Applecharm11 Starhorse

Singapore

Hi! I love writing about animals, fantasy and just expressing myself through words. 'A painting paints a thousand words' so why not a thousand words form a painting?

Message from Writer

Hi! I write for hobby and for escaping troubles. I love to write as I get to 'live through' the stories I improvise on the spot. It makes me able to feel and be someone else in a world where I can change anything.I hope my words can make a difference

Published Work

Child Narrator

Linda Left

Leif didn't understand. The radio had mentioned her sister last night. Something about a shooting in the City?

Some of the townspeople had brought Linda home in a big box and buried it on the hill. At least, that's what they said. Leif couldn't get it. Why would they bury someone in a box underground? Especially when they should be home any time soon?

It's been two days since the burial. Linda hadn't come home yet.

Leif was getting worried, and even more, confused.

Was this a game? Like hide and seek?

Did she have to physically find Linda, tap her on the shoulder, announcing "found you!"?

Why did some townsfolk come up to her house with baked breads and treats, giving their "condolences", whatever that was. Maybe that was the bread.

She'd hear them murmur above her about "custody" and "family".

The 8-year-old simply couldn't understand. Not when her mind was trapped at 5.

But Wither had. In fact, she...

Your World in Three Senses

My world in 3 senses.

She sits on the wooden chair, watching the settings spin around her, perspective and procession whirled into chaos from the blend of three unfitting senses

A lush forest brimming gold with sunlight and warmth. Leaves woven as the warm canopy, replacing the fluffy clouds and making the forest its own heaven. The sight of raw beauty, presented by the silver shimmer of morning dew polishing every tree as if dressing them for all the world to gaze upon.

The scent did not mingle well with what her eyes relayed to her. Her nostrils were filled with an empty damp smell. Rotting wood and the stuffy humid stench of stale water sloshing right beneath her nose. Neither warm or cold, a lukewarm scent, thick and choking.

The prickling feel of cold sharp metal, grazing down her back, causing her skin to tingle, sing with alarm and shock. Stabbing thorn like imprints into her body, making her twist about in every direction,trying...

PolarOpposites Part 3

-

School is just the lion's den.


Its the uncharted land you trek upon, under the pure hope that your prayer for safety will be heard.

It is the open plain where you walk vulnerable.

It is an open minefield.

One false step.

One wrong move.

Just being at the wrong time at the wrong place, will get you killed.

But no matter how much certain people watch their step, check and recheck their paths before taking that step...

Some people cannot escape.

-
I hazardly stuff the papers into my bag, trying to drown out the sound of their dizzy laughter with the crumply papers scraping the leather inside of my backpack.

I toss in my pencil case before slipping the straps over my shoulders, adverting my gaze from the image on the pin board.

But something so emphasized simply forces my eyes to graze past.

I catch a glimpse of my hand print, the paper cut outs Ms...

PolarOpposites Part 2

-

I've always asked myself, what happens after death?


The Sunday school teachers taught us since young, that the bad people go to hell when they die, and all the good get to go to heaven.

But what do they do there?

Is it that nice in heaven? Or is it just playing a harp for eternity?

What makes someone bad?

If they do bad things, think bad things? Say bad things?

If so, then doesn't it mean all of us have to go there? We all said bad stuff when we were kids, we all pestered our parents and siblings.

Or is bad defined by the extreme?

Like murder?

-

Chapter 1

Chylne


Athena Tan, queen of Pukit Bimah High. Dominant pack leader of the girls posse.

Is lying on the corridor, in a swimming pool of her own dirty blood.

"Oh God..." Cheryl gasped, voice whisked away like the smoke from the gun's shaking lips.

"Shit." I...

PolarOpposites Part1

You'd never expect it. 

How one thing can lead to another.

How quickly things can be changed forever.

How quickly its all over.

I stare, stunned, as Athena is thrown back in the corridor, onto the floor. 

Blood sprays from her opposite side, the bullet tearing through at the speed of light. 
My finger quivers against the trigger.

"Oh God..." I gasp, voice ripped from me. The gun trembles in my shaking hand. 
"Shit." Chylne gapes, suddenly hysterical. "Shit. Shit! SHIT!"

She scrambles away from me, out the computer lab, screaming for help.

I walk towards Athena, only to find myself stuck to the spot. Her blood spreads across the floor, pouring a steady flow, almost endless.

I feel sick.

I stare at the automatic in my hand.

What have I done?

My vision swims at the flood of thoughts and confusion.

I lean heavily against the table, knocking one of the ancient computers to the ground, where it clatters...

Becoming Human

The Moon

She climbed the cold air
hefting herself over
the peaks of the mountains,
drenching them in pale glow

Darkness opening its hands,
ripping apart the barrier that
concealed her, releasing her
into endless black 

She rose steadily, slowly
as if afraid she would
make some sort of mistake
and fall towards the earth

Contracted in a round figure,
she peered hesitantly below
as all the houses fell still
the lights in their eyes, out

She tentatively took each step
making her way across the stretch
of the sky, her heart racing as she
sought her brother, the Sun.

She was always a reflection of him
Her very shine a simple smaller
mirror of his own, forced to glow,
despite knowing this beauty was not hers

How? When her face was full of craters
and rough cut rocky ground,
while her brother burned with sheer
brilliance, all waking to worship him

No, the tiny things called humans only
walked in his...

The Peace of Wild Things

Autumn's Symbol

Something seems so magical about Autumn. Although my own country never experienced the seasons, it was breath taking to see the sight upon international travel. The air dropping in degrees, but yet maintaining a light warmth as sun now funneled through the gaps in which were covered by canopy.

The majestic crown of leaves now crisp warm colours of yellow, orange and red. All piled now at the bottom, raining in a slow wind dance, spiraling to the now cold stone floor. The stillness, the hushed chirps of bird nestled in their beds of sticks. The atmosphere and feeling of the world slowing down, in preparation for slumber. The slight breeze like slow breaths, as the world closes its eyes, leaves speckled in brown colours drifting to join in upon this enormous bed. I don't know. Something feels wonderful about watching them fall, all in a spray of clusters. Groups are broken as each is blasted in a fall of...

