Poetry of Words

This entry is for What Poetry Means to Me at Poets Who Blog and Monday Poetry Train.

dark letters lay bare on white sheets of yesteryear
intertwine in each other's words
groups of clouds dance in the blue
what creatures create this view
of love and pain in the wide open sky

heated words no longer staid
they crash your mind
they crash your body
losing their emotional tail
without ever leaving home

whether in despair or bliss
whether in rain or shine
thoughts fall like dandelions in the slow winds of summer
a touch, a feel
all will be consume by one and all

write them down
before they are forgotten
write them down
before they fade away
write them down now

In the ravine of sleep

This entry is for Monday Mural at Poefusion.


Image by guavaguavalamp from Photobucket.

in the ravine of sleep
oceans of eyes dripping tears
down a deserted beach

she walks alone
drench in earth's water
but she takes delight in the cloudburst

a moment of peace
suddenly disappears
into the darkness of a car

it rolls over onto its tummy
crashing into a coconut tree
she slips out in a haze

in the open darkness
she calls to him, "where are you?"
its reply - a fading echo

she turns to see him still inside the dark hood
his eyes spilling over with pain
she reach out her hands to him

for a moment she holds his hand in hers
darkness enfolds her eyes
she can hear herself screaming his name into the night

she opens her eyes to the lights
of the sun filtering through the shade
alone, she falls back to bed

she turns to the empty space beside her
spreads her fingers on the cold sheets, feeling no presence
and knew he was really gone

New Year

This entry is for Mad Kane's Limerick and Haiku Prompt. This week's theme: wine and spirits or the New Year or, if you prefer, both.

This is also for Sunday Scribblings: New or New Year.

new year resolution
to do nothing, sleep through time
and wait for nothing

------------------------

this year's new year resolution
to stop making new resolution
better to sit and whine
drinking spirits and wine
than end up making retribution

Letter from Isabelle 10

This entry is for Sunday Scribblings: Now & Then. This will be the last part to this story. Thank you for reading.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8
Part 9

Date: December 31, 2007
Dear L,

All our lives were spent on these trains and yet I never thought we would see each other again here. Just riding trains - not to go anywhere in particular but to just be there, moving along - each stop never a destination but another passing exit. We used to chased each other through the trains, running through each car like animals that have just escaped the zoo and now freed to roam the streets. Sometimes you would make crazy faces at people and freak them out just a little. I would follow but I could never be as daring as you. I could never yell at people for no reason. But you - you were brave and wild - always creating chaos when there were none. I have always admired your adventurous streak. It was always the one trait that I wished I had. Considering everything scares me, I guess you kept me sane and made me brave when I wasn't.

It was just you and me. Our parents couldn't understand. They never had the same bond with their siblings. I guess that's why they chose to keep a certain distance between us and them.

Now riding the train wasn't the same anymore. I couldn't bring myself to run through any trains or jump on the seats or make animal noises. The quiet spaces between the stops weren't as peaceful as it used to be. There were always too much noise. Noise of the outside, noise of the inside. Inside my head images and sounds overfilled every space leaving no room for new thoughts.

Yesterday I was riding the train with Joy sitting next me to my right, my vision suddenly became crystal clear. There she was - Joy - my friend, my neighbor, next to me in her pink outfit reading a romance novel. On her handbag hang a silver cigarette lighter with the "L" initial on a chain. She was an odd image in her pink suit, her legs in black stocking, her hands with their long pink nails, her skin, a dark tan. I can clearly see the faded scar on her left cheek, covered in makeup but still very visible. Her ultra blond wig shinning in the late afternoon sun creating a certain glow around her.

I looked away for a moment to see if anyone else was looking at us. But no one was. The train was half empty filled only with tired people sitting by themselves. I thought it must be my imagination but she was real, sitting next to me reading her novel. Am I dreaming and not know it? Was it my wishful thinking that set up this vision?

I rubbed my eyes to clear them. I can smell the scent of Chanel NO. 5. I touched her arm. Her head lifted up from her novel. Her dark blue eyes covered in pink eye shadow, looked straight at me. I knew then that it was you, L. It was really you! Her lips spread into a smile knowing what I was thinking. I wanted to say something silly, something to justify that moment. We said no words to each other as the train kept moving. But knew it was okay now. We won't have to miss each other now. You placed your hand over mine, its warm touch kept me in that moment.

My eyes searched yours, looking for the person I had grew up with, the person that I have always knew. He was there but now in a different shell. I couldn't get over how you looked. Is this person in front of me really my brother? Had my vision been good, would I have known if it was you? Would I even guess that this could be you? Was it fate that I couldn't see you before but I can because I have finally accepted you the way you are?

All this time and I never even thought you would end up as this new person - Joy - my friend, my neighbor. You told me once but I never actually listen. Now I knew - this was always your intention. This was and is the final you.

"Happiness is but a moment shared with someone you love." That's what you've always said to me and it had always stuck with me. I knew at that moment I was really happy.

I wrote this down so you can understand what that moment meant to me. As you read this, L, please forgive me for not believing in you. As twins, I thought we were never alike but now I knew I was wrong. We were alike, almost like one person separated into two pieces with the same feelings and thoughts that often mirror each other. Sure, there were slight differences but it never occurred to me that you wanted to be like me. I didn't understand then why you wore feminine-like clothes or why you chose to keep your hair long or why you distanced yourself away from me when I got new female friends. Now it's all clear to me.

Whatever had separated us, it didn't matter now. We're together now and we can work things out. Even if Mom and Dad still could not accept the facts.

Now I knew you were always there for me. It was you on that train track and in the ambulance in that pink outfit. It was you that helped me with my laundry and encouraged me to step out of my apartment. It was you that gave me those three gifts. How strange to meet a new person who just happen to be the one you're searching for in the same place that you always knew him to be.

And on a side note, you've managed to set me up with a date for New Year's. The man with the green eyes - I was excited but tried not to show it. I'm still scare to go anywhere but knowing you there when I need you, makes it less terrifying.

Joy, thank you for being you and being my brother or rather sister.

your sister,
Isabelle

Heavy Rain

This entry is for Friday 5 at Poefusion. This week's words are scrivener, distal, parapet, gilt, trace.

the sky poured heavily, indiscriminately
upon the roofs of a scrivener's home
bits of dark woods distal on the edge of the roof, breaking free
falling gently onto the front gilt driveway

dark water seeps through the cracks and into the inner layer of the house
droplets of water fell all around him
but he kept tapping on his laptop
in the bright lights of a single yellow lampshade

a thumping sound pricked his eager mind
he listened, furrowing his brows
he waited until the sound stopped
then he turned back to his laptop, relieved by the silence

a sudden thunderous roar sent shivers down his back
he looked up to see his roof ripped and blew up into the maddening sky
he screamed, jumped off his chair and ran outside with his laptop
he gazed at his house through his rain-stained glasses

the rain dispersed slowly
any trace of his home was covered under the piles of crumbled mess
surrounded by the rows of leftover parapet wall
he hung on tightly to his laptop and smiled, at least he got to finished his novel

Letter from Isabelle 9

This entry is for Fiction Friday. The Challenge: Your adult character just got a guitar for Christmas -- a gift very out of character. What changes, if any, does this cause in her life or personality? (You may adjust the instrument if a guitar would be out of place or time in your story.)

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About Fiction Friday

Part 1
Part 2
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Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7
Part 8

Date: December 27, 2007
Dear L,

One of the Christmas gift from Joy were piano lessons. I've never been good at learning instruments but somehow the idea of learning to play the piano was so intriguing that I had to try it. L, you were always good at learning even without any teaching. I remembered how I had envied you when you learned to play the piano in just two weeks. Of cause I was given the chance to take lessons but I just could not bring myself to go - how can I ever play the same way as you?

I can now almost see everything clearly enough to go outside by myself. Yesterday was my first lesson. I decided to walk the few blocks to Mrs. Winter's place by myself. Joy had showed me how to get there a few days ago.

