feelings, Inspiring, Love, Motivation, Reflections, Short stories / / , , , , , , , ,

I watched her cold body be dragged out to the ocean. She drifted away so peacefully that it was difficult to believe that just a few hours ago the same woman was screaming her lungs out, attacking people, ripping out hair from their skulls. The waves swallowed her and held her like a little girl holding a porcelain doll, gently, possessively, rocking her deeper and deeper.

 

I could feel the tears burning red behind my eyes and hear the screams ripping from silenced mouths in the distance. Something felt wrong in the air. I couldn’t remember arriving at the beach or why my feet left no prints in the sand. I looked back at the scene.

 

People, who stared at her, smiled, pleased with her death, celebrating dressed in all black. The sun died, and she was too far into the sea, so they left one by one, laughing as if they didn’t just commit murder.

 

I stepped out from the shadows to hear their voices, but whatever they seemed to say scattered in crashes of the waves. The sand beneath my feet sank deeper, pulling me in, yet I managed to run, reaching for their shoulders, ready to tear them, and they just continued, walking through me. Their eyes slid past me as if I wasn’t there, muttering something about the cold. My hands wrapped my arms only to find they weren’t there. My fingers grazed my face and felt no touch underneath their tips.

 

Their hands were blood-stained yet as they met my white dress they left no imprint.

 

I could hear a gasp and then a scream, an echo of a voice I once knew, but no source. I tried to yell, but my voice continued to dissolve into the wind like ash. My feet lifted from sand, weightless, levitating closer towards the clouds until the stratosphere was close to my reach. Then I heard the cries again, and the whispers, the rumors, the slurs, the names that christened me as Satan.

 

And that one, “I love you” on repeat until I was an angel who had lost her wings.

 

I fell until I felt the sand swallowing me again, with their laughter and hideous comments pulling me down.

 

The voices buried me, grief wrapping around my ankles like chains. I tried to forget the faces of those who had tortured me, the people I trusted, the man to whom I had given my heart, lifting me only as they faded from memory.

 

Yet the water still mocked me as I managed to rise, only to be dragged down again, caught between despair and letting go.

 

Then I saw her, the same woman they had carried to the sea, rising from the waves.

 

A stranger who was familiar yet a blank face in my mind. Floating above me in silence, watching me struggle to breathe. Her eyes met mine, empty and tired, yet full of understanding. She did not speak. Maybe she couldn’t. Maybe her words drifted off like smoke here too.

 

She was me…and yet not me. She held my own body, my own past, and continued staring back with the hollow eyes I had once called my own.

 

When she saw my arms give up and my legs sunken too deep to climb out, she reached down to give me a hand. Her long slender golden-brown fingers gripped mine and pulled me up beside her, flying, just a few feet above the ground. She didn’t let go the whole time we floated.

 

“Thank you,” I whispered, yet she gave me no response.

“Why did they hurt you? Break you? Drown you?”

 

She just nodded. Her gaze dragged me backwards by hours, days, years to a time when she was not a monster, but a sister, a daughter, and a soon-to-be wife. When her now scratched face once held beauty. I saw memories of her disguising unhealed cuts and blooming bruises with makeup. Seeing the fear in her eyes as she tucked it back with a smile. She had not done anything wrong. She was innocent, a victim of fate, a victim of love.

 

Like me.

 

I wanted to cling to the anger, the betrayal, the echoing voices. But her hand in mine, patient, pulled me higher. The memories continued to flow in my mind like water, like music, but they no longer pulled me down. My past had shaped me, but it would not chain me.

 

She nodded once more.

 

And together we continued to float upwards, towards the silence I had feared but belonged to. Below us, the waves erased the last footprints in the sand. The ocean grew small, then distant, then still. And I let it.

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Mystical Endings

Book promotion, Mystery / /

As I have completed my latest novel, Black Sheep, I wonder what led me to the end!  I had no pre-plan or expectation and the mystical, almost black magic finale came from pure imagination!  This is indeed where the magic comes from, but one has to write a book to realise it, which I find unusually interesting and intriguing. As an author with two previous titles, the common theme is much the same and has carried through to my fourth story, which is as equally removed from reality!  I can only blame my individual style and a considerable literary journey through Fay Weldon books over the years!

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Through Smoke and Screen

#Prose, Inspiring, Motivation, Poems, Short stories, Tech / / , , , , , , ,

Click! click!
Scrolling and scrolling… mindless liking.
My eyes, red and burning from the constant screen light.
How long ago was it when I first woke up?
The time at the corner of my screen read too many hours past my bedtime.

A strange weight pulled my smile down.
Was it guilt? Regret? Or just exhaustion?
As reality dug through my senses, strong fumes reached my nose,
different from the usual reeking scent of old milk and the colorful array of spills on the carpet floor.
I remained emotionless—numb to care, numb to worry.

“It’s too much work!” a voice cried out from the deep echoes of the dark.
It was right. Scrolling was easier. Forgetting was easier.
My eyes danced back across my screen.
Moving objects brought excitement and laughter.
I was weirdly hypnotized by the fast-moving shots.
Strangers piqued my interest as I fixated on them putting on makeup and combing their hair.

Then the smell returned stronger. It filled my lungs,
clouding my head with its scent.
It was familiar, reminding me of hot summer days and parties,
pictures and yard games.
The memory of the unforgettable taste of grilled meat and veggies made my mouth water,
but I wanted to forget.
I didn’t want to go back, so I ignored it all.

I opened the comments, feeling the rush,
the hard collision between supporters and haters.
Terms like “Sigma” and “Cringe” seemed to be the only language I understood
as another comment fight started.

But when pictures of friends popped up, I stopped laughing.
Perfect lives, perfect people—red and black clouded my head.
Nevertheless, I liked it and moved on.

The fire that once lived in my soul

Hungry for more was cooled.

It was flattened out and turned to ash.

How long ago was it when I last touched grass?
Cold burrowed its home in my heart as I found myself
hating a person I’d never met.
The heat from the screen burned my flesh as I aimlessly scrolled again.

I got good at reading people based on posts—
who was a cat person who loved Harry Potter fanfics,
compared to a dog lover who worshipped video game characters.
To me, there was nothing more to a person than their posts.
It was who they were and nothing more.

My bright room, once filled with printed pics of friends,
posters of favorite bands,
tables of abandoned projects,
was now turned into something of the past.

Orange light peeked through my door,
engulfing the dark.
Random clothes lay all over the floor,
starting to turn black.
The red, white, yellow, and orange bled into the walls,
dancing around my bed.

It took a while for the panic to register.
I watched as the flames grew bigger.
The heat reddened my skin.
My eyes widened in horror.

Then it struck me like a lightning bolt.
Using the last 10% of battery life I had left,
I dialed 9-1-1.

But the roaring of the flames burning through everything in their path
made me accept my fate… toast.
I tried smashing the window,
but the glass wouldn’t break.

Closing my eyes, I let the heat crawl closer.
Memories of laughter and forgotten dreams replayed in my mind.
It hit me then—what had I truly done with my time?

As the fire consumed my world, I realized
it wasn’t the flames that scared me.
It was the emptiness.

Water dripped from my face.
I thought of those I would lose,
when I realized I had already lost them.
I lost the things that mattered,
wasted the new opportunities that came my way

Sitting hopelessly, I was more than ready
to give in and let everything go
when they came with their heavy boots and pounding footsteps
They scooped me up and took me out,
and I cried in their arms.

They thought it was the fire,
but it was more—more than I could ever describe in words.

When the cold air finally touched my bones,
I opened my eyes again,
feeling the clean air make its way through my polluted soul.

A week later, sitting in my front yard,
feeling the dewy grass under my soft hands,
I relived the yells of others,
Their urgency is a strange contrast to my calm.

A mix of a nightmare and peace washed over me,
a reminder of how close I came to losing it all.
But this wasn’t an end—it was the start.

For the first time in ages, the world outside my screen felt alive.
I noticed the cool breeze brushing my skin,
the birds singing their morning songs,
the laughter of my friends calling me back to them.

A smile crept onto my face as I joined them,
each step grounding me, each laugh pulling me back.

We drove somewhere far, far away,
our voices filling the air with stories and dreams,
the glow of our shared moments brighter than any screen.

It wasn’t just about making up for lost time.
It was about choosing to live,
to cherish what I almost let slip away,
and to finally let the warmth of life—not the heat of regret—
fill my heart.

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The Faces of Death

Love, Poems, Short stories / / , , , , , ,

Mrs. Huffilton sat comfortably in her old red armchair

As she stared off into space without any care

Her arms cradled a little doll

Her hair was undone

Her frail body, covered in something fit for a ball

Her eyes, black, as the darkness that surrounded her

The silence was loud, not empty

She waited patiently

For the ratting, tapping on her door

 

Lost in her thoughts she was

Waiting patiently for the scream of the kettle

Her cheeks smudged in black ink

Her lips were a shade of bloody red

Her appearance looked like someone who had just gotten out of bed

 

In front of her was a puddle of her tears but she just looked straight ahead

Her lips curled into smile, revealing her rotten teeth

When soft steps broke her focus.

 Her eyes returned to their hungry gaze

He had come

 

The broken holes in the wall let the wind outside flow in

Killing the flame in her heart and the rage in her head

“Death” she whispered

As the breeze around her carried her words away.

 

The man outside grinned

His face may have shown centuries of dead hope

But his stance spoke otherwise

His eyes lit up like a fireplace

He gave a small grin before

Fully disguising himself as a tall bony man

With only his library of knowledge and his carefully planned speech to give him away.

The golden watch attached to the chain on his pocket ticked furiously

 

His long fingers curled up, as he extended his index revealing a a ring of Ruby Zoisite

Ding Dong

Mrs. Huffilton rose from her seat, screaming excitedly.

Yelling in pain

Dancing of joy

Her mournful squall, disguised behind kettle’s squeal

 

Her dress hung loosely from her body as she threw her front door open

shining moonlight into her rather drafty home

Clothes and undergarments were thrown everywhere

Piles of broken cups and stacks of plates and bowls were placed everywhere except the kitchen sink

A small rat climbed up her leg, as her smile stretched to its limit

 

“Darling you have finally come back…” she squeaked,

“Look I have even worn a dress for the occasion”

The man at the door looked her up and down before grabbing her by the waist and placing his gigantic ring on her finger.

“Look what I got you”

After a kiss on her cheek

And a lot of pleading for another one on the lips

 

They sat in darkness, the door shut tight, behind them

 “Oh I forgot all about the tea, excuse me my dear” she ran off

Bringing back a tray filled with an array of stale cookies and baked goods, making barely any place for the two saucers and teacups filled to the brim

”Darling, it’s time” the man urged, checking his watch before taking another sip of tea.

“But you have just come, Doesn’t Mr. Huffilton want to spend more time with his waiting wife?” she asked her face sinking, as she looked down.

The man in front of her only gave silence, face hidden in the dark of the room

 

2 minutes went by as the couple just sat, with only the sound of the timing watch to fill the silence, slurping down tea

When Mrs. Huffilton gasped, leaving the room.

The man in the armchair just nodded, ignoring the fact, that if she was still even in the room

Then she returned wearing fabric that hugged so tight to her skin

it was as good as standing there naked

“I got it on our last anniversary, you said it made me look like a model in Fashion Magazine!” she explained before she was swept back in the memories of her past

 

When her body was young again, and her face not drained of its color.

 Her hair is as healthy as the many thriving plants outside in the garden.

Then arrived tears, and the rage in her broken heart burned again

“Why did you leave me here, why did you leave and never come back? You were supposed to come back!”

 

The man gave not a reply, but his hand

“No, just 5 more minutes. I have so much to say…”

“He is waiting for you like you were for him” the man finally spoke

 

Hesitantly she took his hand and kissed him on his lips.

 Before collapsing to the ground.

The watch finally stopped ticking, and the wind gave a long sigh, pushing the door open

 

 Soon came the break of dawn

His hair turned to flame-red

His eyes back to an innocent look

As he shrunk down to the size of a little boy

He gave her one last look,

Before heading outside in tattered clothes and a hopeful smile.

 

Tomorrow he was gonna play an old man.

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Unlikely Heroes

Review, Short stories, YA Mystery/Thriller/Suspense / / , , , , , , , ,

“Y’all were heroes from the beginning. You just didn’t ‘turn’ all of a sudden.” (Hinton, page #107) S. E. Hinton writes in her book The Outsiders. The Outsiders is about a group of teenage boys trying to survive in an environment of class division. Throughout the book, these boys continue to get tested on their morals. This raises the question of whether even a gang of teenage delinquents can be heroes. The simple answer is a hero doesn’t always wear a cape, a hero is someone selfless, has perspective, and is willing to speak out against injustice.

In The Outsiders, Johnny Cade shows heroism by being selfless. After Ponyboy almost gets drowned by Bob for“stealing” his ex-girlfriend. Johnny confesses to killing Bob to protect his friend. Referencing, in chapter 4, Johnny explains to Ponyboy,“‘I had to. They were drowning you, Pony. They might have killed you…’”(Hinton, page #57). This conveys heroism because although Johnny would have to be on the run for most of his life, he still decided to save Ponyboy. Selflessness matters in humanity because it can help connect with people, empathize with their struggles, and contribute to a positive change. In conclusion, Johnny Cade’s selfless act in The Outsiders demonstrates heroism.

In The Outsiders, Cherry Valance expresses heroism by having perspective. After Bob Sheldon’s (her ex-boyfriend) murder, the conflict between the greasers and Socs intensifies. Cherry sees the conflict from both sides. To illustrate, in chapter 6 after Dally tells Johnny and Ponyboy about their new spy Cherry, Dally goes on to say “‘She said she felt that the whole mess was her fault, which it is, and that she’d keep up with what was coming’ off with the Socs in the rumble and would testify that the Socs were drunk and looking for a fight and that you fought back in self-defense.’”(Hinton, page #85/86). This conveys perspective because although Cherry and Bob were once in a relationship she still sees the Greasers´ point of view and understands where both sides are coming from. Although Cherry is also a Soc herself she still spies on her closest friends just to help the greasers a little bit, because she understands the problem from all angles. Perspective is important to society and heroism because it helps people to view situations from other positions, and to consider other beliefs, experiences, and opinions. Such things are crucial for humanity and a hero because they give one a better understanding and greater empathy. It reduces bias, judgment, and conflict. When people don’t have perspective, they are quick with claims, which could end in unnecessary trouble. To summarize, a hero like Cherry Valance shows heroism by having perspective.

A hero speaks out against injustice, like Ponyboy Curtis in The Outsiders . In the novel, there is a lot of stereotyping between Socs and Greasers—the rich vs the poor. Ponyboy wants to help look out for the Greasers and for“boys like him”. As seen in the final few pages of the book, he thinks to himself “Someone should tell their side of the story, and maybe people would understand then and wouldn’t be so quick to judge a boy by the amount of hair oil he wore. It was important to me.”(Hinton, page # 179) This highlights Ponyboy coming to understand stereotyping and that he needs to advocate for those who are being judged on where they are from and how they look. Being an advocate and voice for problems such as class division, health and human rights, and food assistance, is a big idea in heroism because with so much going on in the world it can be hard to be seen but if that voice is heard it can help them build others’ confidence, help them push through, and take positive action. The impact of one person can last for many years and affect many people over time. Every hero needs to make a good impact on someone who doesn’t have the same chance or the opportunity to have their voice heard. To conclude, when someone like Ponyboy Curtis speaks out against injustice, they become a hero.

Not all heroes wear capes… Selfless people, who have perspective, and are willing to speak out against injustice are heroes too! If someone takes 1 minute of their day to look through the mess of selfishness and self-centered people to find someone who can benefit from their help then this small act of heroism will not only benefit the world by uplifting and enhancing other people’s lives but it inspires others to do the same.

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Dandelions

Inspiring, Motivation, Poems, Short stories /
I stood proud and strong Till the wind came that day. It was first a gentle breeze, it barely moved my position, But what came next was beyond my imagination. It was strong, stronger than all our strengths combined, But I held on, I still stood proud.   I stood still, but the weaker bent, They turned, they fell, and flew with the wind to their uncertain doom. The next breeze was more of a storm! Even the proudest, the most powerful bent, I held on though, I held strong.   I bent and almost fell. The wind pulled me and grabbed onto me like I was a rope in a game of tug-a-war. But I held on, I still stood, but with little hope. I watched in despair as others like my family and friends grew weak, As they too started dancing to the tunes of the wind.   What I felt was indescribable, but I had to stand. My body felt weaker as the wind grew with each passing day. Every day more left, and more couldn’t hold on. And soon came my time. I let the wind carry me but not for long.   I wiggled and fell free into a green luscious meadow. There I nestled into the dirt. The warmth of the sun and the water from the rain aided me.   Now others stand where I once fell, stronger and prouder.

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Sad

Inspiring, Love, Motivation, Short stories / / , , , ,

The wind blew, making my hair go haywire as the waves of the water below carried a small boat. In the hurry of the day I lost someone so precious, so wonderful, so cherished that my mind began to go wandering far into the blue-green ocean. I could not hear the gossip and chattering of the voices that surrounded me. All I saw was darkness, and I felt like I was drowning in untouched waters, gasping for air, screaming for help but no one can hear. And if I ever would make it out alive, no one will understand the pain, the amount of fear and terror I bore. No one will know how it feels to feel so weak that you think your soul is going to leave your body. Tears fell from my eyes but no one noticed them. They say they know how it feels, but do they? They say that they have your back but do they? Because if they did, where are they now when I needed them most? I stayed quiet the whole way back from the funeral location, my eyes were glossy. I moved and looked like I was hypnotized for the next following days at least that’s what they told me. They told me for a few days/weeks it will feel weird and depressing, the internet told me it would be like that for 6 months and after that, everything will go back to normal. Like with everything they were wrong. Normal? What is normal without the person you love with your whole heart? How normal is normal if a whole chunk of your life is missing? As I walked down the street, people would whisper, look at me in pity. But I ignored them. Usually in movies, this is the part where the person gives up on living and takes up bad habits but my life was not a movie. I would go through the motions of daily life and then at precisely 6 o’clock I would head to the beach and stare at the water. Just stare as memories flood my mind, how can someone I was hearing and interacting with just a few months ago disappear? I was mad, I was angry. How could the universe take something away from me that was more valuable than gold? Some days I felt weak and powerless, and others I felt like screaming and cursing at the top of my lungs. But no matter how I felt each day would end with me crying my heart out. I didn’t feel like smiling, eating, or going out with friends knowing that the person I thought would be with me forever was gone. I still lived though because many were relying on me like relied on the very person that drifted away from me. As time went on, I learned to live with this empty spot in my heart, I learned to laugh even though deep inside I was crying. I learned to be myself again without the person that kept me going. When people asked as they do, I would share our story. I am old now, my hair is gray, I am close to breathing my last breath, and I find comfort in this because soon I will meet the person I miss so deeply. Nothing is forever even sadness.

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Summer gone totally wrong! Here is our protagonist looking like a rockstar while mentally having a break down !

A Summer Day to Remember

Mystery, Short stories / / , , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

“NOOOO!” Kaylee cried.  My face turned into one of those shiny red fuji apples that were currently on display in the fresh produce section near me. All I wanted this summer was a job where I could earn some cash. But little sister Kaylee had to ruin everything! 

School ended two weeks ago and that’s how long it took me to spend all my allowance for the whole of summer. But it wasn’t my fault that there were a bunch of cute and stylish outfits on sale. Even now as my bratty little sister cried her head off…I looked gorgeous. I pretty much slayed in my brand new white ripped jeans, crop top, and the perfect Drop Shoulder Drawstring Crop Hoodie to go on top. I mean I did not look like a model or anything, you can’t look like a model if you have freckles covering your whole face, red hair, and green eyes, but it was a major wardrobe improvement over my sweatpants and an old worn-out vintage t-shirt. I went into shopping spree mode when I saw the outfits on display and totally forgot about the tax. Now I am broke with no money for anything else this summer. Which is why I spent all morning clicking on every link I could find for summer jobs. I almost screamed when I found a job at the local grocery store within walkable distance, had the most basic qualifications, and was paying 20 dollars an hour! I grabbed my Converse immediately ready to snatch the job before anyone else could. But my “considerate“ mother had to make me babysit one of the worst creatures that ever walked the planet… 5-year-old sisters. Don’t get me wrong, I love my mom but why did she have to make ME take care of Kaylee?! 

To be honest, Kaylee isn’t a demon, I bet I was really annoying when I was her age. But she’s been acting extra annoying since last week. She chipped my mom’s favorite statue, “accidentally” ran over my dad’s garden, and randomly cut one of my favorite shirts up saying that she was making it look better. Now there was this. She promised me and not just promised me, she pinky swore that she would not make a scene, be quiet, and listen to me the whole time until my interview was done and we were home. But right when they were about to call my name for the interview she spied in the distance an abandoned elephant plushie on one of the shelves. 

“Kaylee…come on…you have a bunch of toys at home! Like that platypus stuffy!” I whispered to her, holding her hand tightly, “STOP making a scene now…if I get this job I promise I will buy you one!”

It felt hopeless even if she calmed down there was no way they would give me the job after this! This was so unprofessional. I looked around me at a bunch of strangers, some had a look of pity, and others just stared in awe. As I was about to rush me and Kaylee out of the store I noticed in the corner of my eyes a mum holding onto her child’s hand and looking at Kaylee as if she was a monster. 

Then she mouthed the words “She is crazy!”

I got down to Kaylee’s height. My sister was Not Crazy and she would not cry without reason.

“What happened, why do you want THAT plushie soo much?”  I asked her calmly. She stopped and looked at me so seriously that I thought we were going to discuss a business deal.

“I heard that exact plushie will grant you 3 wishes if you ask it nicely and I want Mom and Dad to be together again” She explained as if it was obvious. Our parents divorced during the school year, at the end of February.  I wasn’t really surprised because of how much they fought, but still, it crushed my heart when they told us. But every other weekend we switch and they still talk on the phone sometimes as friends, so it really wasn’t so bad. But I totally forgot how Kaylee was handling all of this.

“Where did you hear that exactly?” I said looking her straight in the eyes.

“In either a youtube short or TikTok, when I stole your phone” she replied looking impatient. 

I tried to hold it in but after looking at her for a few more seconds I busted out laughing. If people thought Kaylee was crazy then they would think our whole family was psychos. When I finally could calm down I smiled at her and held her hand more loosely.

“After my interview, I promise you ice cream and that plushie” I smirked getting up to face the employee in front of me.

“ I am ready for my interview, but could you watch her for a bit,” I asked little more relaxed as the crowd that gathered around me a few moments ago disappeared.

“No need, you are Hired! We have never seen someone handle a child that smoothly. Maybe it took some time but I am sure you will be a valuable employee. We need someone who understands kids and can be calm in difficult situations” she exclaimed in delight.  

She shifted the wooden clipboard from one arm to another and stretched out her free hand in front of me. I immediately shook it. After we discussed boring job details like when I would be starting, Kaylee, I, and that elephant plushie(Which I got for free!) left the store and headed down to the ice cream store around the corner.

Kaylee excitedly swung her legs under the table as she licked her cookies & cream with an extra scoop of cookie dough. Luckily I had two gift cards for this ice cream store or I could not afford that. 

“I have a question, Kaylee,” I asked, my smiling face turned a little more serious 

“Yeah, what? ” she replied as the ice cream started to drip

“Why did you chip Mom’s vase and run over Dad’s garden?…you know those are very important to them”  I questioned even though I think I know why now.

“Because….because…I thought that if Mom and Dad think that I was turning into a bad kid when they are separated then they would get back together to make me into a good kid.” she explained after some hesitation.

I grabbed a couple of napkins and wiped the sticky vanilla ice cream off her face.

“It was a good try, but they are divorced for a reason ” I sighed  

Kaylee just stared at me, as she finished the cone.

