Friday, October 2, 2026

Angels And Demons

 

Land of Glory
You are me and I am you.
No wonder they frowned when they heard us. We hid and chuckled. They didn't find it funny. Not funny at all. We hid for a long time. We chuckled for a bit but then cold wind struck the windowpane and made us shiver, a looming sense of dread washing away our giddiness. Perhaps we were only meant to hide.
Perhaps they believed we would never be apart. And yet... You are me and I am you, but something shifted when we moved away for a long time. Well, you moved away. I stayed. I always stay. I am the lighthouse of your delirium. I anchor you when stormy weather pushes you ashore.
One day, the lighthouse will not shine to keep you safe. One day, it will just stand, mute in its darkness. And then you won't chuckle, not even for a bit.
You will look for me in the house we grew up in, a house with tall windows and heavy curtains, their birds and butterflies frozen mid-flight in eternal immobility. I will be there. I will be there looking through those windows, watching you. And you will believe I am still the lighthouse.
You will try to tell me all about your adventures and your new friends, contrarians all of them, of course, and the photographs for the new book you swear you'll publish next year, you must come to the party, it'll be wild, promise, promise, and I promise because I am still here.
Your tsunami of words pins me in place, as motionless as the birds and the butterflies. Yet, my thoughts drift away. I am me and I am no longer you.
You still chuckle, just as we once did a long time ago. One day, you won't, not anymore. I... I hide, certain now that I too must move... away from them, away from you. Just away from...
Sprint @ The Writing Place, 
the Second Life® group of writers

Sunday, September 27, 2026

Pancreas Poetry

LEA13 Cica Ghost

Poetry, a freakshow in the making. Add a postage stamp, someone yelled. He continued. Something about his pancreas. She felt sleepy. He spoke louder. She stood, right there, in the front row, but she felt sleepy. She must've fallen asleep standing, because when she opened her eyes, the room was empty. The stage was empty. Where's the freakshow? Where is he and his pancreas? As she started toward the door, a piece of paper fluttered to her. It said "Violets are red, roses are blue, my pancreas will burst, and so will you." It must be love then. She smiled.

Sunday, September 20, 2026

Silence

 

Amar
(Closed March 2018)


Silence. She was teaching meditation now. Breathe in, breathe out. The group followed her lead. Suddenly, someone at the back moved out of sync. Breathe in, breathe out. Another one out of sync. She stood up and walked to the back of the room. Now, one in the front row. Stop! What is going on? Everyone shrugged. OK, back to breathing. In sync again. For a few seconds only... She squinted. A corpse-pale specter kept pushing her students. She rolled her mattress and swung it. The specter looked shocked. Breathe in, breathe out, she said, a smirk on her face.

Sunday, September 13, 2026

My Name Is...


 "My name is... She stopped talking and started clicking. Everyone stared. For a full minute, she just clicked."
"Wait. You have literally lifted this from that film."
"No, I wrote this."
"You didn't. It's from that alien film."
"Ah, aliens. Right. In my story, there are no aliens. Something malfunctions in her brain and she stops using words."
"Forever?"
"Yes!"
"Forever...?!"
"Well, I'm not sure. I'm not that far into the story. I was thinking something neurological."
"Ah, ok. My name is... Mrs. ClickClick."
"Funny..."
"Get a better story. And don't lift any ideas from a film again."
"I didn't!"

Sunday, September 6, 2026

Frostbite

 

Home

When words stumble through the page in a wave of sorrow, tears morn a future unlived. When a smile brings a tightness to the heart, one pauses just to breathe, a foggy gaze peering through, an overwhelming sadness stifling one's fears. Numbness creeps through the cracks of one's soul and one swears never to feel this chill again. And yet, it returns. Word after word. Tear after tear, the pages pacing relentlessly, gnawing at what remains...

"What? I thought it'd be a children's story this time," said Mouse. "The darn book shifted again... This online sorcery course is total nonsense."

Sunday, August 30, 2026

A Porn Star Challenge

Amar

He was a porn star. Was. You can't do anything else, someone said. Challenge accepted. He looked around for acting roles. Failed. He worked as a delivery man. Why aren't you in acting? Failed. More acting roles. Failed. Performing had never been an issue before, he thought. The local hotel had a job. Yes. During the break, sitting in front of the hotel's fireplace one day, he overheard someone say uh, it's that guy. At least someone remembered him. It's that guy who dropped my dinner, and apologized in a very unusual way. Where's a camera when we need one?

Sunday, August 23, 2026

Fringe

 

Bous Land


"This is not a fringe. It's a tassel." Her boss went on and on about the virtues of fringes in modern furniture. She thought modern furniture was mostly practical. Except for that armchair she inherited from the neighbor who moved to Africa right after redecorating the place with the "most modern furniture in the world". It did look quite cybernetic, except for the armchair. "You keep it", he said. And she did. That was when she decided that she'd have a tassel over a fringe any time of day, much to her boss's aggravation. Viva Las Tassels! Be a rebel!

Sunday, August 16, 2026

Omnibus

 

Avatar Games


The omnibus edition included three of eight books. The release would take place in a week. However, the printing took longer than expected. The printer kept having to reprint everything. Odd pages would appear. After a few attempts, the editor decided to just print it and see what happened. We'll say it's a special remixed edition, he said. Right before the release, the editor leafed through the book. There was nothing wrong. And then he noticed it. There were not three but four books included, all in perfect order. Sometimes, we just have to let magic happen on its own.

Sunday, August 2, 2026

Roger

Bridgetown

Wrench, he said. Roger, she replied. Screwdriver. Roger. Spark plug gapper. The what? Spark plug gapper. What did he mean? She searched the tool box and couldn't find... what exactly? Quick, the spark plug gapper, he shouted. She looked at him in a panic. The what, the what? And then, it was too late. He had lost his human form. Well, now you know, he said. The spark plug gapper was the code to reset her brain-vision connection. For some reason, it hadn't worked this time. He would have to complain to management, because he did like his human helper.

Sunday, July 19, 2026

Beginning

bwc village
 

Many years later, he went back up the hill. The tire swings were still there. He swayed his legs back and forth as they had done. Why did it have to happen? Why? The cold night embraced him, cuddling him in its arms. He started to cry. Why can't I go back and undo everything? In the distance, he heard a train. Their train. The train that would take them away one day. The train that had killed her... At sunrise, he dried his tears and finally summoned the courage to take the train. For you. For us, he shouted.
100 Word Stories