icon caret-left icon caret-right instagram pinterest linkedin facebook twitter goodreads question-circle facebook circle twitter circle linkedin circle instagram circle goodreads circle pinterest circle

The Fuel

Thoughts with tiny bubbles

My head submerged underwater and my lungs breathed out the condense air as tiny bubbles floated over my face. The evening news showed deaths of Asian women in Atlanta a few days ago, but I refused to listen to the thought and immersed myself in the bath water relaxing my mind. 

Two days ago, an active shooter murdered 10 innocent people at the King Soopers Grocery Store, in Boulder, Colorado, nearby a cafe I frequently spent time in to write. There was a clearing force injecting my heart, to clean nonsense and only give space to those who loved me and no one else.

 

The rest of the world no longer mattered, and I felt forced to shelter in the comfort of stable friendships, critical people only, because those were my community. I didn't want to speak or process my grief to anyone around me. I wanted to close the door to the friends I have yet to meet or develop relationships with, and focus only on the current and immediate close circle of families and friends.

 

Those violence almost closed the door to a future filled with harmony, new friendships with beautiful lives and souls, and almost impeded my growth as a human being.

 

My drive and purpose in life came knocking on the gates of my brain, and asked it to open and relent compassion for my well being; through trauma processing and making connections with my fellow coworkers and customers I met on a daily basis.

 

I realized, my purpose was to send out beautiful energy and to help others in words, action, and love, more than I received. It was my calling to fulfill as a fateful destiny, for which I never chose but it chose me and happened accordingly. 

After witnessing those tragedies via social media and television, I almost lost my sparks. It stunted my creativity for a couple of days, from fearful thoughts that I might pose as a threat for a senseless and irrational human being. People who committed mass shooting, racism, rapes, violence, terrorisms at all levels, including stalking and gang banging, have no purpose in life, their souls full of egos. They felt the existence of good prevents them from their freedom to release the erratic behavior to oppress those who pose as revolutionary. They felt threatened in their subconscious by good lives, opportunities, diversity, tolerance, harmony, and peace. The crazies almost had their statements fulfilled, but that would only suppress growth of our future and ridicule our youth. 

Came back my thoughts to the knocking of my own heart beats pumping my subconscious. It asked me to write out my thoughts and gave me a newfound freedom of expression. It was my right to be Asian because I was born with it, and my right to want gun safety, and my right to grieve for my beloved Father, who died a month ago.

 

I had the right to process it, to not fear it, to be angered by it, but not to be negatively moved or provoked by it. I was the strong tower who had the right to sunshine, and it was an ordained future. Those vile acts and the death shan't lead me to captivity. I was free to express my emotion, because it was sane and creative, not vehemence of ghore. 

Submerged underwater, my brain cooled down, the door to my mind and heart opened for a life of adventurous journey, running with beating pulse pacing my life to enjoy it once again. The tiny bubbles kept floating over my face and I rose up exposing my shoulders over the bath water.

 

This was a thought processed, after a few dismal days.

 

Just write.

Be the first to comment

No Babies, No Cry.

The crevasse of dirt ran down the path to the right side of the road like a long Earthworm sleeping on land. Summer in Colorado was torrid after a blizzard winter, and driving by dry farm lands scorched me in this car with no air-conditioner. I felt the Pontiac swerved but my thoughts flashed of Julie's face with her clear plastic glasses. I could careless of the passage I ignored at home about her, because she made me cry. This old Pontiac was red once, but now it streaked with bronze and copper marks from scraped paint. It was my soul deteriorating as an augury of life, and I wanted nothing more than a few Pabst for consolation earlier, but this mess got me guerilla driving. 

 

The steering wheel made me sick, and the leathery crap slipped out of my hands. Julie's face was on me again. I tried to hold it together, but just like trying to control Julie, it wasn't my time. Damn tree was too close along the path as the road ragged on the wheels and I hit that damn dead bark in the middle of nowhere. 

 

The crash was bad. I felt my neck popped forward out of my back and I knew I just about died. Nothing in my vision. There was dark and more dark, and the air felt light in my chest, lifting me up. I breathed in, and got shook out of my beard. It wasn't even a long one, and I even moisturized my beard. 

 

"Wake up! Get the hell out!" said a voice. 

 

I shook out and shook up, my eyes like a wild dog, searching for something I could focus on. The hand pulled my shoulders and dragged me out of the car. Whatever animal was dragging me, pulled the hell out of me like I was food.

 

"Stop! Get the hell off me!" I screamed, my legs kicking as my temples throbbed. The six pack of Pabst slowed me down and I gurgled out some and was about to vomit a pint or two.

 

"Stupid! You're stupid! Get up! or I'll kick ya!" said a man's voice. What kind of a man would help someone then kick him? 

 

He stopped dragging me and left me on a hot afternoon like a broiled shrimp on the ground, with my skin all pink and burned. Old white men cooked in his own flesh like seafood on a grill in times like these.

 

"Who the hell are you? Do you know who I am?!" I shouted and something liquid spat out of my mouth. My legs folded and I pushed up off the ground. "Mind your own damn business!"

 

"Lucky dog, you bastard! You thank me!" he said, his head cocked at me like a rooster in a hen. "Drank up and drived like you own shit!"

 

"That's my car, you asshole!" I told him. "Carl! Who the hell are you?"

 

He was short, with dark hair, his nose flat, like he was Chinese. A brown t-shirt and jeans with sneakers made him looked like a young college student. Maybe he was Chinese, maybe he wasn't, but I didn't care what he was. He looked double and my eyes watered.

 

"Paul!" the man said. "And you're stupid!"

 

"Paul?" I said. "You look like a Chang, or Van or something...."

 

"Why? Because I look Chinese?" he said. His arms beside him, and his face looked red and I saw sweat on his forehead. Might be because I was a heavy load and he pulled a fat man out of his car, or he was mad. "Just because I'm Asian, I'm supposed to have a China man's sounding name?"

 

I stayed silent, and looked into his eyes. "Nah...," I replied.