10 Words

December in 10 words

The Month that marks the end before a new beginning.

Why I Write

Why Write?

Something feels soothing about the way I wield the pen. Or when my fingers dance across the keys and letters appear on the screen in rhythm. Perhaps the thrill comes not from the movements, but the meaning behind it all. Maybe its the knowledge of being able to write anything. That you could make a person feels all sorts of things with simple words on paper. That you could give someone an entire different view in a matter. That you could invoke all sorts of thoughts. That you could be in control over this world in text. And whatever you write could have a different result on different people.

I write because when I do, I know that what I write, has power, and can affect others. And that I can help people and let others see through a different view crafted by my words.

Speech Writing Competition 2016

To those who wear the masks

As I speak these words, this speech, I'm speaking to everyone one of you. Even those who aren't themselves at the moment. I know you're there. Masks or not, listen to what I have to say.

I do not despise the mask. The mask can be fun, make us someone we arent, allow us to try another role we could never imagine. But when that mask stays on too long, it melts, and stays on.And soon you don't realise you're even wearing it. You forget who and what was under there in the first place.

You add these layers on, until they pile up on your own face, as you attempt to find back the original.

Some of you don't want to know who was there first, you hide it with intention, conceling ho broken it really is. The common mask you, we wear, is "I'm Fine".

I know 1 out of 5 can probably understand, for you bear this mask....

Walking

Split steps

She walked slowly. Not of choice, but her body seemed to weigh her down, as did her soul. Her feet dragged through the cement pavement, kicking loose chips. Her back was hunched, despite her many attempts to straighten it. But she kept her eyes glued to the ground, to her shuffling feet, unable to look ahead, of what lay before her. She walked with hesitance, as if each step could end her in dropping into an endless pit of darkness. Her feet wove her between shadow and light, as if unable to decide to be concealed in the black, or to avoid it. Her red and black sport shoes were worn, soles rubbed and peeling, exhausted as she was. But she kept walking, thought without a sense of destination or meaning. Each step seemed to drag on longer than the previous. That nagging feeling anchored her, slowly tugging at her, trying to glue her feet to the pavement. Something within...

Unlikely Triumph

The Greatest Triumph

Some might picture a great triumph as something like the conquering of a country.

The demolition of slavery.

Maybe something less, like winning the world cup unexpectedly when the scores had been completely hopeless minutes ago.

But sometimes, the greatest triumphs can come from one person. 

A little thing, like smiling once again after weeks of misery, can be a near impossible task for one.

If even small actions can be victories in the eyes of those in circumstances... then does that make them triumphant?

Sure perhaps the smaller the actions may be small... but they may be a colossal victory in another's eyes.

Even something as small, as smiling? As a sincere smile? True happiness breaking shadows hardened in a shell? To finally discover the void you've been pitted into, and finally climb out, to find out about the sun? The biggest and brightest star? That brings this foreign element called light? Hope?

It seemed all hopeless at first,...

One's Last Breath

That one moment.

When your body quivers, bones rattling as its fight against stiffness is soon lost. When your eyes glaze over, vision fading. When your thoughts float, not to death, but through life. Seeing all the world's wonders in those seconds, that seem like a blissful memory. 

Their wails of grief, calling you back are soon claimed by the wind, whisked away to another world. Or perhaps it is you, who is  ripped from theirs as you find yourself light and weightless.

All you hear are those warm afternoons. When you were young, and basked in the sun's beaming smile. The sounds of gentle sea water lapping at the shore, beckoning to play, like an eager grey dog. The sounds of crickets playing, as nature commands its orchestra, bringing night to life. And perhaps, even the twinkles of stars are audible now.

The scent of death, ash, sickness and blood are washed away by a tide of sweet smells....

Poignancy Of Pen

The pen
The special tool needed
To carve into paper,
And bring forth
The poignancy within

Slitting through each line,
Drawing blood like ink
Of charcoal water
And forming shapes
In words

Attracting, pulling
Text from the air
Blending them in perfect paste
As they run through the paper
Smeared and wet

Forging magic
Into the weaving of words
That draws out the emotion
Of the reader themself,
And tugs at heartstrings

Through the smears and drops,
Past, present, future found within
Igniting an internal flame
As words continue to appear
In a fury

Thoughts translated
Feelings screaming out
Churning within the Pen
As it lays them out, 
In its black lines

Lies, hurt
Terror and agony
Stabbed, jabbed
Into paper, with the tip
Of the pen

Confusion, turmoil
Loss and grief
Send words scrabbling, 
Somehow fitting perfectly
Within the lines

Happiness, bliss
Contentment and joy
Fluttering lightly through air
Before settling, like a field
Of butterflies, upon the flowers
...

Universal Knowledge

What humans can understand

Humans, of all race and religion, can understand what love, pain and forgiveness is, its the most powerful language known to man.

10 Second Essays

One with power

The one with power is not the one who commands from the side, but the one who is willing to step into the ring.

Playwriting Competition 2016

Burning Brownies

(The scene takes place in a living room, right next to the kitchen.)

Girl: (Sits in the living room, nervously patting soot from her shirt.)
Dad: (Enters room, putting down work bag, when he speaks, it is tired and dull) I'm home.
Girl: Oh, hi dad! (Replies quickly, fingers tapping her knee)
Dad: (Sits down on chair beside her, laptop on his lap, working.)

(A silence passes)

Dad: (gets up) I'm thirsty, I'm going to get a glass of water.
Girl: (leaps up and runs between dad and door) N-NO! I mean... you've been working so hard... I.. I'll get it for you!
Dad: (slightly confused) Ahh,thank you. (sits back down)
Girl: (goes into kitchen and prepares water, avoiding piles of dust on floor)
Girl: Here you go! (Comes out and passes the glass of water to her dad)
Dad: Oh, thanks.
Girl: (sits back down)

(More silence)

Dad: (sips waterand frowns) Ugh.. why is there ash in the water? ...