I felt like I was following your every step. Here in the dark street, I can see what's ahead of me - lights, cars, trees, buildings but no, you were not there. Not next to me, not walking beside me. Not there blocking the chilly wind from touching my face, not there to tighten my hat, not there to stop me from crossing the street blindly before a car stop dead in front of me with the owner cursing me out while you scream at them for being crappy drivers.

You were not there. I wanted to cry but my eyes, they just refocused on the street lights. I could not feel any tears coming or anything stuck in my throat. Just a bit of loneliness that seem to settled around me as I walked the streets. My legs wasn't completely healed so I had to walk with a cane. I moved slowly along the sidewalk, hoping not to fall. But of cause I did. I fell against a man who fell down along with me. I guess I must have tripped him with my cane.

I apologized endlessly, just babbling away words. He helped me to my feet and wanted to know if he can help me. I can smell the scent of fresh soap and felt a familiarity with him. I know I must have seen him before but couldn't decide where. His face was slightly blurry. His voice was calm and soothing. I told him I was fine and that I have done this hundreds of times. He laughed lightly as if delighted by my independence. I tried to smile but I knew I wasn't smiling at all.

I apologize again and walked away, trying to go fast but was unsuccessfully. He followed me, placed his hand on my shoulder, saying he remembered me from the train. I can feel the warmth from his hand on my shoulder. I said "What train?" Then he said,"The one where you fell onto the tracks? Don't you remember?"

I stopped walking, gripping my cane tightly in my hand. I remembered - the man with the green eyes. I remembered his face - the way he looked at me. I have seen him when the old man died on the train and often afterward, riding in the same car. He was always only a few steps away, always polite. If he looks my way, I would quickly turn away. But his green eyes were ingrained in my mind. In those rides, I often daydreamed about speaking to him, even getting to know him but those were just wishful thinking.

I have never felt so awkward around anyone before but this man kept my heart jumping so fast I could barely hear myself think. I wanted to make an excuse, to escape but my mind clear itself out as if it didn't want me to think.

I said thank you and rushed away. I heard him calling me to stop but I kept on going. At Mrs. Winter's place, I felt calmer. The cool touch of the piano keys kept my mind at ease. I can see the keys but they weren't clear. I knew my hand were shaking. It felt strange being the only student but Mrs. Winter was so pleasant and her voice was delicate and calming. It was awkward at first, but I managed to learned the keys but reading the music was not something I can do but Mrs. Winter told me I don't need to read the music to play it. She was very patient with me.

After the lesson, I felt I had accomplished something worthwhile. I knew I would not be an expert at it but just learning and going through the process is enough for me. How I wished you could have seen me, sitting there, my fingers on the keys. You would be proud that I didn't run away when it got so frustrating. Now I have something to look forward to each day.

I often wondered where you are, if you are thinking of me, if...L, if you're out there, I hope you are well. I know I keep going around in circles but I am trying to stop. I can't always break free when the past kept pushing me in that direction but I will try. You've always said, "Forget what had already happened, focus only on what's in front of you." I'm trying. Every day, I am trying.

Isabelle

Read Part 10 (last part) here.

Letter from Isabelle 8

This entry is for 3WW. This week's words are Curious, Eventually, Shower.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6
Part 7

Date: December 26, 2007
Dear L,

Memories, they seem so distance, so far out of reach. I longed for their return but knew in the end, they would bring pain and devastation to my life once again. Each day, more of them flood their way into my mind.

It's nearing the end of the year and I have not decide what to do. I wasn't in a rush to get back to my old life and yet they kept resurfacing with each hour that passed.

I was never the curious type and yet now small things can trigger a longing for new curiosity that I never had before. I'm sure eventually the feeling of newness will pass but for now everything's fill with surprises.

My vision's still a blur but getting better. Each day when I open my eyes in the morning, I would see something clearer, something familiar. Still I often have to feel my way around my apartment.

My neighbor, Joy, showered me with presents yesterday. She knocked on my door knowing I wouldn't answer unless it was urgent. She screamed "Isy, I hurt myself! Please come out and help me!"

I didn't hesitated, I fumbled my way to the door and opened it with my hands outstretched. Joy laughed and placed three presents into my arms - one for each time that I had stepped outside my door.

I wanted to get mad at her but her pleasant laughter and infectious joy always makes me want to smile. She invited me over for Christmas dinner and even though I didn't want to accept, I knew she would coax me into it.

After our Christmas dinner - chicken and broccoli with white rice and diet coke - Joy persuaded me to go take a walk outside. I refused at first saying it was too cold. But my excuses couldn't stop Joy. She knew I was afraid to go outside of my apartment. The fear of being trample by a car or a person filled my head.

It wasn't snowing but the air was bitter cold. With my cane in one hand and my other hand on Joy's arm, I walked for the first time, outside my apartment. The nerves in my stomach kept jumping around. I was afraid but with Joy there, somehow the fear subsided. We walked slowly but steadily down the cold streets. I can smell pizza and hot chocolate but I can't see the beautiful decorations. Joy described them to me. She was very talented in articulating the details of everything around us.

I felt a kinship with Joy. Everything she does and said seem so familiar and yet I cannot pinpoint where I have known her. Or if I had known her. I tried to tell myself that Joy is not my brother, even if everything about her - the way she shielded me from the cold, the way she straighten my hat before we went outside, the way she smell - all familiar things to me. I tried not to overbore her with memories of you. It's bad enough that I kept comparing her to you.

All this time searching for you, I've forgotten myself. I've forgotten that I have a life, that I need to live with or without you. In my silly state of mind I had thought maybe I would have another chance with you, L. But now I could not hope to see you again. Each day, more of you disappear and more of me reappear. I cannot go on like this - forever reminding myself of you, forever dreaming that you would show up at my door and hold me in your arms and tell me you're still there. I can't do that to myself anymore. I need to move on. Joy reminded me I can still start over. It's not an end but a beginning. I know I will forget you eventually but inside, I know you are never gone.

That night I had an odd dream about my accident. But it wasn't a dream but a memory. At least in my mind, it felt like a memory.

In it, I was laying on the train tracks. Red liquid had covered my eyes, I can only see partially. A man - his eyes full of concern, a circle of green, was staring down at me. He was telling me not to move. He seem to be checking me out. I felt a sharp pain in my head. I reached for my head but he told me not to. He wiped the liquid from my eyes with something soft. I can see his face, almost smiling at me. He told me to keep my eyes open. "Stay awake!" he shouted. I tried but I wanted so much to close them but the man kept shouting at me, keeping me awake. Everything looked like it has a soft edge to them. His creamy face, a calm ocean of softness, stayed vivid.

A lady in pink who reminded me of Joy, held my hand while the man was putting pressure on my head with his warm hand. I didn't feel any pain but the strong urge to sleep kept tugging at me. Soon I was carried off the tracks and onto a stretcher. I can see the sky becoming dark and all I can see were shapes, blurry images. They gathered around me in the ambulance.

But the lady in pink seem to be smiling at me through the dark shadows. "You can sleep now," she said softly as my eyes began to close. I felt a gentle kiss on my forehead.

I woke up to the sounds of the city. It never sounded so loud as this morning. The cold air reminded me it's still winter. I wrapped the sheets around me, laid on my side and looked out the window at the dark, blurry sky. I smiled knowing today was the day to start over. Things aren't as gloomy as it use to be. I hope someday I might just be myself again. Maybe when I finally wake up from all of this, I would realize I was not alone.

Isabelle

Read Part 9 here.

