“You like her?” he asked. “I don’t know. I’ve met her once. In a world where good things happen, I might’ve,” I tried to satisfy his answers while being honest. “You kids think too much. Everyone’s approach to this has to be always romantic. Why is it like that?” he took out another cigarette in exchange of a new one. “You’re the one who asked me. Doesn’t that mean that you’re the one who’s expecting something?” 

“But I never said that you could act like a lovelorn movie star who lost her leading lady.”

“What exactly is it that you want?!” I was losing my temper. “Why are you here?” he ignored me. “To visit a friend who died,” I raised my voice. “Hopeless romantics, even when she’s dead, you’re using her.” 

He continued, “You know I’m right. You’re one of those guys who believe that their life must be like a movie, full of tragedies and hopes. You meet her once; she becomes your what-if safety net. She dies; she becomes your tragedy. You use your own pity to satisfy yourself.”

“You’re wrong,” but he was right. I never noticed it until now. Harp strums? I bet she was the same like me, a hopeless romantic in search of true love. “It hurts, doesn’t it? Accepting how stubborn our nature is. We’re caught between the tensions of drama. The height of it thrills you. You’re never going to find true love if you’re like that kid.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Because you cling on to a dream. It’s normal to believe in true love, destiny and all those things, but you’re not in it for that. You’re in love with the thought of finding true love.”

*an excerpt from an incomplete short story of mine. I’ve written half of this story a month ago and wrote a part of the second half a few weeks ago. It’s a working progress. I haven’t finished it yet; because, I have a feeling that I can’t. Writing isn’t always hard. Sometimes, it simply hurts. 

Seconds beyond 11:55

*An original short story which I submitted for the Buklod Literary Magazine.

Every night at 11:55, the seconds hand of the clock would remain still for ten seconds. I always noticed this inconsistency, and before sleeping, my head would face the walls beside my bed with my eyes’ fixed stare on the small clock hanging above. The clock wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It was bland and even less than unattractive. I bought it out of a mere gut feeling during a sale at Divisoria last December, and a month after, my spaced out attention before bed noticed the seconds hand’s habit of stopping at 11:55, a few minutes before the strike of midnight. I first thought that it had something to do with the batteries or the mechanism of the clockwork inside, but strange enough, everything was fine. It wasn’t even running late as six months flew by. 

On the first Monday of June that year, the weather caused me to be late for school. The rain poured hard that morning, resulting sidewalks along the neighborhood to flood. Puddles scattered to different areas of the street as jeepneys run across the stream of street water, splashing onto the shoes of nearby commuters waiting for a taxi or an empty ride. 

I arrived late, breathing heavy as my heart raced after chasing time, but passing through the gates of our school, I noticed the absence of varied pitched tone voices, playing with the melody of our National Anthem. The raindrops falling, the frolicking tune of younger adolescences, they echoed behind me, slowly passing by my side as voices and whispers inched closer to my ears. 

“But it’s—,” my trail of thought was cut off when I realized that my wristwatch was missing. My eyes stared at my bare wrist for a couple of moments, thinking that it was impossible for me to lose notice of my only watch. The watch was an antique heirloom of my grandfather; it was silver but contained no actual monetary worth. Despite its age, the watch looked elegant and regularly maintained. Losing it was out of the question since it bounded sentiments from past memories of my grandfather. 

A sophomore like me accidentally collided with my left shoulder while I remained still, observing my bare watchless arm. He apologized for trying to walk backwards without checking if there was somebody behind him. Ignoring his words, I quickly asked, “What time is it?” 

My ears waited for his answer, but what I got was a mute response. Every sound of the surrounding from the drops of accumulated water on sidewalk rails falling onto a plastic wrapper to early Monday morning gossips of freshmen girls, I could hear them resounding in my ear drums except the few words which the boy in front of me said. His lips moved, but no sound came out. 

“Excuse me, what time is it again?” I asked once more, but to no avail, the reply again was in a form of lip movements with no sound. The rain halted, and the sophomore returned to his conversation with his friend, leaving me confused at what happened. Certain things weren’t making sense at all during that time, and trying to find out where my watch went wasn’t helping. I took out my phone, hoping that a time was indicated on the screen, but even there, the start-up screen of my phone was empty except for a few reminders and the date of the day. 

