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writerscraftrt-blog · 7 years ago

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Folded and Hidden ( $100 dollar bill/ inanimate object)

“Happy birthday son!” is all I could hear from the brown paper walls that kept me in the dark. When all of a sudden, I was viciously grabbed, almost ruining my crispness but never have I felt more wanted. Once he opened me up and revealed what I truly was, his eyes immediately lit up. He stared at me with awe and the power I have given him. I must’ve been his first. I was ready to be held up high and shown off to all those around him, but his eyes were no longer on me. Instead, he keeps me in his warm but lonesome back pocket, folded and hidden.

“I want the gold one!” He gripped me tightly, but I felt the hesitation as his fingers were curled around me, slightly trembling accompanied with sweat. I wanted nothing more than to warn him, to somehow tell him that she wasn’t worth it, she wasn’t worth all of me. But he was so blinded by her supposed beauty that he failed to see through all her fake smiles and kisses. To my luck, he takes out and uses his shiny plastic card while he returned me to my special place where I remained, folded and hidden.

“Hit me.” This once unfamiliar place had started to become our home. The lights were so dim, it had you question the reality of what you were looking at, which I was. I was questioning how a group of men could look so serious while sitting around a round, mossy green table covered in small colorful circular discs that were in piles. Suddenly, he grabbed me from out of his pocket but this time, I did not feel wanted. He tossed me on the table, along with the small colorful discs. I felt violated, everyone staring at me with greed, I did not belong to any of them, I belonged to only him. I desperately watched him check the cards he was holding onto so tightly with such power, a feeling that was no longer exclusive to me. He smiled down and somehow I knew that meant I was safe, and I was right, as he slid me and the discs back to him. At that moment, I wanted nothing more than to be kept safe in his pocket, folded and hidden.

“How much for an hour?” We had never been to this place before. It appeared to be a bedroom as there was a bed with stained white sheets in the middle, but it did not seem as if much sleeping would get done. The lights were flickering but were able to light up the face of the woman who had been hovering over him so lustfully. Her tan skin was exposed, and she was not letting it go unnoticed, grabbing his hands trying to place them all over her body. But I know him, he wouldn’t do this. He’s bound to get up any minute from now and not give in to her and whatever she was wanting him to do. That’s what I thought, until he reached for his pocket, and without hesitation, handed me to the trashy woman. And she took me, with her undesirably welcoming hands and stuffed me tight in her bra, no longer folded or hidden.

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writerscraftrt-blog · 7 years ago

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24hrs w/ Character + Advice

What just happened? One minute I was admiring this beautiful brunette little girl, the next, she’s in my arms, dead. The blood that was pouring out of the wounds from the fish hooks pierced on her soft, delicate skin started to spread all over her cute, neon blue, two-pieced swimsuit and onto my vest. I was beginning to get caught up in the moment until I heard the little girl’s family calling for her name as they finally noticed her absence.

“Amelia! Where are you? We told you to wait for us! Amelia, honey, come here!”

I took that as my cue to jet out of here as fast as possible, but I couldn’t just leave the beautiful little girl’s body out on the pier to bleed. Nor did I have the heart to dump her body in the lake. So I took her with me, of course. I run towards my Ford Escort that my parents gifted me when I turned 16, in hopes that I wouldn’t run away. It didn’t work, but now at least I had a car to run away with. I open the car doors, and sloppily plop the child’s body on the passenger seat and got out of there as quick as thought.

As important as it is to keep your eyes on the road, it is kind of challenging when there’s something so beautiful propped up in my passenger seat in all her glory. My eyes couldn’t help but drift off to her, the sun’s rays managed to bring life back into her lifeless complexion. Unfortunately, these moments of blissful distractions had caused me to take the wrong exit off the highway. Now, I was driving in an unfamiliar area, along a street called Military Trail. Filled with suburban, red bricked townhouses rendered it unexciting, yet the perfect environment to try to blend in as a typical white middle-aged man with a beer belly and hair covering every inch of my body. I did not know what to do but keep driving, so I did. Eventually, I stumbled upon what seemed to be a high school, “St. John Paul II”. The rust coloured bricks mixed in with the depressing faces of the students making their way into the school reminded me of my high school days that were almost 2 decades ago. It is to no surprise that I was definitely the token “freak” in my year. I was extremely scrawny, wore clothes you’d find your 70 year old grandpa sporting, and I couldn’t be seen without my huge Powerbook laptop. To make matters worse, some football asshole once saw me looking at images of what he thought were “little” girl and decided to start a rumour. However, he was completely wrong. They weren’t little, majority of them were around 8-9, even 10 years old! I was 16 at the time, so a 8 year difference is hardly anything. Well, to me at least.

Just reminiscing about high school made me cringe, I really felt for these kids. But even that couldn’t compare to the stress of having to figure out what to do with a dead body right next to me. Looking around, there was very little that caught my eye and could potentially help me out. Then, I see a small Asian girl, walking away from the school, crying on the phone. Being the person I am, I roll the windows down, and tried to listen in on what she was so frantically weeping about.

“Mom, please. I’m being serious, I CAN’T BREATHE. Like at all, I don’t know what to do. Ate and Kuya aren’t answering my calls, but I can’t go to school.” the girl had managed to say while gasping for air on every other word, her face drenched in tears.

“I feel so light-headed, I can’t breathe. I don’t know what to do” The girl started to hyperventilate and reach for her neck to exemplify her struggle to breathe while continuing to walk away from the school. For some reason, I felt inclined to follow her, I don’t know whether that had something to do with my predative instincts or me being a genuinely caring person. Or maybe, it had to do with the fact she reminded me of this girl I had a crush on when I was in high school. She was perhaps the only girl I had ever shown interest in that was my age. It was so unlike me, but her raven hair contrasting with her ivory skin had always left me enchanted. Now this girl, this weeping girl may not have been a carbon copy but she looks like she could have been her in another life, or even a distant relative.

After carefully trailing her for 10 minutes, she finally got off the phone and decided to suddenly look back. I was startled but desperate to not have my cover blown leading me to duck down which probably made things even more obvious, if they weren’t already before. I had been so fixated on this weeping girl that I had forgotten what had been on my passengers seat this entire time. I move the now freezing body to the back and cover it using my old crocheted afghan blanket. Maybe the blanket could warm her poor little body up, but fairly speaking, I’ couldn’t care less about her anymore. This weeping girl, she had completely taken my mind hostage. It became something more than the black hair and the pale skin, whatever it was, it has made me willing to go to any extreme measures just to have her. I sit back up, hoping that I didn’t lose her, only to see her get in a silver Infiniti that drives off immediately. With no hesitation, I go to follow and see that we are now at a hospital, “Rouge Valley Centenary”. A man bearing much resemblance to her gets out of the car and opens the door in which she came out. With no hesitation I got out of my car and followed them both into the ER, not exactly sure what I was getting myself into nor did I care.

Instantly as I walked through the automatic doors, I was greeted with the coughs coming from all over the room. It was easy to spot her, she was like a beautiful budding rose in a field of wilting dandelions. The wilting dandelions being all these sick, old, fat people in this damn room, of course.

“Rikki Tuazon? You still got the same address, telephone number?” the nurse at the kiosk asks her. I lean in, secretly hoping

“Yes.” she says, with now calmed down truly showing how pure and innocent she really is.

Before I knew it, the same nurse was now calling me up.

“Sir, do you have a health card? Hello?”

Oddly enough, I did have it with me when I never usually do. This must’ve been fate! This must’ve been a sign that I need to meet this girl. After the nurse finishes ringing my card up, he redirects me to sit down for a pre-examination. I lie and say I’ve been having difficulty breathing and chest pains, maybe this way I could be closer to the girl.

“Your breathing is as sound as a whistle, but for any remaining concerns, just seat yourself in the waiting room.”

I nod and to no delay make myself to the waiting room, and see that luck continues to be on my side. The only seats available happen to be next to an aged woman who had at least 2 masks covering her mouth, and what looked to be something oozing out of her arm. Or, beside her, someone so helpless and vulnerable. I don’t think anyone would blame me for choosing to sit beside that beauty over the disgusting beast. I sit next to her and try to get a peek at what she was doing on her phone.