 

A soft peace was about me, as if I knew he was helping me somehow, but I wasn't supposed to know.

 

"We gotta go up a mile and talk!" said Paul. His right hand made a fetching gesture swaying and I felt like a small animal.

 

"What about?" I asked. I looked behind me, and the car was wrecked with the front bumper concaved in and some oil must have leaked with whisps of smoke exhausting out. There was a shadow of a body inside, but it couldn't be mine. I was outside, talking to Paul.

 

I looked to Paul, and didn't have nothing better to do and the dip of the crevasse looked like a cliff and I wanted to dive into it. 

 

"Don't even think about sleeping in that dirt," said Paul. "You're crazy if you do. Come with me!"

 

Paul was mean, and his tone was gritty like a chain smoker but clear sound of voice.

 

"Where we going?" I asked. 

 

"Quit it! Just walk," Paul said.

 

I followed Paul, with his shorter legs, as I caught up. My husky 6' feet body could sit on Paul and squash him, but I wasn't about to get rude to a man who said he had something to say to me. I walked and stayed calm, but Paul wasn't double anymore and my chest wasn't full of puke either. Inhaling the hot air, I swayed a bit, and almost tripped, but I staggered my legs and kept my stance. Paul ignored me, and kept walking. 

 

In the distance was a small house with a porch and a rocking chair in front. The sign on the top of it said, "Highway to Hell," in wood and white lettering and the "Hell" part was hanging down. My eyes felt wet and I looked back to the Pontiac and it was still there, down the road, kissing the tree with branches that looked like the witch's fingers.

 

Paul kept walking and stepped on the porch and opened the door as it creaked and walked inside. A few steps behind him, I looked around and realized this was some kind of bizarre something, because I must have passed this road before and never saw some small shack for a resting point. I followed Paul and walked in, and saw a few tables and chairs with yellow gingham liners.

 

"Just got in, Paul," said the waitress. She looked like a waitress, with an apron and a flowery Summer Dress and her hair was in a bun. Her brunette hair made her blue eyes prominent, and while she was beautiful with a heart shaped face and high cheek bones, I knew she was of age. She walked from the kitchen from the back to a table, and what seemed like a small house, felt vast inside. I looked around the room, and it was like stepping into a prairie cottage, with chairs of wood with soft yellow plaid padding and a blue gingham love seat to the left of the room. A small fireplace over the chimney was in front of me, and next to the hallway leading to the kichen in the back of the house.

 

"Yogurt please, Bonnie," said Paul. "Pro-biotic treat for me."

 

"And you, Carl?" asked Bonnie.

 

"How'd you know my name?" I asked. Bonnie sure was pretty, and if I wasn't in my sixties, I'd marry her.

 

"Stop thinking smack, Carl. What are you having for your afternoon snack?" Bonnie asked. 

 

"What are we? In kindergarten?" I joked. "Are you serious?"

 

"Just,....," Bonnie said, as she exhaled and seemed upset. "Milk and chocolate chip cookies, then."

 

She walked on to the back of the house and must be for baking or some sort, because how else would chocolate chips be made? I sure never tried.

 

"Julie," Paul said. "She's your only daughter. Why aren't you behaving properly?"

 

Paul pulled up a seat and sat down, as he leaned back and I stared at him for a moment. Paul was a bastard I didn't want to talk to right now, because who was he to ask me these questions at a time like this? I wanted to die about thirty minutes ago, and Pabst was helping, and now this Chinese thing was in front of me, asking personal questions.

 

"I really don't want to talk to you," I said. I stood at the same spot, and my arms tensed and felt my veins pumping my heart and hands. The heat must got me overwhelmed because my eyes rolled back and I dropped like a dead fly.

 

Paul immediately got up off his seat and picked me up, and threw my arms around his shoulders and laid me on the couch.

I inhaled and closed my eyes. Breathing for five full minutes, as Paul must have pulled the chair next to the couch where I laid and sat there. He waited for me to flutter my eyes open.

 

"Here, Bonnie gave me a glass of water," said Paul, holding a small glass half full.

 

"Thank you," I said. I felt my heart beating hard. 

 

"It's your coronary heart disease. You shouldn't be drinking this much," said Paul.

 

"Julie's getting married, and no Gypsy woman should be marrying another woman," I said. I cried, holding the bridge of my nose. "She's my baby girl, and now she's gonna marry some Gorger lesbian named Tristan."

 

"That's a nice, name, Carl," said Paul. "But, I don't look like a Tristan."

 

"You look like a Van," I told him. Paul sighed, and giggled. 

 

"Your daughter is a lesbian," said Paul. He smiled at me, and I looked at him with sharp eyes and moistened beard from the water dripping off my mouth. 

 

"She never told me. Now, she wants to elope with this woman,... or man. This thing," I said. My heavy chest heaved and my mouth frowned down and felt my heart dropped to my gut. "I wanted babies for her."

 

"Oooohhh, I see," said Paul. "Babies...."

 

I looked to Paul, and he smiled at me. He must felt smarter with probably all that computer knowledge all Chinese men knew and got chops for. 

 

"I know what you're thinking," said Paul. "That's Bill Gates."

 

"You're shitting me!" I said. 

 

"You asked, and you thought it," said Paul. He shuddered, and said, "Stop thinking racists things. Okay...let's start over."

 

"Julie never told me she was a lesbian," I said. "Gypsies don't do lesbians. We give birth to normal people, like everyone else."

 

"You have a beard, Carl," said Bonnie. "Not everyone has a beard."

 

"Bonnie,...it's okay," said Paul. Paul looked to Bonnie as she came out with some chocolate chip cookies and milk and placed it on the ground next to the couch where I laid. "That's good stuff. Bonnie is top stuff."

 

I looked at Bonnie with endearing eyes, but Bonnie rolled her eyes. 

 

"Divorced," I said. 

"Not interested!" Bonnie replied, and left to the kitchen.

