Where to, you ask? I’m not entirely sure. I’ve neglected this blog for quite some time and now, it just doesn’t feel right. I’ll probably create another wordpress account tonight and follow the whole lot of you. Again.
However, before I leave this blog alone in a forgotten corner of the virtual world, I’m gonna list some of my personal fav WP blogs so that you don’t miss me too much =p
For short stories,
Marie forgot to check her make up as the reflection of a certain boy distracted her. She’d never seen him smile before. It was quite mesmerising. Scared his face would twist into its usual menacing features if he caught sight of her, she continued to glance at him through her mirror. She watched his smile disappear as he told off a little boy for throwing stones at a stray dog. She watched him nurse the hurt dog with so much care – that it made her insides feel all gooey and fuzzy.
Marie wondered how someone who had so many well-deserved-detentions(Oh, don’t even get her started on how obnoxious and arrogant he was in school) could possibly be this kind. ‘Mirrors do tell you funny stories’,she thought.
Inspired by an Inmon Prompt
Steph had never been happier. Her thoughts were taking the word “cheesy” to a whole new level. The glass painting she’d always marvelled at for reasons she couldn’t remember now, suddenly seemed to portray him. He certainly was the caffeine that kept her going; her ever radiant sun.
Her insides went cold as she saw him walk into the coffee shop with her best friend, Ria. The two of them were holding hands and laughing. She felt every wall he’d help her break down, go back up as he watched him kiss Ria the way he’d kissed her so many times before.
Inspired by Friday Fictioneers
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The new Boeing 787 Dreamliner can carry about 250 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,700 times in 2012. If it were a Dreamliner, it would take about 7 trips to carry that many people.
The rest of her classmates played in the sandbox while she sat in the dark corner of her class room. No one approached her and she returned the favour. She daydreamed about her being the most popular girl in high school. “I’ll live life then”, she thought.
The popular kids in school had parties. She didn’t host or attend any. The kids with braces were bullied. She didn’t stand up for them. She moved away like the rest of the school if they sat next to her for lunch. She glided through the halls like a ghost daydreaming about being a successful adult. “I’ll live life then”, she thought.
Her co-workers gossiped by the coffee machine as she buried herself in work. She was a silent observer in most of the company meetings. And, when the cute guy once asked her what she thought of the new plan, she mumbled and turned away. She often dreamed about being an old lady who knitted by the fire and was adored by the neighbourhood children. “I’ll live life then”, she thought.
She was on her deathbed. A few family members stood around, looking awkward. She’d never really taken the time to know them. The neighbourhood children wondered if she’d ever open her gate so they could get their cricket balls back. “Death is the next great adventure. I’ll live life then”, she thought not realising that she was to blame for wasting all those years that she spent doing nothing other than waiting to live.
A contribution to Inmon
“You’re becoming way too human”, the voice at the back of my head chided as I guiltily wiped away my tears. The voice was soon replaced by a flash of memories. Every one of which concerned him: The way his eyes shined behind his dorky glasses; the way his voice sounded when he told me that he loved me; The elated feeling I felt as his hands reached for mine; the cruel words he’d uttered just after that; His confused reaction when I cringed and pulled away.
“You’re beautiful”, he had said, his tone sincere.
I wondered if he’d still love me if he knew I was an alien living in a borrowed body. Green toes and a head covered with boils. My physical form wasn’t exactly what you’d call charming.
I’d taken control over her body at a moment of weakness. And, after I met him, it was just too hard to go back to being me.
My borrowed heart ached as I opened the door and found him waiting outside, a worried expression on his face.
How do you mend a broken heart that’s not even yours?
I saw a spider crawling up his sleeve. I knew what had to be done. I traded hearts again. As I guided the spider away from him, his hand swatted down on me. He’d crushed two borrowed hearts on the same day.
Inspired by an Inmon Prompt
We were just kids when “The War” started. Kids who owned every gadget in the market and beat every video game they got their hands on. The old boring books that our grand dad brought home every time he came to visit were kept in the darkest corner of the room without a second glance.
Now, don’t you feel sorry for these books. They weren’t half as innocent as they seemed. Oh no, they were quite devious in fact. They formed an army and conspired against us. They started the war. They ripped apart our video game cassettes with their pointed too-sharp-for-paper teeth.
We tried everything we could to stop them. Right from beating them with our consoles to tickling their binders like Hagrid suggested in the Harry Potter movie. It took us a day to find a way to defeat them. It turned out that all we had to do was digest the information they stored. With every page we read, the books became weaker. And, when we reached the final word, they became limp in our hands.
We won the war but our thirst for blood was still strong. And, hence, we declared a war against the racks and racks of books in the library down the alley.
Inspired by an Inmon Prompt