Category Archives: Submission a week challenge

Week 22 – The Phoenix

I can’t look away; my eyes are glued to the scene. I hate what’s happening but I can’t help but admire its beauty. How can you look away when the phoenix is about to burst into flames only to rise again from the ashes! Even as you hear its painful screams, you are hypnotized by that glorious scene that it becomes a siren’s song. You want to get close but you don’t want to risk disturbing the master piece in front of you.

So no, I can’t take my eyes off him and I am not even sure I want to. I have seen him strong and powerful. I have seen him kind and passionate. But this! This is something (of fantasy).

The foundation has been rocked, cracked, and now it is about to fall… I can see the lights dimming in his eyes. He is about to break, go back to the starting point to which he thought there was no return. He is losing himself. His mind is frozen from the shock.

I can’t take me away off him. I don’t want to miss it.

I have been in love with him for so long. I know him from the inside out and every time I knew a bit more, I fell for him a lot more?

To see him like this, broken, crying, is worse than ripping my own heart out.  How can something so painful, be so beautiful?!  why can’t I look away?!

I want to approach him, help him, be all that he needs me to be. But I know he doesn’t want me to. If he has to break, then he has rise again on his own. He doesn’t want any help, and he doesn’t need any. All he wants, is to feel my presence, my belief in him. For the only one who can rebuild him, is himself. Only he has the power. He is the phoenix, powerful no matter what. He will burst into flames and be born again, stronger than ever.

Week 22 – Yearning

There are things I know I’m missing, which can haunt me to no end. I don’t always know what they are nor can I see them clearly at times. I’m thirsty for something, yearning for it – but what? No clue.

What can desire bring me? Will satisfying that itch, that yearning, will it make it all better? Would I be happy then? Will happiness cling to my chest and will peace take board?

I often doubt it. Sometimes when I know what it is I yearn, I know the harm and consequences that may occur. Many have tried to convince me to silence the voices that tell me not to give in to temptation. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

I pride myself on saying “no”, but it’s frustrating and can be insulting when someone belittles my intelligence or beliefs. “Sure, I’ve been waiting for you to give me permission all me life.” When will it be okay to say yes?

There are times I yearn for something not so harmful (you know unless some freak accident kills me, or I contract some unknown disease that will later be named after me). Live by the ocean or the sea, camp out under the stars in the middle of nowhere. Trust a stranger and sleep on their couch. Open my heart, even if for a short while and let myself feel… try things that scare me. I yearn to live. I guess that’s the clearest image most times.

However, it’s the smaller things that can get to me at times. The day to days. The things I miss or wish for; the company, the care, the peace, the noise…the love. I find myself thinking about my mother often lately. I would think of those moments I disappointed her, or the moments I did something that hurt her in some way and I would beat myself up for not being a better a daughter. I wasn’t bad, but I still have those bad memories I thought I had forgotten or let go. It’s the love that I miss the most. I guess I beat myself up because I never showed her how much I loved her – that I appreciated her more than I’d showed.

There are moments I feel I’ve lived too long and times when I feel I haven’t lived at all; that the end will find me all too soon. I hope the end doesn’t find me too soon.

Week 19 – When I Wake

Groggy and sluggish I wake daily
Unable to move my head.
My brain recounts the odd and hyperactive dreams,
That keep me unrested.

I can no longer muster the energy to be spry.
I sit on my bed’s edge like I did back when I was a teen,
Staring at the random grains on the varnished floor
Waiting for my brain to begin ticking.

Cogs are rusty and squeak.
My cognitive faculties deteriorating day by day,
The internal departments unable to communicate as they did,
Once upon a time.

I’ve been avoiding that addictive elixir I call coffee, for many years now
Trying desperately not to rely on its magical properties.
I yearn for the boost and clarity it provides me,
But do not miss the occasional gastric wrenching.
Oh, that Aroma.