 

"Carl! FOCUS!" said Paul. He took a cookie and handed it to me, and I accepted. The brown chocolate chip cookies was warm and soft and I must have slobbered because Paul handed me a napkin. I took it and wiped my whole mouth with it. Bonnie was talented and I kept chewing on the chocolate chip cookie. Paul smiled again and folded his arms. He breathed in and waited for me to finish my cookie. I gulped the last morsel down and wiped my hands with the napkins. 

 

"Thanks, needed that sweetness," I said. 

 

"Why aren't you smiling?" Paul asked. He smiled at me and I couldn't help but to return the kindness.

 

"She was my favorite," I told Paul. "She's the only daughter I'll ever have, and since her mother died five years ago, she's been driving up to Denver to meet some friends, or so she said. I didn't know she's been out with that Gorger lesbian."

 

"Tristan," said Paul.

 

"Yeah, that's his boy name. I don't even want to know his girl name," I told Paul. I closed my eyes, and breathed in.

 

"Tap your chest, three times with both your forefingers on your hands," said Paul. "Like this." Paul tapped his chest with his two fingers of both hands and I followed him. "Breathe, Carl," said Paul. "Say "I'm good and I'm kind, and I sure love these cookies."

 

"I'm good, I'm kind, and I sure love these cookies," I repeated. I tapped some more, even more than three times. I liked this tapping shit.

 

"So you think she's crazy now?" asked Paul.

 

"Yeah, she's nuts! What the hell do they do? These lesbians! Where do they go? How the hell are they going to be good Gypsies and raise children?" I screamed out all of the chest air and flumoxed anger. "I don't even know how to hug her anymore. Is she the same Julie?"

 

"I see," said Paul. "You think she's transformed into some outer space being who likes only women?"

 

"No," I said. "I'm a Catholic, and Catholics don't do that shit."

 

"Are you a practicing Catholic, Carl?" asked Paul.

 

"No, but I still am a Catholic," I said, defending myself, my core, and who was Paul to ask these questions?

 

"I've never met anyone who was a non-practicing Catholic," said Paul. 

 

"You're shitting me?!" I asked. What god-damned person has never heard of that before? I was baffled.

 

"I know....I'm an atheist," said Paul. "I don't practice any religion."

 

"You're going to hell, Paul!" I told him. What sort of cookie maker was this Chinese man about? He kept telling me what to do and told me to follow him to some shack and now he felt he was sane for telling me he was atheist? I had to ask him, "Do you think Julie should get married?"

 

"You know what I do think?" said Paul. His eyes wide and looked intently at me. "You drank and drove into a tree, and you told me that you didn't want to live. I think you need therapy!"

 

I felt the sweetness inside my mouth, and shut my mouth for a moment. Paul was right, I drank and drove carelessly and I hated Julie for wanting to elope with Tristan, the woman who was a man, who was actually a woman. I reached down to the ground, and took another cookie.

 

"Are you a cookie maker?" I asked, just softening the hard water.

 

Paul shook his head, and took a cookie and ate one, and said, "I don't want you to be a coward, is all."

 

"I'm no coward," I said to Paul. I swallowed the whole cookie and felt almost full. 

 

Bonnie stepped out and saw me, and looked down to the ground, and nodded. She went back to the kitchen.

 

"Are you a good father, Carl?" asked Paul. "Tap your answer on your chest."

 

"I'm a good father," I said, tapping my chest three times, and repeating it.

 

"Are you a damn good father, Carl?" asked Paul. "Repeat it. Three times."

 

"I'm a damn good father," I said, tapping my chest, repeating the words three times. 

 

The room felt still and I closed my eyes and breathed in. I stayed still and basked in the quiet silence and solemnity. It felt peaceful, and for once, I was happy. I haven't' felt this calm since Julie graduated college.

 

"Describe her dress to me," said Paul.

 

"It's got a thousand jewels, and a Sondra Celli knock-off. We got it dressed in Broomfield," I said. "The ruffles has rainbow colors, and the fabric is pink glitter with more beadings and jewels all over."

 

"Sounds girlie," said Paul. "All those jewels must cost much."

 

"We saved up for six months, and we're having it at Estes Park, in the small white church, but we're having a friend do it. We won't have a priest," I said. "I felt bad, because her Mom wanted her to be traditional, marrying a Romanichal and into the community. Not some Gorger boy and girl in one body and just having me as witness."

 

"If you don't do it, who will?" Paul asked.

 

"That's why I drank and wanted to die," I said. "I lost her, and now I'm gonna be alone. And she's a lesbian."

 

"Okay, let's go outside, we gotta go back to the car. I'm tired. You're crazy," said Paul.

 

"What?" I asked him. "We're not done talking."

 

"Yeah, we're done," said Paul.

 

I got up the couch and drank the milk. I lost the headache and the intoxication was gone, completely. I didn't know chocolate chip cookies was magical, but I was mistaken.

 

Paul opened the door, and stepped outside, as he stood for a minute on the porch, inhaling the now evening air. Summer nights was breezy tonight, and it felt smooth caressing my skin this evening. I stood next to him, and Paul began to walk before me. 

 

"You remember Arlene?" asked Paul. He looked above, and kissed his hand and waved at the stars.

 

"My ex-wife, Arlene?" I asked. My throat choked, because Arlene was a sore subject of a woman I once married too young, and had to let go out of heartache and addictions. She was my red, in my white suit.

 

"She never re-married," said Paul. "You never kept in touch with her, did ya?"

 

I walked beside Paul, pacing him, slowly together. "Nah, no need to. She was gonna be allright," I told Paul.

 

"She died a month ago. Breast cancer," said Paul. "She was at St. Joseph's in Denver for a year."

 

I gasped and stood still. Arlene never reached out to me and I never cared for her to. I knew she was going to be okay, because she was always a career woman, working, hard core business oriented and never backing down in an argument. She was the balsy type with black hair and angst for miles. Arlene was a kicker in the football team.

 

"She never told anyone, because she thought no one cared. Her parents passed before her, and she was alone," said Paul. "You know what her motto was?"

 

"What?" I asked, confused of how this had to do with me and Julie.

 

"No babies, no cry," said Paul.

