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Prose, Writing Entries, Writings


I was warned a long time ago.

When you see an ember, run.

Run till you feel again the cool calm breeze of the wind. Run and go where everything is as peaceful as a baby sleeping on a mother’s lullaby. Run till you forget everything.

Then breathe.

Let the wind fills you up, your mind, your being, your soul.

Be with the wind, which is as constant as the universe’s anthem.

I was forewarned. But I didn’t listen.

For have you ever seen a fire set on a beautiful night? Glorious and amazing, isn’t? It comforts you in ways that a wind cannot. It warms you in the all the right ways as long as you keep a pretty good distance with it.

Distance, that’s it. And I thought I found the key at last.

So the next time, I approached an ember instead of run, and took the fire as my wind.

And let it’s friendly heat slowly filled my being.


They say that when you drop a frog in a pot of boiling water, it will jump right out. But if you place it gently in a pot of tepid water and turn the heat on low, slowly warming the water until it gradually heats up, the frog will stay until he is boiled to death.

It’s burning now; as bright as an afternoon sun in a summer’s day.

And maybe I’m a frog for I didn’t see it coming.

Or maybe I chose not to see it.

I’m burning.

Or maybe I’m just plain stupid.

For love is a fire. And I’m Icarus, flying too close to the sun.


This is my entry for Bekindrewrite’s  Inspiration Monday: Friendly Fire prompt, using the Friendly Fire prompt itself.

Oh, I miss this! It’s been a long time since I last submitted an entry for InMon’s prompts. And it’s so nice to be back. Though, I’m obviously still searching my way around writing again. 🙂 My mind needs more fuel for creativity.

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

A Memory after an Episode

As I opened my eyes, I first became aware of the all-too-familiar metallic taste in my mouth. I run my tongue around the inside walls of my mouth, and licked my lips, savoring the last trace of the sweet salty taste of blood.

Then I noticed that I’m not alone, and as usual he was with me, holding me tightly closed in his chest while we were sprawled on the floor, much like how I always found us after my Episodes.

“How did I do?” I asked finally. Continue Reading

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

The Missing Legend War of UL

There was this legend known a long time ago—at the time when the Kings and Emperors of different prosperous lands would send out their soldiers on a voyage for a quest to discover and conquer unknown lands—about a small uninhabited island that no one could conquer.

Now, this legend was lost and not heard anymore by today’s generation for it was not documented nor written in any history or literary book, nor was it encouraged to be talk about at that time when it was still popularly yet secretly known, for the curious reason that many believed that the legend itself was enchanted.

The legend is about a small mysterious and uninhabited island, which many believed to be enchanted, found at the heart of where the Sea of East and the Sea of West meets. It was said that many Kings and Emperors had attempted to conquer this mysterious land but all efforts went to failure. There was even a rumour that there was this single instance that the Kingdoms who used to fight each other had decided to unite their forces and had sent only their best voyagers and soldiers in order to claim this land. But again, whether the rumour was true or not, all went to failure.

One of the strangest things in this legend was that the people sent for this quest would all just return to their homeland, in complete numbers, unwounded and unharmed, but clearly defeated. How their families and friends learned to know they were defeated was not told. Maybe, it was seen in their eyes, or the slouching gait of what used to belong to proud and undefeatable soldiers, or in the mysterious air that hung to them—the kind that tells you that someone had already met someone greater than him.

And no one, even their wives, mothers or the most charming of their daughters could extract any information about what they had seen in the land or how the battles had went. They would all just shrug their shoulders when asked, and you would see in their eyes that faraway dreamy look, and then they would sulk again the whole day in one corner. Soon, the wives, the mothers, and the daughters learned better not to ask about that land again, and soon enough too, the soldiers and all the people included in those voyages were back to their feet, but not quite the same like what they used to be before the quest. For the mysterious air that the land gave them had never quite leave them until they had died.