Just Bloom

This entry is for Writers Island: Earth.



one tiny seed
sprang from the underground
covered under the bitter cold of snow
burnt by the heat of summer
just waiting to bloom

under the heavy sky of clouds
under the shade of another
it continued
slowly but steadily
still waiting to bloom

small as it was
it stuck in its place
neglected, forgotten
covered by new earth
it waited to bloom nevertheless

years later
out it came
bit by bit
stretching its wings high into the sky
catching the sun
with its colorful leaves and long arms

a child sat with his legs swinging
upon the branches
of this grand tree
that grew
out of a tiny moment of life

Giving

This entry is for One Deep Breath. The prompt is: Giving.

everything you are
seep with tender emotions
spread among us like

wildfire of life
small gestures of warmth
makes our heart smile

drench your mind in this
moment of real happiness
give only yourself

Mist of your dreams

This entry is for Monday Mural at Poefusion. Image by by Michelle Johnson.


if you leave
go west
in the direction of the wind
you will find

a new path of life
for you
a new town
to seek new purpose

just go
don't look back
see with your eyes close
in the mist of your dreams

hands hold tight
to the nights and days
of new memories and new desires
for someday, you will find

your heart
laying within yourself
night after night
new tears upon your shoulder

a reminder
you are love
here, there
and everywhere

don't wait
just go
to a new town
to a new purpose

don't look back
your answers are waiting
where wild flowers grow
west is where your heart should go

go now
there is no need to hesitate
go now, go west
you will find yourself there

Pieces of you

This entry is for Monday Poetry Train.

you
made of soft substance
fell so hard
but landed so subtlety
upon my heart

you
reached deep inside me
to find the chaos
the messy parts of my myself
believing it to be grand

you
loved without a thought
leaving your heart to be crush
into million bits of confetti
falling like teardrops from heaven

you
jumped at the chance to be free
running as far as you can
blocking out the pain
that burned into your insides

you
sought new words to defined yourself
taking only the ones that suited you
writing them down in your notebook
savoring the language of life

you
sang until your lungs froze
words of hope and love
your voice ever so softly
raised above the others

you
rearranged your mind
to fitted into my mine
not before you told me it's alright to fail
in this fight or in this life

you
made yourself whole
in this halfhearted world
fighting the losing battle
with your guts fully exposed

you
slaved all your life in your anguished mind
no control of your body
no control of who you are
finally falling to the end

you
left a large hole in my small heart
no returning to me, you said
you were gone from this world
but not from my thoughts

Letter from Isabelle 7

This entry is for Sunday Scribblings: Holiday Memories.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5
Part 6


Date: December 15, 2007
Dear L,

Memories came in bits and pieces - just swimming in my mind - all those holidays that we used to shared, all the presents that we were given, all the tidbits of what used to be my happy life - unglued in front of me. Images of you and me opening our presents in front of the huge Christmas tree that Dad insisted on getting each Christmas even though it scratches the ceiling.

I recalled the Christmas where you declared you wanted to be an actor. We were surrounded by close relatives during what to be a very long dinner. We had just turned twenty-one that very week. You had too much white wine. You draped yourself with the white table cloth and started reciting Shakespeare, while dancing around the room. We all had a good laugh. They all thought you were joking but I knew you weren't.

Later that night, you told Mom and Dad about your plans to quit college and start your acting career. Their faces folded into a stern, but concern look. You, Mom, Dad were in the living room while I was near the kitchen door peering through the small opening. I can hear your voices - rising and falling. I can hear your voice shaking and crying. I listened as I grabbed plates and silverware and placed them into the dish washer. I wanted to go in there and tell them to let you go but I couldn't. I wanted you to stay and the thought of you so far away made me stayed in the kitchen.

After the fight, you told me all about it. I wanted to comfort you but I couldn't bring myself to. That was when I threw that vase at you that placed a large scar on your left cheek. You walked out of the house and toward the playground where we used to play as kids.

I knew you were there. I walked there in the cold with my winter coat and my wool hat. I sat down on the swing next to you. We had always wondered why the playground was always opened. You said it was so kids can have a place to run away to.

I can see the blood on your cheek in the dull streetlight. You looked at me with your beautiful blue eyes full of tears. I couldn't help it as tears spilled out of my eyes and you stood up and pushed me in the swing like we did when we were kids. We said nothing but I knew you had already forgiven me.

You gave me a hug before we left the playground. You were a head taller than me. My head rested on your shoulder. I can smell the scent of pine trees from when you helped Dad carried the Christmas tree home. I felt safe in your arms. Then you gave me my Christmas present - a silver angel made from wires, hanging on a silver chain. You showed me the one you're wearing around your neck. You handmade them just for us - two unique angels. You said we'll be each other's guardian angel. You kissed the top of my head and told me you won't leave without saying goodbye. We walked home holding hands, like two kids going to school.

Of cause, you did leave without saying goodbye. The very next day after another big fight with Mom and Dad. I was at the library doing research. When I came home, you were gone. I don't think I cried. I locked myself in my door until the semester started again.

It was always as if Mom and Dad didn't want us to change, to grow up. They wanted us to stay the same - the same sweet Isy and the same lovable Leo. But that's not how we turned out. Our final Christmas dinner together with Mom and Dad occurred when we were sixteen. They had decided or they had us agreed that it was best we don't have any Christmas dinners or wasted time buying presents for each other. I thought that was the end of our closeness - our beginning separation from Mom and Dad. It seem we were not the only ones that were changing. They too, seem rather reluctant to admit that they didn't like their children as much as they used to.

I supposed we disappointed them by following in their footsteps as doctors or lawyers - both professors that Mom and Dad's family were all in. I didn't turned out to be the genius lawyer that they wanted and you, Leo, didn't turned into the family doctor or the heart surgeon that Dad was. I knew you wanted to be an actor and I, well, I couldn't decide. I can't seem to make a decision and stick to it. I had always thought you would help me to decide but instead you've left me alone to decide on my own.

We went to separate colleges and that had always devastated me. We were already separating even before college. I thought at least we would see each during breaks but you had other plans. You joined an actors' theater and didn't have any time for me. I had settled on two majors but knew in the end, I had forced myself into making those decisions. I have never blamed you for my indecision. I supposed I had opened myself to more wounds that won't heal.

College life didn't suited me. I often stayed in my dorm for weeks and the thought of ever completing anything was so far from my mind. Still I had managed to finished college, get a job and a place of my own. While you moved to Los Angeles to continued your acting career. You weren't there at my graduation. I felt alone even in Mom and Dad's presence.

Two weeks later, I received letters from you but they seem so impersonal, so unlike you. After a while, they didn't come. The last one had said you moved back to New York, our hometown which I had always stayed. I never wanted to see the world, it was always you. I thought you would contact me but there was no letter or phone calls from you. Mom and Dad told me to forget about you. But I couldn't, how could I? Your twin sister with whom you had shared so many secrets and dreams? So many late nights we stayed up late just talking. I wished I had paid more attention to you. I guess I was in my own selfish world and couldn't see you as you were.

My vision is getting better now. Bright lights I can see but faces, they are still dark and blurry. I didn't dare go outside unless I had to. Seeing the world in the dark - night or day - seem scary. Dr. R told me it would take another month or two for my sight to completely return. His voice sounded so reassuring but it didn't make me feel any less pessimistic.

There's a new tenant across from me - a very nice lady with a somewhat heavy voice but very sweet. I couldn't see her face so I have no idea what she looked like. She often helped me with my laundry which seem to be the only thing I wanted to do. Fresh laundry had always brought back memories of our summers together. Anyway, this lady, called Joy, reminded me of you. I don't know what it is - just her presence brought some comfort to me, like you used to.



I held in my hand, the silver angel, your last Christmas gift to me, which I always wear around my neck. I knew, I hope, that you were watching over me. I leave you with your favorite song, Time After Time, it seem to summed up my mood this year. Here's hoping you are having a joyful holiday wherever you are. Maybe one day we'll find each other.

lying in my bed I hear the clock tick,
and think of you
caught up in circles
confusion is nothing new
flashback, warm nights
almost left behind
suitcases of memories,
time after

sometimes you picture me
I'm walking too far ahead
you're calling to me, I can't hear what you've said
then you say, go slow
I fall behind
the second hand unwinds

if you're lost you can look and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
time after time

after my picture fades and darkness has turned to gray
watching through windows you're wondering if I'm OK
secrets stolen from deep inside
the drum beats out of time

if you're lost you can look and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
time after time

you said go slow
I fall behind
the second hand unwinds

if you're lost you can look and you will find me
time after time
if you fall I will catch you I'll be waiting
time after time

time after time...