The date of the day, only after taking a second look did I notice the date. “December 17, 2010,” I said to myself. “It couldn’t be. It’s June of 2011,” I thought, but the voices that surrounded me a while ago vanished after I read the date on the screen. The ground appeared dry all of a sudden, and no one was around. The closed gates in front of me emerged from when the sudden loss of company made me look straight. The sky’s dim clouds lightened up, and the dry breeze of Monday mornings changed to cool winds which flowed even through the cloth of my uniform. With the faint sound of distant carolers coming from near the school, I was sure that December came this way. 

The only logical thing that went into mind was to go home and see the clock which started it all. I reached home, with mom and dad still asleep, and went straight to my room. It was a good thing that my clock was still where it used to be. “11:55,” I read; the seconds hand was still also as with everything in this room. I took it off the wall and observed it, from front to back. 

And there it was, a small note clipped onto the battery socket of the clock. In a neatly written handwriting, it went: You are now ahead of the world for six months. Every little detail for which time wasted on people’s desires and superficial needs can now be in your favor. Tomorrow, this clock will vanish, but your memories will remain intact. Whether you want the coming months to be the same will entirely depend on you. 

I woke up the next day with an empty wall beside the bed. “My mom will come running through the door saying that she forgot to iron my uniform,” I said to myself, and not a minute has passed, she knocked on the door and repeated what she said, exactly six months ago. 

Before I put back the clock on the wall yesterday, I tore a portion of paper from my notebook and wrote in it. 

To whomever this clock goes to next, 

You can’t change the world in six month, but with the six months given, you could always have a second look on things. Not everyone needs a fresh start or a new beginning. From when I got this clock up to when this happened, I couldn’t recall any significant happening in those six months. There were joys, but I can’t change that. If ever I’m grateful at what happened, it’s because now, I have the time to take a look through the six months for the second time around. Maybe this time I’ll appreciate the six months even more. 

I rubbed my eyes and clipped the note along with the first one in the same matter from when I saw it. Giving off a long deep sigh, I stretched my arms and folded them, supporting my neck with my palms. My left eye saw a tiny glint from my left hand as I moved it behind. My wristwatch was back. “11:55,” my whisper resounded within my thoughts, but looking at the clock, the seconds hand moved on, passing through the number twelve. It was now 11:56. 

Looking Forward

The sound of the waters rushing woke me up. It was morning, and I slept through the entire night laying on the grass under the sky.

I remained still, touching my lips. I could still feel him with his head on my lap and my hand on his cheek. The warmth of when our lips met was also there. I clutched my chest as I felt the sensation slipping away, slowly being replaced by loneliness.

The emptiness came back, and the void started consuming me.

I could see the birds soaring high above the clouds, freely diving and twirling at the vast space they had. For me to escape this reality, I wished I could fly, far from the troubles life has given me. This grassy stretch of land between a lake and a nearby forest was my sanctuary. I could sleep here and disappear momentarily from the world.

But before the world could catch up right at this moment, I cherished the last seconds until I fully become numbed by the reality waiting for me. 

In this very place, we carved our names on the tree right above my head. We were blinded at what we thought was love. You would carry me and spin me around right up to when we fall onto the grass, giggling. You promised me forever, but in the end, my heart sank with the promise you’ve said.

You’ve moved on while I constantly went here, waiting to dream of a different reality where you actually stayed for me. 

(To avoid confusion, read first Looking Back. Another thing, this isn’t anything personal. It’s pure fiction.) 

Looking Back

I was on my way back.

The night was silent and no sound could be heard other than the monotonous tune of the mating crickets. If I remember correctly, it was right here when I confessed to her. The rain ruined my moment, but she got up to her tip-toed feet and kissed me up front. Her perfect soft lips, the aftertaste of cherry, her hand cuddling my left ear, it felt only yesterday when everything was in their right place.

The trees were still the same, tall and full of leaves moving one with the direction of the wind. The lake beside the gravel road where we first held hands was also the same. Everything was at peace. I would close my eyes and feel just how safe I am despite being alone. I smiled and looked at the infinite stretch of stars that filled the sky. 

