Father’s Dilemma

6

What will make a teenager feel better after a sudden breakup? Maybe good food?

I stared at our almost full kitchen cabinet pondering what to cook for my daughter with a broken heart. I can feel mine throbbing too. If only her mom was still here, maybe she can say the right healing words to her.

What can an old man do to make her lovely daughter forget her not-so-good-looking ex-boyfriend?

I heard her almost silent sobs again.  I don’t have her mother’s words, but I do have a father’s warm and tight hug. Maybe it will do for now.

Word count: 100
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: my dearie Maria of Doodles and Scribbles ❤

In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) October 11, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for hosting this awesome prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

First Prayer

A chain smoker. A decade-long drug addict. An abusive and unfaithful husband. An irresponsible father.

Yes. That’s me.

It is surely surprising for you to see me here. Seating in the middle of your holy house.

Honestly, I never planned to go to you. I have never went to you, in fact. Maybe the first and the last time that I stepped into your sacred home was when I was christened. And then just a day after that you killed my mom. Then my abusive and irresponsible dad, well, like father like son, left me too.

That’s how unfair you have been to me!

I learned to steal food to survive, even when I’m just three. I have evolved to a full-blown criminal with gangs as the family that you never let me have. I never get married, I have loved one woman only, but that doesn’t mean I was a good partner.

You cannot blame me, though. Because you’ve been unfair to me. Until now… you’re unfair to me.

So why the hell am I here?

For her, the only person that loved me despite my dark side.

For the first time and for the last time, I am begging you to please let her live.

I will not blame you, though I really badly want to curse you because you’ve been unfair to me! But for the sake of my five-year-old granddaughter, I am down on bended knees, please let her live.

She is the reason why my daughter let me live with them. She is the reason why her mom accepted me. It’s because of her, why I am now with my family after so many years.

She’s the only person who talks to me. She’s the only kid who considers me as a family. Her smiles are like sun rays. Her laughter are like chimes from heaven. She is my joy, she is my light.

And… she’s so young.

You can take me because my life has been wasted ever since. So come on! Take me!

But please… oh Lord… let my granddaughter live.

11.20.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 15 Assignment.

The Empty Box

4

If his hand is a tiled floor, a lot would accidentally fall.

“Chill, love.” I assured him Dad will be delighted to know her first princess is finally engaged. But his hand, which gripped mine nervously, is so wet with his sweat.

“So what’s the big news?”Dad asked as he take his seat.

“Sir. Uhm, I asked your lovely daughter to marry me —.”

“And I said yes, dad!” I said with delight as I showed him the empty crystal magenta box.

He eyed the box before looking at the diamond ring enthroned proudly in my finger.

“Well, congratulations. Just be cautious you two. Sometimes, the most beautiful packages are actually just empty shells. Grand engagements and weddings are not reliable foundations of marriage. Love is. Trust is. Communication is.”

Word count: 130
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: My dear friend Jade Wong

In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) September 13, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for hosting this awesome prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

First Fly

2

“That’s your daddy, little man!”

My mom-heart swells when the eyes of my four-year old sparked in delight as he watched his father fly the red helicopter for the first time. From playing toy planes, now my beloved husband is flying his real one.

“Let’s go, Momma! Come on!!!” he giddily say as he pulled me towards our condo’s door where we gaze at the lovely, exciting scene.

“Not yet love, it’s not safe—.”

A loud ear-shattering blast. We looked up.

My son’s delighted eyes turned to widely horrified.

“Moooooom!!”

“No. No. It’s not your daddy. It cannot. I cannot be.”

Word count: 100

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Iain Kelly


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) August 30, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for hosting this awesome prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤ 

Read more short stories here:

Like Father, Like Son

The familiar high-pitched screech of tires, the familiar loud cheers of race enthusiasts, welcomed me as if it was just yesterday.

Two decades ago, my heart’s racing as the man who owns it zooms for his dream trophy. Now my old beating ticker’s jittery again, this time for our beloved son.

My love lost both– the race and his life. That’s why I tried with all my might to rid my son of his dad’s roaring racing blood. But like father, like son, I failed.

Now I have none, but the hope that their fate isn’t like father, like son.

