The icing on my cake

The recent announcement I made here about Flash 500, where two of my short stories are featured, definitely put me back on high gear. And an award from a fellow blogger that came at just about the same time was the sweet icing on the cake.

Deanie from Thoughts and ideas nominated me for the Liebster Blog Award. 

The rules of the award are:
1.  Tell 11 random things about yourself.
2.  Nominate 11 bloggers.
5.  Inform the 11 bloggers you nominated for the award.

Here goes... 11 random things about me.
1. I loved Literature in school.
When I was still in school, I read the prescribed Literature book from cover to cover even before the school year started.

2. I hate Math until now.
I’m so bad with numbers my mind literally snaps shut at the mention of any numerical operation that needs to be done, no matter how simple it may be.

3. I took driving classes three times and still don’t drive to this day.
I went as far as driving on the freeway but with nerves and lack of practice, the driving seat is the least likely place you’d find me.

4. I get a headache if I don’t get a cup of coffee in the morning.
Maybe it’s all in the mind but I think I’ve fooled myself into thinking that there’s no way I could function without getting my coffee first.

5. I’m not great with my hands.
I cook because I need to. I sew in emergency cases. But I don’t cook or sew well. I can’t bake, can’t make plants grow, can’t draw or paint, can’t play any instrument. No wonder I feel lucky I have a laptop. Otherwise, I may not even get the courage to write.

6. I don’t get tired of watching The Sound of Music and Mama Mia.
There are movies and plays that you see once and that’s enough. These two however can go on forever and I’ll still be singing along with them.

7. I can’t get enough of Paolo Coelho books.
Coelho’s writing is enigmatic. It is full of insights that constantly hold me in awe. Later though, I realize that these same insights have been staring at me in the face all along.

8. I don’t like waiting.
Waiting drives me nuts. Now that I’m older though, I’m trying to be more patient especially with myself. I’ve learned that there are things that are worth the wait. Having said that...

9. I don’t have much respect for people who make others wait.
For meetings or appointments, some people can make me wait once, twice, even thrice perhaps. But when it is habitual and becomes pretty clear that they don’t respect my time, I’m almost certain they’re not worth my time either.

10. Poor, hungry, sick and abused children cut my heart to pieces.
People and governments may have all the excuses for the problems we have in the world right now. But when it affects children, there is no excuse.

11. I get really annoyed with people who don’t care for the environment.
I like to have things in order and keep things clean. Outside my home, I believe the same rule applies. I think people ought to realize that the world outside is part of their home too and caring for it is a shared responsibility.

And now, it’s time to pass this award to the following: 

Andy @ http://thoughtsofbeautyinthestillnessofdawn.blogspot.com/ 
Bee @ http://www.livingoffscript.com/ 
Carrie @ http://chasingrevery.blogspot.com/ 
Hazel @ http://hazel-moon-blog.blogspot.com/ 
Heather @ http://readingwritingeverything-heather.blogspot.com/ 
Hope @ http://www.defininghopes.com/ 
Madeleine Sara @ http://scribbleandedit.blogspot.com/ 
Melissa @ http://unpublishedworksofme.blogspot.com/ 
Sally @ http://sallys-scribbles.blogspot.com/ 
Talya @ http://www.gracegritsgarden.com/ 
Tena @ https://jottingsandwritings.wordpress.com/

To Deanie, thank you very much!

A step closer...

I mentioned in a previous post that something’s coming up later this week. The good news came a month ago but I’m only talking about it now because I’m sure it’s really happening. I had a series of disappointments before when I told people about certain things I expected to happen only to be embarrassed later when plans fell through. This didn’t happen to me just once. It happened many times that I started thinking I probably jinxed my own plans. Since then, I stopped myself from saying anything unless I had a hundred percent guarantee that everything was in place.

And with this latest news, everything is in place.

Ever since I was a child, I always wanted to write a book and have it published someday. No, wait just a minute.... I haven’t even gone beyond 5000 words in my WIP. So no, not that, not yet anyway.

But yes, I’m a step (or maybe a few steps) closer to my dream. Those of you who frequent my blog have probably read some of the short stories I’ve written. (If you haven’t, I’m inviting you to check them out over at Creative Doodles.) Some of these stories are products of writing challenges and blog hops I’ve joined to help me improve my writing.

And that’s where the good news came from.

Carrie and Nicole, hosts of Writer Wednesday Blog Hop (WWBH), put together an anthology featuring stories collected from the hop's first year. This collection, now an ebook entitled Flash 500, is coming out tomorrow May 10, 2013 on Amazon.

And the best part is.... you got it! They've included two of my stories. It’s the closest I’ve been so far to getting my work published in a book. And I’m so giddy with excitement!