“Hey, I’m at the ER :( my brother took me. I’m really scared, this is like the 3rd time this year, ugh.” she typed to someone clearly very important to her, as their contact name had 3 hearts. Whatever, I didn’t care, I wasn’t going to let that try to discourage. I already made it this far.

Hours and hours have passed, and I haven’t been able to speak to her. What makes it worse is that her parents have now arrived so now it was even harder to try to talk to her without the chances of her mother giving me a dirty look. Also, after lying about having difficulty breathing I ironically started to develop it. I would cough and cough and started to notice that the girl would look at me in annoyance so I would just keep doing it because at least that meant she was paying attention to me. After countless minutes of doing this and receiving stares not just from her but practically the entire room, I mustered up the courage to try to make my first move.

“Sorry, I must be a bother. Do you happen to know where I can get a mask like the one everyone else got?” I ask trying to hide the fact that I’ve been following her since early this morning.

“They’re hanging by the front, near the hand sanitizer I think.” She was so shy, I could hear the nervousness in her voice, but it only attracted me even more.

“Thank you, little lady.” I get up and quickly retrieve the mask so no one could steal my seat. I return only to find that her and her mother have switched seats, making her farther away from me. Was it something I said? Oh well, this just means I no longer have to limit myself to a side profile, I can now help myself to every angle, every detail of her face.

It must’ve been around 9:30 in the evening, and so many people have started to leave because of the ridiculous waiting time. I was just beginning to wish that her parents would just leave for even just a minute, and all of a sudden, her parents tell her they are going to get coffee at the Tim Hortons in the hospital. I take the opportunity and sit right next to her. She decides to welcome my company, by shifting slightly away from me. That’s fine by me, I like a challenge.

“Hello, it seems I forgot to thank you earlier.”

“What are you talking about?” It saddens me that she had seemed to forgotten about our little moment.

“For telling me about the mask, it’s been a great deal of help.”

“Really? because you aren’t even wearing it even though it’s hospital courtesy to wear a mask if you have a cough.” she tells me, without even looking at me once the entire time, which kind of hurt.

“Oh, I’m fine now, just been having trouble breathing.” I was hoping this would make me appear more relatable to her, and spark up some more conversation. But no. No response, not even a nod or a smile. So I try again.

“How about you? What are you in for? You look perfect to me.”

She turns away from me completely before answering, “shortness of breath” as quietly as possible almost like she didn’t want me to hear. So I comply but moving in even closer, leaning in towards her.

“What was that? Shortness of breath? What a coincidence! I don’t think you could tell me any tips to cope with it, it looks like you’re handling it beautifully.” I thought this would flatter her, but instead she looks to the ground and starts fidgeting.

“No, sorry..” she said, with her lip quivering. Is she nervous? Why is she nervous? I’m not doing anything to hurt her, I’m just being friendly. I’m not being rude, in fact, she’s the one being rude, declining any sort of conversation. Maybe she doesn’t know how to express her feelings to me, that’s okay, I’ll give her some time. She’ll want me soon enough.

My daydreams about her and I were soon interrupted by her sweet, soothing voice.

“Sir? Look, I watch a lot of Dr. Phil and have seen the movie, Lolita, twice I think I know what’s going on. Usually, I’d tell you to fuck off and call one of the 4 police officers standing by that door to escort you out, but as you can see I’m not at my best right now. Also, my sister is a psychology student and has helped me understand what exactly is going in your brain right now, despite it being disgusting and horrible. That being said, I think you should do both of us a favor and move away from me and any other young girl in this vicinity, especially since we are in a room full of people and my parents should be back soon. I’m just trying to spare you the trouble, so please leave me alone.” Her once innocent, soothing voice was not as innocent or soothing anymore. It was replaced by boldness and fiery, and yet I liked it even more.

“Young lady, what are you talking about? Is there anything wrong with trying to make some casual conversation in such a dim and boring situation?” I laugh while looking her right in the eyes, wanting to charm her so badly.

“Yes there is, if I’m half your age. Don’t think I’m not aware of what white men your age have been doing, it’s all over the media. Also, if you’re really that bored, there are magazines to your right.” she says with a serious face. It was hard to believe that this was the same little girl weeping, looking at the ground now putting up a brave act. It had me intrigued, if that was her plan, it was certainly working.