Word count: 100

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Sunday Photo Fiction


I missed writing fictions!! 😀 I’m glad to be back, again. ❤

In response to Sunday Photo Fiction for May 01, 2016.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Alastair Forbes where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. The piece doesn’t have to center around exactly what the photo is, it can be just used as a basis for a story.

Enjoy more awesome stories here:

Meeting the Parents

Palms perspiring uncontrollably, heart throbbing ceaselessly, what’s wrong with me?

My one-year boyfriend will introduce me to his parents today. He said it’s their golden anniversary and despite being separated for almost two decades, his mom eagerly waited for her dad’s come back. Thus, the grand celebration with a photo display in the old-yet-still-famous Photo Centre.

So… why I am so nervous?

I looked good, actually our friends always joke that we looked creepily alike that we can be siblings– not a couple.

My jitters are unreasonable.. but they made sense when we entered the photo-filled room.

The man in the photos, his dad, looked eerily familiar.

When I saw him face to face, his wide blue-gray eyes, which looks like mine, changed the funny joke into an ugly truth.

Word count: 130

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Uday of Udayology


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) March 22, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for a though-provoking prompt, Priceless Joy!

Read more short stories here:

The Remote

Copyright-Sean Fallon

Today’s dad’s 50th birthday and we, his four naughty kids (we’re adults now) have a very special surprise for him — made possible by our sneaky youthful moves and sincere decade-long siblings-secret pact.

“Happy birthday dad!” we sing in chorus as we give our heavy birthday present.

“Remember when you buy remote batteries almost everyday?”

“You blamed mom but we are the snatchers, Dad.”

“You switch channels often and we can’t watch cartoons so.. we took turns in hiding the remote batteries.”

“And…now’s your golden birthday so we’re giving them back!”

His eyes went wide.

His smile faded.

We ran.

Word count: 100 words

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Sean Fallon


In response to Friday Fictioneers prompt for 04 March 2016.

Friday Fictioneers is a weekly writing challenge hosted by the generous Fairy Blog-Mother Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction.

Read more great 100-word short stories here:

The Gift

After 30 minutes of stillness inside this steaming, stinky bus, I promised myself I won’t ride an ordinary bus again. I almost went off until I hear someone quietly sobbing.

The man beside me, a construction worker (I think) wearing dirty green chinos and old faded jeans silently cries as he clutches a plastic bag with his tired-looking hands.

I resisted asking him.

Five minutes passed…

I give up.

“Are you hungry? I have some biscuits here.”

He shakes his head.

I resisted talking.

But he suddenly speaks again.

“Today is my son’s seventh birthday.”

“We never celebrated birthdays.”

“We have no money.”

“But for the first time I was able to save enough to buy his dream ice cream.”

“Our house’s only 10 minutes away.”

“But in this traffic… my son’s ice cream is now turning into a soup.”

His eyes quietly welled up again.

Now so do mine.

 

Word count: 150

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Ellespeth’s friend

IMPORTANT NOTE: This story is inspired by a real incident I read on Facebook last year.


 

In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) February 23, 2016.

Rules:

  • a flash fiction challenge (stories in 100-175 words or less)
  • each story should have a beginning, a middle, and an end
  • no serial (continuation) stories
  • include a pingback to the challenge post

Thank you for a thought-provoking photo prompt, Priceless Joy!

 

Read more short stories here:

The Wake

I should be sad after the call has ended, but I am not, surely not.

“Your father is dead.”

‘Oh’, is the only word I was able to say.

“His remains will be at the Grace Baptist Church starting tonight.”

“Okay.”

“Will you be there?”

“I might.”

“We hope to see you.”

“I will try. It’s late. Bye.”

He is my father, the man who gave those millions (or billions?) of sperms. Luckily (or not?) I won the race and made my way to my mom’s womb.

He is my father, but for him, I am just his illegitimate daughter. A daughter he accidentally made when he raped their home’s maid. A daughter with a dirty old mother who begged for financial support. A beg he never heeded.

Shaking with anger and decades-old rage, damn!

I promised myself I won’t cry because of him again!

I won’t! 

Please, tears, don’t!

Word count: 150

©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.

Photo credit: Sunday Photo Fiction


In response to Sunday Photo Fiction for February 20, 2016.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Alastair Forbes where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. The piece doesn’t have to center around exactly what the photo is, it can be just used as a basis for a story.

Enjoy more awesome stories here: