Seasons: Part 2

First part was published yesterday.

Chilling shivers crawled in my veins when I saw my bloody-self inside my wrecked car.

“So what am I now? Am I a soul now? Am I dead? Am I alive?” I shouted but no voice left me.

The ambulance arrived. Several medical staffs tried to retrieve my blood-soaked body. The unfolding scene is nauseating but I urged myself to think straight.

I collected myself and prepared to run to get inside the ambulance.

But I stopped as I felt a warm yet slightly cold hand touch my arms.

I am unsure if my heart is still alive but it surely beat fast once my skin recognized this hand.

This hand belongs to the man I was supposed to marry five years ago.

This hand belongs to the man I cried and yelled at when he was not able to see me on that fateful day of October.

I waited on our corner but he did not come because he died.

But this hand… is definitely….

“No, no, no, no.” “This is couldn’t be. This couldn’t be.”

But my senses say otherwise.

This is how his touch feels like.

And this is how he makes me feel.

I slowly turned around.

And urged myself to look up.

My heart stopped.

Because the hand resting is my arm is indeed… his.

09.28.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 16 Assignment. This is my first-ever flash fiction series. ❤

Seasons: Part 1

My soul still searches for you.

For five long years, I was able to avoid this street. I was able to forget this area. I wanted to avoid you. I wanted to avoid us until my car stopped.

It ceased to move, for reasons I don’t know. I guess it brought me here, to the corner we call our own.

Winter, spring, summer and fall, this bench was ours.

It was a cold December night when you found me in this corner. I said my name, you said yours.

It was a blooming April morning when you asked me to be yours. Of course, I said yes.

It was a hot yet so bright July afternoon when you gave me that ring. I said I love you and you said you do, too.

I waited for you on that fateful day of October. I can vividly smell the earth scents and feel the sky winds as I saw you walk towards me.

I thought it was you. But it wasn’t you.

I thought you will come for me. But instead, I went to see you. I waited for you on our corner. But you didn’t wait for me. It’s humid autumn, but you laid still, chillingly frozen.

“Enough,” I said to myself.

I went back to my car because I cannot stand to be in this corner anymore.

I ran, then stopped abruptly when I saw my bloody-self inside my crushed car.

09.10.2015
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Photo credit: Unsplash
Originally written for Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 13 Assignment. This is my first-ever flash fiction. ❤

Winter’s Dance*

winter

Winter’s Dance*

*A collaboration with my Queen of Sonnets,who I consider a dear friend,  Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res.

Melinda, an eloquent poetess and a gifted fantasy writer, is the author of epic fantasy adventure Stars and Angel Sing. Visit her blog and take a thrilling journey as she takes you to the enchanted world of Shayari.


Winter’s Dance

Barren land blanketed with brilliant white
Sparkling ice crusts  all dripping icicles
Bare twigs displays stalactites, stalagmites
All part of the season’s endless cycles
Winter land’s fresh page is like a clean slate
Covering up Autumn’s leafy decay
With crystalline frost Arctic winds create
Blowing snow drifts that fly over the quay
Flushed cheeks, reddened ears, blue-tinged lips, freezing
As I turn figure eights ‘round the iced lake
Teeth chatter as frostbites come with cold seeping
But I spin and ice dance without a break
In sync with the whispers of frost, I twirl
Letting go of all my cares as I whirl.

Image Credit: Pixabay

My deepest thanks to you, Mel!
It is always an honour to share
a single pen with you.
Now I know how to write sonnets,
and it’s because of you! 

Autumn’s Passage*

fall

Autumn’s Passage*

*A collaboration with my Queen of Sonnets, who I consider a dear friend,  Melinda Kucsera of In Media Res.

Melinda, an eloquent poetess and a gifted fantasy writer, is the author of epic fantasy adventure Stars and Angel Sing. Visit her blog and take a thrilling journey as she takes you to the enchanted world of Shayari.