So be sure to get your Kindles and your Kindle reader apps ready. Go to Amazon, download your free copy of the ebook, and enjoy!

I feel blessed and it feels great to be in the company of these other writers:

Carrie K Sorensen - chasingrevery.blogspot.com (WWBH co-host, co-editor)
Cindy Cagel - thewoodenrollercoaster.blogspot.com 
Emily Jean Roche - emilyjeanroche.blogspot.com 
George Beckingham - whyhowwhatif.blogspot.ca 
Heather Musk - readingwritingeverything-heather.blogspot.com 
Krystal Wade - kyrstalwade.blogspot.com 
Leanne Sype - leannesype.wordpress.com (WWBH co-host)
L.T. Dalin - chessnysilth.blogspot.no 
Melissa Gardiner - unpublishedworksofme.blogspot.co.uk 
Randy Lindsay - randylindsay.blogspot.com 
Scott Taylor - scottywattydoodlealltheday.blogspot.com 
Roman Taylor - mistorytime.blogspot.com
Sydney Aaliyah - sydneyaaliyah.wordpress.com 
Tena Carr - jottingsandwritings.wordpress.com (WWBH co-host)
Tony Roberts - writingforfoodinindy.wordpress.com 
Yolanda Tong - whereslanda.wordpress.com 

To Carrie and Nicole who worked on this project tirelessly, thank you! You brought me a step closer to my dream. 

Of books and fighter planes

I've joined the Writer Wednesday Blog Hop for a number of times now and it has always been a thrill. The picture prompts don't always create the spark for me but when they do, I just have to tell the story. 

I'm especially excited because this particular blog hop is bringing me a step closer to my dream. But I'll talk about that later this week. For now, it's books and fighter planes that has me smiling from ear to ear...

                     -------------------------------------------------------     

“Your mom won’t be finished for another hour. Want to browse around first?” a grey-haired lady asked, craning her neck to see him on the other side of the counter.

“Sure, whatever...” his voice trailed off as he wandered towards the shelves that lined every wall.

His mother worked in the library and had arranged for Simon to be brought there after swimming practice. It seemed like a good idea at first, Simon thought, until he realized he had to stay there and wait for her for an hour.

There was the concert tonight, anyway, he consoled himself. He had been so bored on the first day that his mother promised they’d watch the show of his favorite band. Still, the promise didn’t do much for his drooping spirits.

Earlier in the week, he had checked out some video games on the computer but his mother stood her ground.

“No computer games on weekdays, remember?”

“Mom, it’s summer. I’m on vacation!” Simon pleaded.

“Same rules apply, sweetheart. Those games are poison to the mind.” Simon sulked. “Look around you,” she continued, waving her hand around, “you’re surrounded by books.  Surely, there’s something here you’d find interesting.”

Simon now wished he had gone to camp like the other boys in his class. But he wanted to swim. He needed to train if he was going to make it to the junior swimming team next year.

“New books on the counter!” one of the library staff shouted. In his haste to finish an errand, a book fell, its open page showing the most beautiful sight Simon had ever seen. 

The book was big and heavy. It was hard bound and had a glossy white cover. The pages were thicker and there were more pictures than there were words.

Simon turned a page and a man with a small dark mole on his left cheek stared back at him. But it wasn’t the man that held Simon’s attention. It was the fighter plane, the North American P51 Mustang his grandfather had told him about many times.

Suddenly, Simon heard nothing except the sound of planes over his head.

He positioned his bird behind the enemy. The war cry of plane engines pierced the sky. His P-51 mustang singled out a 109, shredding the enemy fighter before it had a chance to react. He latched on to the tail of another, expertly balancing his stick and throttle. Simon poised his finger over the trigger. Targeting the enemy's tail, he knocked him out cold. He dove back, veered to the left and rolled over. Simon quickly dispatched another plane, his second kill in a span of seconds.

“There you are. I’ve been looking everywhere for you!” Simon’s mother broke in, silencing the piercing cry of the fighter jets in Simon’s head.

“You look happy...” his mother said, confused. “Excited for the concert?” she asked, wiping off the sweat in his face with a napkin.

Simon beamed, “I can’t wait to come here again tomorrow.”
 
Linked up with Writer Wednesday Blog Hop

Book Review: The Survivor by DiAnn Mills

Crime novelist Kariss Walker is asked by Dr Amy Garrett to write her story about a brutal childhood assault with the secret intention of catching her assailant in an entrapment operation. 

The book is an engrossing read, with two plot lines that don’t seem to add up at first, but are later connected and resolved in the end. 

