The Entertainer Book Tag

(Note: This tag is stolen from my dearie Jade. I am guilty beyond reasonable doubt; I am willing to pay the price of this crime. ^___^ )

It’s a Monday morning and my work email is (surprisingly) quiet and empty. Perhaps like a little street in a province at 12:30 AM. So I decided to tag myself on The Entertainer Book Tag which I enjoyed reading in my dearie’s blog! (If you want eloquent and emotive poetry, funny and heartfelt and sometimes grim fan fiction and fiction, you better follow her! Come on! Do it noooow! 😀 )

It has been forever since I wrote for a tag and about books, which is a pity! So here I am! Answering these five bookish questions! Let’s goooo!

1.) Your favorite form of reading (ebook, audiobook, etc.)?

Image result for librocubicularist gif

I’m definitely a librocubicularist. I prefer my bed soft, my coffee hot, and my book printed! (Although majority of my read books are via ebook because I got no book budget before. Please forgive me, books. -_- )

2.) If you could trade places with any other MC in their fictional world facing the same problems as them, who would you trade places with?

(Another confession: I googled MC because, seriously, what is MC? I feel so old. HAHA. For those who are so uninformed like me, it means Main Character. *facepalm* )

I think I would choose to be Annie of The Next Person You Meet in Heaven by Mitch Albom . I have yet to read this book (courtesy of my dearie Jade!!! ❤ ) but I know Annie is the little child Eddie saved in The Five People You Meet in Heaven .

Image result for the next person you meet in heaven

I am excited to know what happened to her; I am sure she will be someone I can relate with because Mitch has that talent–creating characters that will resound to me. ❤

3.) Favorite Movie?

Geez. I am not a movie person but I really love Anne Hathaway’s Princess Diaries!

Image result for princess diary movie gif

I can’t remember today if this preference has been updated. So please, don’t judge! 😁

4.) What do you wish you could see more of in books?

I want to see more realistic, odd but inspiring and touching characters. Like Alice of Still Alice by Lisa Genova and Ove of A Man Called Ove by Fredrik Backman. 🙂 These books are truthful, funny, and inspiring without bending with common novel cliches. 🙂

5.) Favorite first line from a book?

“When I was three and Bailey four, we had arrived in the musty little town, wearing tags on our wrists which instructed – ‘To Whom It May Concern’ – that we were Marguerite and Bailey Johnson Jr., from Long Beach, California, en route to Stamps, Arkansas, c/o Mrs. Annie Henderson.” – Maya Angelou, I Know Why the Caged Bird Sings

That’s it, friends and poets! You can (also) steal this tag with my consent! 😀 Cheers!

©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo via Unsplash, Google, Goodreads

fogged up

photo-20180910162502118

While the roof sings to the tune of the monsoon keys, the leaves outside dance with the storm’s cold breeze, with a warm, fresh cup of coffee, my eyes stare blankly at the road void of wheels and feet— empty— wishing I can say the same with my mind.

The antonym of empty is full yet my thoughts are spilling and brimming a gusty storm of fear, uncertainty.

Today, a rejection letter opened the can of insecurity I thought I have kept locked tightly.

Perhaps, I’ll let the fog sits comfortably on the glass window, and inside my troubled mind.

Word count: 100
©2018 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: wildverbs

For FFfAW 182nd by PJ! 😊

Bravest Moment

on the day when her grandchildren will be sitting on her lap asking for the bravest thing she has done, she will be looking back at this moment.

she’s in no danger. no noise. no death-defying acts. but with peaceful tree-whistles, lullaby-like bird-tunes, embrace-like forest air. and her heart and mind who were both dauntless enough to walk out of a life in the concrete jungle and be with the one she prefers, a simpler, slower life.

she will tell them, for only the brave knows living is not owning. living is making each breath counts. with money or without.

Word count: 100
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Pamela Canepa

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) June 06. 2017. 🙂

Not Forgetful

Her eyes on the slow, old tram coming. Her hands inside the bag, checking the cold office keys, the leather notepad, the tattered coin purse, the thin phone, her essentials. Lucky day, no forgotten items today.

Her ride to the office is about to arrive when a familiar face crossed her peripheral view. He has aged, but his bright smiling eyes remained the same. The way he wraps his arms around his woman stayed the same.