 

I felt tears rolled down my eyes, and my body shook from the triggering conscience of understanding how Arlene never had babies. She was alone, all this time. 

 

"She was a good woman, Carl," said Paul. "She was just different. Ambitious, but she was kind. She put up with you for a good six years, didn't she? She almost ended her own life one night."

 

I didn't reply. But, I knew she did love me. I didn't cheat, but I was addicted and she didn't care for it, so she left, and I found Mary, Julie's Mom. "I thought she'd be okay," I said to Paul. I sobbed and smelled my breath of alcohol.

 

"That's what you think, Carl," said Paul. "I wished you can love a person just as she was designed, but not all ends well. She was alone in the hospital, but I was with her. And we talked, and that's how I knew about you," said Paul.

 

"Who the hell are you, anyway?" I asked. We were a few steps away from the car, as the conversation drawned out to a mile or so. 

 

"You son of a bitch!" said Paul. He punched me and kicked my shins, and dragged me into the car, and screamed into my ears, "It's not always about you and your addictions, Carl! It's about loving them back! You piece of shit! You fight for your life, you bastard!"

 

I fought for dear life, with my arms searching to fend him off, but Paul was a strong one with that tout Chinese Karate chop stuff physique. What kind of person would invite some man for cookies and milk, then attacked him near his car? I was about full cup anger and half cup of confusion, all drunk again.

 

My eyes opened as my head cocked back and my whole body shook as I suffocated from the air bag blown on my face. I was inside the car and I smelled smoke in whisps inside the car and I smelled fumes. My gut stuck in between the air bag and the steering wheel, I wiggled and couldn't move.

 

"Oh shit!" I kicked the driver's side door open, pushed down all of the air bag out of my face and crawled out. I crawled on the ground so fast, I didn't realize I was alone. I stood on the dirt and stepped back and almost fell into the crevasse of dirt. My foot got stuck and it turned out it was just a crack and it looked bigger than it seemed.

 

I took my foot out and stepped back on Earth, and pulled out my cell phone. Julie's number was my emergency contact and it rang a couple of times as she picked up the line.

 

"Hello, Dad?" said my daughter, Julie. She's my baby, no matter if she was lesbian or not. 

 

"Baby, I need a ride home," I said. "Got into an accident, but I'm okay. Where are you?"

 

"Dad, you're supposed to be at the rehearsal with me!" said Julie. "The wedding is tomorrow!"

 

"Why you want to get married so much anyway?" I asked, still irritated.

 

"I want to have a family, Dad. You'll be a grandpa someday. I want to have a family with Tristan. We wanted to adopt or something like that," said Julie. "Please, Daddy."

 

Tears ran down my cheeks and I sobbed, gasping for air, and thought of Arlene in the hospital and how she must have wanted to have a family with me, but never amounted to anything. I felt like a jackass, but hearing Julie, I was a happy jackass.

 

"I'll be there, honey," I told her. "I'm so happy you're getting married!"

 

"Oh, Daddy," said Julie. "If you only knew how much Tristan loves you. We want to do things right. We are crazy about you! You're my only Dad!"

 

"Pick me up, baby. I want to be at the rehearsal," I said. 

 

The tears felt warm and Summer got hotter with my cheeks and beard moistened from something that felt familiar and smelled like chocolate chip. I looked around, and Paul wasn't around. While waiting for Julie, I ran a mile up the road, and there was no small house, and no shack and nothing but barren land, and further up, there was a farm. I was confused and hurting inside of the memories left behind of Arlene, my darling wife whom I never cared to help. I fell to my knees and my heart broke in half. 

 

"I'm so sorry, darling," I said to Arlene, but she wasn't there. I looked above me, and kissed my hand, and uttered, "Thank you, Paul."

 

The End. Just write.

 

*Inspired by The Stand, a novel by Stephen King.

 

 

Be the first to comment

The Fly

There was a small fly on the trash can beside the door, inside the lunch room of some random place of work.

 

"Why is it just sitting there?" John said.

 

"Don't know, it's chillin'," said George.

 

"How come we always want to kill 'em? Them flies?" asked John.

 

"Well....look at it, it's on a trash can, why not kill it?" said George.

 

"Well, isn't it a sin?" asked John.

 

"I wanna kill you sometimes, but is not a sin," said George.

 

"What you mean you want to kill me? Because I'm askin' about some fly? What you getting at?" confronted John.

 

"Why you ask such dumb questions? Why is a fly just sittin' there. Why can't you do some work for a change," he said. George got angry.

 

"I'm working. I'm here aren't I? It's called asking an intelligent question. You know…questions, meant to be discussed," said John.

 

They looked at the fly and it was still there, chillin' according to George.

 

"Let's kill it," said John.

 

"Why you gotta kill everything? This is why I should kill you, maybe you should stop bullyin' some small fly and start workin' and stop rollin' that paper," said George.

 

John took a piece of paper from the kitchen table and tried to hit the fly with the rolled paper, as George tried to stop it. They wrestled each other, trying to kill a fly and what looked like a simple discussion turned into a fight.

 

"Why can't you leave them flies alone? Anti-violence," said George.

 

"It's a fly! Let me do it!" yelled John, because his manliness somehow could diminish if the fly wasn't dead in a few seconds.

 

Their boss, Olaf, walked in. He asked them, "What's this kerfuffle? I'm writing both of you up because you're wrestling in the kitchen."

 

John grabbed the rolled piece of paper, and tried to kill the fly, but he missed. George slapped John on the back of his head and Olaf saw him.

 

"Nevermind, you're both fired. I told you to stop, but you didn't acknowledge me," said Olaf.

 

"What? It's just a fly and a small argument. Why did you fire me?" asked John.

 

George slapped John on the back of his head, then John punched George on his face so hard that John fell down and almost passed out.

 

"You know, it don't mean much, but it felt good. I'm on the same side of the fly," said George.

 

"You're a stupid crazy man! It's just a fly," said John, trying to get back on his feet.

 

Olaf, the boss, wiped the trash can and the fly was stuck to the piece of paper. He looked at the fly closely on the paper and thought it was already dead.