Sleep seems to be one of my constant desires,
Yet I fight it for I have so much I wish to do.
‘Wasted Time’ I often think, though I know better.
The ‘wasted time’ still wasted on my lack of energy to do what I wish.

I find myself disconnecting during the day
Just staring off into space.
I may be mid conversation and lose my train of thought,
Sometimes losing it completely.

The whirlpool is strong,
Drowning my mind.
Do I keep swimming against the current and hope for the best?
Or should I just let myself get swept away?

Fatigue… is my shadow companion
Depression is his brother.
Darkness follows their trail,
For a mother cannot leave her children alone for too long.

Fight it all I tell myself,
But sometimes one is too empty
Too empty to wake
To think
To care
And too empty to even drink that aromatic roasted elixir.

If I knew

If I knew where I’m going, I would take what I need and what I’ve always wanted but never had the courage to claim.

If I knew where I’m going, I would spit all those comebacks and justifications that I chose then never to reveal for the sake of propriety or what I thought  was right.

If I knew where I’m going, I would pack lightly, practically, and forsake what was once dragging me behind.

If I knew where I’m going, I would slip out quietly, for once giving up the desire for attention that I desperately sought before.

If I knew where I’m going, I would only look back once ..as tribute for a life once lived.

If I knew where I’m going, I would bottle their laughter, puns and silly jokes

I would box all their unexpected hugs, their knowing nudges, and comfort touches.

If I knew where I’m going I would leave at once, and Leave the mess to be dealt with by someone else.

If I knew where I’m going, I would walk surely, steadily and calmly knowing I no longer, need my thoughts filtered, my expression hidden nor do I need to change the subject anymore,

I would finally stop deflecting.

If I was just sure of where I’m going I would finally be OK

If only I knew where I’m going.

Week 19 – Break

I want  break these walls,
The walls that surround my heart, soul, and life.
I built them to protect me,
To become my sanctuary.
But they have become my prison.

I want to break them
Become free.
Go everywhere.
Know everyone.
Love.
Be loved.
Live my life for the first time.

But I am terrified.
These walls are all that I know.
They are a part of me,
They are me.
Without them,
I don’t know who I would be.

I want to break these wall
But the fear of the unknown is too much.
It is crippling my every move.
I want to break these walls
But I am afraid
I will just end up breaking me.

Shooting Stars

My father and I went to the market; he had suggested it since I had been frustrated with the constant crying of my newborn child. My husband, eager to help, had taken our son from my arms, and told me to take a break. I hurried along, happy to escape for a while. We were away for one hour, and as we walked back I saw my mother sitting in the balcony enjoying a tiny glass of green tea. I could see my brother playing football with the neighbor’s son on the street, my brother had been screaming “goal” and dancing. He saw us and instantly waved his hands in excitement and just as I started raising my hand to wave back, the shooting stars rained upon us.

***

Attempting to sit down with a couple of broken ribs was very painful, but I managed. I had to. My dad sat down next to me, wincing because he accidentally moved his broken arm. It wasn’t a comfortable place to sit, but it wasn’t like we had that much of an option. He looked at me with a smile though and hugged me with his other arm. He wouldn’t leave my side; he made sure I came with him even when I begged him to leave me behind, to save himself. We were both a mess, from burns, broken bones, cuts and bruises, but we made it.

Here I’m with my father on top of the rubble, battered as we watched the sky. We sat there in silence as we huddled close, not feeling that much of the pain. Maybe it was the adrenaline coursing through our bodies, at this point it didn’t matter. I sighed and laid my head on my father’s chest; I could hear his heart beating fast. It was very calming. I looked up at the sky, it was dark. I couldn’t see the stars or the moon from all the smoke; I could only see the shooting stars. They were magnificent; they flew with so much grace. Next to me my father shuddered, he was looking down at the rubble of what was once our home. If I looked closely I would still see my husband from where I sat, I smiled at his protective nature. He was covering our four months old child with his body. I could see someone’s arm too, I thought it belonged to my neighbor but I wasn’t sure. My baby brother was crushed by a car nearby. We stayed next to him till he stopped screaming and crying from the pain, till he finally took his last breath. I could hear someone screaming from under the bricks and stones but the agony eventually died out. There were scattered limbs everywhere and even someone’s brain. I had never seen a human brain before; it doesn’t look that different from a cow’s. We couldn’t find my other brothers and my mother, but we knew they didn’t survive. No one did.

