Sunday, September 1, 2013

A Siamese Tale, A Mirror, and An American Tale

It took me a bit to get to this story, I decided to tie in the last few stories into one and see how it turns out.  I'm actually pretty happy with how it turned out.  I'm going to crawl into bed in a bit and pray that I'll feel better when I wake up.  Feeling a bit under the weather for some reason, I really wanted to get this story done so I can have something for you all to enjoy before the work week starts up again.

I made some wonderful friends online who enjoy writing and storytelling, I'm happy that they enjoy my writing (shocked as well).  Hopefully I'll write a story that'll cater to your taste if one of my previous stories didn't exactly tickle your fancy.

This is the new 100 story for today, an old depressing 100 story, and a short story mixed with a bit of non-fiction and fiction.  Enjoy!

09/01/2013 (Sunday)- Siamese Moon

Last night, a siamese cat walked into my dreams. 

She was the most beautiful cat I had ever seen, her tail swishing back and forth as she rubbed against my leg.  I offered her a dream bowl of milk and tuna.  She licked her paws after enjoying the meal, and offered to read my fortune as thanks.

She warned me of a half-moon night when a monster will take up space inside my head, of a secret that would take my tongue, only when a sliver of silver moonlight dips will I be freed from both. 

Only then.  Only then.

09/22/2012  Self Reflection

I see him. 

Every morning I see him looking at me, sad eyes staring back.  Confused… scared?  I try to get him to open up.  What’s the matter?  How’re you doing?  Hello?

Each day the same response, the same daily ritual…

We stare.  He turns and walks away. 

Sunrise.  Sunset.

Time hasn’t been kind to him- a galling apparition of what was… eyes that have forgotten joy, lips once alive now dead. 

He’s had enough.  I watch helplessly as he slits his wrist. 

I yell!  Scream!  WHY?! 

He can’t hear me.  Never has.  I watch him disappear from my mirror.  

An American Life (The Florida Transplant)

America.  I remember my first trip to this country— I was about Four years old—we were going to visit my maternal grandparents who lived there.  At the time it was magical to some kid who came from the Philippines to see Florida’s tourist spots:  Disney, Epcot, Seaworld, and Albertson’s Bakery.  Man, I loved their blueberry pies.  We didn’t have blueberry pies in the Philippines.  I was hooked!  Every summer since then I’d ask my parents, “When are we going back to Florida for blueberry pie?”  It was that simple pie that made me fall in love with Florida.  Sorry, Mickey.

We finally got our papers, as a family we were going to move to America.  We were all excited!  We’ll be immigrants chasing the American Dream!  The future never looked brighter.  We got our papers September 11, 2001.

After the attack, the U.S. embassy slowed down work on immigration.  It was due to this that we had to leave our eldest brother behind, he had reached the age that prevented him from moving with us to America.  Our family was split, what should have been a happy move became the saddest moment for our family.  The first few months in America my mother was in a state of depression: my older brother living by himself away from us, my father working in Africa to send money to us and the rest of our family in the Philippines.  My younger brother and I looked for work— we didn’t attend school right away coming here, we needed to pay rent and bills.  Later on we moved in with our grandparents, and things got better from there.

It hasn’t been easy.  My younger brother has moved to California to seek his fortune.   I’m still with family here in Florida.  For even though money is important, I find that being with family is worth more than anything else.  I get homesick often, I’ll usually pick up a $5 phone card and call home just to chat with my older brother (I prefer hearing his voice over reading a text).  My roots are still in the Philippines, but I’m finally starting to grow them here.  Florida has shown me that the American Dream is still there for those of us who work hard to get it.  I still see a bright future, I still see the dream I dreamed as a child…  I treat myself to it every weekend, buying Albertson’s wonderful blueberry pie.