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 Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:19 am
Swearing as in cussing or swearing as in promising? I went with the promising bit.
XLIII. Swearing
Mystery of the D.J. (3)
I and Bianca made it half-way across the city to the now-more-popular-than-ever radio station. I noticed the building was repainted from white to a mix of two dark blue colors for different sections of the wall, one being an accent color which made the building look more sinister for me. After what I was assuming an abduction or a kidnapping of my favorite D.J., I saw things more differently now and became more suspicious.
We scanned the whole area for any signs of security guards and found none. I guessed that no one was brave enough (even on a dare) to stay alone anywhere near this place. Well, we were not as much of a coward nor were we daring at all. We were just motivated by the mystery.
“I told you the place would be empty.” Her tease was complimented with a huge I-told-you-so grin.
“Yeah, yeah… Still. Keep your senses alert.” I felt the need to say that while searching for the flashlights in my pack. “Is your friend here already?”
She looked around and shook her head.
After tossing one of the flashlights to her, I headed for the front entrance. I was uneasy as I couldn’t see right through the glass walls and double doors. I recognized that same treatment which makes the glass look dark so you see only your reflection in most buildings. I tried getting closer to check if maybe I could get a better view when a hand landed on my shoulder, shocking me to a jump and scream of fright.
“Shush!” He whispered, covering my mouth.
“It’s just me.”
“You’re Bianca’s friend?” I asked, calming slowly.
“Yes. Sorry, I thought you were her.” He let me go, and then looked at me from head to toe, smirking. “I should’ve been able to tell the height difference”
“She’s at that corner.” I pointed to the west alley and left him to go to the back door.
I thought of the guy on my way. He looked decent with blue, round eyes, a dimple on the right cheek, a castellan nose, and a muscular fit clothed in a black plain shirt. He didn’t seem that bad at first until he remarked on my height. He went from decent to a jerk. I concluded any further thoughts of him as I rounded the last corner.
We – I, Bianca and her friend whose name was Marco – made it to the crime scene. We were in awe as we arrived in a room that was supposedly covered with evidence/s and a heap of clutter due to the happening here. We spotted a few papers which we identified was my D.J.’s notes on that night’s airing but other than those, we observed the place to be wiped clean.
I examined the writings on the paper while Bianca and Marco were busy inspecting every corner of the floor and cabinets. I analyzed the words and nothing seemed to be unusual. Bianca recovered nothing after a few minutes and Marco pretty much discovered nothing out of the ordinary. We were so engrossed in what we were doing that we hardly heard the footsteps coming nearer until a large, bulky man slammed the door open.
***
“I thought you were positive we wouldn’t get caught!” I mumbled in Bianca’s ear.
“Hmph. You were closer to the door. If you heard him right away, we wouldn’t have gotten caught in the first place.” She defended.
Marco stayed silent, knowing better than to get in the middle of a fight between girls, much more sisters.
“So much for believing your swears…” I exhaled as we were lead out of the police car.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:22 am
XLIV. Parade
Waiting
Probability of luck, confetti flutters down
Among the cheers and band music of the day.
Rushing chances, faces which hold depth in their smiles
Among the laughs and festive mood of the crowd.
Decipher what most are able to hide in simplicity…
Especially what one might find at the end of the array.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:23 am
XLV. Phobias
Another Name
Compared to eyes which only have low ground to see
Courage works the other way around.
Thundered by the surge of emotion and feeling,
Irrationality calls it impulse.
Wonder what courage calls it?
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:28 am
I remember when a teacher of mine asked me and my classmates to write a note for someone who wants to suicide but she clarified that it was just for study or was it for a friend who wanted to suicide. Never mind the second part about the reason, you understand what I remembered. emotion_facepalm
XLVI. Suicide Notes
What If’s
I entered one of the rooms in my friend’s house, looking for a DVD player that she asked me to grab on my way back down to the living room. Before I walked out the door, she quickly described to me what the player looked like, “… glittery white with tiny hearts forming a flower-like image engraved at the lower right corner …” and added where she left it, “… in the third drawer down the first column of drawers of my study table …” I groped inside the place she specifically told me but I only found a bunch of colorful arts-and-crafts materials.
I double checked even the yellow carpet for the player though I knew I’d fail to find it there on the floor. After a few final glances, I shifted my search to her bedside tables and had nothing. I tried her bed, planning to mess up her pillows and blanket when I noticed something shiny under her pillow.