Like a distant dream, the feeling of what was once there lingered within me as each memory flashed through my eyes. I was almost there. I could see the moon, bright and ever beautiful, directly up ahead. 

I sat on the grass as soon as I got there. 

“It’s been three years already,” I said to myself. “I wish you’re here.”

I was waiting for a reply that would never come. I lit a candle in memory of her and lay there, watching it slowly burn. The flame danced within the grasp of my sight, and I drifted off to sleep. 

I woke up on her lap. She was caressing my cheek while running her fingers through mine, back and forth. I smiled and returned her affection by caressing hers. “I won’t be here too long,” I whispered. She then kissed my lips.

And in a minute too soon, I was again on my way back. 

Remembering Her Smile - an original short story

He closed his eyes and let the memories play itself once more.

A woman was laughing while a boy in his childhood days was learning how to climb on a bike. He cried out for help, but his parents laughed in delight as their child, persistent as ever, wanted to accomplish a great feat.

He chuckled and wiped his left eye and let the memories flash through.

The restless preteens were running all around the cafeteria that cold Valentine’s Day. He swallowed his breath and mustered out all the courage he could get. He pulled out his hand to a beautiful blond girl, sitting on the porch just near the entrance. A rose and a note were handed onto her, but due to his fear of rejection, he walked away the minute he gave it into her arms.

He grabbed his chest and pressed it hard. He bit his lip along the way and continued to reminisce.

A rainy evening came the night after their senior prom. He went out to go home since he was alone in the first place. Walking down the dark sidewalk, he heard someone sobbing. He saw the beautiful blond woman that mesmerized him every day. She was under the pelting rain with her dress and all, soaking wet from the rain. He went near her, and without uttering a word, she came into his arms and poured out all her tears.

He stayed silent and just let her cry all her worries away. And in that moment, he swore to God to never let himself see her like this.

A gust blew, but his eyes stayed shut. Memory by memory, he relived every crucial moment.  He lifted his arm up to his face and touched his lips.

Their lips met that day, but everything fell apart the next moment.

She walked away in a fragile state, but he merely stood there, feeling empty.

The memories kept on playing.

Years have passed, and everything that he left in his hometown felt distant. He sat under the tree where he kissed her and saw her walked away.

He laid there looking at the sunlight that passes through the leaves.

Clearly, nothing has changed.

Until, she showed up in front of him. It was the first time she saw her since that day. She smiled and lay beside him. Before he knew it, she was in tears.

She kissed him in the cheeks and walked away once more. Her hand was on her chest, and he saw a ring, glimmering.

He was already too late.

He opened his eyes and embraced his decision. He took a leap and once more closed his eyes.

She was up in tears once more. The luster of her face was now gone, but despite her swelling eyes and damaged lip, she was still beautiful to him. She’s been married now for five years, but smiling can only hide so much of the agony that she has hidden. He could see it very clearly. He could see that she was in pain.

The wind was running up his face, and he was gently falling like a feather. Everything was now coming to an end. He chose his way as she chose hers.

An ambulance woke him at the break of dawn. He ran downstairs to see what it was. The crowd was piling up, but he saw the medics taking her into the ambulance. She was full of bruises and blood. He went to her, and to his luck, the medics let him accompany her in the ambulance.

Despite her state, she was still smiling at him, but he cried seeing her like this. He promised to himself to never see her in pain, but still, this happened.

“Did you ever love me?” She murmured in her weak voice.

“Ever since that day I laid my eyes on you, I fell in love with you.” He replied.

She simply laughed and held his cheek, “I also loved you from the very depth of my heart.”

“Then why did you walk out on me when I kissed you?”

“I wanted to know if you really loved me,” she weakly said.

“But I did,”

“I waited for you. I simply walked away, waiting for you to grab me by the waist and hug me like everything’s going to be fine. I waited and waited, but you never came after me,” she said, shedding a tear.

His heart broke at her statement. He cried and kissed her hand. “Now, I’m here. We’ll go away, somewhere far,” he said crying. Once again she smiled and tried her best to sit up straight. She held his face and kissed him in the lips once more.