I shuddered in fear as the shooting stars neared us, my father held me close. I could feel his arm trembling. He tried to be stoic to what was too come, but death is a hard enemy to face. I like to believe it wasn’t death that scared us, it was the pain. My heart jumped, beating faster; I hid my face into my father’s arm as my body shook violently. The smell of burnt flesh made it difficult to calm my racing heart. I don’t know how long it took, it could have been a second, a minute or an hour but it felt like forever. My eyes were squeezed shut. Anytime now I thought. The earth shook with the impact, I could feel it. I could see it too, behind my eyelids. Bright light pierced through them, I smiled because the shooting stars were giving me a sign that it had begun striking again. I kept my eyes shut, waiting to meet my creator. Everything went quiet and I heard my son crying, and a hand touched my back and as I turned I found my husband crouched down close to me, smiling.

“What took you so long?” he asked as he handed me our son.

***

Week 18 – Becoming Self-Aware

I know who I am -kinda, and I know what made me this way, or so I thought.
But now, I am becoming self aware; breaking my very own 4th wall.
I always thought that yes, I am a product of my environment,  but in a different way. I thought that I saw what society was telling people who to be, and I reacted differently,  acted out I guess. I thought I was right, strong, fought and triumphed. 
But now, I have my doubts!
Society has told women that their beauty is what makes them strong,  desirable, and unique. I see girls and women taking complete care of themselves;  hair , makeup and style done to perfection. But on the other hand, I own a total of 3 makeup thingies that my friend made me buy and that I use twice a year when I am forced to. As for my clothes am completely fine with wearing the same outfit for a week, buying the same colors and style. I just don’t care.
I don’t care how awesome I look. I don’t dress to impress.  As long as I am presentable and don’t look like a hobo, I am good to go.
I don’t know why I am like that… I just am.
But who is right?

I see people taking countless selfies of themselves, no one else in the picture. But I find it impossible to do the same. I could be on the top of the highest mountain with a spectacular view, open the front camera, but be unable to take the picture. It just feels like I am doing something wrong, shameful.
While people love having their picture taken, I have always prefer to be out of the frame.
Are they conceited or am I insecure?!

Most people cannot wait to fall in love.  They keep getting involved and having relationships. But for me, it is something that I am dreading. So now I wonder if it is a self esteem thing; I was never loved so I don’t feel lovable.  So as a self protection mechanism,  did I condemn love? But no! I am sure it is a result of my observations! People lie, deceive, live in illusions, break hearts, then move on to the next one. I have long had my doubts about it! I don’t think I have conditioned myself!

But what if all that I thought I was; my strong personality, resilience, quirkiness,  are all not who I really am? What if I have been brainwashed and conditioned? It was just done stealthy by my subconscious!
I have always thought I had fought the current, gone my own way, shaped my own personality. But could it be that at the end, I did go with the flow, it was just a different river?!

Week 18 – Tick Tock

Tick tock goes the clock

Tick tock go to sleep

Tick tock goes the clock

Tick tock wake up

Tick tock goes the clock

Tick tock do your work

Tick tock don’t stop

Tick tock do speak sweet

Tick tock or not

Tick tock flies the clock

Tick tock it won’t stop

Tick tock laughs the clock

Tick tock hear it mock

 

Week 16 – Carla loves Frank

‘Carla loves Frank’ was scrawled on the decrepit wall. The neon pink paint still stood out through the generations of dust piled on top. Sierra gripped her SMG wondering how life must have been back then, before the Infestation. She tried to step carefully through the echoing ruins. Although she had trekked through the halls of the train station several times, today felt different. ‘Stay alert’ she kept reminding herself. She had a feeling she might have to actually use her combat training.