Mills cleverly adds romance through the on and off relationship of the two protagonists, suspense in the almost hopeless search for the culprit, and faith-filled testimonies of characters whose every action is led by their strong belief in Someone bigger than themselves.

Despite this heartening suspense novel, I thought more research could have been done on Dr Amy Garrett’s character. Sure, psychiatrists can have problems too but her incapacity to deal with people seemed unrealistic. 

Some chapters were especially riveting but just when it gets you hooked; it ends with an abruptness that leaves readers with more questions than answers. The ending I also felt, was a bit artificial, almost as if issues had to be manufactured just to put a nice finish to the novel.

Overall, I enjoyed reading this book. It keeps you guessing till the very end. 

Note: I received this book free from the publisher through the BookSneeze.com book review bloggers program. I was not required to write a positive review. The opinions I have expressed are my own. I am disclosing this in accordance with the Federal Trade Commission's 16 CFR, Part 255: Guides Concerning the Use of Endorsements and Testimonials in Advertising.

Maybe next year

The sun was setting when she finally arrived home.

Emily scanned her surroundings. There was no wind, not even a leaf or a bird drifted in the sky. She quietly got out of her car and walked the short distance to the small courtyard. 

There it was. The house she once knew. It was deserted now but there was a time when it was witness to the summer vacations she always looked forward to with much anticipation.

“Rise and shine, kids!” her father used to barge in on their room at the crack of dawn.

“Is it time already?” Emily would ask, a big smile forming at the sides of her mouth.

“It is time, princess. Get dressed and come down.  Mom’s making some pancakes,” her dad answered as he nudged Kate off her bed.

“Okay Dad, I heard you the first time” Kate murmured in her audible but sleepy voice.

Those were the days when life was happy, simple, and real. Now, there was nothing to give; nothing to take away.

Emily’s hand trembled. Slowly, she folded her fingers into a fist, trying hard not to break down. It’s been twenty years. Does anyone ever outgrow such memories?

She took a deep breath and looked up at the sky. It would soon be dark. She braced herself and went around the house. She stifled a cry at the sight of the garden. Despite the pangs of anguish that burned inside her heart, Emily smiled at the recollection.

The garden was once beautiful. Mom loved to spend most of her time here while she, Kate and Dad went down to the river for a swim.  They’d come back dripping wet, ready to devour Mom’s delicious chicken casserole and apple pie for dessert. After dinner, they’d play charades. Other times, she and Kate would crawl into Mom’s arms to read while Dad reviewed community events with a day-old newspaper.

Those were the memories she wanted to keep. Not this rotten garden. Not the old house whose walls now stood only to remind her of that fateful day. And certainly not that old crappy red van...

Emily stood transfixed. There it was, under the old maple tree, exactly where they had left it, after the ambulance came and took her family away.

They were on their way back to the city. She was pleading her Dad to let her go to camp next summer. He wouldn’t hear of it, said she wasn’t old enough.

Then it happened. A deer came out of nowhere, ran past the van, and swept it into a mad turn towards the woods. Emily felt the van being tossed and turned. Seconds later, things turned quiet except for the slow hum of an engine, willing itself to live.

That brief moment took away her family.  Once a happy little girl, one singular incident transformed Emily into an angry and bitter orphan.

Coming home was not a good idea after all.

Maybe next year...


This is my first time linking up with yeah write speakeasy. We had to start with the sentence “The sun was setting when she finally arrived home” and refer to the photo prompt in some way. Come and join the fun!

What is draining you?

They wrapped their links around me

Scraped my skin, hurt my hands and feet

The weight was much too heavy

Would I ever be free from this?

Each link seemed like a hundred pounds weight

As it cut the fine threads of my clothes

There wasn’t much room to move

Each link was tighter than the first, like no other grip can be.

Then by a stroke of chance, I glanced

My other hand lay motionless at my side

No metal chains held it prisoner

Just felt like a dead weight to my near drooping spirit.

Slowly, I willed my hand to move

To take out the chains, unravel the links that bound me

But surprised myself a moment later

The chains that held me, bound me nowhere but to myself.

There are times when we feel drained of all our energies. We make ourselves believe that our hands are tied and there’s nothing much we can do. We wait for someone to come and help us; and cry foul when nobody does.

Then just when things look so bad, we summon enough courage to look around. We try to see if we missed something; take a chance that something might still save us.

That’s when we realize what a fool we have been. There were no chains that bound us prisoner except for the fears we kept hidden so well.

Strength comes not in the absence of challenges but in the will to fight

Peace comes not in the abundance of resources but in learning to live without them.

For the purpose of life is not to have everything easy

Life’s meaning is unveiled when we truly learn

to forget, to forgive, and to give.

  

Linked up with Just Write, Mondays Musings, Doing You Well and Inspire Me Monday

When life invites

It happened on my third year of teaching. Morning classes had just started and I still felt groggy after spending half the night checking papers.

Students seemed to have suffered a similar fate as the class was unusually quiet when I entered. A couple of girls went back to their seats when they saw me come in. Others woke up those whose heads lay peacefully on their desks, stealing a few minutes of shut-eye before classes began. One student carelessly closed the book she was reading and looked at me with a blank stare. There were hushed voices at the back of the room, laughing momentarily at some shared joke.

With resignation, I greeted the class and began my lesson. Despite my lackluster discussion, a few students raised their hands and answered my questions. Thank God for them, I remember thinking. I would’ve slept on me, if tables were turned. The lesson was boring, the activity didn’t interest my students as I thought it would, and I couldn’t help the fact that my head was swimming in a sea of thoughts totally unrelated to what I was teaching.

Many times I looked at the clock at the back of the room but that too seemed to be having a slow day. So I plodded on. I continued the lesson as I walked up and down the room, between the chairs where my students sat. Despite my lack of energy and the emptiness I felt, I remember asking myself if there was something I could do to avoid making this class a complete waste of my students’ time.

Let it go, just wait for the bell... a voice in my head said nonchalantly.

You’re tired, give yourself a break. It will be better tomorrow... another voice whispered.

Don’t try to be a hero, there’s no way you can save the day... a third added.

But I didn’t have time to choose. 

Up to this day, I don’t know what I would have done. All I know is that life sometimes has a way of dealing with the situation in front of us. We are not given the freedom to choose. All we have is an invitation to learn.

Photo credit: www.squidoo.com

But I digress. What happened as I walked that classroom? Two arms hugged me from behind and a tear-stained face hid itself in the folds of my skirt.

I don’t remember much else after that except for the silence in the room and the pair of eyes that looked at me with so much sadness, I felt I almost died.

Call it a cry for help or a sign of concern. Some teachers told me it was just a child looking for attention. While others said it was best to let the school counselor handle it.

They were right. It could have been anything.

But that singular incident taught me something. It showed me what teaching was all about.

And I’d been invited to make it my life.

Linked up with Yeah write

Home at last

She crouched under the gallows, careful not to make a sound. Tiny drops of sweat rolled down her blood-stained face. Her eyes were swollen, her cheeks burned, her arms and legs felt limp and she wondered if she could even move them. But she was afraid that if she moved, she’d make a sound. And she couldn’t. Not if she was going to come out of this alive.

She heard noises again. Someone was calling her name. Heavy footsteps went past, stopped just a few yards from where she hid. She saw shadows of movement on the wall. A voice called out. She listened intently. A few seconds later, there was only a deafening silence amidst the hushed voices of men running after her.

Are they gone? She wondered. Is it safe to come out now?

Prompt Words: gallows, section, mat, staple, tide

It was dark except for the light that shone from a street lamp. Slowly, she crawled out of her hiding place, an empty section between the dirty garbage bins that had been left along the side of the street. She looked at the bruises on her wrist. They were black and blue, traces of what they had done to her. They were going to pay, she vowed. But first, she had to find a way out. She was never going back to the hellhole, not even if she had to die for it.

She pulled a jacket that hung from a window somewhere and put it on; covering the blue overalls she wore. It was a man’s jacket, about two sizes bigger than her frail body. It fell on her shoulders like a mat; hard and dirty. It didn’t matter. She was running for her life.

She continued to walk slowly, head bowed, her eyes peeled for the men haunting her. A diner stood on the other side of the road. She was starving. The smell of greasy burgers and fries seemed like a welcome feast compared to the watery soup and stale bread that had been her staple in that hellhole.

Then she heard it. Angry, fuming voices; louder, more frightening this time. Stop, please stop, she pleaded. But there was nowhere to go. Darkness fell. 

There was an eerie silence in the air. She opened her mouth to say something but no one seemed to hear. They didn't look her way even as they hovered about her. She tried to lift her hand but even that didn’t budge. 

She felt nothing. She was trapped. She couldn’t move.

"Poor thing,” the nurse whispered to another as they wheeled a young woman to the morgue, “She didn’t stand a chance.”

“Where did they find her?” the doctor asked.

“In a back street not far from here,” the nurse replied.

“They found her behind the garbage bins, hallucinating, saying she was going home,” a second nurse added.

The doctor studied the young woman’s face. And to her who saw what others did not, he said, “The tide has turned. Now, you are home.”   

Linked up with Snapshot Prompt