Uncle Mario

Another 100 word story.

One of my favorite Uncles.  A bookworm, a huge sci-fi nerd, and an old time rebel.  He tells me about his life back then picketing in student rallies, the tear gas, the live bullets, the violence.  It never gets old.

Sorry if I haven't been posting as much, been way too busy with real life.

Hope this little story makes up for a bit.

Enjoy.

*picture is originally from http://www.gettyimages.com/detail/photo/lonely-man-walking-way-of-brick-royalty-free-image/130964502

05/09/2014 (Saturday)- Uncle Mario

          My Uncle was filled with patriotism in his youth.  His college years spent picketing with fellow students against Ferdinand Marcos’ despotic regime.  Hiding from authorities, dodging bullets and batons during student rallies, watching friends disappear in the night.

          In the end he had to flee for his life.  Leaving home, family, friends, a country in need

          He left something else behind that day.  You can see it in his eyes when he talks.  A dull opaque cloud passing by trying to hold back the rain, but always this one traitorous drop escaping.

          We say nothing as he wipes it away. 

Memory Lane

Another 100 word story.

Because I've been staying up late counting my worries and listing my problems.

Enjoy.

*picture is originally from http://favim.com/image/442310/

05/08/2014 (Friday)-  Memory Lane

          I was looking for a deep, black, dreamless sleep.  But somewhere between waking and dreaming, I took a wrong turn.

          Once you step on a path in dreams you can only move forward.  No going back.

          There were brambles and weeds growing to the sides, a yellow nightmare moon watching from above, and memories littered along the lane.

          Jagged, sharp, broken glass memories.  The ones I had chosen to forget.

          Each step opening old wounds, reminding me of people I’ve hurt, and people I continue to hurt.

          I tried to stop, forget.

          But the blood and tears wouldn’t let me.

Summer's End

Another 100 word story.

Still trying to get in the groove as I pack up Summer in a box, and get ready for the months-of-Ber season.

Enjoy.

*picture is originally from http://www.deviantart.com/morelikethis/192280784/traditional

05/07/2014 (Thursday)- Summer’s End

          I opened up the box for Summer’s End, to pack away my days.

          Days spent wisely in idleness on the grass, too few to count, days burned away with no time to write, to read, to dream…?  Too much.

          Old notebooks staring back at me with empty lines of prose unsaid, demanding attention be paid for the ink has gotten old and brittle and grey.

          Old stories asking for more words, less dust.

          I’ll try, I promised, closing the box.

          The Sun gave a sigh as he watched me put them away.

          Another box filled with wanting days.

          I’ll try.

Once Every Blue Moon

Another 100 word story.

Just going over some personal issues with the cat, looking for advice on life.

Enjoy.

*picture is originally from http://www.niceiphonewallpapers.com/iphone-wallpaper/41-moon-and-cat-iphone4/

05/06/2014 (Wednesday)-  Once Every Blue Moon

          It was supposed to be just another night for a man who had conversations with his cat, but, like anything strange, they never quite happen in small amounts.

          Two moons stared back at the man and his cat.

          One bright full yellow moon, and behind it a smaller, sadder, blue old moon.

          “What does it mean?”

          Change, replied the cat, two moons represent conflicting sides in yourself.

          “Why blue?”

          Because neither choice is entirely right, but making no choice… well… lets just say you’ll eventually be the male equivalent of a cat lady.

          “I don’t know.  Can’t be that bad.”

Hello August My Old Friend

Back after a long time.

Real life got in the way and I had to stop posting for a bit.  (Rest > being up late)

I thought I'd have more time over summer break to get some writing done, and also work on some long over due projects.  Sadly, I didn't even have time for family, for reading (still trying to finish up 1Q84, and Flying Free), for writing.

It's been months since I've actually tried to put anything down, all I've been focusing on was work (trained to work in our sister hospital's pharmacy).  Everything I've written down so far has been on a theme of:  no time for writing.  Damn you my subconscious mind.

Trying to get my head and notes straight for NaNoWriMo.

*picture is originally from http://futuregiraffes.com/2012/06/10/confusion-behind-silence-eugene-soloviev/

05/05/2014 (Tuesday)- Hello August My Old Friend

          I wake to August thunder knocking on my door, his aged booming voice demanding an overdue rent of words and stories.

          You’re late by two months.  You missed your date, his nowhere voice reaching out to me from some nowhere land.

          I pull the covers over my head to soften his demands, bills, ink stained paperwork, and highlighted schedules spilling to a laundry covered floor, ill spent time and uninvited dust covering books I meant to read.

          The alarm clock rings,  Priorities! she screams shrilly over August’s thunder.

          I get up to dress for work.

          August cries outside my door.