“Please. You’re not only being a danger to me right now, but to yourself. There are ways to cope with... well whatever you’re feeling exactly. You don’t have to constantly feel or think this way. Have you ever thought about getting help? You need it.”

She left me speechless. Not because I was entranced by her but because she was right. What am I doing? I have a little girl’s dead body in my car and then I followed a girl into the ER but yet I still cannot understand why any of that makes me a “danger” to society. I’m not a bad person, I’m not. It’s not like I wanted to do those things, I just felt like I needed to. But I know, that doesn’t erase the fact that she is right. I do need help.

I was about to apologize to the girl, but had noticed that she must have left while I was getting caught up in my own little world. Then, I heard the nurse finally call my name after being in here practically the whole day.

“Hubert, is there a Hubert here?” I nonchalantly get up from my seat, but instead of walking towards her, I walk past her and out the door. I don’t belong here. This was a place for sick people and that’s not me. I am perfectly fine, remember?

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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Advice

If I had to give advice to a particular group of people, it would be to children who were/are immigrants. I would only feel comfortable giving advice to people if they are going through a situation I can personally relate to. My family and I came to Canada from the Philippines in 2004. Although it is without a doubt a better quality of life and we have been here for quite a while, I think it is still full of struggles, especially for those who are really new. Just because you aren’t on the streets, does not mean you’re living an easy life. You have to leave behind family and friends, and delve into a completely different world that is full of new customs and traditions which you have to fit in with. Thirdly, it can be extremely financially difficult at first. Your parents could have gotten amazing degrees and had pretty decent jobs back home, but here, all their schooling and hard work doesn’t mean anything and are stuck in jobs that they are overqualified for. Sure, there’s always the option to get education here, but that’s even more money being spent with very little being earned in the meantime. This reason I feel is the most frustrating to the kids because you are constantly battling yourself with thinking “this isn’t fair” and “I should be grateful”. I’m really glad that I am usually always understanding when it comes to my parents, but however there are moments where I wish things were different, where I feel self-pity.

To anyone who is feeling this at a constant, or even having a couple of moments here and there, I want you to know that you are not a bad person, it is normal to have these thoughts or to feel ungrateful sometimes. I’m sure it is also hard for you if you are constantly around people who may have it better than you, even if it's just by a bit. I can relate because majority of my friends were born here and some are them are white, so that makes it even harder. However you cannot have this kind of “it's unfair, why are their lives so much better” mentality because that just makes it even more difficult, and it wastes a lot of your time. You may feel rage and jealousy but being around people who have advantages over you constantly, it teaches you to learn to accept and live with the fact that life isn’t fair for everybody or at all. It teaches you that you cannot do anything about the fact that people may have smaller battles than you, you can only choose how you want to fight yours. But at the same time, you must not let your feelings cloud your judgement and blame your parent(s) or whoever is looking after you and providing for you. Although us kids may feel the consequences and our feelings are valid, nothing can compare to the stress and work our parents have to go through. We need to be as understanding as we can be, because our parents are providing us with so much. Yes, you may not be able to get all the shoes or latest iPhones like your friends could, but your parents/guardians work all day and for some, all night just to get you food on the table, a roof over your head, pay the water/electrical bill, and even scrape up enough to buy you what you want. As their kid, it is your responsibility that we start to take care of some of the burden as you get older. Whether that is emotionally or financially, you must always support your parents.

As soon as you start to appreciate every little thing you have in your life (because of the hard work that went behind it), you soon start to leave behind all the jealousy and pity you once felt because you can fully start to grasp how valuable and how fortunate it is to having the basic necessities in life, especially when there are those who are not as fortunate. It is a beautiful thing to be able to move to a country and start a new life, yes it may take some sacrifices and some getting used to, but overall it is a blessing that can shape us into more humble people.

