Activities · Fiction

Writing Prompt: I never believed they existed, but this one is starting right at me, Part 2

The first part is here.

Isn’t it weird how when we look at old photos or watch old videos with us in them we could no longer identify with our old selves? It seems like those persons have totally different bodies and consciousness, separate from what we have now. Maybe that’s what actually happens, maybe we create completely new versions of us all the time.

This sad young woman in front of me is someone I don’t know.

Her face is familiar, yes, but I don’t know who she is at her core. I don’t know what she wants. I don’t know what she’s thinking of or how she thinks. I don’t know how to approach her at all.

I’m just here sitting in my lavender couch across the room from her. She’s still standing in front of my side table. Sometimes, she comes by the window and looks at a distance. Then she’ll go back to her chosen spot and looks at the floor again.

She glanced at the bed and looked at me for the first time.

“Who sleeps here?”, She asked.

“I do.” I responded, surprised at how calm my voice sounded.

“And who do you sleep with?”, she retaliated, her eyes focused on mine and her brows curled in scrutiny.

This attitude, for some reason, irritated me. So I said, “Really, it’s none of your business. Who the hell are you, anyway, and who gave you the right to crash into my place?”

She looked away. She looked at a distance outside the window again.

I wanted to provoke her so I pressed on, “You know you shouldn’t be here. That’s a violation of the law. What do you want?”

She squinted at me and with a low voice she replied, “I’m looking for someone. Don’t pretend you don’t know who.”

Activities · Fiction · Self

Fiction: Tinkerbell’s Revenge, Part 2

Lisa felt a subtle shiver ran across her entire body. The hairs on the back of her neck all stood up, startled.

Perhaps, because of the shock she felt, she blacked out for a few seconds. She couldn’t recall what exactly happened next. Her next memory was seeing Mulberry dropping off the flashlight at her paws and licking the entire body of the sleeping (or was she dead?!) little girl.

She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to stop Mulberry from licking her because she might wake her up but at the same time she couldn’t hold back her anticipation of seeing the little girl actually awake – apparently alive.

Seconds went by so fast. It didn’t take long before she saw the little girl moved; first her arms, then her legs. Finally her head moved. Her eyes opened and she turned to face Mulberry – then Lisa.

Their gazes locked. They’re both wide-eyed.

The little girl was the first to break the ice. She whispered:

Am I alive?

Lisa initially felt like running away. She was both horrified and amazed. Her brain couldn’t process her conflicting emotions.

Mulberry answered for her, barking twice at the little girl, as if to say, yes.

The little girl’s face changed from vulnerable to defensive. She immediately sat, then stood up, dusting off the edges of her short yellow green dress.

She asked her follow-up questions:

Who are you? Where is Wendy?

Lisa wanted to answer but she only ended up blurting some incomprehensible sounds.

The little girl stepped out the chest and onto the ground. With her arms crossed in front of her tiny chest, she asked another question:

Where is Wendy hiding?

Lisa’s mouth was still gaped open. A million thoughts were running inside her head. For sure, that little girl in front of her was Tinkerbell, the fairy who everybody thought were dead. How couldn’t she have died? She suddenly disappeared and never appeared again for decades!

And Wendy? What about Wendy? Peter Pan’s Wendy? She no longer existed. She had died a decade ago because of old age. Why would it matter now whether she’s alive or dead?

Finally, because of this last thought, Lisa managed to give a short reply:

She..e.e..e’s…dead.

The little girl couldn’t hide her disappointed. It was painted all over her face. She’s pissed off big time.

She didn’t ask further questions. She was totally silent for a few seconds. She wasn’t even moving. Her face was turned to her side, away from Lisa.

After a while, she looked Lisa in the eyes and just made a passing comment:

The bitch is dead. What a bore.

Activities · Fiction

Writing Prompt: I never believed they existed, but this one is starting right at me, Part 1

I got this writing prompt here.

I never believed they existed, but this one is starting right at me. She’s not just alive. She has her own mind, her own identity.