Flash Fiction Competition 2016

My sister

My name is Melanie. My sister was one of the terrorist attack victims. What more can I say? She was the best friend I ever had, I'll forever remember walking to school together, sharing the day's events. We were inseparable... ha! PSYCH! What nonsense! No, that 'lovely' girl isn't my sister. She was horrible! "You're only 14, you wouldn't understand" Well, I never wanted to anyway! Now? She's gone! No more doors to the face, no more bickering over the most stupidest things....No one to apologize to..... No one... to make up with.....


Is it too late...to say 'sorry'?

Flash Fiction Competition 2016

My sister

My name is Melanie. My sister was one of the terrorist attack victims. What more can I say? She was the best friend I ever had, I'll forever remember walking to school together, sharing the day's events. We were inseparable... ha! PSYCH! What nonsense! No, that 'lovely' girl isn't my sister. She was horrible! "You're only 14, you wouldn't understand" Well, I never wanted to anyway! Now? She's gone! No more doors to the face, no more bickering over the most stupidest things....No one to apologize to..... No one... to make up with...

...

Is it too late...to say 'sorry'?

Countdown

Cancer

I lie on the hospital bed, machines connected to me.
My breath comes out ragged, as my lungs struggle.
Eyes bloodshot, puffy, red, now empty of tears.
I know what's coming, and I'm waiting.
I extend my arms, welcoming it.
This misery, agony of waiting.
Soon, it'll be gone.
No more suffering.
Counting down.

Freedom.

One Sentence Story

Survived or died

I survived the world, but in truth I died.

Inventory

On The Run

Rina took in a shaky breath. Her back pressed against the wall, stormy grey eyes darting from side to side. Her raven hair was slick with grime, mud covering her face and hands. She ignored the puddle she was sitting in, as she continued to conceal herself in the alley, snuggled in the shadows.

Swiftly, she slung the backpack off her shoulder, unzipping it before her to inspect her possessions.

1. A rusty wrench, from that cursed place. 

2. A set of clothes three sizes bigger.

3. A packet of broken biscuits.

4. Some stones to sharpen her weapon.

5. A twig, broken during the break out.

Rina gave a long sigh, leaning against the wet musty wall. She raised her arm, inspecting it before her, before calling on her ability. Plates of silver metal grew along her arm, covering her wrist. A metal blade extended from the back. 

This is what they were after her for.

She stared once...

Letter Writing Competition 2016

Letter to those who see the truth

This letter goes out to those who see the truth, to those who are no longer fooled by the painting of a perfect world, to those who can see how the world grows in sins and evils every day.

So, I'm guessing you all know. You all can see past that thickly shrouded illusion. That forced impression of a perfect world. Where people are saints, where we are always right.

This is the world. A mass accumulation of sin. I know many of you see this, know it, hate it. Some of you resort to violence. Some of you resort to depression. Some of you, many of you, lose hope.

You see life pointless, that nothing should continue to live on this earth. Because you know, that with each day that passes, it grows more wicked and cruel. Morals are lowered, excuses are made.

And you know how much our world deserves to die, as evilness and savagery takes a...

Collected Wisdom

My Tip For Writing

My resolution and tip for writing:

Write it your way. Don't be scared and try to copy others in fear yours will be rejected. Write what you want, write from your heart.

Letter Writing Competition 2016

Letter to those who see the truth

This letter goes out to those who see the truth, to those who are no longer fooled by the painting of a perfect world, to those who can see how the world grows in sins and evils every day.

So, I'm guessing you all know. You all can see past that thickly shrouded illusion. That forced impression of a perfect world. Where people are saints, where we are always right.

This is the world. A mass accumulation of sin. I know many of you see this, know it, hate it. Some of you resort to violence. Some of you resort to depression. Some of you, many of you, lose hope.

You see life pointless, that nothing should continue to live on this earth. Because you know, that with each day that passes, it grows more wicked and cruel. Morals are lowered, excuses are made.

And you know how much our world deserves to die, as evilness and savagery takes a...

Dear Me

Words to the future

Dear future me,

I am writing this on the 30th June 2016, I am 14 years old. And I have no idea what you, or me in the future, will be doing in our life. I really love writing, drawing, animating and playing with voices. I hope one of these things continues to live as an important part of my future life. I simply enjoy writing and creating stories, regardless its through art, animation, pure writing, even voice acting stories. I love moral stories best. That takes us to a different perspective. The big 'What if?'. I know its a silly idea, but I want to leave an impact on this world. A good impact. I want to leave left a mark that helped people. 

I sometimes think about what I'd be doing in the future, which is a question you can answer once you read this, and I have no idea what job I could support myself financially and do something I really...

Pantoum

Destination?

Where do I go, once all is behind?
Where do I go, where do I venture next?
Where is this place, that I can call mine?
Where do I allow things to be decribed in text?

Where do I go, that I can set sail?
Where do I go, what'll happen next?
Where do I go, show me the trail!
Where do I go, so many paths X-ed!

Where do I go, if I leave everything behind?
Where do I go, where is home?
Where do I go, where is the path called mine?
Where do I go, where do I roam?

Where do I go, with pencils, pens in hand?
Where do I go, tell me for I am lost.
Where do I go, across foreign land?
Where do I go, where I will be engrossed?

Where do I go, where I'm destined to be?
Where do I go, where can I express myself?
Where do I go, where...

Monologue

Why should I care?

I don't understand boys, brothers especially.

What, with their stupid pranks, their huge ego. 

Why does he think he's so high and mighty? Huh? Whats so good about him?

He can't do anything right! Yet he acts like he knows everything, like as if he could do anything with ease.

My parents tell me to watch him, to help him.

But why should I?

He's a jerk! He only cares about himself!

Help him? Ha! I'd rather do a Math Test!

Why should I watch over him? So what if he gets into trouble?

Why should I care he gets hurt?

Why. Should. I. Care.

Because he's different?

Because he doesn't talk like we do?

Because he can't SEE the social clues to stop his chatter?

Because he can't say what.. he means?