‘Carla loves Frank’ – Wait! Did I get turned around? She thought. Drip, drip. The writing looked darker. Drip, drip. Sierra made her way towards the graffiti. Drip, Drip. As she got closer, the colour became clearer thanks to the dregs of light shining through. She reached out and touched the scribbles. ‘Fresh…blood?’

CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. TUT TUT CLICK TUT. Click…click…tut…

Sierra’s heart fell into a pit and her insides shuddered – screaming at her to turn around, to run.

CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. CLICK CLICK CLACK CLICK. TUT TUT CLICK TUT. Click…click…tut…

The sounds repeated. ‘They’re here…’ More joined in, voices rising. CLICK CLICK CLACK TUT TUT CLICK. With tiny steps, still gripping tight her SMG, she turned slowly, hoping to postpone what was to come. The dripping was now drowned out by the chatter. Sierra faced them, a horde of creatures resembling crickets and cockroaches. Antennae that seemed to move of their own accord with exoskeletons slimy and crunchy.

Sierra gulped down the last of her saliva, unable to produce more. The army stood before her. The Festants had arrived. CLICK, CLICK, CLACK, CLICK. They continued. Her heart pounding against her ribcage, attempting to escape. She knew this was probably the end. She thought about those who waited back at the camp unaware. She knew her mission. ‘I might as well go out with a bang,’ she thought. ‘At least now they’ll have a head-start.’

Gun in hand, she wailed her tribe’s war-cry. Her machine gun screamed, raining metal fury on the monsters. She continued fighting even as her magazine finished, and even as the horde overpowered her. She fought as they tore her limb from limb, but as they were just about to take her heart she thought, ‘Fuck you Carla and Frank’.

Simple Desires Chapter 4

Thump….thump…bang
Cecilia woke up to the rhythmic noise…what the hell?
She sat up from her bed slowly spied at her clock through sleepy eyes, it was 3:00 am.
Where was that noise coming from?
It took her a while to register that it was coming from chris’ side, what in god’s name was he doing in this hour? Didn’t he have his closing argument tomorrow on that big case he was working on?
She slowly stood up and tilted her head near the wall above her bed and stuck her ear to the wall to make sure it was from Chris ‘side.
Ok… Ok don’t judge she was just curious because this was weird, and Chris was such private person.
Then she heard what made her face drain of color
A very soft moan followed by a thump.
She pushed off the wall her face coloring, was Chris…, no he never had a girlfriend or even a girl over at his apartment , well except for her .
She didn’t know why, but she suddenly didn’t feel like sleeping, she miserably grabbed her pillow and the book she was reading from the night stand and headed out for the living room sofa. she didn’t know why she felt restless and honestly a little bit hurt that Chris would trust someone to be with him intimately when she barley felt allowed to touch him freely ,sure they hugged and touched but it was always a calculated move from Chris or her and never spontaneous.
She spread on the sofa trying to figure out why she was so affected by the sounds she heard, Chris was a grown man ,she didn’t have any control over him ,and he was quite handsome to be honest ,his build had changed over the years from tall and gangly to broad and solid and the hours he spent at the gym couldn’t hurt too .
She discovered that chris was an exercise freak, If he wasn’t running he was boxing if he didn’t have time for the gym then he would spend hours on his tread mill at home, she once tried going jogging with him and he freakin lapped her and he did it so graciously with a soft smile on his face , she had expected his green eyes to dance with mirth but he didn’t, he kept encouraging her to join him for more runs .
She huffed annoyingly as she adjusted the pillow under her head, so much for Mr. Celibate, it looks like he didn’t have any problems in THAT area.
“I don’t do relationships Ceels” she remembered her last argument with him when she cornered him about relationships a couple of days ago, well apparently a relationship is being done as we speak!
Stupid Cecelia, you though he was some kind of wounded soul that needed healing, that he had something against touching and intimacy because of a childhood trauma!
She opened her book and tried to bury her feelings and thoughts until she drifted off to sleep but unfortunately she managed with little success.