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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Courage

To me, the world “courage” is made up of many, different elements. In the bigger picture, courage is being able to do what is right or necessary despite the fear or the judgement of other people. However, people have different meanings of courage because people have different strengths, weaknesses, fears, etc. For me, courage would be not going on WebMD and diagnosing myself every time I feel some sort of bodily pain. Or even not having to book appointments at my doctor’s every other month, because of my constant health anxiety. I see courage in the people that are sick and are able to live boldly and happily despite that, and the people who don’t worry about a “cold” or a “chest cramp” thinking it could be something more serious. That being said, I think coping with anxiety is the one of the most courageous things a person can do. To be able to get out of bed even though it is so tempting to just stay inside, and force yourself to participate in all sorts of social interactions you will later cringe and dwell upon later, takes a lot of courage, in my opinion.

I am a person with many fears, ask anyone that knows me. The list ranges from heights, paranormal entities, INSECTS, sickness (as I’ve already mentioned), my parents getting old, dropping my phone or other possessions into bodies of water, and it goes on. There have been many times I have been forced to come face to face with a lot of these things, and I admit that in that moment I had courage but I can assure you from there on, it has gone away. That’s another thing about courage; to me, it’s completely momentary. I do not think it’s humanly possible to live with no fear or care of what other people think, 24/7 nor do I think it is healthy. I think we only acquire courage when we are in deep need of it, when God sees that we need a bit of a push to get through something. I cannot imagine myself being a courageous person, although I know I would be able to achieve more goals in life as opposed to living in fear or anxiety.

I think it takes a lot of moments of courage and to have this virtue deeply instilled in you, in order to be an artist. Artists are people who take the very best and very worst of their feelings and thoughts and put it out there in the open, for anyone and everyone to judge. I cannot think of a more vulnerable position to be in as I already am scared of being judged when I keep to myself or a couple of close friends a lot of the times, let alone allowing the world access to my mind and heart. However, I do believe the vulnerability that went into the artist's’ work shows and makes everything even more beautiful, because authenticity is something that can’t be outshone.

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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Crystal Ball

If I were to look into a crystal ball, I would want to see myself at the age of 25. This is because ever since I was younger, I believed that I would have my life together when I'm 25. In a perfect world, I would want to have graduated with a degree in Political Science from UTSG. Then, I would have passed the LSAT, and be attending law school. I would be able to study in all those cute,hipster cafes downtown. I'd hope to see in the crystal ball, that I'd be employed with a job that I enjoyed even if it was just part time, I don't care, even retail would be fine. Because now, I don't have the time or experience to get a job even if I wanted to. This is another thing I hope for, freedom. I hope to see that I just have more freedom and time for myself where I didn't always have to worry about constant homework or having to be home at a certain time. But of course, I want more than anything to see that my family is healthy, happy and still very much together. I'd say I would want to be living out of the house but in Filipino culture, it's extremely hard to get out of your house if you're not married yet. It's okay though because I can't imagine not living with my family, especially my mom. However, I would hope that my brother would be out of the house because he'll be 33, and my sister, 30. I'd want to be in the relationship I’m in now, but happier and have it be completely open and accepted. The last thing I'd hope to see in the crystal ball is that I’d be less anxious and am able to cope with my anxiety better. I hope that in the future I would see that I am not as lazy as in I don’t put problems off creating more anxiety but also, that I don’t worry as much. Me being a huge worrywart is my biggest weakness right now, and it’s something that I hope to conquer. Ultimately, if I would look into a crystal ball I want to see that I'm living a more balance, more motivated life.

But if I were looking in a crystal ball that would show me the future of this world, I would expect a lot more change. For one (and the most obvious), I would hope that Trump is not president, or existing anymore as bad as that sounds. I hope the beliefs and actions of his supporters such as white supremacy, neo-nazism, sexism, anti-gay propaganda, islamophobia, etc, would all be things of the past. A world without these elements of corruption would be a perfect world. I would want to see people of all races get along, not because they are the “same”, because I think it’s important not to erase one’s cultural identity, but instead because we are able to look past our differences. I hope that years from now, we gradually learn to stop being so selfish, to see the oppression and poverty going on in countries and allow this to move us in a way we will be more charitable and concerned for others. I think Education is something is absolutely needed in all developing countries, it is the backbone of survival and the children of further generations. This is a highly unrealistic world, however, I wish this was the world everyone would see when looking into a crystal ball.