Because... he doesn't know how to talk normally...?

Bceuase... no one else... understands him..?

Because... no one else... will listen to him...?

Because.. Because...

Because only I...

Joy to the World

Ortus

Ortus (adjertive)

Meaning: Latin for "Sunrise", expressing joy of seeing the sun rise again, the rising of life and joy everyday. A word used to describe extreme happiness and hope.

Example of usage: Seeing her mother recover from the life threatening car crash, she felt full of Ortus.

Mysteries Abound

Mystery is She

Hey there
Dont know me?
Thats fine
thats a mystery

No one questions
this mask I wear
hiding the wounds
I suffer and bear

Hiding seems second nature
Masks always present
images, illusions,
To things represent

You dont see these tears
I wont remove the obstruction
to even clean my face of the pain
that slowly bring me destruction

I may laugh
I may smile
I may be happy-go-lucky
but thats only for a little while

Even when cornered
I wear the mask of others
unable, unwilling
not even to father or mother

You want me to take it off
to see that true person beneath
But I cant, masks glalore stacked
on my face like a heap

Its not because I want
to stay as a fake
I too, want to see who it really is,
The true character Im meant to take

Who I am
What I am
Can someone tell me?
"Its a Mystery"

These illusions I...

The Shy Mimosa

The Mimosa Plant
silent and still
occasionally opening up to the world around
and at the gentlest touch,

coils back, hiding its face

When all is asleep
in the break of night
she opens up again
singing softly to the moon

Swaying in gentle rhythm 
bathing in moonlight
she sings and sings
to her heart's content

when none is there to watch

But what is she afraid of?
Why hide her beautiful voice?
Why resist the chance of communication?
Of sharing her true beauty?

Why is she so shy?

Why is she so afraid?

What does she fear?

Why does she look longingly at 
the other plants, yet bowing
her head low and shying
away at the smallest brush

Why does she clam up so defensively
when others approach?
Why is she so timid to show her face?
Unlike when she sings to the moon?

Maybe she's afraid what they'll think
maybe she's afraid they won't accept her
maybe.. she's...

Wind's Whisper

The wind whispers
it secrets, hidden answers
softly into my ear
Wether to believe or not

is for me to decide

Sometimes it speaks good,
sometimes it speaks bad
sometimes it tells me to help
sometimes it tells me to taunt

The wind whispers
but its voice is higher
and it starts to push at me
telling me to follow its advice

No one can listen to the wind
for it blows from different sides
good, bad, it will speak all as easily
Breeze or typhon, it can change as easily

I remember when I watched my kite
soaring in the wind
floating on the unseen current
bathing in the sun's light

I remember when I clutched the lamppost
the wind howling, screaming as it pulled all
into its crushing, whirling embrace
the rain joining in its tandrum

I remember blowing dandelion
seeds, and watch them gently
hover away, blown in beautiful
swirlds drawn by the wind's hand

I remember...

Never let you go

I don't know if you can hear me
through the tubes around you
through the bandages wrapped around your head
through the slumber you've fallen into

I don't know if you can feel me
as I hold onto your hand
rubbing small circles in them
as if it would make this easier

I don't know if you can see me
tears stained on cheeks,
sobbing, eyes red
a mess

I don't know if you can think
of how much I'm trying not
to break down, here
beside your bed

The doctors have left
its just you and me
no one else
just you and me, brother

I don't know if you can believe me
but I'm here, I'm here for you
and I'm begging you to hang in there
I'm willing you to keep breathing

I know I was never the best brother,
the worst in fact
I know I've done horrible things to you
to make you hurt so...

Mirror

Who is that?
In that glass panel
staring at me?
And does my every move?

Who is she?
Her black eyes trained
her lips pursed
and her hands trembling?

Who is she?
Her cheek slick with tears
her eyes red and puffy
her lip quivering?

Who is she?
So shattered and broken?
So weak, unable to stand
on her own two feet?

Who is she?
Her eyes dulled as if
no hope exists?
As if everyday is a torture?

Who is she?
Bruised, but bruised deeper
in her heart
battered beyond repair?

She's a weakling
a failure
a victim of their fists
and harsh words

She's a broken child
who just wanted to go through
life without being attacked
at the heart

She's the reflection in the mirror

And the mirror reflects me

180

The Piano

The black smoothed wood
slick white tiles
and shiny black keys
three pedals protruding from below

The piano sits there,
so grand and fine
staring back as I regard it
with narrowed eyes

The chair resting there
ready for me to settle down
and battle once again
with the sly enemy before me

I have not yet understood
what magic others saw
as they played to the intrument's tune
singing as one entity

To them, the piano
was a friend
To me, it was
a rival

It coaxed me over
with its white and black teeth
soothing me with the music it provided
only to clasp me into its trap

For hours I played, battling
the beast that continued to laugh
its horrible mismatched pitches
as my frustration grew with the wrong keys pressed

My fingers slipped, falling onto keys
not meant to be tapped
The piano laughing it horrible chuckles
at my failure

Again and again
my fingers skim...

Undertale (Sans): Should I care anymore?

(Undertale related. Contains spoilers, if you have'nt yet, please play the game or watch play throughs first)

*Heya kid
*Hey, you know, it isn't easy.
*Not sleeping at night, in the fear you would come
*Trembling, afraid whether you'd come with arms outstretched or if you'd have a knife waiting
*Why? No, I was'nt afraid for my own life.
*I was afraid what you would do to them.
*You.. you're unpredictable, you know?
*You always change...
*You seem to love that reset button...
*To see what would happen, if you'd done things differently.
*Heh, is that what we are to you? Specimens? Means of experimentation, fun?
*Is watching your brother die, fun? Is watching some kid you once called your friend leave a trail of dust, and causing the people you grew up with disappear?
*Is this fun to you, kid?!
*Because it sure isn't to me.
*I don't even know if you're listening
*Or if your biding for the...