Autumn’s Passage

Leaves painted in sunset hues reach for sky
Skeletal trees so bare and so naked
As leaves fall, pool like earth’s blood on wind’s sigh
Turns green grounds to a bed that’s gold-plated
Ready for winter to lie down and rest
As coming freezing chills sips its gaiety
Autumn still remains piled up and dressed
Displays her own unique scarlet beauty
She lulls the trees to sleep, to wait for spring
Whispers calming song, earth’s wind sings along
Dragging ever nearer winter’s cold sting
Holds on to it’s red crown that won’t last long
All leaves fall in the end to make compost
As white frosts replace rust, crimson combos.

Image credit: Unsplash

Hiems: A Haiku

Haiku

Hiems: A Haiku
©2016 Rosemawrites@A Reading Writer

Below zero temp
creates clear white stalactites
sparkling stalagmites.

Photo credit: F.T. Ledrew of Hook, Line and Inkwell
(Thank you, my friend! <3)


In response to Blogging from A to Z Challenge: H is for Haiku

Haiku

Haiku is:

  • syllabic (17 syllables or less)
  • an imagist poem (draws the emotion from the image). Concrete images are described. It is important in haiku to deemphasize the ego. The subject, not the poet is what focuses the haiku. “One of the most common characteristics of haiku,. . . . is silence.” Bruce Ross. The words silence or stillness can be used in haiku, but it is the concrete image as described that makes the reader respond to the feeling of silence.
  • written in the moment. The past can be referred to as long as it doesn’t overpower the present.
  • one of two forms “traditional” or “modern”
    • traditional requires a season be named and images and emotions be drawn from of nature.
    • modern can be images of relationship, personality, experience, etc
  • often a tristich, commonly written in 3 lines. BUT, it can be written in 1 or 2 lines. (if not broken into 3 lines, the haiku should still follow the pattern of 3 units, 2 images that either conflict or expand resulting in insight.) The common break down of syllables:
    • L1 5 syllables describes image (traditional name season)
    • L2 7 syllables, adds conflicting image or expands first image
    • L3 5 syllables provide insight (the ah ha! moment) through a juxtaposed image.

Missed a letter/poem? Read all Poetry from A-Z here.

The Bloodiest Leaf

My friends love either spring or summer with the shining bright soleil. I am the odd fan of fall. The only kid who loves to see trees go skeletal. Little do they know the leaf-less twigs also scared me. But I still love fall because of my granny!

She lives in a brick red house with a bold blue door. When Ber-month starts, autumn’s scarlet leaves begin to crawl and cover her brick wall. It’s the signal: let the games begin!

Whoever points the bloodiest leaf, among me and my cousins, will get the biggest chunk of world’s chocolatiest cake!

Word count: 100

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

Photo credit: Pixabay


In response to Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers (FFfAW) April 06, 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 the lovely fall-inspired prompt, Priceless Joy! ❤

Read more short stories here:

 

WRITING 101: Seasons (FINALE)

NOTE: This is the FINALE of my original short story titled SEASONS. For a better reading experience, please read the first two parts first, Seasons and Season Part II.


“This can’t be,” my mind whispers. But my heart and my senses know, it is him.

When I finally look into his dark brown eyes, words ran out of me. Anger and sadness left me.

I am numb.

He stared back and looked through my eyes as his hand traces my arms and reaches for my hand.

“Let’s go,” he finally said, softly.

I am too weak to resist so I let him lead me.

Memories came rushing as we walk hand in hand towards the ancient wooden bench that we call, ours.

This place is far too familiar to forget. It smells sweet during summer, fresh during spring, chilly during winter. Now, the atmosphere is filled with earth scents.

We sit silently, unmoving.

I stare away from his face but my body is wide awake while his finger traces the ghost of our engagement ring.

More shivers run through me as I felt his face moves closer to my ears.

“I’m so sorry, my love,” he whispers repeatedly.

His hoarse voice cracks as he softly say how much he missed me.

I slowly pull him away.

I faced him, eye to eye, with all my being. I am not sure if I am a soul now or what, but I bared my whole self to him as I look straight to his teary-eyes.