Isabelle


Read part 8 here.

Love

This entry is for Mad Kane's Limerick and Haiku Prompt 3. This week's theme: love at first sight or, if you prefer, simply love.



it came fast and slow
first sight of love in your eyes
appeared without thought

Cold Comfort

This entry is for Friday 5 at Poefusion. This week's words are sanitary, fuselage, ache, paste, pardon. The Theme: It's Unlike Me.

frowning in my own existence
copy and paste these words until they fit into this small space

of body that doesn't cover me like the fuselage of an aircraft
leaving me bare to any emotions that ache in me

pardon me for wanting to
tuck this loneliness into an envelope and mail it to the world

there's no sanitary safe haven to run to
when germs fall like snowflakes upon my sheer protection of will

it's unlike me to fear sneezing and coughing faces
riding this train has cause me to hide deep inside my coat collars

the crowding of this ride is too much
leave now, run to the exit, quick!

outside the air is too cold
wishing for a warm blanket of cold medicine

shot them into my arms and leave me be
for I cannot stand this any longer!

Reverie

Fiction Friday: This Week’s Challenge: What happens when your character is dragged to a Solstice celebration?
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About Fiction Friday


So there I was at another party dragged to by my friend, Eric, who probably needs to get out more than me. It was a friend of a friend of a friend's party. Who knows how many friends, knowing Eric, it could be tons. I'm not much into celebrating this year but it was the first party before the Christmas season rolls around and I really didn't feel like staying home alone.

"Hi," a skinny redhead holding a tan glass of beer said to me. She was clearly drunk with her eyes wandering back and forth. She smiled, then sip from her cup, then smiled again. I said hello and then she fell to the ground. I caught her by the arm but she fell down anyway. All that disappeared when I saw her.

There, among the drunken crowd was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen. With her dark closed cropped hair, skin as pale as snow, and eyes like the moon, she was like a dream. Wearing a black dress that was clearly made to fit her body, she walked up to me and asked me to dance. I could only nodded my head as she led me to the dance floor.

Before I knew what was happening, I was holding her gently with one hand on her back and the other grasping her soft creamy, cool hand. She was casually smiling. Up close, her skin glisten like a million stars. There wasn't much talking as the music played. It was perfect - slow jazz filled the air, enclosing us in serenade of sounds.

I swore she looked like some actress who had died many years ago. Her long swan-like neck was bare, shinning in the soft yellow light. She leaned against me as if she had done that all her life. The bare skin of her back felt like silk and I can smell the scent of...of what? I don't know but it was faded, almost like something out of the past. I brushed my lips upon her bare shoulder and can hear her gentle breathing sound.

She kept her head on my shoulder until the music stopped. Then she lifted her head up and kissed me on both cheeks. Her lips felt cool but soft. With a smile and a gentle touch of her hand on my cheek, she said, "Ciao."

I was too numbed to even stopped her as she walked away into the crowd. Before I can snapped out of my reverie, she was far away, a few steps to the outside chill. I ran after her out of the house and into the parking lot but she was gone. I walked around a bit hoping to see her but there was no sight of her or anyone else. The bitter chased me back inside.

Inside I asked Eric if he had seen the girl I was dancing with but he didn't seem to know what I was talking about. I guess he was too drunk to even noticed anything.

Did I imagined her? Was she a dream? There was something strange about her and yet it felt magical. As cheesy as that may sounded, that was the one word that can really described that night.

"Joslin, you're such a fool," I kept telling myself. Why the heck didn't I even ask her name? Was I even awake at the time? Was I too drunk from her intoxicating scent to remember her clearly or maybe I did drink?

Whenever I am near that same place, it always brings up images of her. I can still remembered her face and the scent of her never left me. Images of her always seem to be through a cloud of white smoke, like a faded memory that was mine but at the same time, it felt like it was someone else's.

Her words

Entry for Six Sentences.

She spends her days writing short verses and stories to post on her blog that only a few would read. Each new post brings new words of encouragement and new ways to un-praise herself. She searches for answers but knowing she couldn't find any, keeps her just a few spaces between her and the rest of the world. In her words, she speaks of her loneliness and doubts but left her heart open for interpretations. There are no messages too contrive, too wordy or too emotional for her not to deliver. Lost in the images and links of anonymous bloggers, she wanders but rarely pause long enough to leave her words behind.


Read part 2 here.

A Moment in the Dark

This entry is for Three Word Wednesday. This week's words are clumsy, fire, overlooked.

Over there by the train door, a couple were standing together. The girl was right in front of the guy, casually knitting away while happily conversing with the guy. Her smile was equally matched by his wide grin.

The train was filled to the brim. Any left over spaces were taken by big coats and hats. The train was moving steadily faster with each second causing her to bounced forward now and then against his chest, needles pointing absentmindedly.

Then the train stopped for a moment. Traffic ahead was announced from above. Then the train started moving again, jolting the girl against the guy, still holding her needles. She was not the least bit clumsy as she continued to knit.

The lights blinked a couple of times causing them to wait in the dark. Then the lights came back on. A few seconds later, they were in complete darkness again. The train had stopped moving. Sounds of mumbling were heard. The girl stopped knitting, waiting for the lights to come back on.

Moving once again, the lights came back on. It was overlooked at first. There was no screaming, no crying, no words, just a blank look across his face. She had fell forward and to the side when the train suddenly stopped. Now she turned to him and saw his eyes all widen, his face all pale. He did not speak, just stared at her with a surprise look frozen in place.

Then there was screaming - the kind that would send anyone running for their lives. But he stayed still. A red liquid had appeared on the ground, falling from the guy where the knife was sticking out. The girl dropped her needles then crumbled to the ground, silent now. All conversations ceased. Nothing but complete dead silence.

Soon the train operator appeared. The curious ones watched moving closer while the others moved farther away with fear on their faces.

The girl kept calling his name as he was tow away by two ambulance guys. Two cops - a older gentleman and a younger woman came by to asked her questions. The girl couldn't speak. Groups of tears kept falling down her cheeks followed by hiccups. Inside the train, cold wind came spreading around her from the open doorway.

Just a few feet away, the girl saw the guy being handcuffed by the older cop. His eyes looked like it was on fire, blood still on his hands. His dark eyes turned to her. He smiled and then look away. She knew him. He was one of her ex-boyfriend - the last one actually. He disappeared from her view as he was led outside the train. The woman cop putted her hand on the girl's shoulder knowing it brought little comfort.

Beauty

This entry is for One Deep Breath. The prompt is: A Kind of Beauty

be an amateur
admire not outer beauty
but layers within

------

there is no beauty
without the inner layer
for others to see

Hope

This entry is for Cafe Writing December Project.

Option One: Pick Three Pick at least three of the following eight words, and write a paragraph, scene, flash-fic, essay, blog entry or poem using them. It’s fine to change tenses, or pluralize if you have to, but please bold the words you choose.

kindle, memory, spark, shattered, effulgent, joyful, softly, glistening

walking among the red roses
cover with light morning dew
she glance up at birds in new flight
spark by the memory of their glistening skin
she smiles softly remembering
spring's sun upon her face
she bath in the glorious warmth
of finding new life
and new hope

Clouds of stardust

This entry is for Monday Poetry Train.


pausing at her window
she glance skyward
up at the clouds of stardust
dreaming of a lost love
wishing to go back in time
to seek the love of the forgotten one

truth no longer exist
only spaces between here and now
every star she sees, she wish upon
every dream she ever dreams, she wish for it to be true

she search inside her dreams
looking for answers that may be bury deep within her

no longer yearning for flight
her heart cease to feel the emotional void
that was locked deep inside
with only but one key to open it

Letter from Isabelle 6

This entry is for Writers Island: This Season.

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4
Part 5

Date: December 13, 2007
Dear L,

I've been released from the hospital for two days now. Here in my own apartment but unsure what I should be doing. Almost all of my memories had came back but some were still gone, hidden deep inside where I hoped some day they would come back.