 

"Hahahahah....," Olaf laughed at them so loud because the fly didn't fly at all, until it did, into his mouth.

 

Gulp, Olaf swallowed it.

 

"Oooo...that's embarrassin'," said John.

 

"Yea, it sure is," said George.

 

"Don't you ever tell anyone!" Olaf said, throwing the paper into the trash.

 

"You bet," said George. "But, we need our jobs back." George nodded once and kept his chin to his chest and smiled. "Nothing to be ashamed of."

 

"Promise Boss," said John, smiling a tender smile.

 

Olaf clenched his teeth, and walked out of the lunch room in slight irritation and a bad mood.

 

"Wasn't our fault," said John to George.

 

"It's in intestines heaven now," George replied.

 

The end. Just write.

Be the first to comment

Daddy's Girl

The Father knows his flock, and His arms are wide as the width of the universe encasing me in His love. The Father knows my life and there is nothing he doesn't understand about me, as I talk to Him in my days and nights, even in my sleep. My Father on Earth knows Him and my Father in heaven approves of his love for me. On a snowy evening, I visit him to see how he smiles at me as snowflakes falls on my face. 

 

My time with my Father on Earth and in Heaven are the means to my life, as they both teach me humility with mercy and grace. Troubles in the past, I tell them both, with honesty not fear. When I am afraid of their judgement, I ask my Father on Earth if my Father in heaven will be ashamed of me, and my Father on Earth stops for a moment and tells me, if he is on Earth then he will not, but unconditional love forgives the past. 

 

Moments of futile sadness that comes during loneliness from wrong steps, I tell them both. My Father on Earth tells me that I am His Princess and his alone and no one can change the fact and I am with him. With embrace they both hold me and they always remind me I am their beautiful daughter and their opinions ranks highest in my life. 

 

There will never be a moment when I forget my Father on Earth or in Heaven, because I love them deeply. I don't care if either of them grows old and weary, I am here and will never leave. 

 

Just write.

Be the first to comment

Blinded by Love

The Blind Dog Cafe bustled with customers on Black Friday, because Pearl Street in Boulder was a scene for the holidays each year. The cafe was just a block away from the main strip, as it drew customers from the local neighborhoods. John and Edith* were no stranger to the cafe with this being their tenth year as a blind couple, living in a small apartment on Spruce Street. They walked to the cafe this cold crisp Black Friday evening, holding hands with their white canes in opposite hands.

 

"Do you remember when we first met?" asked Edith, searching with her cane for a safe passage.

 

"Of course I remembered, your voice was tender and I couldn't stop the tingles on my spines," said John.

 

"You sounded like Morgan Freeman. Then you told me your last name was Hesselbeck, so I had to talk to you some more," said Edith. "It was a voice of experience and comfort. It soothed me."

 

"A woman's voice carries her heart, and I can hear a bitch from a mile away," said John, his white cane bumped onto a tree on planted Earth.

 

"Bitches be bitchin. They're in a sound proof room in heaven, that's the truth, so Jesus won't have to put up with them**," said Edith. "If I wasn't blind I would still marry you."

 

"That's the sweetest thing you said today, Edith," said John. "You'd rather marry me than that Beast of a Prince in Beauty and the Beast? The man looked good in Braille."

 

"Of course, honey. He's fantasy, and you know he'd leave me if there was a Belle in the horizon," said Edith. "The fact is, I'm blind, and we are both soulmates."

 

"I wondered why we're the handicapped, when a lot of people are born without a heart. They're missing the most common gene in the world. Kindness," said John.

 

They approached the street light, and Edith's cane hit the light pole. She pressed the button and heard the beeps as John held her free hand tight as they were about to cross the street.

 

"You know how people helped us when we were little?" asked Edith. "I bet they never stopped helping."

 

"I think you're right," said John. "I think the more kindness there are inside a human being, the more love lives inside this world."

 

The crossing signal beeped as John and Edith walked together towards The Blind Dog. There was a barista at the counter as expected, and as usual, John and Edith ordered their favorite cups of treats.

 

"Ron, is that you?" asked John. Ron was always there on Friday nights, and The Blind Dog was his usual gig.

 

"Yes, sir," said Ron. "Edith, you want your tumeric ginger latte?"

 

"Now that's the sound of a man who paid attention," said Edith. "Yes, Ron, let me have a cup, please."

 

"John, what are you having?" asked Ron, punching the item on his cash register.

 

"Half calf Americano, please," said John. "Can you pour a two percent at three inches from the top?"

 

"Will do, sir," said Ron.

 

"Let's go to France tonight," said John.

 

"By the Eiffel Tower, and you proposed to me?" asked Edith.

 

"Then we hold hands in the corner and eat something sugary," said John, in a bit of a giggle.

 

"Peppermint, plenty of them. I can smell it. Christmas is a few weeks away," said Edith.

 

"We can cuddle and pretend no one is watching," said John.

 

"We won't care because we're blind," giggled Edith.

 

"We can sip on our treats and think of London," said John. "And talk about that time when the Braille nubs misspelled port into portly."

 

Edith laughed, and said, "I can pretend I'm a blonde. With blue eyes."

 

John laughed, and replied, "Then we can dress up. Me, in a chaplin hat, and you in a red chiffon dress."

 

"Our lives are more glamourous blind than with our eyes," said Edith.

 

"I think that's the miracle of being us," said John. "There is no handicap with imagination."

 

Edith took his hand and kissed it, as they waited in line for their treats at the cafe. Christmas was just a few weeks away, but John and Edith lived in a world where Christmas as well as romance was an everyday tradition. They lived in reality with the light of their hearts and minds, and through them they were never in the dark. 

 

Just write.

 

* - J.R.R. Tolkien and Edith Tolkien

** - Derived from God Help the Child by Toni Morrison.

Be the first to comment

Christmas promise

It was a time of youth that I claimed love for literature in all of its forms, to hold true my heart of its ode to time and languages. I shall never discriminate any form of writings from all spaces and out of all mediums in this planet to educate myself of the true love of literature. 