The last thing he saw was her smile, still etched on her face.

He closed his eyes and waited for it to be over. The curtains closed as his life ended with her demise.

“Wait for me,” he last uttered before his timely death.

A Lie to Keep - an original short story

“You’re lying.” 

With a simple glance at someone’s eyes, I could instantly figure out whether someone’s being dishonest to me. It was a rare gift that I acquired through the process of genetics. Mom always said that it ran through our blood. At first, it was thrilling, but you’d wish to be normal instead as time goes by; because, it hurts knowing that the world around you was nothing but a big fat lie. 

“I’m not lying. I really am going somewhere,” he said in front of me.

 “I wished you’d tell the truth instead,” I walked away and never turned back. He was my boyfriend, and the past few days were rough. His seldom fibbing now became a frequent lie along the corridor. We didn’t used to be like this, but I guess, everybody has a secret to keep. 

I tried to ignore it, but you can’t simply shun your ability to detect a lie. I don’t know how it works, but the moment the words come out from the mouth of who you’re talking to, a thought instantly pops up in your mind saying if the person lied or not. 

The feeling of knowing all of these was dreadful. I could barely survive a stride along the corridor. Now, my only refuge was my best friend whom I’ve known the longest, and not once did he ever lie to me.

A tear fell when I saw him, and I instantly came running into his arms pouring the tears that I’ve held all this time. He wrapped his arms around me and stayed silent. He knew I was hurt, and he knew that I needed time to be alone. 

“He was never meant for you to begin with,” he whispered in my ear.  “But, I love him. We’ve been together for years already,” I replied pushing myself away from his comfort. 

“You need some time to think. You’ll never know where you’ll find love.”

“Why couldn’t it be you? You love me right?” I managed to joke around bringing laughter to myself.

He laughed himself and smiled towards me, “Stop kidding around. I don’t love you. We’re only friends.” 

And then my whole body froze at his remark, I stood there with a perplexed look towards him. His smile was still there, but slowly, it changed to a confused look. I was shaking inside, trying to oppose what happened. I remained there for another mere seconds until I manage to utter…

“You’re lying.”

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Author’s Note: Okay, I know it sucks. -___- I like the story, but the writing just sucks. I don’t know why, but I’m out of practice. I wrote this to serve as practice; because, tomorrow’s my qualification writing exam for my faculty’s newspaper, and now, I think I won’t get in. I need an honest opinion. Tell me if this sucks. You can message me as an anon. :| I need to know where to improve in just matter of hours. 

Reminiscence - The Second Meeting

My mind was drifting with the clouds throughout the whole afternoon. I wanted time to pause; because, I seem to be wary of my own decision of going. I didn’t know if it was the right thing to do. I mean, she was the one that left me. 

The bell rang, and the anxiety started to set in. I was feeling nervous with every second that passed by, and my eyes were fixed at looking at the clock. Time, I wish I had more. I should have thought it through, but there’s no use having second thoughts. I already said that I was going to meet her. I clutched my fist and went out of the room ignoring my classmates around me. 

I wanted to see her one last time before we finally part ways, but realizing how we drifted apart, it would be best for us to not see each other. It was against my morals but who am I to fool myself. Everyday, I prayed that this day would come. The day that I would finally set my eyes on her face again. The day that I would finally hear her voice again. The day that I would see her perfect smile once more. I always looked out for this, but I just never thought that our second time meeting would end up like this. 

I arrived home looking pale and confused. I was getting anxious as I step foot in front of my closet. I wonder what she looks like after all these years. Is she still short like she used to be? What will I say to her? I don’t know if I can talk to her like I used to. These are some of the questions that went through my mind the minute I was about to leave my house. Our clock struck 5, and I knew that I needed to be on my way. 

On the way there, I seriously thought about bailing out, but knowing that I’ll see her again after all these years, I wouldn’t risk it for the world. Despite what happened, I still sincerely do love her with all my heart, and just catching a glimpse of her face would be enough; because, that’s as far as I would go. She had her choice; it was just not with me.

I arrived at her street 15 minutes after. It was my first time there, and knowing she grew up here made me smile. I could just imagine her playing here and there without a care in the world. She was rather impulsive even on the first time I met her, but it was that memory that washed all the anxiety again. I looked around and tried finding her house, but after a few attempts, I still couldn’t find it. I received her text that said to look for a pink house.