I can hear footsteps coming but I didn't know who it was until they spoke. It was Mom and Dad. They have come up from Florida to stay with me. I can hear sadness in their voices as they spoke. Mom especially, her voice shakily with each syllable. I told them I was fine and that they shouldn't have drove all the way here. I said that with the strongest voice I can muster but it came out all shrilly and weak. I was glad for their arrival but they were not a comfort to me. I smiled trying to keep them at ease but it was useless. I know they worry all the time now - about me - their only child. I wanted reminded them they still have a son, L. He is still out there waiting for their acceptance. But the words - they wouldn't come out. I opened my mouth but couldn't say them.

It is still a blur how the whole thing got so dreadful. I can't remember why it was so hard for them, why they could not accept their own son the way he was. I can't even remember the fight when you left. I can remember the scar on your face, so vivid and yet it seem so distance, so far away from me. If only I can reach inside my mind and grab onto you, keeping you with me. But you're still gone, still so far away.

Mom and Dad stayed with me for a couple of days - helping me adjust but I remained calm, trying not to move around too much. Trying to show them I can take care of myself. I have already done so many training classes but still hoped to regain my sight soon. Dr. R is still convinced it will happen. But now I am not so sure. It had only been two weeks and yet I remained the same.

My job as a copywriter for a small magazine didn't seem so important anymore so I decided to quit rather than to have to explain what happen. I had Mom sent in a letter for me and got my things from the office, which wasn't much - just a photo of the family. I guess that was my way of making my stay temporary. I can never have any personal items displaying on my desk where anyone can see them - which can give them an opportunity to talk to me. I guess I distance myself too much now to even make a friend.

I'm typing this on my computer which Dad had helped me set up. I can voice commands into the computer without typing it in. I was glad to be doing something familiar again. Writing this letter helped ease me back into my life. At least the part I can remember. I am reminded that I am indeed a writer - at least I was. I can't remember if I was ever good at it.

Mom and Dad went home to Florida yesterday. I am alone again. I don't even know what I am going to do now. It wasn't that I didn't want them to stay, just that, it was better this way. For me. Their presence makes me uneasy. I heard them fighting during the night when they thought I was sleeping. They were insinuating each other. Their quiet bickering wasn't quiet enough - that was what you used to say to me. I remained still in the dark. Memories came and went but only a few of them stay long enough for me to keep them.

I had a dream or rather a memory of us when we were playing in the snow, spreading our arms to make angels in front of our front yard. Your angel was perfect while mine was slightly wingless. We laid there staring up, watching more snow falling down like teardrops from the sky. We sticked out our tongues and tasted the white drops of winter. I think we were thirteen then. It was and will always be my happiest moment with you.

The winter season has finally settled in along with Christmas. I didn't feel like celebrating or going outside. It was bitter cold even inside my apartment. The heater was turned on but it cannot keep the cold from reaching inside me, into my inner layer of skin that forever seem out of place.

Another Christmas without you and yet, I couldn't bring myself to really think of you as gone. I can't remembered if I ever enjoyed Christmas or if I did anything that made me happy. I still have all the presents that I have brought you, all wrapped but never opened, hidden in the back of my closet. The memories, they kept rushing into my mind but nothing seem right. They were all out of order. I can't decide which happen first or if it really happen.

Outside I can hear the rain or rather loud sounds that sounds like small balls of ice was falling from the sky. Their echoes bounced against the window pane. Soft music was coming from the distance. It sounded gloomy and lonely. I think they were Stephen Bishop songs. I wondered who was playing them and whether they, too, felt lonely during this cold season.

Isabelle

Read Part 7 here.

Surprise

Find this meme from Candid Karina - December's Pensieve's Poetic License. The theme is Celebration and the form is Cinquain.


Want this button?

surprise
early present
open in slow-motion
rushing of happy emotions
tickets

Broken Hearts

This entry is for Monday Mural at Poefusion.

While Sabrina was holding onto me, just barely by the end of my furry leg, I leaned down to give a flower to my beloved. "Here's a gift for you, my sweet," I said. She takes it and threw it down onto the ground. My heart sank along with the flower. Then she scurried away like I was some disease she was trying to avoid. Sabrina was having a hard time hanging onto me but that didn't matter. The love of my life just broke my heart, there was no reason to live.

"I can't hold on!" Sabrina yelled as my leg slowly slipped away from her hand. I fell to the ground hitting my head. I didn't feel the pain only the ache in my heart. Sabrina jumped down and sat next to me. Her face, a sympathetic circle of concern. She placed her hand on my shoulder. "Sorry about that," she said. I knew she was trying to be nice but her sympathy didn't soothe my heart.

I laid there waiting for some kind of sign that maybe my true love will come back to me. But I knew she wasn't my true love. Why else would she had dumped my flower and tossed my heart away like it was trash? If only I had listen to Sabrina. She knew this was going to happen. She tried to convinced me but I just ignored her.

"Linus, you're just going to sulk? Elizabeth's not worth it." Sabrina brushes her furry hair away from her face, her big eyes blinked in disbelief. "Get up! You will find someone new. Maybe she's right in front of you and you don't even know it." I looked up at her, not saying a word. Then she got mad and said, "You're just a big fool!" Then she got up and ran away. Leaving me here, laying on the ground. Why was she so mad? I'm the one who had my heart broken. Then I reminded myself, I wasn't the only one who has their heart broken. Sabrina had always been there for me. Why was I such a fool? I got up, smooth off the leaves of my furry head and ran after Sabrina.

Working for Vacation

This entry is for Picture This #4 at Write Stuff.

I'm such a groofball. What was I thinking? Do I need a reminder of what happened last year? The hole in the ceiling hasn't even been fix yet. I don't even want to think about it.

Why did I drink so much? I knew I made a fool of myself at the Christmas party two nights ago but does anyone remember it? Did I really impersonated my boss as a dumb ass who can't find paper clips that's right in front of him? Did I really do that while standing on top of a desk, jumping up and down like a maniac?

Oh, my brain must not be working today. Is it too late to accept that job in the North Pole? Does bribing the boss still a sensible thing to do when your job's on the line?

I looked across my desk at my coworker and best friend, Iris, whom seem to be busy typing a very long letter of resignation. She types one each year. "Just in case" she said. The office parties had gotten so raucous that even timid Iris could lose her job.

I tried to cheer Iris with my goofy impression of a Christmas ornament. She didn't laugh, just said in a very stern voice, "Lily, get back to work."

I turned back to my computer screen. But seeing those unfinished work makes me want to going running out the door screaming profanities and such. I grudgingly start the work, hoping for some reprieve as the lunch hour rolls around.

The tuna fish sandwich and chocolate pudding didn't make me feel any happier. The pudding usually does the trick but today, it tasted like paper. Believe me, I know what paper taste like even with ketchup. Iris was silently nibbling her sandwich - two pieces of ham stuck between two pieces of bread. She was on a strict diet, just like me except she was already too skinny. I tried to think of something funny to say but nothing comes to mind. Panic was rising in me but I tried to push down those unwanted thoughts.

After lunch, the boss told us we needed to work overtime, something about the holiday season and the lost of time. What? No one had a clue what he was talking about but no one said anything.

We obediently went back to work, hoping for some distraction either from the boss' nephew, who is such a cutie or the boss' other nephew who is so gorgeous, that even the married secretaries tried to seduce him.

I was just about to get back to work when the boss' secretary calls me to the his office. I felt the panic rising as I walked down the hallway, to my doom, perhaps? I can feel my coworkers' eyes burning into the back of my head. I knew what they were thinking. I tried to smile while trying to stop the panic attack that had became full blown.

"Close the door and take a seat," he said without looking up at me, scribbling on some notebook.

I closed the door and sat down slowly, shaking uncontrollably, hoping this was all a dream.

"So, says here you haven't had a vacation in the three years you've been working here."

I nodded my head, unable to speak.

"How about a vacation in February, when the workload is slower?"

Again, I nodded my head in agreement.

"That was it. I just want to make sure my employees aren't too stress out by work," he said with a smile.

He shook my hand and smiled as I got up to leave. I can smelled the scent of cigars coming from him.