“Breathe. Please, breathe,” I remind myself as the flood of emotions flow through me.

Anger. Sadness. Longing. Unbelief. Love.

I am now looking again at the man I loved and still love so much. I am now looking at the man I imagined waiting for me at the altar. I am now looking at the man I dreamed of having children with.

I am now looking at the man I have mourned for five years.

I am now looking at the man I badly wanted to be alive, again.

“Come with me,” he said as he wiped my tears.  

“How?” I asked in between my quiet sobs.

He moves closer to me. “Just say yes.”

I looked at his eyes and let the windows of my soul express the words I cannot verbally say.

Our stares are charged with strong love, anguish, sadness, confusion. Our eyes are like weapons that unveil the emotional turmoil that happens inside us.

Just as the longing became unbearable, his soft lips finally met mine.

We are both cold but our locked-lips sent warm current through our whole being. His lips feel familiar and intoxicating. His lips remind me of what I have been missing. His lips, oh, his lips.

My eyes remain close as I wanted to feel him and him only, until a strong electric jolt shocked me.

I resisted the strong energy that tries to suck me away from him.

I tried… I tried…. I tried….

But I cannot resist the black-hole-like force that swallows me.

My heart beats fast.

My body shakes.

My breath rushes back.

“Her heartbeat returned. She’s back, she’s back,” someone whispers softly but with urgency.

My eyes open at the blinding lights of the operating room.

I am alive, again.


Whew!

I am really jittery about this ending because I am not sure if I ended this well-received story, in a good enough way.

But this is how I would like to express my greatest and biggest thanks to Blogging University’s WRITING 101 course! 😀 Kudos to @cherilucas @susanrnet for creating and administering interesting and thought-provoking tasks.

Honestly, A Reading Writer just a book blog before. It’s more about my reads. But after Writing 101, A Reading Writer is now really, WRITING!!! 😀 Now, my blog has Fiction by rosemawrites category!!! 😀

I cannot express how grateful I am because I am part of this course. I have said for how many times that I don’t really write fictions because I think I cannot write a good one. I write poems and news articles but not stories.

Writing 101 showed me a part of my writer-self that I am not aware does exists. 

So I am now taking a bow.

But, Day 20’s assignment will be posted, soonest! 😀

~

WRITING 101: Seasons

My soul still search for you.

For five long years, I was able to avoid this street. I was able to erase this area. I wanted to avoid you. I wanted to avoid us.

Until my car stopped. It ceased to move, for reasons I don’t know. I guess it brought me here. To the corner we call our own.

Winter, spring, summer and fall, this bench was ours.

It was a cold December night when you find me in this corner. I said my name, you said yours.

It was a blooming April morning when you asked me to be yours. Of course, I said yes.

It was a hot yet so bright July afternoon when you gave me that ring. I said I love you and you said you do, too.

I waited for you on that fateful day of October. I can vividly smell the earth-scents and feel the sky-winds as I saw you walk towards me.

I thought it was you. But it wasn’t you. I thought you will come for me. But instead, I went to see you. I waited for you on our corner. But you didn’t wait for me. It’s humidly autumn, but you laid still, chillingly frozen.

“Enough,” I said to myself.

I went back to my car because I cannot stand to be in this corner anymore.

I ran, then stopped abruptly when I saw my bloody self inside my crushed car.


Yay! This is the first time in so many years that I crafted a fictional very-short story and this feels great!

This post is inspired by Blogging University’s WRITING 101 Day 4 assignment. 

Day 4: A story in a single image

Yesterday, you found inspiration in one word and used it as a springboard for a post idea. Images — including photographs and works of art — can also act as starting points for stories, essays, poems, and personal musings. For this exercise, use one of the images above as the creative spark for today’s post. You might use it as the setting for a story or poem, write about how it makes you feel, or describe a memory conjured by it.

NOTE: This story has already a second part. Seasons Part II.

Please share your thoughts.

I highly value your comments, fellow bloggers. 🙂

~