Short Story | Fiction

A Parable For The Lost

It was almost 10:00pm. Elsewhere, people spent the night with friends and families, or resting in their homes. Others were already on their way, albeit stuck in overcrowded buses or jammed roads; still, they’re on the move — unlike us, still waiting for our own ride. Unlike me, simply watching each bus pass me by.

A taxi glided towards me, rolled down its window, and waited for an offer. I tried to ignore the expectant face behind the wheel; I’ve learned to distrust their service, even when I understood their plight. I couldn’t tell what the driver thought as he drove past me; eager passengers had already raced towards his vehicle. A few frustrated people cussed at the taxi driver, but it didn’t matter; there was one less competition in the waiting shed, one less rival to a decent ride home.

And I just wanted to go home. But not right now; not right away. I was tired, but it was not as tiring as spending the nights in abject solitude. Amidst the standing crowd of stranded commuters, I didn’t felt alone. And soon enough, I felt satisfied, reminded fully well why I often chose to be alone. Continue reading

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Introspections & Retrospections

Til Love Makes Us One

Just because I’m a hopeless romantic doesn’t mean I love weddings. I hate the fact that I’m forced to buy new clothes and shoes. I hate the fact that I’ve pressured myself to lose weight, not just to fit into the formal wear, but to look decently good for the photos. I hate the times when I have to switch into temporary-extrovert mode as I’m coerced into joining the games during reception.

And I hate that bittersweet melancholy as the celebration ends, as guests trickle away and empty the place, as the lovely couple finally leave with each other — to finally, truly live with each other — and all that’s left are the memory and inspiration of the moment, and a hopefulness brewing, stirring inside.

And I can’t help but sigh because, as much as my rational mind refutes it, I find myself at the end of each wedding believing in magic. Continue reading

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Short Story | Fiction

Emptied Skies

It was supposed to be a beautiful day. The sun shone brightly, the bitterness of black coffee tasted just right, few people strolled the park. It was a relatively quiet morning. She seemed relatively happy that morning.

It wasn’t until after almost half an hour of her silence that I noticed something was wrong.

“What’s up?” I asked as casually as I could.

Nothing, she said almost inaudibly. Nothing you could do or help me with, my anxiety translated for me. I stared at her, worried— concerned, not as much for her as it was for me. But it was a wonderful day.

And then, a horrible night. Continue reading

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