Her mannerisms are even different from mine.

We look similar, yes, and if you don’t pay much attention you can get fooled. She’s like the photocopy of me – or do I look like the photocopy of hers? Am I just the copy, and her, the original?

I don’t know what I did wrong this morning when I woke up. Suddenly after washing my face in the bathroom, while I was coming back to my bed, I saw her standing there in the corner of my room just in front of my side table.

You have no idea how terribly I freaked out. I pissed my panties. My feet got wet.

And she was like that staring at me in a sad way. She doesn’t really look scary, to be honest. She doesn’t look like a ghost or a zombie. There’s nothing strange about her. She looks exactly like me… just…sad. She’s coated in this cloak of sadness. She looks more of a dying person or a mental patient than someone who came back from the dead. But I guess there isn’t much of a difference among those.

I keep mentioning about death because I really thought she was dead. She should have been long ago.

People in my town would sometimes talk about Echoes. Yes, they have a name. That’s how they’re called.

From what I’ve heard about them, they’re versions of ourselves from our past. They’re like faded copies of ourselves, thus the term, “echo”. Meaning, the version of myself now automatically has its own echoes somewhere in the future. The infinite versions of myself, my echoes, can stretch into the far future, to until when I cannot really determine.

They say that our present selves and our echoes shouldn’t ever meet because they exist in different dimensions. Their frequencies simply don’t match.

Since I don’t remember my mother telling me I have a twin, this woman right here must be one of my echoes, or maybe I have just gone totally crazy.

Activities · Fiction · Self

Fiction: Tinkerbell’s Revenge, Part 1

Since I enjoyed the first fiction writing exercise so much, I decided to proceed with another one. I got inspired by this writing prompt which I’ve read about accidentally unearthing a treasure chest. It tickled my mind. What I saw inside the chest was Tinkerbell, the reason for giving it the title “Tinkerbell’s Revenge”. I still don’t particularly know about the revenge aspect of it. But I feel like that’s what she wants me to talk about. *winks

Here goes the first part of the story:

When Lisa was 12, she would hang-out in their huge backyard every afternoon. She had a big and furry Old English Sheepdog named, Mulberry. They would play all sorts of silly games which Lisa invented. They would wear DIY costumes, would roll in the grass, would jump on the trampoline. They would pretend to be what Lisa called, “Insect Detectives” –  meaning, they would stalk on ants, mantises and bugs. On summer evenings, they would even camp out. Lisa would tell Mulberry stories about fairies, mermaids, distant kingdoms and planets.

One cold afternoon, Lisa decided to play treasure hunt. She and Mulberry dressed up as pirates. Lisa had a map, which she got from a page of an old magazine and of course, a compass. As she was scanning the backyard and planning their journey, she set her eyes on the big old oak tree. Lisa decided that this tree would be their main destination. She was certain that the treasure was buried deep somewhere near this tree.

Lisa and Mulberry had to crawl under bushes, cross a small hanging bridge and hop on pebbles floating above a pond to get there. Nothing can stop pirates on setting forth in these perilous but exciting journeys!

The air was thick near the oak tree and birds’ chirping echoed all around.

They have reached the foot of the old oak tree. It was vast and tall like a mountain. Its branches and leaves covered the sky for Lisa and Mulberry.

Lisa didn’t waste any second. She immediately took out her mom’s small gardening shovel out of her sling bag. She also put the little flashlight in Mulberry’s mouth and asked him to light up the part where she’ll be digging into.

As soon as she found a spot, Lisa immediately went on her knees.

The digging started.

It was not too long when her gardening shovel hit something hard. It gave off a thud. Lisa’s hand felt a bit hurt, too, because of the impact. She frowned a bit and Mulberry gave off a slight howl. Lisa kept on digging around the place where she had hit something, eager to see what’s in there.

To her surprise, the soil underneath were softer than what’s above. She dropped off her shovel on her side and decided to use her hands instead. Soon afterwards, she saw something which looked like a treasure chest. Her already round eyes even got rounder. Suddenly, she felt breathless, too.

She looked at Mulberry before touching the lid of the chest as if to ask for his approval.

She expected that opening the chest would be difficult, if not, impossible. But as soon as she opened the lid, it just gave away. It wasn’t sealed at all.

Lisa was astounded to what she saw when the lid was fully opened. She literally froze.

Inside was a little girl, lying on her side in a fetal position, with eyes closed. She was shining and she had wings. She was wearing a short yellow green dress.

Only one word came up in Lisa’s mind upon seeing this: Tinkerbell.

Activities · Fiction · Self

Writing Prompt: The day the sky changed color

I planned to watch a film tonight. But I felt a sudden nudge to do something creative. Initially, I thought about something visual like maybe learning new website designing styles or doing collages online. After browsing this blog though, it came to me to just do a writing exercise. I remember back in (my couple of years in) college, if I didn’t have classes or homework to do, I would hibernate in the library or in second-hand book stores devouring books and old magazines about writing. Needless to say, I LOVED WRITING. I had an English creative writing phase (focused on essays) and a Filipino poetry writing phase. Same thing with the former, there was also a time when I would borrow books from the library and photocopy thick pages of Filipino poems. I loved those poems! They were so dear to me! They were alive beings! I also took various kinds of creative writing classes just for the love of it.

Anyway, back to the supposedly writing exercise for tonight – So I browsed for some writing prompts that I can use. I’m not really a fan of prompts because I would usually just stick to my own ideas and themes that I like to write about. But since I want to shake things up this time, I decided to pick a prompt and this is what I’ve chosen (I got this from Pinterest – Writers Write Creative Blog):

Write about the day the sky changed color.

And so it goes:

When the sky changed color I was  just about to go to school. I was eight then. I had short, curly, auburn hair. My mom would usually put a ribbon on top of it, into what you can call a half pony tail.

I would go to school by myself since it was just in the neighborhood. I had my briefcase and my teddy bear with me. I was wearing knee-high socks and black doll shoes that were always shiny.

At first I didn’t really notice the difference in the sky. What caught my attention were the people around me. Suddenly everyone was gathered in groups, all looking up. I started to walk slowly, instinctively protecting myself, I guess.

It took me a while before I could understand what’s going on. When I did, I couldn’t keep myself from looking up and gaping at what I saw.

The sky became electric bluish green with sparkles in it. They’re glittery heavenly bodies, but they’re definitely not stars. They looked more like those tiny bubbles coming up when you open a bottle of a carbonated drink. The sky, to me, looked like an upside-down aquarium of some sorts. It’s like the ocean was pulled up and inside-out.

I guess, most people expected that what’s gonna happen next was an alien invasion and nothing else.

To cut the story short, nothing new happened that day. The sky just remained in that color even until the evening, basically, until I slept at around 9 pm. I didn’t make it to my school that day, too. Teachers and parents were too scared to let kids out of their homes. My mom wasn’t. She’s just cool about things all the time. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her anxious.

When I woke up the next day, things started to get definitely weirder.

My mom showed scales on her arms and face but she didn’t seem to mind. For some reasons, she stopped talking, too – and mind you, my mom loved to talk and sing! As I walked towards the table while she was preparing breakfast, I noticed that my feet looked webbed like a reptile’s. I raised my hands up to my face and they too, were webbed!

Again, that didn’t seem to bother my mom. It’s as if there was nothing strange about it. I knew it was strange but I didn’t really feel horrified (which was a puzzle to me, of course). You could say that the changes, in fact, felt natural, as if I expected them to happen.

While I was eating my breakfast, I took a glance out the window. I saw that our neighbors have become reptile-looking creatures, too. Their skins were thick and scaly, they had webbed feet and bulging eyes. They all looked green.

I didn’t know what really happened and how could it happen. Our whole reality just changed that day and until now I still don’t know why. I don’t know if it’s ever gonna be back to how things were. In the meantime, I’m enjoying my new mermaid tail!