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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3 Scenarios

“Have a good day!” I smile at the last customer that stood in between me and my 30 minute coffee break. I eagerly take my dusty, worn out apron off of me, which is always as satisfying as hitting snooze on a Saturday morning. As I head on out, ready to embark on my 10 minute journey for Starbucks, the ongoing vibrate of my phone quickly disrupts my tranquility. I look at the phone screen just to see the contact picture of my best friend Abigail. It was a picture of us dressed as Sandy and Rizzo from the ever so iconic, Grease. She was Sandy, of course it only made sense since her hair was the perfect beach blonde, and mine, as dark as Rizzo’s, but not as stylish as her infamous curled pixie cut. I answered the phone, still giggling from the picture,

“Yes Abby.. what do you want? Wow, I was kind of relieved thinking you didn’t know my schedule, so you couldn’t bug me..” She knew I meant this in a joking and loving way, however I was not greeted with the same lighthearted tone.

“Vanessa… I need to tell you something, but don’t get mad at me, okay? Remember, don’t shoot the messenger.” I’ve always hated when people said this, save me the anxiety attack and just tell me!

“Uh, okay okay, what happened now?” “It’s Elijah, that guy you’ve been seeing, wait that’s his name, right? Or was it Eric… Or maybe even–” After 14 years of friendship, you would think I’d get used to, or even grow to love Abby’s habit of getting off topic, but I most definitely didn’t.

“Seriously Abby, this better be worth me missing my daily dose of a matcha latte.”

“Okay yeah sorry, well, I don’t know what else to say except, he screwed you over. I saw him last night lining up for the movies, holding hands with another girl. AND you’d never guess who his girlfriend is, BETHANY! But to be honest, I’m not surprised that girl has dated every living thing in the state of New Jersey.”

Abby’s loud voice began to fade like worn out jewelry and I stood still, like I was some statue. I didn’t think Elijah and I were going to get married and live a happily ever after, but I did spend all my summer with him. A tear started to fall, but quickly stopped as if my eyes knew I shouldn’t be this sad. Abigail was listing ways we could dispose of Elijah’s body without getting caught just as I hung up the phone. Although in a few minutes I would have to return to the hell that is retail, just the thought of having to tell 10 different girls that they looked great in an overpriced white t-shirt pushed me to run away.

So I did, I ran and ran, I lost control over my body, my feet were lightning bolts, striking the pavement in just a matter of seconds. Luckily my body decided to stop right in front of my house. I never thought I’d be so happy to see my house. It was so tiny and modest, it looked like it came straight out of an 80′s movie. But that was definitely the least of my problems. As soon as I opened the door, I ran straight upstairs to my room, completely failing to say hello to anyone home, not like I felt like doing that anyways.

My room had always been like a safe haven to me. The way the reflection of the sun always made the carpet a little warmer, I couldn’t think of anything more comforting right now. As I neared my bedroom door, I hear the piercing sound of something breaking into a million pieces. When I opened my door, in fear of what I was about to see, it was worse and weirder than what I had thought. A girl with her body half way out of my newly broken window, in the middle of escaping the crime scene. I say crime scene because that is what my room now resembled. My walls which I remember painting in 7th grade to capture the sunset I saw in Hawaii, had been utterly vandalized. Red paint was dripping down like blood, all the way from the top of the flaming orange to the bottom of the golden yellow. “ Karma’s a bitch, and so are you" I cringed, not just at the pathetic attempt of an insult but at the ugly sound that started to come from my window.

The girl at the window began to let out a villainous laugh. I finally get a good look at the vandal, but I should’ve known it would be pointless as my hunch was spot on. She had an endless amount of hair that cascaded over her tiny body like a waterfall. Her all black ninja-esque outfit would have appeared more threatening had it not been for the splatters of red paint from the spray cans she was cradling in her arms like a baby.

“You didn’t think you could get away with what you did, did you?” Bethany manages to say while struggling to hold her laughter.

“Why are you still here?! Do you want me to call the cops?”I have never been so annoyed.

