64

No words can express how much the number 64 means to me.

It was 2007. I was eight years old, and my cousin was in middle school. The school bus dropped her off at my house since the apartment she lived in was too far away. She often did her homework at my house, and we would play afterwards until her mom came from work to pick her up.

Our grandfather from the Philippines was visiting us in America.

I remember my cousin struggling over her math homework in the living room, bright sunlight flooding the room.

“What’s 8 times 8?” she asked, struggling because she could not remember the answer.

“Uh,” was all I could say before I rushed away in search of a calculator.

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Trance

It was as if she was under a trance,

Holding the knife just above him,

Eyeing the target even if the lights were dim

With such aim and a perfect chance

To end everything in this one stance.

 

But something held her back

As she held the knife over his heart.

She was starting to come apart.

His life was the object of the attack.

Her motivation was payback.

 

What held her back was the love

They once shared though it disappeared.

This delay in murder was what she feared,

But once she remembered what he was devoid of,

She made sure he was disposed of.

Thank You

A lot of the time, we write and don’t really consider what motivates us, so I wanted to use this post as a thank you to all the followers I have and everyone who comments or likes my posts! 😀

Writing–anything, including blog posts and stories–is fun by itself, but the best motivation really comes from those reading. I remember making a story in Wattpad a long time ago, and I felt like the story was okay. But when I saw the first comment on that story, I was extremely happy and continued writing mainly for that one person.

I used to write tons of random stories in middle school, but I would try to hide whenever anyone tried reading my pages and pages of writing–including my best friend. I didn’t know that a class full of supporters motivated me so much to write until I basically dropped writing that story when I left my middle school. I didn’t know that having someone to vent to throughout the writing process was so important until I talked off my sister’s ear about issues in a work in progress. And I didn’t know how much it meant when my best friend said she would always be my “number one fan”, even if there’s no one else reading, until she moved away.

So, here’s my thanks to every follower, commenter, liker, and random reader. Without you, I don’t think I would have much motivation. 😀

Hey

Hey-o. It’s been a while since I’ve posted something on WordPress, but to be honest, my mind has been geared towards storywriting lately when I went back to my Wattpad account and saw one of my (many) unfinished stories and came across one that just needs to be finished.

The thing is, I’ve been so geared towards writing to please a specific audience that I forgot how it is to write for fun or to write and experiment different styles, different points of view, different characters. And yes, I know I can pretty wordy at times, but that helps when I try to describe setting. So, I guess when I was writing that story I somehow dropped two years ago, I decided to go for short phrases and paragraphs to cut out all my wordiness. And the result is–amazing (to me, of course–I don’t know about other people, but rereading what I wrote with a fresh mind was exciting).

So the following is a description of the story (I am so sorry for the shameless promotion):

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Distant

“Can you just answer one question?” Amy asks as she applies makeup, squinting at herself in the well-lit mirror in her bedroom.

I lie back on her bed and close my eyes, already figuring the reason why she’s asking such a question.

“You’re asking because the boys are out, right?” I ask back. “Let me guess, you want to ask why Nathan feels the need to be so disrespectful to our oldest brother.”

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Imaginary

“I don’t know,” Chloe says. “We didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Sweetie, who are you talking to?” Chloe’s mother asks, placing her hand on the receiver of the phone so the other person on the line can’t hear her panic.

Chloe looks up to her mother with stunning azure eyes that her mother can’t seem to find out. No one on her side of the family has eyes like that, and her husband denies any blue eyes in his family too.

“Dean,” Chloe replies.

Chloe’s mom furrows her eyebrows into a quizzical but worried look before quickly relaxing her face, unwilling to make Chloe question her panicked expression.

“Dean?” she asks, trying to smile.

“Uh-huh,” Chloe says, her eyes not once removing themselves from her mother’s plain brown eyes.

“What are you… What are you talking about?” Chloe’s mother asks, hoping Chloe does not catch her hesitation.

“Dean said you’re calling a doctor, and he’s wondering if we did something bad. But I don’t think we did anything bad. Right, Mommy?”

“A-a-and where is Dean right now?” her mother asks.

Chloe looks to her left and wraps her arm around Dean’s shoulders. She looks back to her mother’s face writhing in horror.

“Is your mommy sick?” Dean asks, pointing at Chloe’s mother.

“I don’t know,” Chloe replies before turning to her mother. “Mommy, are you si – ”

Chloe’s mother slides to the ground and leans against the kitchen counter to support her back as she curls into a ball, trying to shield herself from the children.

“Doctor, Doctor, please help me!” Chloe’s mother begs. “I still see the children even with the medicine – ”

She clutches her stomach in pain, trying to forget.

“It’s alright, it’s alright, Mrs. Grace,” the doctor says.

Mrs. Grace looks at the two children around her, fearful that they might come closer and take her life.

“You just have to breathe and accept the fact that – ”

“My daughter, my daughter, oh, my sweet baby,” Mrs. Grace interrupts with tears in her eyes.

“Mrs. Grace? Mrs. Grace! How much medicine – ”

“Oh, my dear, Chloe, I knew you were still here – ”

“Mrs. Grace!”

“And Dean is here too…”

“Mrs. Grace, those children are just in your head! They’re all just-just imaginary!”

Monster

I try to tell myself

those creatures aren’t real

that it only lives in stories,

but in life, I’ve seen                                                        monsters,

 

and it feels like they are

everywhere. I try to calm

myself, convince myself

that all monsters                                                             are

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