Turning for a couple of times, I heard a door opened beside me, and at the moment I looked back, she was there, and at that instant, I didn’t feel any nervousness anymore; because, the girl that came out of that door was no different than the one whom I met years ago. She turned to me and gave me one of the biggest smile I ever saw. She was still her and nothing’s changed. To my eyes, she was still the same girl that I fell in love with four years ago. 

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It’s another one of those memories that I turned into a short story for me to even more treasure. Sorry for grammatical errors. I only double check errors to short stories that are really labeled as short stories. :)) As I said before, this is something else in a form of a short story. :)

Losing Chances - an original short story

…I guess it’s too late now. 

There she was again looking quiet while getting ready for our next class together. I couldn’t do anything else but slowly turn my head and seemingly catch a glimpse of her beautiful face. She was simple, but she was something more than that. She had something that I couldn’t quite comprehend while all the more I ponder into it. 

Just seeing her smile would produce butterflies in my stomach, and even though my day would end up disastrous, at the last moment that I see her smiling, everything would just pass and make my day, but shyness would struck me the instant I attempt to talk to her. 

I was inches away from her, and I was trying my best to muster up all the courage and manage to say a simple hello to her, but the anxiety of failing to start a conversation clouded my mind. I kept on avoiding eye contact with her; because, seeing her eyes towards mine just melts all my senses away. 

I was a coward, and now, I regret being one from the start. 

I casually covered half of my face every time I see her turn into my direction. I wanted to turn and speak to her, but I just couldn’t. What will I say in the first place? Will I even start a conversation? The fear of rejection came to mind even if thinking about it in the first place was unreasonable. 

Classes ended, and I watched her walk pass by me. Feeling regret there, I headed home without a second thought, and just when I was about to exit the building, I saw her, tucking her hair behind her ear and constantly looking at the sky that just seemed perfect. 

And at that moment, I captured the strength to approach her and say hello. I was ready and filled with excitement, but everything fell apart the next moment I turned back to her. 

I should have tried when I got the chance, but…

Reminiscence - First Dance

“You can’t just stand there!” an overwhelming voice shouted in my ear.

It was a party, and everyone was having fun but me. I was merely standing in a dark corner watching people pass by. My friends even came over to me and tried to force me to dance. “You know dancing isn’t my thing,” I replied.

“We all know why you came here. It’s because she asked you right? Are you even sure she asked you to go with her?” my friend asked. “I don’t know. My conversation with her was a blur. One second we were laughing, while on the next, she said something about a dance,” I explained. “Well you better clear that up now; because, she’s here,” my friend said pointing at the entrance.

I turned my head and saw her enter the grounds. I couldn’t resist smiling as she enters my sight. My heart skipped a beat as her presence becomes stronger with every inch that she becomes closer to me.  I wanted to approach her, but I knew better than to reach someone out of my league. She’s a year older than me, and in her eyes, I’ll always be the little kid who she likes to be friends with.

I was delusional to even think that I had a chance.

“So? Are you just going to stay put? Dude, she clearly likes you,” my friend said. “Just because we always talk doesn’t mean she likes me,” I replied. “She spends every waking second of her free time with you. What do you think that means? She could be spending time with her own friends, but no, she chose you,” he explained.

He has a point, but I was too blinded with pride to accept it.

“She’s older than me,” I spouted the first thing I thought. “And since when did age matter? It’s just one year. My mom’s a decade older than my dad, and they’re happily together,” he said.

“Okay, I’ll go,” I said in defeat.

I turned around and looked for her. People, couples and teachers were already filling up the dance floor. Though I hated dancing, this kind of scene always makes me laugh one way or another. I looked for her, but I couldn’t find her. I walked in circles until finally; I saw her sitting near our school’s canteen.

She was beautiful in every angle I look at. Her long curly hair, her short height, her cute brown eyes and of course, her smile, it was all perfect.

I walked towards her with anxiety, and just when I was about to get near her, she stood and eagerly hugged a guy that came after me.