I got down stairs to discover the living room empty. I guessed she got bored waiting for me and went out for a while. That being the case, I prepared the movie myself.
I was so surprised to see a note stuck to the screen of the player, I nearly dropped the player.
Dear Mimi,
Thank you for being a friend, my only friend, ever since we were young. I’m afraid I’ve given you more of a bother than a friend in return. With this, I hope you’d understand my choice to end your bearing with the constant threats, bullies and teases. Good bye!
Your friend,
Carry
“Our movie night’s cancelled, then.” Closing the player in shock, I whispered to myself as tears fell from my eyes.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:34 am
I haven't experienced the prompt but I gave it my best shot.
XLVII. Emotional Paranoia
Down The Streets
Whenever I walk down the streets, I feel like I’m being watched. I don’t feel like that every time but I become more suspicious for some reason whenever I just got into an argument or whenever I was remembering a depressing memory of my childhood. I recognize the ripples of my senses, all too quickly compared to how my normal anxiety flows, as if I would be attacked from behind by a grizzly or something. Although way down deep in my mind I know that I am safe, I forget easily the security. That easily in a matter of an instant…
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:38 am
Inspiration: Lilo and Stitch. If you still haven't forgotten that duo, then you'll remember Lilo's burnt family picture.
XLVIII. Missing Puzzle Piece
Under My Pillow
I take my seat contentedly,
When outside, there’s so much to see.
I watch the remaining stars fade,
Even with my trying not to be afraid.
Clutching my pillow tighter,
I take our picture in my fingers.
At the heart of dawn,
I feel the vivid hues make of me a pawn.
Tears falling from my eyes,
I ask when would be the goodbyes.
Happy that I wasn’t answered,
I look for the silver blades, tired.
Whenever someone walks out the door,
I don’t expect them to come back anymore.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:41 am
I take it that this prompt is from an old album or song...? If not, blame google. wink
XLIX. Black Balloon
Perfection at Its Finest
I remember when you first walked in
With that spark in your blue eyes
And all you did was pass by me
But the next day you were mine.
I know whenever you turned
With that charming smile of yours
The girl behind me was your one
But the next day you were mine.
I love the feeling of having you
But you were never mine…
Never mine to use,
Never mine to leave,
But you were all mine to love.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:42 am
I thought of making an informative essay but I figured that would be too much work.
L. Graffiti
The Big Picture
What I do on weekends? I don’t tell but here’s a hint.
First, I try not to forget to pack a sandwich and a bottle of water before I leave home for I would spend the whole day spraying if I have to just to perfect every nook and cranny of my design. I take both my health and my art rather seriously. I see to it that I don’t neglect one for the sake of the other.
Second, I gather my cans of spray paint and put them aside. I breathe deeply before I start while shaking one can with my right hand and tracing the outlines of my images with my left hand against the wall. I do this to compose myself because I am well aware that mistakes can only be covered and cannot be undone. As I am going to need every drop of paint I have, I prepare my arms for even and careful strokes.
Last, I step back and breathe in the finished art work. I smile at my mess of colors and symbols, proud of another job well done – however cliché that is. I have before me shapes such as a tilted pink heart on one side and yellow stars accented with a light orange tone, funny faces with buck teeth and sunglasses, witty phrases and a background of all the colors I used: primary and secondary colors at their brightest.
I am a stranger at saying my thoughts so I put them into images. As to what my huge image could mean, I leave it to the people who would have the opportunity to see my art.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:44 am
LI. Empathy
Simplicity of Friendship
I burst into tears, you burst into more.
I lose myself in rage, you fight by me.
I laugh, you smile without understanding.
I feel betrayed, you feel used.
I get hurt, you suffer with more pain.
I see the few differences
In your reactions
Yet I ponder whether you’d change
Or - I am hoping - would not
When I should have been worrying.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:46 am
LII. Strangers
Ravel Falwynn’s Death Book
Faelen
ATIH Headquarters, 5:30 am
2013 Case No. 00000432
I wandered straight through one hallway after another. How I got into this state of mind, I didn’t have the slightest idea. Nevertheless, I was thinking while walking about which meant I was acting on an impulse. I often caught myself doing so without thinking twice, hence, the impulse.
