The Girl

In front of me was a cup filled with a hot soup. It seemed to torture my lips and my tongue every time I made a sip from it. On my right side was my book by Clare Clark and on my left was my as-if-telling-me-pay-me-heed cell phone. Outside the skies were crying, outstretching their pleas, uttering the thoughts they have as their grains drop on the leaves barely defying it due to less surface tension, and I, unfathomably dead serious, am falling. But just don't know to either which hand I shall be caught.

"Mid - September year twenty ten, you held me by your arms tight yet gentle, whispered me singsong strings of words beneath your breath, murmured something I hardly understood, remembered the auld lang syne sweet and mellifluous. I can feel the sentiments as the warm belch of breath from your mouth dumped against my neck and some area of my shoulder...

There was a moment pause in my preoccupied head. Around me was the nagging of life's facts, the overwhelming conscience, the need to create a master piece of my own, pressure of the wind pressing off my body temporarily making me busted and numbed. This place is dire enough to roam around. This place is full of insecurities, resentment and anguish. A moment still. There, on the corner, I saw a figure blurry but of a resemblance of an idiocy. My eyes curiosity brought my system to entire rapture of the thing I had seen. I couldn't figure out what's making it fuzzy, was it the thing itself or were those stubborn eyes. I peeped closely...

..suddenly, you were half - way out the door, your vivid attention intently searching something in me. Aye! You wanted me to say my last words for you. I had forgotten that you were just holding me that night to equipped myself with higher concentration on how to live life ALONE without thee, without you loving me anymore. I couldn't defy the urging eruption of abrupt intervention on such impeccable quiet night."

My body was already near the figure on the corner. She was sobbing. She kept on tapping her chest as if telling, "It has to be OK". On the left side was a beeping phone, the other side caught my interest... It was a book laid open and undone. As I stared closely, I literally drooped and got knocked off by a strong impression of reality. The girl went on from the I-pity-myself-but-I-have-to-cry situation which was intolerably devastating and alarmingly not kidding. I knew from that time that the crying lass was me, a fresh reflection of me for the passed almost two years that he came up, and gave me his willful GOODBYE.

Open Draft

O

pen the door, quick!”

Daphne, carrying a bucket filled with left-over, raced towards the barn’s big arched door.

“It’d better be good this time or Prime shall hear of you.” she said while unbolting the door.

“Daphne, it’s not dead! It’s not dead!” shouted the voice.

As she opened the door, there in the entryway was Matt gasping for air yet his face was taut with suppressed excitement. How many miles had he probably run into?

“What is not dead?” Daphne asked. Tense was starting to build up in her whole body as if she is already expecting what is to be said.

“The prophecy Daphne, the prophecy. That is what is not dead.”

Stunned of what she had heard, she dropped the bucket right onto her foot without feeling the pain. Her heart slowed so as the pace of her breathing. Her senses were numbed. Pigs squealed and grunted.

“The prophecy is not dead Daphne.” Matt repeated. “For all these decades, we thought the prophecy had betrayed us. We thought that hope is lost, but no. Hope shall once be restored in our lands Daph.”

“He’s here.” Daphne whispered, still numbed to her senses.

“Hey old lady, are you there? Did you even noticed me or even heard of what I said?” Matt waved his hand in front of her oval-shaped face, snapped his fingers, and did a little dance to get Daphne's attention.

Gathering the strength left in her, she faced Matt. Her face was a perfect display of emotions at play. Together at once, she was full of excitement and fear. Fear.

“Matt, if he is here then, our fate, the one the prophecy tells us.” Daphne gasped.

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WHAT DO YOU THINK??? 

This is still my first draft. Hope you like it :)

A letter from a FORLORN child

There is so much gladness in my heart, yet nobody cares to wonder. 

I’ve been with myself for fourteen years now. I stayed in an orphanage where almost everyone bullied me, stamped me on my left foot, punched me on my head, said something rude about my parents. They don't know how I felt, why I've become so dull yet not frustrated. 

The rush of the wind tells me they love me, which they never wanted to desert me; they just have some sorts of privities they don’t like to discuss with me because even if they did, I still can’t and won’t understand. In every breath that I inhale and in every sound of the morning sunshine that rises me up something wants me to seize it and hold it by my hand, mark it on my head.

I scrunched it. Make myself feel hopeful and full of bliss.
 

At every air slapped in my face, I feel the desperation of their longing kiss and warm touch, afraid that one day, they might lose me because of my fragility but of course, I am not, it stayed as is on their thoughts because they love me.

I have chains of letters for them yet not mailed. Few of those were having the same content for the activities here which were perfunctory. Incessantly, I dream of my Pa and Ma together with their child (that's me). We did what normal family does. 

The touch of these dreams wary enough to tell me that it's true, that somehow deep within the realms of their hearts they want me too. I longed so much to breathe the vast bowl of the sky, to feel the jostle of the streets stretching my loose nerve - strings and quickening the flow of my blood. I love to be with them standing in the meadow, reaching out our hands and figuring out the music that comes from the dancing wind, which hits the tall grasses. There, across the brook, we, convulsed by merriment, listened to the cold breeze nourishing our hungry minds, repeating the words ‘we are one’.

Suddenly, realization came to play that I was alone today and will always be, I hope not.

Days would come that they'll come back to me, arranged everything that comforts me, straight things up, make the best to lay me down their protective arms, embraced their child gently and make up with all the wasted times I just watched the dark skies alone, sang the songs forlorn, and dreamed my dreams on my own.

 Ma and Pa, please bear with the obstinate time. 

I need you too. I'm your child.

Maureen 'URE' Ortega