“Yeah you’re right, I should probably go but before I do, smile!” she takes a picture of me before escaping, proving that she actually is a spawn of Satan. I leap towards my window, ready to run after her and kick her ass, but then I look down only to be reminded of my terrible fear of heights. The longer I stared at the ground, the larger the distance started to become, like a gaping black hole. But it was like the thought of Bethany going up to everyone at school and showing them that picture physically pushed me out the window and before I knew it, I was lying on my poorly mowed lawn.

I had no time to waste, so I choose a random direction and began to run along my street in hopes to find that she-devil and force her to delete that picture. The sun’s boiling beams start to pierce through my already perspired skin, prompting me to take a break.

Conveniently just a few meters away was a park bench where an old man sat. I hesitated because I wasn’t the best conversationalist when it came to old people, maybe it was because I was a millennial. The man definitely sensed my hesitation and decides to welcome me by moving over and creating more space, leaving me with no choice but to sit down. I get a closer glimpse at this old man and noticed that on his skin that has not aged like fine wine, were tears that seeped through the cracks.

He catches me staring, and says “Don’t mind me, I’m about to visit my wife and although it’s been 8 years, it still disturbs me to see her grave.” I look back at the cemetery a few blocks away, all my years of living in this neighbour I have tried my best to ignore it because I can’t help but feel depressed.

“Are those for her?”, I gesture at the bouquet of white Calla Lillies that he was holding.

“Yes, those were always her favourites, she’d fill the whole house with them and I’d always complain about the scent…” he laughs, but after a while, his lips begin to quiver, “I’d give anything to go home to that scent again.”

The man continues to weep, except harder to the point I could feel his pain as my heart sunk to my stomach. All this time, I had been worried about such meaningless things, Elijah, my bedroom walls, and finally that picture Bethany had taken of me. But none of that matters, although it may suck right now, I know it won’t mean anything in a couple of years. Seeing this old man, completely broken because he had lost the most significant part of his life, woke me up and had me feeling embarrassed. After much silence, I got off the bench and turned to the old man, he looked at me, with his tears already dried up like the pavement after it rains. The man must have been thinking I was saying goodbye. Instead, I held my hand out towards him, with a smile,

“Can I meet her?”.

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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Dark & Light/ Colour

Paper thin were her arms.

Painted with narrow, rigged stripes that the weapons of her insecurity had left her

battle scars as some would call it.

But the battle wasn’t over, rather it had just begun.

Each and everyday the lust to see the same bloodshot red that took over her eyes, drip down her arm like paint, only grew stronger.

She was addicted to looking at her reflection.

Pinching the fat from her stomach that did not exist, and pressing the hips that she felt her jeans hugged a little too tightly.

She was tired of feeling as fragile as the mirror that was right in front of her, but couldn’t help but want to take a blade and pierce it onto her skin

much like waving a white flag to finally surrender.

However no amount of bloodshed,

no amount of red- whether crimson, ruby, burgundy or scarlet, was enough to make her want to feel the hours of sorrow that came after the 10 seconds of relief.

It was all too much for her.

It was too late to go back and reverse the damage

yet it was too early to try to change for the better.

All these thoughts make her fall back, onto her bed covered with tissues that were drenched in tears, and stay under her warm, fluffy blanket.

Hiding from the world that taught her to hate herself.

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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Dialogue with Philip, Rikki, Nia, and Brianna

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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Hello...?

Hello? Hello? Victor frantically said into the only telephone stand left on the rustic, abandoned street. He disappointedly puts it down, knowing that there won't ever be another voice on the line. It was the year 2036, and the town of Montgomery had been infected by a deadly disease for what felt like years now but in reality, was just short of 4 months. The scientists called it "the corrosive whisper", when all it takes is for someone infected to talk. Anyone near that vicinity able to breathe in that infected oxygen would nearly start to melt like an ice cream cone on a summer's day. Except not as pleasant, of course. Victor luckily had escaped this fate due to the fact he was in a coma for majority of it, and just recently woke up. When most people wake up from a coma, the first thing they'd wanna do is see their family and have a nice home cooked meal together. However, this would be impossible for the lonely man as the only family he knew, his wife, Josephine was, to his knowledge, as good as gone. Victor was as just about ready to accept his fate, lying on the ground, hoping he'd be able to breathe that deadly oxygen and just get his death over with, when his empty hearted prayers had been answered.