Hope

Hi there!
Hmm? Who am I?
Heh, I guess that's expected
afterall, I'm really small right now

Hey, don't cry..
... I know you're sad...
but please, don't cry
don't say that

Things are'nt hopeless
How would I know?
Well, I am Hope
and though I'm small

I'm still here for you

Don't give me up
don't let me go
I want to help you
stop listening to them

Don't listen to their lies
there is always hope
No matter how much I dwindle
how much I am cut down

I won't leave you

Unless you let me go

But please, hold onto me
come, take my hand
no, don't listen to them,
listen to me.

...

Shh, just listen to me
just feel me through touch
close your eyes
and listen to my being

Thats right, I'm warm
I'm still here to warm you up
I wont let you fall
even if eveyone says so,

I won't leave you
...

The Mist

She comes on those days
emerging over the boggy swamps
her silent slow creeping
yet strongly hides what she swallows

But instead of spreading far
to eat up as much as she can
she stops as if there is a
mark she is prohibited to leave

She stands up, staring back at me
her milky eyes transfixed
her raven hair drawn back
her lips fixed closed

But despite the taunts
I throw at her
she continues to stay to
her ring, bathing it so white, nothing else is seen

What is she waiting for?
Why doesn't she move?
Why does she look at me so?
Why are her lips pursed shut?

The mist says nothing,
only continuing to sit there
as if waiting for me
to leave

She only swirls tighter
around the ring of space she hides
as my eyes continue to stare
but yet does not move

She coils like a mother bird
around the space, like a ...

Cicada

Buried in the earth
silent but alive
feasting on the roots
and nutrients

A decade passes
another six
and finally
it is time to get up

The crust of dirt is broken
a head pushed out of the ground
forelimbs next
grabbing desperately at the dust

with a heave it pulls itself up
feeling the breeze against its back
for the first time
dusting the crusts dried to its legs

The cicada nymph shakes a bit
to drop the dirt that tightly clings to it
it turns to the tree
having anticipated this his entire life

Crawling, he drags his dusty body
to the tree, where he
begins his ascend
though he is worn out from digging out of his prison

The moon has long risen from the morning sky
and finally the cicada plants its forelimbs
into the bark, anchoring it
as it prepares for its transformation

The whole night its struggles,
against the tomb it calls its skin ...

Writing From The Heart

I've always wondered, What makes writing so powerful? So wonderful? What drives us to the need of reading, of writing? What makes those words on paper, on screen, what makes them so interesting? How do words alone, make us smile, weep, enrage? How do they effect us so strongly? How do they change our perspectives so quickly?

But then, I realise. The words written, say more of the author than of what they write of. It shows what kind of person he or she is. It shows where their hearts lie, what they believe in, and how strongly, how determined they are to share that belief.

What lies in the heart, extends through our actions, including the words our fingers form, using the pen or skimming along the keyboard. The device feels like an extras muscle, able to be flexed, like moving a hand. It is natural.

But what makes us write? Some for leisure, for fun. Some to express...

Fly or Die

The wind roaring at the peak
the sea shoving against the rocks,
trying to claw their way up
to the ones sheltering above

The chicks chitter nervously
the sea's roaring for their lives 
causes them to tremble, 
backing away from the edge

The parents watch on sadly
but continue to gently edge them forward
towards the sea's open arms
ignoring their screeches and cries

Their children wail, pushing
against the ones who raised them
trying to avoid this near certain death
but the birds say nothing, but reply

"Fly or Die."

With no where rock to place feet on,
the chicks tumble, in a cluster of fluff
as they plummet off the cliff
the sea thrashing, ready to crush them

They shriek, scream, cry
but their parents do nothing but watch
despite the painful tug in their heart
as their children wail in anguish and fear

A chick flaps its wings frantically
finally, catching wind,
it stops its fall
and...

Earthquake

Funny how from one moment you're smiling
at the dinner table with your family
sharing laughs and news of the day
and mother's delicious steak

To the next you wake in debris
and smoke fills your eyes and lungs
nothing but blood is tasted on your tongue
and the taste of dust settling

You cough, slowly rising from the bits of cement
the air is stale, the area in a sudden shroud of silence
all the cheers of the neighbours's kids are stolen
the singing of birds cut off

Its a horrible silence
for once, you feel yourself alone
with a voice so hoarse, you croak for help
and no one but your own echo answers

Your legs feel like jelly, your hands scarred and cut
the blood trickling down your head blinds you for a second
but you ignore it, you're too in shock
to care about the splitting pain in your head

You call a little louder
your...

Mending What's Broken

Back and forth I'm tossed
suffering in the loss
as I stand in shattered glass
seeing the many fights of the past

Words of anger, hate
pass between them at an alarming rate
I stand there watching from the doorway
Small lips lost for what to say

He screams in rage
holding the page
of the mail brought by the mailman
From the doctor's bill the last time I ran

and fell, added to the number of breaks
I had since I was born up to now, at eight
Brittle Bones disease is what makes my bones weak
and what makes their angry eyes meet

He screeches on about how the bills weight down
she screams back on how I'm their child, bearing a frown
I cower from my spot, crying in silent prayer to whoever above
to keep them from shattering their love

He rips the paper in two
saying they're through
she stares at him in shock, mouth...

The Sea's Master

The sea
lies still
on a quiet sun set
when it will wake

No one will know

The sea
wakes up
stretching out
as far as it can go

brushing the sand with its tips

The sea
yawns, sloshing the water
in a soft soothing
melody

one that sings the fish to sleep

The sea
moves softly along
cradling those who have tamed
the beast

who could so easily turn against them

The sea
bends to men's will
allowing them to take
the fishes it has watched grow in its waters

Not arguing as they pull its children from its grip

The sea
aides ships
pushing them along
and keeping the dangers at bay

waving good bye as it contracts at low tide

The sea
is a mother
a father
a guardian

and will throw itself at whoever endangers those it protects

The sea
is a beast
an untamable
monster

who can turn on you in an instant

The sea ...

Ignibus Of The Heart

The boy stood there, the blood pounding in his ears as he looked up at the large formation before him. All he had done… came to this. 