"Thank you," I said as I opened the door.

"And I really like your impression of me at the office Christmas party! You were hilarious. My wife hasn't stop laughing for hours. And my wife wants you at our Christmas party next year!" He smiled at me. It wasn't sarcasm, the way he said it. I nodded my head and laughed, then continued walking back to my cubicle, happy as hell.

Multitasking Mania

This entry is for Mad Kane's Limerick and Haiku Prompt 2. This week's theme: Multitasking Mania. Only a limerick this time.

there once was a girl with big thighs
who likes to jump really high
ice cream, she couldn't resisted
jumping and eating, she insisted
ice on her face, she declared, "not too high"

Edge of Reality

This entry is for Friday 5 at Poefusion. This week's words are hinge, bite, conch, gatekeeper, Charybdis.

sitting on three-legged chairs
dirty clothes draping off his skinny frame
he bites food from a leaky paper plate
clutching a faded white conch in his hand

all things forgotten
his mind an unfinished puzzle
wanders the empty dark chambers
as days blend into nights

he cries out a name unknown to him
he see a familiar face
is that his own face he sees?
a skeleton of a faded man

no gatekeeper in Charybdis
to keep him away from the demon
he cannot help but sees the darkness
hinging on the edge of reality

Choices

This entry is for Three Word Wednesday. This week's words are: Closing, Headlights, Virtual.

Glen walks around the room closing every open window. He looks around him and wonder why he didn't do that in the first place. He can still hear the sirens ringing in the background, their wailing continues as he sits down for dinner in front of the television.

It isn't so bad, being alone on Christmas eve - at least he still have his health and this apartment. He's not homeless or in need of money. But the regrets in his life had kept him hidden inside himself. Away from people he soon regard as useless fools who don't like him anyway. He don't need them. Glen soon fell asleep dreaming of the past.

Standing in the middle of nowhere, he turns around and around but sees nothing, only gray empty spaces. Above him are more spaces. It was like being in those virtual worlds from the video games he used to play. He wanders around but find nothing. Everywhere he turns are directionless paths - leading to where? - he doesn't know.

Two red headlights glows in the dark, blurry at first with dust of clouds surrounding the car. Then it was in front of him. A black limousine with dark windows.

He walks up to the side window as it rolls down, pushing his reflections down with it. A man with white hair and a big cigar in his hand, pulls out one hand and introduce himself as "Jacob." Then proceed to step of the limousine with such a powerful gush of winds that it almost knock Glen to the ground.

"Who the heck are you?" Glen asked but got no reply.

"Let's go!" Jacob shouted to Glen as he walks towards a opening that is pulling up, bright lights spilling out from it.

Glen rushes after Jacob, almost tripping over his own feet. He have no idea what's going but he knew he should follow Jacob.

Outside, in the daylight, Glen stood in front of a huge mall with various Christmas decorations. Jacob continues smoking his cigar, blowing smoke in Glen's direction.

"Would you put that out please? Don't you know what smoking does to your body?" Glen wave his hands around to dissipate the stench.

Jacob smiles and throws his cigar on the ground, pressing it flat with his black shoe. He walks into the mall's circular entrance with Glen following.

"There they are - all the people who hates you. All in one room." Jacob points at a group of people randomly. Glen look but the crowded mall has so many cluster of people, he didn't know which one Jacob was pointing to. "Which group?" he asked.

"All of them. That family, that girl, that man with the funny hat, that little boy with a cane. They all hates you." Jacob said with a constant smile on his face.

Glen was confused but knew what he meant. He didn't have any friends and his family hasn't visit him in a long while. He wasn't a bitter man but on holidays like these, he always have an inverse effect on people. What comes out as a nice compliment would always turn into an insult. Glen try to like people but they all irritates him so.

Soon they are back in the dark space with two doors in front of them. Each marked with two numbers - 1 and 2. Both doors has bright glowing lights surrounding the edges.

"Why am I here? Are you some kind of angel? Did I choke on my dinner? Is that why I am here?" Glen was anxious to know. He wouldn't be surprise if it were true. He doesn't deserve to live. He didn't have anyone in his life and people shun him like the plague.

"You want answers?"

"Yeah, I want answers. What the heck am I doing here? Tell me!"

"All right. You've got it. Ready?"

"Yes, I'm ready! Tell me already!"

"Don't be so anxious. Relax." Jacob pulls out two candy canes and offer one to Glen.

Glen shakes his head no, anger stirs inside him. He stares at Jacob in the eye, waiting for the answers.

"Here we go." Paused. Jacob took out some papers from his coat while sucking on the candy cane.

"Here it is: Glen Militon Martin, age 30, unmarried, no kids, no immediate family, just an uncle and two nieces." Jacob tucks a few pages behind pages finally settling on one.

"Apparently you are dead."

Glen felt a little relief. At least he wouldn't have to live this life anymore.

"Wait. Wait a minute," Jacob said as he flips through a few more pages.

"You have two choices - to go back and live your life or get reincarnated into a cat." Jacob said to Glen with an amusing smile on his face.

"What! I don't want to be a cat! I hate cats! They're all furs and...and... they always tries to lick you. No way." Glen walk circles around Jacob.

"Those are your choices."

"Don't I have another choice?"

"What other choice?"

"You know, to die."

"Yes, you can die and be a cat."

"I don't want to be a cat!" Glen stares up at Jacob and grabs his shirt. His anger now heighten. "Tell me there's a third choice."

Jacob pushes Glen's hand off him and smooths out his shirt and tie. "Those are your choices. I don't make them. I just give them out. There's nothing else I can do. Now would please kindly step into door number 1 - where you will return to your old life or door number 2 - where you get to be a cat - a very lovely cat." Jacob's calm voice make Glen want to punch him in the face.

Glen stares at the two doors with their huge numbers on them - 1 or 2?

"What about Gloria?"

"Gloria? Who's Gloria?"

Glen didn't know how to explain Gloria, his ex-wife. He knew he had driven her away with his excessive, overprotective personality. She had said he was too distance, too cold.

"My...my wife." Glen slowly came to the conclusion that maybe he wants to go back to his old life. Maybe he could do something to make his life better.

Jacob fumbles through the papers again and said, "Yes, Gloria. Your ex-wife. Gloria had moved on. She's married with two kids."

"Really? But it has only been a year since the divorce." Glen could not believe it to be true. How could she had married so soon. Sure, a year is a long time but still, didn't she loved him?

"You still have to chose - your old life or a cat. Come on, you don't have all day. I've other people to take care of. You're not the only one on my list of things to do. So come on and pick. It isn't that hard, is it?"

Glen looks at Jacob and wonder what life he had before this. "What would you chose?" he asked him.

"I would chose..mmhh...probably a cat. I mean, that life of yours isn't much and I do enjoy a fine tuna fish sandwich now and then." Jacob's respond didn't help Glen one bit.

Glen didn't want to be a cat but going back to his life seem less and less appealing to him. But he had to chose and so he walks towards door number 1. It opens and Glen walks through the door into the shinning light. He heard Jacob's voice shouting to him, "A cat! That's a terrific choice!"

"No!!! That's not what I wanted! You tricked me!" Glen starts to run back to the opening but it soon closes down and Glen was in the dark. His head was spinning and he couldn't see anything clearly.

He can heard his own voice echoing as the image in front of him begin to swirl and twirl. He tries to see what's in front of him but couldn't. He reach out his hands but there was nothing there. As the darkness consumes him, Glen wished he had live his life better. He wished he had taken the time to get to know people. He closes his eyes as a big gush of wind blows out of nowhere, he fell backward, hitting his head on the ground.

He opens his eyes to see he was outside, laying on the sidewalk, looking at the dark sky. He lifts his head up and sees that he was home, in front of his apartment. He was wearing his pajamas and a pair of cotton socks and flip-flops. An arm wraps around his waist as he tries to stand up. He turn to see a pair of big brown eyes smiling at him. Who is this beautiful creature and why is she helping him? He wanted to ask her questions but couldn't form any words. His mouth feels dry and his head hurts like hell. He touch the throbbing spot on the back of his head.