"Hello? Hello? Anyone here?" says the voice of a woman, with such optimism and glee, a complete contrast of how Victor was feeling.

He stood up alert and looks around as if he were being haunted, just to see that this ghost was the prettiest sight he had ever seen. The same beautiful sight he woke up next to for the last 20 years. Her hair still as wavy as the ocean, and her eyes as grey as the skies above, just like he remembered.

His jaw dropped to the ground. Instinct took over and he started to run to her, happy and in disbelief but with opens arms.

Just as he gets closer, she squints to see who he was, surely recognizing her husband. But with no hesitation, she shot him down.

He fell to his death, his bloody body now camouflaging the dried blood on the ground. She walks up to him, kicks him aside to ensure no breath was left in him. She just couldn't take her chances.

"Hello? Hello?"

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writerscraftrt-blog · 8 years ago

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Communication w/o Talking

New York City was the place to be for someone was begging to leave behind all the mess in the past. For some, that “mess” can be anything from an embarrassing prom photo to having someone open the bathroom stall while you were suddenly regretting trying out that new $2 burrito combo at Taco Bell. However, for 21 year old Allie Calhoun, that mess was a 4 year relationship with her best friend, Noah Hampton. Why’d it end? Well, that was a question Allie had been quietly trying to solve for the last year and a half. But before she had the time to wrap her mind around it once more, the subway doors open. In an instant, people were pushing and shoving their way out, many hitting Allie but she had learned long time ago that this is what came with being 4′11. When she finally got to the street as those dangerously crowded stairs came to an end, she was amazed. The skyscrapers she used to think were only as astounding in the movies towered over her like a storm, and she was without an umbrella. Her first mission of the day was to find her new apartment down at 5th avenue. She walks over to the stoplight with certainty, after she had spent 10 minutes deciding this was the right way. Although the crosswalk in front of her was busy with traffic, what really distressed her is what she saw as she caught a glimpse of the other side. Right across her was her mess, except he did not look like a mess at all. He was on the phone while dressed in a freshly pressed black velvet suit, with his hair gelled up, and his eyes, his green eyes that made her almost embarrassed of her boringly brown eyes, were sparkling as bright as ever. Basically, he was looking like the cleanest mess she had ever seen. Allie started to panic, pacing back and forth deciding whether to run away or to run towards him. But all her panicking had easily caught his attention which she soon realized when the two technicolor eyes finally reunited after so long. In that moment she knew that all these myths about New York City would not be true for her.

The two stared at each other in awe, neither one of them expressing happiness or melancholy. At this point, Noah slowly puts his phone away, into his pocket, as if he was just asked to put his weapons down. Allie knew that a year of hard work, trying to forget about him was all about to go to waste, but she could not help but feel as if this was meant to happen. With the lump in her throat and sweat on her palms beginning to intensify, she manages to put on a smile and wave at him. Immediately, both his eyes and mouth widened, as if he knew he was not deserving of that smile and wave. Then, he started to look down and fidget with his feet, which Allie knew from 4 years of witnessing this that he had always done that when he was embarrassed or ashamed. Knowing this, she couldn’t help but laugh despite the bittersweet memories that came along. Curious to see what was happening, he looks up and also happens to join her in laughter. Then Noah begins to pause, and with great hesitation started to wave back at her. But before Allie could even react with joy, a girl grabs Noah’s hand. She was tall and slender with icy blue eyes, and as much as Allie thought highly of Noah, she was certain that this girl was way out of his league. Noah turns to the girl as she greets him with a kiss, while his eyes still on Allie.

The lights finally turned green after what seemed like forever, and it was time for them to cross to the opposite side. When they were finally parallel from one another Allie quickly looked at him, searching for his eyes but soon found out that they were not on her anymore. Holding back her tears, she starts to smile to herself, relieved that she had just figured out the answer to that question she’s been asking for so long. What she’ll never know though, is that while she was now too occupied looking at her map, that he’s looking back at her, searching for the eyes he would never see again.

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