The being watched from the other side, pale eyes staring into his soul. “Enter, child.” It rumbled. “Enter the Gate Of Iudicio, once you have passed the gate, you can never turn back, until the battle is over. Only one victor can remain. Once started, the battle must be finished.” Then with a pause, the creature circled on its side of the gate and stood facing the boy. “Enter the gate.” 

The boy looked at the formation signifying the Gate Of Iudicio. It was two pillars of crystals of pure ice, spiralling upwards and crossing at the top.  He looked back to the being on the other end, the being that had tormented his world for a millenium. The being who could soon be his killer. 

Taking a breath, the boy slowly walked...

Illumination

Racheal

Racheal was a slightly tanned girl, a fashionable hoodie and skirt to blend in with her friends, her smile replaced with one of mockery. Though dressed for the part, her family isn't as high and mighty as she seems in school, and to fix that, she puts others below her, just to blend in with the crowd, though she's straining her mom's expenses, since dad took most of it when he ran off once the paper was signed.

Flashlight

Whose home?

I see you like that house of yours
after all I liked it too
before you came and teared my forest down
just so you could have your fancy set up

You may not see me,
but I'm here
and I'm watching you
with pure hatred

Of course you didn't think
of poor little me
of the tiger's home
you destroyed

The home you stole

Its funny how you come at me
with sticks that fire small black pellets
for tresspassing
as I take a step onto my old territory

Is this home really yours?
I was here first
I scented the place as mine
and what did you do?

You came with roaring yellow monsters 
who crushed the earth
who tore down the trees with its terrible claws
that filled the air with black gas

I've been patient now
I've only gone past to the neighbourhood
but yet you shriek and chase me away
now I can't even take...

Open Prompt

Disappointment

Bitter, is it not?
That sharp and cutting taste 
of when you've poured your soul into a work
only for it to be turned away

It hurts, does it not?
How you've done so much
made so many sacrifices
only to be let down

What is one of the greatest things we fear most?

Disappointment.

The feeling of someone turn away you're life's work
of someone whose looked down on your futile attempts
of someone who finds fault in all that you do
the feeling that makes you feel

Worthless.

Useless.

Not needed.

It funny how you thought
for once
your hopes, dreams, would be acknowledged
only for someone to crush it under foot

as you watch in horror

It funny how you thought
you could impress them
how you could actually
make a difference

Its funny how you thought
humans were forgiving
when really,
we're the most vicious creatures

The most cruel

the most demanding

One slip up
can...

After... After... After

My mark

I began my journey to a destination everyone longed for, after going through the life of a toddle, after being a child, after turning into a teen, after many tears shed, after many futile attempts, after being broken by betrayal, after healing from wounds cut by sharp words of hate, after running to a goal I could not achieve, after thinking what the meaning of life meant, after finding myself, after finding courage, after neglecting those who hated, I arrived to the stage where I stand, meeting the people I've touched with my words, my mark.

Op-ed Competition 2016

I'm not different, I'm special

(I know the competition is over. But still, I wanted to take a chance to write on the topic of this prompt. I hope I can improvise a piece worthy to be read.)



We're all the same, are we not?

Humans, kids, children, people.

Beings who just want to be accepted. Who just want to be loved. Who want to be part of a community.

So why do you give me that look?

As if I do not belong.

As if I've contracted a deadly contagious disease?

I have a face, I have legs, hands, a body. I look like you. But yet, you make me feel alien.

Just because I'm 'different' doesn't mean I don't have a heart. It doesn't mean you can treat me like an animal. It doesn't mean you can hurt me. It doesn't mean you can break me.

Why you see me 'different' is a wonder I wish to find out. 

Why was I invisible?...

Everyday Magic

Forgiven

Matilda winced as the older girl slammed her into the locker. 

"Why don't you call for help, loser? Oh wait, you can't." The girl mocked, catching an encouraging glance from her posse.

Matilda didn't move, she couldn't even cry for help, she was born without a voice box and had lived a life without words. 

"Well? Want another beating? Go ahead, say not and I'll stop." Stephanie raised a fist. "Well?"

Matilda shook her head, bringing giggles from Stephanie's friends. 

The bigger girl mockingly brought a hand to her ear. "Do I hear anything? No? Okay, I guess its a yes, then."

~

"Heh, what a weakling." Stephanie smirked as she joined her group, smirking down at Matilda, whose face bore new bruises as she cowered on her hands and knees.

Slowly, Matilda got up, staring back at Stephanie.

"Got something to say, loser?" Stephanie snickered.

What she did next, startled every one of the bullies in their tracks. 

Matilda...

Everyday Magic

Forgiven

Matilda winced as the older girl slammed her into the locker. 

"Why don't you call for help, loser? Oh wait, you can't." The girl mocked, catching an encouraging glance from her posse.

Matilda didn't move, she couldn't even cry for help, she was born without a voice box and had lived a life without words. 

"Well? Want another beating? Go ahead, say not and I'll stop." Stephanie raised a fist. "Well?"

Matilda shook her head, bringing giggles from Stephanie's friends. 

The bigger girl mockingly brought a hand to her ear. "Do I hear anything? No? Okay, I guess its a yes, then."

~

"Heh, what a weakling." Stephanie smirked as she joined her group, smirking down at Matilda, whose face bore new bruises as she cowered on her hands and knees.

Slowly, Matilda got up, staring back at Stephanie.

"Got something to say, loser?" Stephanie snickered.

What she did next, startled every one of the bullies in their tracks. 

Matilda...

Paint Swatch

Ocean's wing

Ocean's wing, a bright, dreamy, soft and soothing colour. Like the softest shade of the sea, but yet with a tint of lime, the texture and appearance seemingly like a large soft wing of the salty sea. A colour that perfectly depicts the image of a mother cradling her child, secure and safe. Like a horizon that seems endless and as vast as the sea.

Imagine This

Afraid for him

Imagine this: A girl at the age of 12. She's not the most worried about her Primary School Leaving Examination. She's worried for her brother, she's afraid her brother's autism will get in the way. She's afraid he'll get angry mid exam if he sees the number '9' or the word 'almost'. She's afraid for his future. Though she's only his older sister by two years, she feels like his guardian angel. She wants to prepare him for what comes next, she dives into challenges and problems to experience the worst of things, so she can get him ready for the worst.