All he could whisper was,"What happen?" He can see a small smear of blood on his hand after he removes it from his head.

"You fell down. I mean, I knocked you down with my bike," she points at a pink motorbike laying on the ground. "I'm sorry. I guess I didn't see you." She laughs nervously.

Glen remember now. He was taking out the trash when someone came straight towards him. He didn't have time to move.

"It was all a dream," Glen said to himself.

"What dream?" she asked, her eyes frowning.

"A man came by with an envelope for you." She pulls out a small white envelope and handed to him. "Do you want me to take you to the hospital?" The look of concern in her eyes make Glen smile.

"That's alright. I live up there," he said as he points to his bedroom window. Then he said, "Would you like to come up?" Glen didn't expect her to say yes but...

"Sure. I live two doors from you," she said with a smile. "Name's Angel." She pulls her bike up and lean it against the front entrance. She holds the door for him.

Glen must have seen her before but took no notice. He knew he was reluctant to get to know people. But that's all going to change. In the elevator, he took out the envelope that he had placed inside his pajama pocket.

It was a Polaroid of a white cat with the words,"This could have been you!" under it. Signed "Jacob." Glen couldn't believe it but he decided it was best to accept it and he should be grateful he hasn't turn into a cat. He tucked the photo back in his pajama pocket and starts talking to Angel.

Skyway

Painting by Ann Maria. Photo by Michelle Johnson.

This entry is for Monday Mural at Poefusion.

in blue, green and orange
they sparkle in the night sky
as they gather together around you

like wings they guide you up there
above the clouds
with your lights in everlasting shine

surreal where you are
but clearly you are not gone
not from here, not from me

your faded smile remain
reminding me it's okay to cry
as I wipe my tears away

looking up I can see your colors
caressing the sky
filling up my mind and heart with joy

Letter from Isabelle 5

This entry is for Writers Island: The Moment

Part 1
Part 2
Part 3
Part 4

Date: December 10, 2007
Dear L,

As the days slowly drifts by, the memories of you came rushing in. Now I remember you are gone, no longer connected to me. We were two pieces of pie cut from the same crust but now had turned into two different flavors. Me, now a dull strawberry short cake and you a rich cheese cake with inner flavors that only you can taste.

Am I making sense? I don't even know myself. My mind are full of scramble thoughts, thoughts that are suppose to make me understand and remember but they seem to lose its memento soon after they appear. Dr. R was not satisfied by my results. He still couldn't understand why I still cannot see. He thinks a week is too long a time but it felt like a day to me. I still couldn't remember much but you are still in my mind. Memories of you are still tuck in the corners, coming out at small intervals and keeping me partially whole.

I cried a lot but couldn't understand where the tears came from. I've forgotten so much. Everything that seem to make me sad are no longer there and yet when I think of you, I feel sad. But when I think of me and where my life is going, I feel isolated and can't remember why.

Another memory came to me yesterday. It was about old man who died on the train. I was on my way home from work. The sun was still out, shinning into the train. Everything inside the train seem to glow as I watched the surroundings. I turned to my left to see the old man sitting there. His head was slumped over to the side and his closed eyelids flicker with the movement of the train. I was one seat away from him.

He seem so peaceful. I thought he was sleeping. Other people seem to think so. One lady walked passed him to the seat next to him. She seem agitated by him when he didn't move to make room for her. Soon she left on the next stop.

I try not to look but couldn't help it. I couldn't move. I didn't want to move. I wasn't afraid. I've never seem a dead person before and yet I wasn't afraid. I find his face comforting somehow.

Soon a train conductor was called by someone. A man in a tan coat. It was still winter, late February. The man seem distraught and sadden by this old man. I couldn't help but noticed his green eyes blinking fast, was it tears? I'm wasn't sure.

I didn't look away as the old man was carry out of the train. The man in the tan coat helped the train conductor carried him out. I heard groans and angry sounds coming from the surrounding crowd.

I couldn't help but imagined it might have been me, sitting there, gone and no one noticed. I stepped out of the train, hoping to follow where he was being taken. Out of the train station and into an ambulance. I was rushing down the wooden stairs, almost missing a step but I had to follow. The man in the tan coat was in the ambulance with the old man. He was looking at me with his green eyes full of pain as they closed the ambulance doors. I waved without smiling. The sirens were silent as the ambulance drove away. I watched until it disappeared into the distance lines of the horizon. I stood there out in the cold for a while. I didn't know how long. But I felt my hands freezing up.

That poor old man. At least someone cared. Even if it was a stranger. I wondered if that was how they carried me out that day when I fell onto the tracks. I wondered if there was somebody who cared enough to ride in the ambulance with me. I wonder about a lot of things these days.

At that moment, I realized I had stopped thinking about you. I rushed home to look at photographs of you but they seem different. Your smiling face now a frown. Your bright eyes now dull with time. The curve of your jaws so smooth and round now seem to be rough and square. I pulled out the pictures and threw them into a wastebasket. I wanted to burn them but I couldn't. I took them out and put them back into the photo album. I kept one photo of you in my bag at all times since then.

Nurse Sara had been very kind and is still dictating my letters but I fear that I could not take care of myself when I get out of the hospital. I am so dependent on people these days. Still trying to grasp even the smallest memories of myself. I didn't just forget last week but almost my entire life had disappear from my mind and yet, you still remain, still hovering over me, almost protecting me. I kept imagining seeming your face telling me things will be okay. Nurse Sara had brought me your photo but I couldn't see you. I held it in my hand and I couldn't help but cry.

Isabelle

Annoying Advice

This entry is for Mad Kane's Limerick and Haiku Prompt 1. This week's theme: Annoying Advice.

limerick

be nice to mom's pet
mom's very picky about Met
husband nods watching the screen
cat falls under the car unseen
wife soon runs off with the vet


haiku

shake your wist like so
don't twist your hand, use your wist
throws shells at her face

Letter from Isabelle 4

This entry is for Sunday Scribblings: Competition.

Read part 1
Read part 2
Read Part 3

Date: December 9, 2007
Dear L,

It happened last week. All I remembered was standing near the edge of the train platform checking if a train was arriving. It was a cold day and I was at an outside train station where the cold winter winds blew so fast, I could barely see anything. The train was coming. I can see its read headlights growing bigger as it came near.

You know how sometimes you see things that are not there? I thought I saw your face sitting inside that train, driving the train. You winked at me with your big blue eyes. I blinked in disbelief. I was frozen in my spot. As you came closer, I felt someone pushing against me. My heart was beating so fast I thought it was going to pop right out of my chest.

Then I woke up and saw nothing but dark shapes all around me. I heard voices but couldn't make out who it was, just dark shapes changing. I couldn't speak or move. Then my view became completely black. I tried to stay awake but soon felt my eyelids closing on its own dissolving my view into farther darkness.

When I woke again, voices were asking me questions but all I could see was darkness. A doctor or doctors told me I had an serious head injury. They called me by my name but I couldn't decided if it was my name. They said my memory lost was temporary. So was my eye sight. Trauma such as mine caused the brain to temporary shut down certain functions. That was the explanation. I guess I chose to accepted it as my mind couldn't decide otherwise. I have no idea what the time or date was or who was paying for all my hospital care.

I'm didn't do much, just lots of sleeping and waking up to more confused memories than my mind can handle. They moved me out of intensive care yesterday and into my own room. My body may had healed but my mind was still a puzzle with all the pieces but none of them fit together.

My first regained memory was of you. It was when we were twelve, during Christmas. We have always competed who can get better gifts for Mom and Dad. You always win but that year, I won. I've got Dad a pocket watch and Mom, a porcelain jewel box. You've got Dad a cigar box but he didn't smoke and Mom a scarf that turned out to be fake silk. There were no prize for winning but I thought how great it was that I've won after all those years. But later that week, I found out you got those gifts on purpose so I would win. You were the compassionate one, the one who was always giving but I recognized your competitiveness. We competed who can get a after school job first, who can get all "A's", who can eat more lemons, who can even make a child cry, those contest were endless.