 

All genres and all styles I shall forever learn, because I was already in love since I was young. And this Christmas, I won't neglect the classics.

 

I knew I was in love and this Christmas, I made a vow to own it to seep all of my juice from literature forever. I covered myself in stories and books since I was a child, and I won't be able to stop. It will forever be my creative habit. As I enjoyed the Christmas season with its lights and sweet flavors, I will return to my one true love, books and words. It might be lonely at first, but the payoff was always more rewarding than heartbreaks. I desired true love in human form, that I won't argue with, but since I found myself without a soulmate, I will keep loving, but in a literary form. 

 

For one thing, I won't have the funds to do otherwise, and with the Christmas season coming, utility bills will be my priority. However, my primary affection will remain literature and the art of it. Creative writings and what I blog will center my soul with grounding efforts to become more than I ever imagined, a good writer.

 

Not just for Christmas, but this true love was always inside me. Believe in me or not, I won't count on others to affirm. 

 

I shall do so myself, and I already started.

 

Just write.

 

Be the first to comment

A short folktale - The Prince of Tears

As beautiful as a pair of doves, were two lovebirds in the woods, near the Kingdom of Locksford. The young maiden's wavy hair was as dark as onyx with eyes as green as leaves and her skin was as tawny as the Earth. The Prince's shoulder length hair was brown as oak with large eyes as dark as coals and his skin as beautiful as ivory. They kissed and sang the most of beautiful love songs professing their love for each other. She lived not far yonder inside a commoner's cottage, but he was the Prince of Locksford and the king and queen awaited him home inside their castle.

 

"What must we do, my love?" she asked him. "I am just a poor villager."

 

"Not to worry. I will travel home and you shall fetch me in a fortnight to the gates of my castle. I will meet you there, and we will tell my parents about our plans. Then we will be joined in marriage by our priest, thereafter," he said. "No one will harm us, because I am the Prince and I can plead to my parents for their blessings."

 

"I shall meet you at the gates, my love," she said. "I will follow you shortly after you leave."

 

"Keep this handkerchief and this heirloom coin. For both will be your ticket into our city gates to meet me," he said. He bid her farewell only for short while, or so he thought, as he rode off on his black stallion to ask for his parent's permission and prepare for the imminent matrimony.

 

The young maiden walked to her cottage and took what was left of her belonging from her humble home, to prepare for travels to meet her prince charming. She slept the night away in dreams of love and a happily ever after.

 

The next day, on her journey to the city gates, a pack of wolves brutally attacked her. Her body was bloody and wounded and her belongings were destroyed. She had nothing but her tattered clothes and the two tokens of love from her prince.

 

Two sisters were walking in the woods and saw the remnants of the beautiful maiden on the ground.

 

"Is she dead?" Nahla, the older sister asked.


"She is but a carcass of dog meat. Let us leave her," said Mahla, the younger sister.

 

"I am alive, please help me," pleaded the wounded maiden.

 

Nahla and Mahla took the maiden and carried her back to their cottage by her arms and legs.  The maiden was heaving and the two sisters realized that the young maiden was near her last breath.

 

"I am to meet my love, the Prince of Locksford," said the maiden, as blood spurted out of her gut. "Can you help me?"

 

"The Prince of Locksford?" said Nahla, aghast, as her eyes became fierce with fires. Mahla was suddenly filled with jealousies and asked, "I deserve to meet the Prince of Locksford. How about did you meet such a man of prominence? You are nothing but dog meat!" said Mahla.

 

"But, I must tell him what happened. I have his handkerchief. Could you give this to him? And tell him I was savaged, but I will always love him?" said the maiden, heaving in tears of sorrow and suffering.

 

"I will do it, and I will see if the Prince will take me as his friend," said Nahla. Nahla smirked, because she was in joy for the beautiful maiden was dying in pain.

 

Nahla left her home and left Mahla with the maiden, and as the maiden cried in grief, Mahla asked her, "How would you know if he received the message if Nahla will not return? If I was in her shoes, I would take the Prince and tell him you were no longer his bride. Then perhaps, he would take me instead."

 

"Oh dear sister, please help me. It is my last wish, to tell him that I am forever in love with him," said the dying maiden.

 

Mahla asked her, "Then you will die alone?"

 

"Please take this coin for assurance that he will receive my message.  Please tell him, I am forever his, and his love is etched inside my soul, forever," said the maiden, with her last breath.

 

Mahla, still in disbelief of the maiden's death, took a knife and stabbed her through her heart to guarantee her death. She took the coin the maiden gave her and left to Locksford, to meet the Prince.

 

When the two sisters arrived at the gates, they were both angry at each other; because there were two tokens, not one, that might confuse the Prince of Locksford from choosing a replacement.

 

"What brings you here?" asked the Prince, in his full regalia, awaiting his bride.

 

"We are here to tell you, that your love had changed her mind," said Nahla.

 

"I was given this coin to tell you that I am to replace her," said Mahla.

 

"That is not true, my Prince. I was given this handkerchief. I am to replace her," said Nahla.

 

The Prince was devastated and his sadness overwhelmed him, as he dropped to his knees and wept that all of the angels in heaven felt his grief.

 

In heaven, the Lord of Lords saw the misfortune of the young maiden, whose spirit entered the pearly gates. He summoned his angels to bring the maiden's spirit into his court.

 

"Bring me the young woman. I have a plan for her. A plan to prosper her, not to harm her. A plan for a future and a hope. A plan for love," the Lord said.

 

The angels took the maiden's spirit and her soul was brought in judgment by the Lord's court.

 

"You were beaten and savaged. Was this true?" the Lord said.

 

"Yes, my Lord," said the young maiden, who faced death before her time.

 

"He loves you, The Prince of Locksford. You were meant to be together," said the Lord.

 

In the Kingdom of Locksford, the Prince spent all of his days and nights in his regalia on the seat of his throne, awaiting in tears for his beautiful bride. Each tear drop he cried became a million more and as he wept, the tears became gushing water that swept the villages and forests, as his castle flooded with tears. If his tears were made of gold, the Kingdom of Locksford would drown in treasures everlasting.