Her finger, the throne of their once wedding ring, aches. Sometimes she wishes to be forgetful, but the essential memories are stubborn. They remain.

Word count: 100
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Yinglan

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) May 30, 2017. 🙂

The Picnic

after more than a decade of virtual hugs and late night chats, the four girlfriends have finally met again for a summer picnic.

two married, one engaged, one still single, they’ve bonded because of one common denominator: a guy they played love with. a nerd from college who’s known for his ragged blue jeans and an old-day-smelling shirt.

under the hot sun with the smoky smell of barbecue, there was no sound but their joyful giggles. until a dashing, familiar man appeared. until they heard nothing but bangs after bangs. then the green lawn turned red with fresh blood.

silence.

Word count: 100
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Yarnspinner

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) May 09, 2017. 🙂

BLEEDING LINES

My debut book Between My Bleeding Lines is now available on Amazon and Createspace! Please see the following links:

Thank you! ❤

Our River

the gentle whispers of the trees’ breeze. the tender murmur of river’s flow. the playful tweets of the little birds. these sweet sensual delights are the reasons why we used to visit this river. the river we called ours.

today i clutch unto you, unto your vessel. your vessel made of cold porcelain, a stark contrast to how warm your hands were when you held mine.

slowly opening the lid, feeling what was left of your mortality, i let the salty tears wet my face as i let your ashes be one with the river. the river we called ours.

Note: I wrote this piece with Ed Sheeran’s Supermarket Flowers playing in my ears. Sigh.
Oh, I’m in pieces, it’s tearing me up, but I know
A heart that’s broke is a heart that’s been loved
Word count: 100
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: My dearie Maria of Doodles and Scribbles

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) April 11, 2017. 🙂

The Painting

I asked my mom this morning about the almost burnt painting I saw last week in our attic. Its main subject is a woman dressed in glamor and elegance. She looked like me and my mommy but I am quite sure she is not my granny.

To my surprise, mom turned pale and then sad and then angry. “I thought I was able to throw it. Don’t touch it again,” she said.

I stared and waited for more. Sighing, she continued.

“She’s your granny’s mom. The man and the girl were your granny’s dad and sister. She burned their house and killed all including herself because of jealousy. Your granny and that painting are the only survivors of that fire.”

Word count: 120
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: The Storyteller’s Abode

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) March 28, 2017. 🙂

The Forgetful

My searching hands
were left bare
by the naked bed
which bear
no one but me.

Sighing, I know
the drill
I get out of our
blanket-made hill
to find he.

Welcoming sunrise
kisses my just opened eyes,
the noise of the road
whispers cluttered sighs,
there is he.

Hugging his guitar,
plucking eloquently,
as if no one’s around,
just his music and he.
Please look at me.

In scintilla
of a second,
he looks up with
fingers in chords,
He don’t know me.

I force a shy smile,
as my salty droplets fall,
he only knows his music
and forget almost all,
including me.

Tightly, I hug myself
and pray tomorrow will be different.

Word count: 115
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Sunayana MoiPensieve

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) March 21, 2017. 🙂

and for dVerse‘s OpenLinkNight #192 hosted by Grace.

dverse

Silent Witness

The cracks of the breaking dried twigs and leaves tell me I am in the middle of a lush forest. Blindfolded, I can hear the loud cracking sound echoing with my racing heartbeats filled with excitement and fear.

I grip his sweaty hand, harder. He squeezed my hands back to assure me that I am safe. I cling to him until he let my hand go so he can remove my blindfold.

The silk cloth drapes slowly away from my eyes to reveal his surprise– the older yet still familiar Volkswagen Beetle, the silent witness of our 14-year-old first kiss.

Word count: 100
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Tim Livingstone

For Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) March 14, 2017. 🙂

Spring Melt

He is
clothe in fragrant scent
leaking out of fresh, budding
blooms,
his aura is
bathe in blinding golden rays
lighting up a fully packed
room,
each step he takes towards
me are lilting,
yes, he is my harbinger of
spring.

Oh, I’m melting.

03.13.2017
©2017 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer. All Rights Reserved.
Photo credit: Unsplash

In response to dVerse‘s Quadrille #28 with the word “spring” by kim881. 🙂

dverse