But after that year, things changed in such subtle ways that only you and I can detect. Mom and Dad reminded the same but you and I, we had changed. We've stopped competing with each other. I don't recall what it was that changed us or why we suddenly stopped doing certain things. In those days, we were always together - during school, after school, never away from each other. Though our closeness was still there, something had broken the bond we had. Or maybe I have changed and you reminded the same. I remembered it was I who started to making friends and stopped spending time with you. Though you didn't admitted but you knew things weren't the same.

Maybe some memories had to be lost before we can appreciate them. The doctor, Dr. R seem very confident that I would regain my full memory but my eyes - he wasn't so sure. Give it time, he said. Time seem to be all I have.

I can't write anymore, the nurse wants me to go to sleep now. I am dictating this to her while she writes it down in a notebook that she had found in my bag. She's a very kind nurse. Her name's Sara. My mind's too tire to remember more so I am going to sleep now.

Isabelle

Read Part 5 here.

New Domain Address

I did it. I registered for a new domain. Sure, it was a pain but I think it's worth it. Of cause I didn't get the address I wanted but that's okay. So the new address is www.justwritingwords.com - the "just write" address was already taken and anything with that two words seem to be taken as well. I don't know why I got so work up about this. I really need to learn to be more patient. So I'm wondering if this means I am serious about writing???

So again here's the new address:

www.justwritingwords.com

I have a new philosophy. I'm only going to dread one day at a time.
Charles M. Schulz (1922 - 2000), Charlie Brown in "Peanuts"

Silent Song

This entry is for Friday 5 at Poefusion. The five words are: mustard, piano, elastic, moat, notorious.

his hands swims across the moat
towards the piano keyboard
emitting notorious sounds that bounces across the room
while faded mustard lips chants elastic words of love
glows of color lights spins all around

sipping vodka as she watches from a distance
her eyes following his hands and lips in all their movements
left, right, up and down, here and there
she dare not blink

the song ends
the crowd cheers silently
she saw him standing up and taking a bow
a big smile across his face
she throws some bills on the table
walking slowly away into the silent night

700 Daisies

This entry is for 3WW. This week's words are: Absent, Notebook, Persuade.

After a long day at work, Priscilla came home to find 700 daisies covering her apartment, from top to bottom, even filling out the small corner between the fridge and the cabinets. She stared in disbelief than started sneezing in double repetitions. One, two, paused, one, two, paused. She picked up the card on the table and flip it open. It was from him. Inside, printed in red letters were "forgive me."

It's a pity that she was allergic to daises. How appropriated that he would sent her the one flower she was allergic to. What insane reasons did he had in doing this? How many times did she said she was allergic, how many times had she repeated her words never getting through to him? Too many that was for sure. Nothing can persuade her to forgive him. After the divorce, she no longer wanted to associate with him. His family had talked him into making amends with her. But it was too late. He convinced his lawyer, his family and pretty much every one of their friends and her friends that she was the one who was wrong, that she was the one who destroyed their relationship.

She gathered up all the daises into black trash bags all the while sneezing continuously. Then she took them downstairs. She knew what she needed to do.

Outside it had grown dark and snow was lightly falling. She checked her watch - ten minutes after 10. The wind was blowing into her face sending chills on her already red nose. Wearing her black boots and white coat, Priscilla dragged the bags of daisies behind her as she sneezed now and then. The streets were empty, only a few people walking around.

Finally at his front door, she left the three bags and started to walk away. There was no light coming from inside. But when she noticed the blue car parked in front of the house, she thought of an idea. She grabbed the bags of daisies and headed for the car, her car. She did helped him paid for it. Letting him put everything in his name was the most stupid thing that she's ever done.

It was one of his bad habits - keeping his car unlocked. Another one of his nuisances that she hated was the fact that he still kept a black notebook full of phone numbers of all the women he ever dated. That and the many absent dates that he missed. The last present he ever gave her was a book on how to cook. Sure she wasn't a great cook but does he had to rubbed it in that he's better at it than she was? Does he have to make fun of her in front of her friends? She may be absent-minded sometimes but she certainly would not leave her car door unlocked or the headlight still turned on. She saw that he also left his keys on the dashboard as she opened the car door.

She grabbed the daises stuffing them into the car. In the glove compartment, in the trunk, into the seats, under the seats, inside the cup holder, under the hood of the engine and even stuff some into the tail pipes. She gave out a laugh. A man walked passed her and stared at her. She smiled and waved to him. He walked away shaking his head.

In the yellow street lights, she can see the blue car with daises sticking out of its windows. After inspecting the car for a couple of seconds, she was satisfied. She headed home slowly with a smile on her face.

Letter from Isabelle 3

This entry is for Writers Island: The Promise



Read part 1 here.
Read part 2 here.

Date: December 2, 2007

Dear L,

There was an empty seat next to me on the train today. It was in orange - your favorite color. I remember how you said your favorite color should be bright and cheery. Pink was your first favorite but you switch to orange because you thought pink wasn't cheerful enough and that it also looks like blood when it became dark.

Remember how we used to ride the trains to school? I've always enjoyed those moments sitting next to you or standing next to you at the poles. You've always made sure no one trample on me, taking care of me as if I was your baby sister even though we are the same age.

I felt lonesome and the emptiness of missing you stayed me with even as I got off the train.

I started a new job today. But wherever I go, I would feel like a temp. There is no permanent home for me now. I change jobs like I change my clothes. I change things with no regard to their consequences. It was always easier when you were here. You kept me still. You gave me confidence to make my own decisions. I'm not saying I am lost without you but it does sound that way doesn't it?

Remember the promise we made to each other when turned sixteen? It was easy to make promises back then when we thought we knew our future. Do you remember the one promise we made that we always thought we would both keep even if we don't keep the others? Do you remember what it was?

We both promised that we would be together no matter what distances that might separate us. We would be in each other's lives even if for a few days or a few seconds. I guess we both broke that promise. It has been eight years since you left us, left me. Eight years - sounds like a long time. Time had sneaked pass me without me ever having to look at the calendar. How forgettable these past years has been. I didn't even try to look for you. It seems rather useless to try to find someone in such a huge city. But doesn't mean I have given up.

Whatever promises we had made didn't seem to matter now. Remember the song that we both liked - Downtown train? You didn't like the Tom Waits version but the Everything but the Girl acoustic version where it was a duet. That was our favorite song. Remember the words?

Outside another yellow moon
punched a hole in the nighttime, yes
I climb through the window and down the street
shining like a new dime
the downtown trains are full with all those Brooklyn girls
they try so hard to break out of their little worlds

You wave your hand and they scatter like crows
they have nothing that will ever capture your heart
they're just thorns without the rose
be careful of them in the dark
oh if I was the one
you chose to be your only one
oh baby can't you hear me now

Will I see you tonight
on a downtown train
every night is just the same
you leave me lonely now

I know your window and I know it's late
I know your stairs and your doorway
I walk down your street and past your gate
I stand by the light at the four way
you watch them as they fall
they all have heart attacks
they stay at the carnival
but they'll never win you back

Will I see you tonight on a downtown train
where every night is just the same you leave me lonely
will I see you tonight on a downtown train
all of my dreams just fall like rain
all upon a downtown train

Whenever I hear that song, I would always remember the times we had together on the train. We would ride them even when we have no place to go. When it is empty, you sing that song at the top of your voice. I would try to follow you but I let you sing all the parts. You had such a beautiful singing voice - not too high and not too low.

I've never forgotten you even when I have not seen your face for so long. But your face now seem like a blur in my memory. It rarely surface in my mind as sharp as it used to. Nor can I remember if you were taller than me or if your blue eyes were darker or lighter than mine. You probably were taller but then you usually wore a lot of tall shoes to make yourself more noticeable. Memories, they play so strangely in your mind over time. Sometimes they are clear and sometimes a complete blur. I often look through photos of you so I won't forget but the pictures - they are so faded now. They don't represent you, not the real you anyway.

I will end this here as it is time for me to go to my new job.

Isabelle

Read Part 4 here.