“Let’s go home..” I smiled as I helped her out of her tall chair.

When we got home, the lights were dark and Kaylee ran inside. My hand searched for the switch. 

“Wall, Wall, Wall, more wall, finally Switch!” I  exclaimed the same moment the light turned on and a bunch of people Shouted “Happy Birthday !”

The room stared at me and the only noise I could hear was the beating of my fast heart.

“OMG…when did y’all come here…Aunt Jane! Uncle Mike! dad? ” I said looking around the room.

“Hey, kiddo!” he smiled as he pulled me in for a bear hug.  

When he let go, I was just confused.

“Don’t tell me you forgot” my mom laughed as she walked me inside the house. Everything was covered in decorations. Balloons covered the floor. 

“It is my birthday?” I asked stupidly 

“Of course, it is dear” Aunt Jane replaced sharing a look with my mom.

I felt so embarrassed, more embarrassed than when Kaylee was screaming in the grocery store a few moments ago. How did  I forget MY  birthday?

Hours later, after everybody left. I got up from my cozy spot on the sofa and grabbed another slice of cake. Kaylee who was staring at my huge pile of presents decided that she could not wait any longer, and grabbed the biggest one. 

“Open it!” she cried in anticipation 

“Ok..ok” I giggled tearing up the wrapping paper

The first thing I saw was a golden frame, was it a painting?

I tore more of the wrapping paper this time more carefully. What I saw next made my eyes fill up with tears. Dad kept his hand on my shoulder.

“I and your mom are not going to get back together but I want you to have a picture of your original family”  he corrected as I gently place the picture on the ground.

“Where should I keep it?” I asked looking at Mom.

“Where ever you like,” she said smiling at dad

“Thank you, Jim” She waved as Dad left the house.

“See you next week, kiddoes,” he replied giving me and Kaylee a wave.

I smiled, looking back at the frame, “I know exactly where to keep you!”

Summer gone totally wrong! Here is our protagonist looking like a rockstar while mentally having a break down !

A Summer Day to Remember Read More »

A Journey of Ups and Downs

Inspiring, Motivation, Short stories / / , , , , ,

I peered out my window as the person in the seat nearby settled into his seat. I was so relieved when I saw the big yellow bus pull up at the bus stop, shining its painfully bright yellow light through the rain. I did not want to stand any minute longer outside as my coat and backpack got drenched in the pouring rain. The heat of the bus restored some warmth to my face as I took down my hood revealing a messy ponytail I tied in the morning. Just as the bus started to move I took out my book. My parents were few of the only parents who hadn’t given a phone to their 6th-8th graders yet. Meaning I and a very tiny portion of others on the bus were stuck using their computers, reading a book, or doing nothing. And today I decided to read. I was lucky that the person who usually sat in my assigned seat with me decided to go by car this morning, so now I got more room for myself, plus the window seat. I read the final 9 pages of the book as the bus stopped at a red traffic light. I lost interest in my book as I reread the last page, I turned to look out my window which was filled with tiny droplets. I could make out a pedestrian and a dog getting soaked in the rain as they crossed the road onto the street. I always imagined life as a street, like a sidewalk, sometimes bumpy, other times smooth. It is full of twists and turns but it is also straight. My mind wandered as the bus started to move again. I realized that life is a journey of ups and downs, with its fair share of roadblocks and detours. However, it is how we navigate through these obstacles that define us. A bit farther from the traffic light was a group of construction workers working on something on the side of the street. The old bumpy sidewalk was now smooth. Perhaps we can improve our own life like how they are improving the sidewalk. It’ll be a hard and tedious task that might take ages but once we change and get to where we wanted to be, it will be worth it! My face lit up as I thought about this. The rain seemed to be more like a drizzle as the bus stopped in the school parking lot. My backpack felt just a little lighter as I stepped down to campus grounds. I was about to head to class when a spectrum of colors appeared in the distance followed by a lighter spectrum right underneath. A double rainbow!

 

“If a man can write a better book or preach a better sermon or make a better mousetrap than his neighbor, even if he builds his house in the woods, the world will make a beaten path to his door” – Ralph Waldo Emerson..a famous essayist

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