She wants to guide him though he doesn't know it. He was never afraid for his future, she was for him. She loved him too much to see him suffer as she did. This is what family's about.

 

[Insert Age]

14 years of life


14. 7 years from 21, adult age. But question, am I ready for that?
 
14 years, not much, people would say, quite a number, others reply. 14 years, of the life I've lived to now.
 
These 14 years have been quite eventful. And educational.
 
It wondrous how quickly you can change. After 7 years of age, you go to primary school. After 6 years of that, you're in secondary school. Another 7 years and you'll be an adult, heading into the world.
 
Its mysterious how many changes occur as you tread into each age mark. Baby, child, teen, adult, senior.
 
At each stage, you're treated differently.
 
They say everyone's life is different, though.
 
Me?
 
Well... lets reflect shall we?
 
I grew up a happy child. The elder sister of a little boy. Two years difference, but yet he seemed to stay young all the time. I'll admit, he wasn't your usual...

All Talk

What he did

Hi Ginn.
Hey, Leif.
So..What are you thinking about?
.... nothing.
Doesn't look like nothing. You seem... depressed... why?
Its none of your business.
... Ginn, you're my friend. What hurts you... hurts me too. So tell me what the problem is.
...SIGH... if you must know... well... its just that... I've been thinking....
Yes?
Do you think I'm a criminal?
W..What?
Do you still see me as a criminal?
Ginn, what do you-
I've killed your friends, I've killed people. I've killed people for no other reason except the fact that they were people.
... I've put your past behind you. So you should too.
But do the OTHERS see me as a criminal? Have they seen that I've changed? At all?
...
I can SEE them point at me, I see them wary. I can HEAR them talking about me, and none of the things they say are nice.
Ginn, they'll get over it, they just-
They're right. ...

Quartet

Ginn Herin

He killed to live, he wanted revenge on the world, his family lived on the streets, no one came when they were dying.

Time Traveler

Change

Eons, centuries, years, months.
Weeks, days, minutes,
seconds.
In such short time

Things can completely change.

Red, orange, yellow.
Green, blue, purple,
white
In such small differences.

Things can never be the same.

One day your born
the next you're crawling
after, you start talking
Then you start walking.

Miraculous things, they are, Change.

First a child.
Second a student.
A teen.
An adult.

Things can oh so drastically move on.

The things now
become what was then.
What we love now
We could hate then.

Changes in shape, thought, mind.

One day two parents
the next, one left.
One day two parents
the next, none left.

We never know how big a change can occur.

One day we stand
the next we sit
for the rest of our
lives

We may not always like Change.

One day we meet
we love
we grow together
One day, it ends.

Sometimes, Change brings tears.

One day we play
in a field...

No One Is Born Evil

When we see people
who do horrid things
we call them evil
but were they born evil?

If so, why are they born evil
how?
Was it the parents fault?
Or simply by chance?

No one 
not even the most horrible people
not even those who destroy the hearts of men, women or children
no one is evil.

They can do evil things
they can have evil intensions
they can appear evil
but they were never born evil.

So if not born evil,
how 
and why
do they act like that?

Eveyone is born kind
innocent
compassionate
loving

It is just that
some are clouded
with traits
that conceal their true selves

Greed
selfishness
hate
jelousy

So when you see someone
who does many wrongs
do not blame their parents or birth
because no one

No one is born evil.

Open Prompt

Disappointment

The boy stood there, the blood pounding in his ears as he looked up at the large formation before him. All he had done… came to this.

The being watched from the other side, pale eyes staring into his soul. “Enter, child.” It rumbled. “Enter the Gate Of Iudicio, once you have passed the gate, you can never turn back, until the battle is over. Only one victor can remain. Once started, the battle must be finished.” Then with a pause, the creature circled on its side of the gate and stood facing the boy. “Enter the gate.”

The boy looked at the formation signifying the Gate Of Iudicio. It was two pillars of crystals of pure ice, spiralling upwards and crossing at the top.  He looked back to the being on the other end, the being that had tormented his world for a millenium. The being who could soon be his killer.

Taking a breath, the boy slowly walked...

Six-Word Memoir

My Human Experience in 6 Words

We were created to be creators.

Friendship Narrative Competition 2016

Wish Upon A Star

When I was little, my mother told me, that if I wished upon a star, the brightest one, my wish would come true. So I gave it a try. One night, I knelt outside my window, peeking out to find the star I wanted to wish on. I saw it. A star so dim, it glowed faintly against the others. That was the star I wanted.

I closed my eyes, the image of the star willed in my mind.

I wish... I wish I had a friend. Someone who I can depend on.

When I looked back at the sky, the star seemed a little brighter. Who knows, I might have imagined it. But as a child, it meant something to my innocent mind. It meant someone had heard my prayers. And that it would be granted.

But I never knew, long ago my wish had been granted.

For he had slept in the same room as me. Calling me...

On the Last Day of the World

The Last Day Of The World

If this were the last day of the world,
I would find everyway possible
to reach you,
my dearest friend

Friends since the age of ten
we have never been truly seperated since then
physicaly, yes
but in heart,
never apart

But if this is the last day
the world remains alright
distance will become nothing
as I wish to be by your side

So close, so alike
some say we're sisters
we have few fights
but make them alright

The stream,the river,the ocean
nothing I cannot swim across
A hill, a mountain, a country
nothing I cannot trek across

Meters, kilometers, miles
nothing, I mean nothing
will keep us apart
I will be with you within that single day

On the last day of the world
I will be by your side
If death do us part,
we will be together, hand to hand

heart to heart.

 

Open Prompt

Disappointment

The boy stood there, the blood pounding in his ears as he looked up at the large formation before him. All he had done… came to this.