 

Nahla and Mahla were upset that they had to scale the castle walls and ceilings to find the highest points over ground to escape the waters.

 

"He loved her! What a weak soul he has," said Mahla.

 

"Only a fool would cry over lost love," said Nahla. "His bride will never come back to him. She was dog meat!"

 

Their lips spoke of the rotting hearts inside their souls, but the Prince cared not of their commentaries nor their beauty. They felt wrong, and he wept away, as he tried to heal through unleashing his emotion in prayers.

 

Each tear drop the Prince wept were collected in large glass jars by the angels and as millions of jars filled the heavenly sanctuaries, the Lord of all Lords sighed in affirmation to return true love to the Prince.

 

The Lord of Lords kissed the cheek of the young maiden, and instantly, she was brought to her prince. At that moment, her soul was given a second chance in true love. She was dressed in an iridescent gown, made of silk and diamonds, with a crown made of gold and rubies.

 

He saw her in front of his eyes as he fell to his knees out of sheer surprise and joy. The waters from his tears immersed into the ground and became the nutrients for the village and the forests. The trees and flowers around the castle bloomed and decorated the once flooded surrounding into blossoming springtime.

 

The Prince and the young maiden ran into each other's arms, and he asked her, "Did you send the two sisters to replace our love?"

 

"No, my love. It was my last dying wish to send them with a message that I loved you, till my dying days," said the maiden. "I was attacked by wolves in the midst of my travel."

 

"Who were the two sisters to you?" asked the Prince.

 

"I thought they would help me, so I gave them your tokens for me to send it to you. for our wedding day. But, they murdered me, instead," said the maiden.

 

The Prince of Locksford was angry and drew his sword out of its sheath and called his guards.

 

"Find me the two sisters with my handkerchief and coin. Bring them to me at once!" said the Prince.

 

The guards took the two sisters, and told them that the Prince had asked for their presence in the court.

 

"Is this the time of our marriage, sister?" said Nahla.

 

"I hope he will only take me, as his bride, and leave you inside your home, forever," said Mahla.

 

Nahla and Mahla fought and ripped each other's clothes, but the guards separated them and brought them to the Prince at once.

 

"Off with their heads. They have committed a grave crime. Fraud and blackmail! A crime amongst our people and an insult to the church!" commanded the Prince to the guards.  

 

And the two sisters were beheaded.

 

In heaven, the Lord saw the souls of the two sisters and told them.

 

"It is with great joy, that you both shall serve the worlds' worst criminals by cleaning their wastes inside their dungeons. For all eternity," said the Lord.

 

In the Kingdom of Locksford, the Prince realized his maiden was unprotected and was left in the forest amongst wolves, tigers, bears and many more carnivorous animals. He realized he should not have left love without attention or a clear pathway to love's return. He should have pleaded to the king and queen for a just approval of their love and appealed to never be harmed for their unconventional marriage.

 

Nahla and Mahla were random strangers whom the maiden desperately asked for help, after a tragic accident, and it was still common for the cruel world to harm the vulnerable and destroy innocent lives to claim selfish glory.

 

Thankfully, the Lord of Lords gave the Princess a second chance in life, and the Prince wanted to reclaim love and faithful loyalty to his maiden. After the approval of the King and Queen of the Kingdom of Locksford, they resumed their plans to wed and formed a family. The Kingdom of Locksford bloomed and their harvest multiplied as the Royal Family grew in numbers with a princess in waiting.

 

Unconventional marriages became a tradition for the Kingdom of Locksford, as royalties and prominent families married commoners who took their breath away, and previously married men and women were given second chances in love.

 

The tears of the Prince of Locksford gave so much harvest to the sunflowers in the fields as new buds grew each day. Sunflowers became the symbol of the Kingdom of Locksford, and as tradition, a prince would bring a blossom of it to his maiden for their first engagement, ever after.

 

Just write. The End.

Be the first to comment

Lifting myself up

My eyes hath seen a world anomaly

Of a love well deserved living inside me

My mind must be of magical sensory

With extraordinary nerves sending miracles

To ordinary beings in words carrying spirits

 

My bosom wishing for a clavicle of a ballerina

But, with profound confidence in between my chest

Wisdom of a life grinded by the mortars of fate

Found in anguish, sadness, but also triumphs

How grateful it was to have lived this life

 

With time as my best friend I walked this journey

Unafraid, bearing steadfast hope for an upside of love

Not wishful but trusting in His plan in all of its forms

Whether with or without, I walked and prayed

Petitioning for a destiny I desire met by His plans

 

It was always a working progress.

 

Just write.

 

 

Be the first to comment

I won’t stop

Supposedly, our natural mindset leaned to the negative, but for a while it set off on fire overdrive going uphill. It was my life and I deserved to care and devote my utmost for its highest potential. This drive was for myself and my fullfilling prophecy of faith in times of CoVid19.

 

I pushed forward, one step in front of the other, ignoring the cycles of doubts. The thoughts became ignorable as I glossed over them and they were nothing at all. 

 

Nothing could stop me, even the rude blames of indecent women or men shifting their hatred towards me. Nothing. I was destined for greatness, given from God and professed by me under heaven. I was the strong tower and won't ever be shot down. 

My will was always designed with an unbeatable compassion and hope unfailing,even in the darkest of times while under pressure. I was the diamond, beautified by trauma and a well-oiled machine, Dei Gratia. I was never meant to fail and even when my hair grew long beneath my back and buttocks, it will flow with grace and passion. 

I persevered, and I won't stop!

 

Just write.

Be the first to comment

My, oh my....

The performance ended with Giuseppe Baptiste and Pearsons Rockfield bowing in unison. Pearsons Rockfield jumped with his hands in the air and the small crowd jumped up with him.

 

"This morning is the beginning of a long list of performances all across the world in spirit of violas in the universe," said Giuseppe Baptiste.