When I reached the top floor that would eventually satisfy my whim, I was shocked to discover only one door which I located at the end of the second hall after the first corner to the right.
I didn’t find mapping the corridors easy nor did I bother remembering wherever I turned. That being the case, I thought I’d ask for directions on how to get back to my room. Fortunately, I memorized its number.
I noticed the door was ajar so I listened for any noises that would indicate someone being inside. As soon as I got what I was waiting for, I regretted it. I heard the familiar sound of muscle to leather. I was accustomed to that noise which meant one thing: training.
I couldn’t help but peek in so I inched closer and tried to get a view of the person inside. I was stupefied as if lighting hit me right then and there. I saw Cato shirtless and pounding a scrap dummy of leather and foam, if I could still call it a dummy. Calculating his strikes, I hunched the dummies given to him could only last for four – five days, one week tops. I watched him kick and punch longer, unable to resist the urge to stay and marvel at his strength although I’ve seen it before.
I held my breath when he stopped, nervous the he might have heard my breathing. I was relieved when he headed for his jug and took a sip from it. I exhaled once I saw him go into another room, far enough for me to spot him if he comes back out again.
I had no idea how embarrassing my spying on him was until he appeared at the wall opposite me and swatted the door wider. I was taken aback at that instant but I gained my poise back before I humiliated myself more. I was at least relieved to find him in a shirt already.
“Impressed?” He asked, blazing blue eyes on me.
“I’ve seen better kicks.” I did not dare return the same treatment after seeing the dummy suffer.
“I knew it you’re not like other girls…” he walked to the balcony, inviting me in.
“Not one bit.” I took a good look around his living room which was roughly half the whole floor.
“You liked the view?” He leaned against his elbows from his balcony, smiling.
“I loved it.” I admitted, tilting my head, though I made it sound sarcastic.
He seemed to be waiting for me to join him outside so I did.
“”I wanted the whole other side of the wall to be clear glass for two reasons. One is for the totally amazing view that girls dig.” He paused, turning to face the ocean.
“The other one?”
“For an easy escape.”
The alarms went off, echoing like crazy across the establishment as if on cue.
“Whoa!”
“Well, c’mon.” He stood on the railing and offered me his hand.
“I actually prefer the stairs.”
“With every other personnel here? You’d never make it on time.”
“So? It’s just a drill.”
“Exactly. So?” He grabbed me by the arm, rolling his eyes, and hauled me over.
Next thing I knew, I was plummeting straight to the fjord and crashing waves with a stranger whose name is the sole information I knew about him.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:48 am
Yes, Where.
LIII. Pockets
Where
Where you keep things –close…
Where you find –strange– things…
Where you –often– hide things…
Where you leave things –undone…
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:50 am
LIV. Having a Stroke
A Blink, Snap, Blow
A struggle fro air passed;
Consciousness drifted away;
Gravity quivered gone.
Something in one cold blow
Passed.
Nothing in a snap
Drifted away.
Everything in a blink
Quivered gone.
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Posted: Sat Jun 09, 2012 1:52 am
Story on progress...
LV. PromisesRESERVED
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Posted: Sun Jun 10, 2012 2:53 am
Agree?
LVI. Medicine
Too Visible
There are some things
We just can’t change.
Hard as we might try
Reversing the events,
There comes a time when
It’s best to be left alone.
Not every mystery could be solved…
Not every problem has a solution…
Not every loss could be replaced…
Not every question has an answer…
Not every riddle is a riddle…
Worst of them all:
Not every sickness has a cure.
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Posted: Sun Jun 10, 2012 2:54 am
LVII. Social Ladder
So Far
If you have nothing to lose, it doesn’t mean you have nothing;
So much so that risking everything might not be enough
Just to pursue a long dream of stepping out or rather up, high.
One good deed comes with a price in almost every story told
However, the chance arrives not just to everyone
But to most chosen or destined, call it what you must, ones.
Very special those occurrences are that they are limited
And inarguably costly to the point of utter hopelessness.
Elegantly dressed personalities would not last a day
In such a situation, at least in most of what I have heard,
Compared to the future of the needy or indigent characters
Who may be described as the bravest of a tale,
And who eventually become the very successful hero.
Woven with my hands by the order of my active imagination,
This author has nothing more to tell or relate about a tale
Than what she has already given to the, now, perplexed reader.
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