This mysterious land was soon dubbed as the ‘Unspeakable Land of East and West,’ which was later shortened as ‘UL’ (pronounced as how you would say ‘ul’ in bull). After a while, the Kings and Emperors also learned not to waste their time, efforts, and good soldiers for something like a small uninhabited land, where they were not even sure if it contains any gold and precious minerals. So they abandoned their pursuit of conquering or even sending their soldiers to UL, except for one King.

This king was a young, impulsive, yet kind-hearted king named King Gavin. He was just recently enthroned after his father died of old age, when the second troops of soldiers his father sent to UL returned defeated. He questioned all the soldiers, but they would not speak about what had happened. He tried to understand the soldiers’ plight and ceased asking about UL, as he saw how the soldiers were affected so much by the memory of it, and assigned them instead to a different military task. However, as what happened to all warriors who went to UL, the soldiers wanted to quit being a soldier. This infuriated the young king, but as he was such an understanding and kind king, he let the soldiers live a civil life.

However, King Gavin could not sleep most of the nights because of thinking about the Unspeakable Land. He was very curious (as all boys at his age) at what wonders or terrors the land might have. So one night, he sneaked to the room of his younger brother, and left a letter while his brother was sleeping, and then he secretly set on a journey towards the Unspeakable Land.

No one has ever heard about what had really happened to King Gavin, for he had never returned unlike the other soldiers who went to UL. Most said that he might have died on the journey, or captured by the pirates, or attacked by the whales or worst the Sea Serpent, or was lost in the sea. No one dared to speak about the Unspeakable Land, because they would rather learn that their King died in a noble way or even in an unfortunate way as long as it was through normal way of their times and not through some mysterious enchanted power of a land.

But those who knew the real reason—the soldiers who had been in the land of UL—had kept their mouth shut, but they rejoiced secretly at night whenever there was no moon, and admired more their King Gavin because they knew that their king had done what they could not do. Now, no one knows (except the soldiers who wouldn’t speak even after threatened) what the King Gavin had really done that the soldiers could not. That’s why this story was not passed on to generations and there were lots of missing pieces, because those who really knew it by heart never dared to speak about it.

Today, no one knows whether the Unspeakable Land of East and West still exists on Earth, or whether it really belonged on Earth, or whether it vanished the same way that King Gavin was never seen again, or whether this story really did happen.


:: This is my entry for Flash Fiction Friday: F3—War is Hell edition. You might have noticed that this is not your usual war story for the tales of war itself was missing.

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

The Perfect Student

Elizabeth is the kind of student that teachers, like me, called perfect. She always tops the exams—no matter how easy or difficult—then attends classes, even if it’s raining hard and she’s got a fever or flu, then she always comes on time, does every assignment and project you asked for, can answer questions during recitation, teaches her classmates who cannot cope up with the lessons, always has a warm smile for everyone, never cheats, and most of all, never proud. Continue Reading

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

When the Soul Reader and the Lost Soul Meets

She had never expected it to look like this. She had been to many other psyches (that is what she preferred to call it) before of different persons, and none of them had this kind of feel, this look, and this very peculiar archaic-like atmosphere. Although she knew at once (at the first time their eyes had met) that he is different from most people, yet she still just couldn’t believe this utter unrest, and chaos, and this archaic-feel inside his soul (or psyche, as what she really preferred to call).

“W-what are you?” was the first question that came to her mind when she saw the endless piles of old books, the overthrown chairs and wooden tables, the ancient portraits hanging on the washed-out walls, the unlikely trees that sprouted at the middle, and the green leaves that scattered on the floors. The air around was very dry, and still. It smelled just as you might expect from smelling an old book.

He smiled to her at the mention of her question.

Up until now, they were sitting across each other, with the table in between them, and she was holding his hands, palm-to-palm, and her eyes were tightly shut. He, on the other hand, was having a good time observing this young beautiful lady before him. “What a weird talent she has. If only her talent had been the usual singing or dancing, she would probably make it to Hollywood.” But of course, he didn’t say that to her. Instead he replied:

“Would I seek for your assistance if I knew?”