Shit…shit I’m late!
Cecelia rushed to the elevator stuffing a pastry in her mouth pressing the call button several times, she doesn’t know why abusing the call button will somehow achieve anything but it’s a nervous tick and she was already having a lousy morning that had followed a sleepless night filled with dreams about obscene moans and bed thumping and her yelling at whomever was making the noise to shut up cause some people were single and liked their quiet and moan free life thank you very much!
“Morning Ceels” Chris greeted standing next to her
What the shit was he doing here? He always heads out to work an hour before her
Ceels are you ok? “Chris asked giving her a concerned look.
Oh that’s awesome Cecelia stand there making reaction to your inner monologue like a damn idiot!
“I’m fine, just didn’t sleep well last night”
“Yeah me too, I’m so exhausted “Chris responded rubbing his eyes
Is he fucking kidding me!
“I bet you were “I mumbled
“Excuse me? “ Chris looked confused
“Nothing “I said in a clipped tone
“Ceels are you. I don’t know angry with me? “Chris asked unsure
“Yes …no …ahh “I ran my hands through my long chocolate brown hair in frustration
“I mean you’re an adult, you can do what you want and if you want to spend the night with some leggy model from your posh firm its totally fine, just keep it down next time cause if you haven’t noticed we share a bedroom wall ,so what happened yesterday was not cool “I rushed in one breath
“I didn’t have anyone over yesterday? “Chris answered puzzled
“Chris I heard banging and moaning yesterday at three in the morning, you weren’t hanging pictures that’s for sure “I said sarcastically.
Does he think I’m that stupid? Come on, is he really going to deny it?
I looked up at him and was shocked to see his face drain from color , looking at him I noticed that he did look tired ,and the dark circles around is eyes was a clear indication.
He fell silent maybe embarrassed to be caught after lying.
The elevator dinged and we entered silently, a thick and somewhat awkward silence falling on us.
As we stood by each other, I stole a look at him and saw him adjust his work bag on his shoulders?
Then I noticed it
Under the cuffs of his light blue dress shirt there were deep red bruises slightly turning to purple at the ends.
Chris what’s wrong with your hand? The question slipped before I could help it.
He immediately pulled his cuff and slid his hand in his pocket, a stone wall descending on his handsome tired face
“Chris were you tied?” I asked shocked while invading his space.
“Ceels drop it “he answered coldly.
“Are you into these things?” I continued to question ignoring his warning.
“The BDSM stuff “I asked my face turning beat red
I put my hand on his arm trying to angle him to look at his other wrest.
“Ceels would you stop touching me, I don’t like it “Chris snapped
“I didn’t see you having a problem with that yesterday? “I snapped back after he shoved his hand behind his back.
He looked angry now.
“You know what Ceels it’s none of your business! if I had someone or not, stop meddling and fixing and prying ,if I want to tell you something I will, if not then stay the hell out of it! “ and then the treacherous elevator door opened and he rushed out leaving me quiet shocked from his outburst .
Chris had never shouted at me this way
I felt my throat close as I headed out ,making sure I slowed down so I could miss him , I don’t get it, something is missing ,did he have someone over or not ? And if he didn’t who gave him those marks?
Then a body shivering thought crossed my mind.
Did he do it to himself?
I’ve studied the psychology behind self-harm and how it can sometimes release stress but is that what it was? But from what I’ve read it mostly involves cutting, the person doing it waiting for release in the form of blood easing out of him .but that wasn’t the case, Chris had bruises.

what the hell was going on?