 

Karina, Rambo and I looked at each other and wondered why there would even be such a thing? We ran behind the performance circle area and waited for them to have a dialogue of some sort.

 

Pearsons Rockfield came out of the circle and walked towards the back of the garden while Giuseppe Baptiste followed him.

 

I watched them walking towards me and looked at their fingers for signs of the ring that had the symbol of the machete and fire that brought back memories of the perpetrator who hurt Karina.

 

Karina stood behind me, as I felt her fears and tremors in her soul. 

"Baby, don't worry please. We're here for you," I told her. Rambo held her shoulders and we walked towards Pearsons and Giuseppe.

 

"May we bother you for a conversation? We are huge fans," I said politely. Karina and Rambo stayed a few feet behind me.

 

"Well, adoration is our favorite form of flattery," said Pearsons Rockfield. He took out his hair brush that was in his back pocket and started brushing his hair.

 

"Young one, oh you must love me so much to come so boldly for a chance to meet me. Tell me where I can sign my autograph," said Giuseppe Baptiste as he blinks Morse code - Worship me, you smitten puppy!

 

"Eehhh, I wanted to ask questions, for a simple clarification and for a statement from you both," I said.

 

Rambo came closer beside me, and said, "In adoration, of course...". 

I looked for Katina and she was holding Rambo's shirt. My Father came along behind her with Boris and Betina in the stroller.

 

"I also have some questions alongside my sons," said my Father. "And this here is Karina, my adopted daughter."

 

Giuseppe and Pearsons looked in awe as they closed their gaping mouth with their hands.

 

"Be Jesus, you mean you are all from different mothers of this same man? How might I be of your acquaintance sir!" said Pearsons Rockfield.

 

"No, no, not that way, but these two little ones are Karina's and she is a survivor, by men of The New Order, who assaulted her because of her soul privilege to gain prosperity and honor for their souls and to become famous or gain riches," said my Father.

 

I was ready to get shot somehow, by one of their body guards, but there were none.

 

"Oh we are non-violent, young ones," said Giuseppe Baptiste. "I was ordained as a holy priest."

 

"That's not how you came into power as was written in history," I said.

 

"We can resolve this," said Pearsons Rockfield. "I am his advisor."

 

"And how have you advised him, Sir Pearsons Rockfield? By letting the men who works for him abuse the system and hurt the vulnerables like Karina?" Rambo asked.

 

"Why you dare to raise your tongue at me?!" said Pearsons Rockfield.

 

"Explain to us why there are men with artillery and vehicles looking for the last of the Royals, only to harm them?" I asked. "Wasn't that how you also gained all of the control in the world."

 

Pearsons Rockfield turned reddish brown on his face as Giuseppe Baptiste began to stutter. "Bub bub but, that was not at all my purpose in this control," he said.

 

Pearaons Rockfield looked angry and his eyebrows scrunched and his balding head began to sweat as pearl drops rose from the top of his balding head.

 

"We have the power to prosecute you and kill you if we want!" Yelled Pearsons Rockfield.

 

"But you still need to prove to us that you are both non-violent," said my Father.

 

"Was it because of heart breaks? A woman scorned you? Hated you and burned you? She left you for another?" asked Karina. "I was hurt and the men never took responsibility for their actions."

 

"Why you little wench! You are blaming us for the sins of others?" shouted Pearsons Rockfield. Giuseppe Baptiste blinked and blinked and this time the message was - "Gogshiged whyandhb! &7¥hike?" 

My Fathers d I could read his blinks and I knew they were in fear. 

Immediately, two men as big as horses came approaching us. They were dressed in suits and ties and walked with an aggressive body language.

 

Karina shook and stood behind me, but she knelt down and took the stroller and held Boris inside her arm. "In this baby boy, is the answer to life," said Karina.


"Only fools would preach thus without shame," said Pearsons Rockfield.

 

"This baby has more love inside him than both of you and all of your armies," said Karina.

 

"How bold!" Giuseppe Baptiste said with a gasp. "What is your name?"

 

Pearsons Rockfield was irritated and elbowed Giuseppe Baptiste. "She is our opposition!"

 

"Why must I be your enemy? I've been hurt and never harmed you. Are you afraid of me?" asked Karina.

 

"Pearsons and Giuseppe, we want to know why you allowed your men to harm vulnerable people? And why would you hurt good families and hurt Royals, to get what you want?" I said.

 

Pearsons Rockfield and Giuseppe Baptiste we're silent. 

"Do you want to annihilate them, my Royal Highnesses?" Said the gargantuan men in suits and tie.

 

Pearsons Rockfield was noticeably irate with both of his hands akimbo. "I was forced into my last marriages and I won't do it again! From now on, I control everyone's destinies!" he said. "You dare to go against me? Huh! Insolents!"

 

My Father, Rambo, Karina and I gasped. Giuseppe Baptiste held his hands in between his legs, covering his shame, discreetly.

 

"That was your problem the whole time?" Karina asked.

 

"You married twenty times and you never got to choose the right person?" Why did you do it? No one twisted your arms?" asked Rambo.

 

"Because I was forced to marry for politics," said Pearsons Rockfield. "So now, I will control the world!"

 

"Giuseppe, who did you want to love?" I asked.

 

He shrugged his shoulders and raised his arms in the air, "Myself!!!'" 

"You are two of the most moronic people I have ever met!" My Father said. "It was because you never had love with the people you wanted so you punished the whole world? Why didn't you ask the person out and say your truths?"

 

"I married for money and privilege and for authority! But, they hated me. The right man was too much to handle," said Pearsons Rockfield.

 

My Father, Karina, Rambo and I gasped and held our hands over our lips. "Oh...," we all said in unison.

 

Giuseppe suddenly lowered his head and looked coy towards Pearsons Rockfield. "Sorry, dear,..." he said.

 

My Father, Karina, Rambo, and I gasped and held our hands over our right cheek. "Oh my,....," we said in unison.

 

Karina suddenly burst into tears, and hugged Pearsons Rockfield. "I'm sorry! Everyone deserves true love!"

 

Just write.

Be the first to comment