She was surprised with the sudden response, so surprised (probably even more surprised than if he would say that Hollywood thing in his mind) that she quickly gotten out of her trance; then she took her hands away from his, and shot him a hard look.

What he didn’t notice (an honest but weird mistake) was that the question she asked was a question she threw on her mind, not on him, therefore he couldn’t possibly hear her, yet he did (which later would puzzle him too).

“What!?” he said, also surprised by the sudden snappiness of the girl.

“Is there something that I should know Mister, before I proceed?” she said.

She was clearly referring to the fact that he had answer a question that she didn’t verbalize. But he didn’t notice at it was really an honest but weird mistake.

So he said, “What — have you found already something?”

“Apparently, yes,” she said, “besides the fact that you such have a cluttered soul, it also seems that you can read minds.”

“Oh,” was his only response. He didn’t know that he could read minds nor he has a cluttered soul, but now that the girl said it, he suddenly felt that she was right.

By the way, before I tell you what happen next, let me first tell you the reason why he came to her.

She was a soul reader, or psyche reader (as she preferred to call), and she has been doing this ever since she learned what ABC is. It was a one of a kind talent, a gift, or maybe a curse, that she could read and see the depths of anyone’s soul by the mere act of touching them, especially their hands. Because of her talent, people avoided her at all cost, except only if they needed her expertise.

He, on the other hand, was a traveller or more of just a mere wanderer since he has really no specific destination in his mind. Worst of it, he never knew himself. He didn’t know who he was, what his name is, or his age, or whether he has parents and information like that. He couldn’t even remember his first memory. He first learned about her through rumours at the city (he had unconsciously read their thoughts), that there was this young lady who lives at the heart of the forest that could read souls. And since he wanted to know something about himself, he set on a journey through the forest (with many unexpected difficulties he had ever encounter in his years of wandering— yet, this is another story) to see who this girl was. To cut it short, before he almost gave up, he saw the girl, and the rest was what had happened above.

So now that you have an idea who they are, what happened next was this.

“So, Mister, would you mind telling me who you are?” she said.

“I have told you before, I really don’t know. And I’m here to know. And I thought you would be of help,” he said.

She looked hard on his eyes, and even though she wasn’t touching him, she felt and just knew that he was telling the truth.

“There’s something wrong – I mean – different in your soul. May I know how old are you, Mister?”

“I—I have no idea,” he said.

“Well, this would be difficult. There was just so much inside you – so much clutter and chaos – and all those books! Do you know how many books a usual person has in there?” she said, while pointing in his head.

“How many?” he said.



“Yes. Just one, and that one book contains all info about that person since birth till present. Usually, I learn about the person depending on where his or her Book is located, or how big or thick the Book is, the color, the quality of pages, the things that you will see inside, how many blank pages, its heaviness, the aura of the Book, and whether it is titled or not, and a lot more!” she said, “But you!”

“Why? What’s different with my Book?” he said, wondering how his ‘book’ could be different from others. Then he said, suddenly realizing, “Oh! Don’t tell me you didn’t find any book?”

“Silly. It would be much easier if I haven’t found a book, because it only means that the Book is hidden. But in your case, I have found a lot of books – more than a dozen or hundreds!”

This time an “Oh” was his only response again.

“What now, are you willing to go on?” she said.

“Can you…,” he said, and stopped. He did not know what he really wanted her to do.

“I can. I can find your Book. I can find you. But it will be difficult. And of course, as with all others, it would come with a great price. How much can you give me?” she said, this time she smiled for the first time, a beautiful cunning smile.

This time (and this was the third time) an “Oh” was his only response again.




:: This is my first time entry for Flash Fiction FridayF3, Cycle 44: Unrest.

Actually, I was just really so bored and wanted to write anything, just anything! (I just realize that writing stories can be addicting.) And I wanted to practice too! So you might find that the whole story, although long, is pretty much chaotic with really no definitive plot.

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

The Mortal and the Secret Ritual of Nature

I looked at him and I saw in his eyes the feeling of frustration. It was slowly creeping into his being, he might not know it yet, but I’m sure, sooner or later, he would give up and think that all of it was just a worthless and crazy pursuit.

I first saw him just this afternoon, and as I conversed with the Tree, I learned that he had been sitting there since yesterday—not moving a single limb, and he was perfectly doing the secret ritual only known to nature, and to us, Beings of nature.

“What are you up to, young mortal?” I asked—more to myself than to him, while pacing in front of him.

In fact, I’d been doing a lot of pacing ever since the Wind whispered to me that somebody had found the Enchanted Tree—the tree that had been hidden since the beginning of time, the tree that could only be found by mortals with pure unbreakable great desire—and was attempting the secret ritual.

It had been such a long time since someone had attempted to do the ritual, and when I said long, it’s more than any mortal could imagine. Our time frame is different from mortal’s perception of Time, because Time is nonexistent for Beings who know Eternity.

I even thought that the Wind was kidding me in saying that, and then I remembered that it was foolish for me to think so, because the Winds are one of the most serious beings of nature and they never lie even if most of the time, what they say are almost unbelievable and even hilarious.

The sun would soon be down. And if he would continue in doing the ritual, the Enchanted Tree and I would soon be left with no choice but to grant his wish, any wish—no matter how wicked or noble.

I sat in front of him, studying his face. His gaze was directly at me, as if he could see me, but of course that is impossible. He has such a fine-looking face, and his skin is as white as clouds, and his presence stood out like a sparkling star from the darkening forest.

“I wonder what you’ll be wishing for,” I said, wondering out loud. “Judging from your looks, you surely must come from a very affluent family, so maybe it can’t be wealth. Is it love? But you have such a handsome face to even have a problem for capturing any girl’s heart! Power? Hmm, maybe not, for you doesn’t have an air of greediness. How about health? For you or for your love ones? Or maybe you’ll be wishing for immortality? Well, that is the only exception for only the Maker of all things can grant that! What are you seeking for, mortal?”

He let out a long breathe of sigh, and closed his eyes. The ritual was finished. The sun was down. To officially end the ritual, and to have what he desire, the first word that should come out of his mouth should be his wish.

I leaned forward, and everything else in the forest seemed to listen for his wish, not even the Wind dared to move.

Seconds had passed, but he was still not uttering anything, and for the first time I felt what might Time means, for Eternity seemed to have passed.

So even though I knew that it wouldn’t be possible for him to hear me, I still said, as I always said to others who attempted but not succeeded, “Tell me, what are you seeking for, mortal?”

He opened his eyes, and I could swear that he could see right through me.

And he said, “You.”




:: This is my entry for Indigo Spider’s Sunday Picture Press: Twistless (using the third picture prompt) and BeKindRewrite’s Inspiration Monday XXX (using “hidden since the beginning of time” prompt).

At first, I had extremely difficulty time conceptualizing and building up a story for that third picture prompt. Although I have almost fallen in love with the beauty of the picture, I still couldn’t come up with a decent story. I guess, for the first time, I experienced what they called the Writer’s Block!

Anyway, after I saw the writing prompt for BeKindRewrite, I suddenly had this idea. Actually, I wasn’t sure what is it at first, I just let it flow on me and voila, a story is born! And I am satisfied and happy with the outcome!

I’m glad for those two prompts. I wouldn’t be able to come up with anything if even one of those two prompts is missing. 🙂

Prose, Writing Entries, Writings

It’s her.

We’ve never been friends. But I admired her.

She’s beautiful—though she always denies that—and she’s very intelligent yet never boastful. She’s down-to-earth and very shy despite of what she is. She’s the kind of girl who you would love to respect. Back then, I always opened the door for her whenever I found an opportunity. I sometimes wished that I could help her carry her bag. I know it was weird, but she’s that kind of girl, a girl that for some reason, you would love to help. Continue Reading