At the sight I saw, I didn’t know what to feel. We’re not together or anything, but I still have the right to be hurt; because, when I saw that, something inside me was ripped out. I turned around and acted as if I saw nothing. I could hear them laughing, being happy.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know,” my friend said running towards me. “It’s not your fault. I’m the one who actually expected something here,” I said.

“I think I’ll be heading home. I had enough here,” I said in dismay.

Everything seemed to be falling apart that night. She was with someone else, and she didn’t even bother to talk to me. I guess I really am expecting too much. Even though we’re only a year apart, it feels like she’s too far off my reach.

I was heading home, and just when I thought everything was going downhill, something jerked me to turn around from behind.

“You’re not going home are you?” it was her. She was short and was only about up to my chin so I looked down at her to reply, “I think so.”

“Why? We haven’t even danced yet,” she said.  I smiled inside at what she said, but this time, I knew better than to expect something more than this. “I think your date will be mad if you do that,” I replied.

“Date? What date? I don’t remember anyone asking but you,” she said. “The boy you hugged,” I said.

“He used to be my classmate. I haven’t seen him in years, so of course I’d be like that. You’re jealous, are you?” she explained. “No I’m not. Why would I be jealous? You’re not my girlfriend or anything,” I said anxiously. She chuckled and said, “Come, let’s dance.”

And, there we were, on the dance floor, and the moment we were standing in front of each other, the music shifted into a romantic soft melody. “I don’t know how to dance,” I said laughing. “Let me teach you then. Give me your hands,” and so she took them, and before I knew it, we were dancing to this wonderful melody.

I was slowly circling with her, and I was treasuring every moment of it. I kept looking at her eyes that just seemed to melt all my worries away, and as crazy as it may seem, I was convinced that I want to marry this girl.

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It may be simple, but I wrote this not as a writer but as someone who wants to remember something. This is not a short story. It is something else in a form of a short story. :)

Sorry for some grammatical errors. I didn’t double check the grammar. :)) 

Punch Drunk Love Stories - an original short story compilation

I. Summer Fantasy

I love the way her hair moves with the intensity of the wind, and her eyes sparkle from the summer sun, looking directly at me along with her perfect modest smile. We were walking along the sea, hands together. She would tickle me randomly just to make me smile. I laugh and chase her throughout the sea shore. As I grapple her, we tumble into the sand giggling with glee. Our eyes meet and get caught up with the moment. I caress a strand of her long hair and help her get up. I pretend to be looking for something in the sand; she grew curious and asked me what I was looking for. I got up to one knee and held out her hand and murmured the four words that were sure to change my life forever.

  “Will you marry me?” I murmured. She simply nod and wiped the tears of joy coming from her eyes. I grabbed her by the waist and cherished the happiest moment of my life.

II. Love at First Sight

Time passed yet the night grew slow. I was simply bored to death at the party. I knew no one there; my cousin insisted I should come for the very reason that she doesn’t have a ride back home. I was sitting in the couch surrounded by people and minding my own business; when all of a sudden, a girl came in front of me asking if the seat beside me was taken. I got caught off guard when she spoke. My eyes got a hold of her face. She has beauty compared to a goddess. Speechless I became and not a reply came out of me, not even a simple gesture. I was just dead gazing at her. She snapped her finger, which finally got my attention, and laughed saying at how stupid I look. 

 I manage to laugh myself too. She sat beside and continued to talk to me. Without me noticing, we were already casually having a conversation. Time must have flown by; because, my cousin was already telling me to go home. I couldn’t disobey her, especially since she’s a snitch, so I gave the girl my farewell. She gave a showing pout and grabbed my arm. She took out a pen and wrote her number on the palm of my arms along with a simple kiss on the cheek whispering me to call her as soon as I saw my phone at home. My face grew red, but thank God she didn’t see it under the dim room. I left the party wearing a great overjoyed smile and looking at my arm with her number on it, hoping this would result to something remarkable.

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Hope you like it. I had nothing to do, so I just wrote until I felt it was enough. I only published two stories from this compilation series of mine. Right now, I have 5, I think. 

Hope you appreciate simple short romantic stories such as this one.

Creative writers, let’s follow each other and help one another. :))