The being watched from the other side, pale eyes staring into his soul. “Enter, child.” It rumbled. “Enter the Gate Of Iudicio, once you have passed the gate, you can never turn back, until the battle is over. Only one victor can remain. Once started, the battle must be finished.” Then with a pause, the creature circled on its side of the gate and stood facing the boy. “Enter the gate.”

The boy looked at the formation signifying the Gate Of Iudicio. It was two pillars of crystals of pure ice, spiralling upwards and crossing at the top.  He looked back to the being on the other end, the being that had tormented his world for a millenium. The being who could soon be his killer.

Taking a breath, the boy slowly walked...

My December 2016

31 days

December, the last month of the year. The twelfth month. The end of the year. 31 days until the year is over. Until I leave this life behind and move forward to the next. 744 hours until I am no longer at the first rank of secondary school. 44640 minutes until I have become closer to becoming a teen, one step closer to becoming an adult. 2678400 seconds until it is officially the next year.

December has always been the month of worrying for me. Worrying wether I'm ready, ready to be a year older, ready to become a year closer to turning into a teen, into an adult, ready to face the world. Will things be the same? Or will everything change completely. Will I be strong enough to overcome the changes? Who knew 31 days could bring so many question, but no answers.

Many children wish for the next year to come sooner. They want to be older,...

My December 2016

31 days

December, the last month of the year. The twelfth month. The end of the year. 31 days until the year is over. Until I leave this life behind and move forward to the next. 744 hours until I am no longer at the first rank of secondary school. 44640 minutes until I have become closer to becoming a teen, one step closer to becoming an adult. 2678400 seconds until it is officially the next year.

December has always been the month of worrying for me. Worrying wether I'm ready, ready to be a year older, ready to become a year closer to turning into a teen, into an adult, ready to face the world. Will things be the same? Or will everything change completely. Will I be strong enough to overcome the changes? Who knew 31 days could bring so many question, but no answers.

Many children wish for the next year to come sooner. They want to be older,...

When The Tree Loses Its Roots

Divorce, one word, that single word. That caused my world to shatter at the age of 6. I didn’t know what it meant, when the words came out of my father’s mouth. I never knew it was linked to those horrid times when my parents fought. I never knew such a small word could cause so much pain. I remember as my mother left, disappearing into the heavy rain. The water pattered against the roof of the empty house. It was so quiet. No mother nagging at me to keep my toys or to turn down the volume of the TV, but now I wished to hear her. I was wishing to hear my mother shriek at me. I wanted to hear her voice again.

I wanted my mother back.

My father stayed in his room for most of the day, not going to work as he used to. I remember asking him one day where mother went. He only...

When The Tree Loses Its Roots

Divorce. One word. That single word. That caused my world to shatter at the age of 6. I didn’t know what it meant, when the words came out of my father’s mouth. I never knew it was linked to those horrid times when my parents fought. I never knew such a small word could cause so much pain. I remember as my mother left, disappearing into the heavy rain. The water pattered against the roof of the empty house. It was so quiet. No mother nagging at me to keep my toys or to turn down the volume of the TV, but now I wished to hear her. I was wishing to hear my mother shriek at me. I wanted to hear her voice again.

I wanted my mother back.

My father stayed in his room for most of the day, not going to work as he used to. I remember asking him one day where mother went. He only...

Novel Writing Competition 2015

If Only I saved Her

“Bye! Have a nice day at training!” Blue waved off to his friends. “I will!” Green chirped. The newest warrior bounded after her mentor, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hurry up.” Red called to his apprentice. Green quickened her steps and both disappeared through the bushes. The dark blue 25 cm creature smiled as he watched them walk off. The second he was sure they were gone, his smile fell. He sighed and put his waving hand down. It had been a month since White had been poisoned by the Snatchers, since she changed, since his best friend left. He had stayed up nights, waiting, hoping she would break free from her poison and return, but never saw her. Green had been fully developed by the Crystal and was now the newest member of their team. Red and Blue had been taking turns training her, but now Red handled her progress, seeing that their leader seemed restless. Blue raised his head...

If Only I Saved Her

“Bye! Have a nice day at training!” Blue waved off to his friends. “I will!” Green chirped. The newest warrior bounded after her mentor, eyes sparkling with excitement. “Hurry up.” Red called to his apprentice. Green quickened her steps and both disappeared through the bushes. The dark blue 25 cm creature smiled as he watched them walk off. The second he was sure they were gone, his smile fell. He sighed and put his waving hand down. It had been a month since White had been poisoned by the Snatchers, since she changed, since his best friend left. He had stayed up nights, waiting, hoping she would break free from her poison and return, but never saw her. Green had been fully developed by the Crystal and was now the newest member of their team. Red and Blue had been taking turns training her, but now Red handled her progress, seeing that their leader seemed restless. Blue raised his head...

Misunderstood

I looked up at them high on the hill, from my spot in the comforting shadows of pine trees. Their white pelts gleamed in the sunlight, looking pure and majestic.  The White Wolves. I growl. My enemies. Pure, they called them. Heroes, saviors, righteous. Lies. I knew the truth, but no one would believe me for the White Wolves fed the animals fake tales. That us Black Wolves were evil, vile creatures. That we should be eliminated at first chance. I growl as a drop of water falls from my eyes. They killed my pack. Only a few Black Wolves remained in hiding. The leader of White Wolves, Dovefeather, claimed that he and his pack would save the animals from us Black Wolves. But his true reason was our territory. He was greedy, wanting more hunting territory for his pack. And he would kill to get it. I am Ravenmist, one of the last of my kind.

One of the...

The Single Voice

The deer wailed a pain filled yelp before falling to the ground, eyes unseeing. The hunter approached and inspected the fortieth kill that day. “I can get little from this one.” The man said gruffly. “It is so thin, none shall want its meat or skin.” With that, the man turned, rifle slung over his shoulder, and walked away from the worthless prey. Its blood ran scarlet against the powder snow, face stiff in its tortured face. The young hunter trudged through the snow, the ice crunching under his blood stained boots. He loaded his kills onto the back of his truck, where a collection of deer, foxes, rabbits and racoons lay, never to feel the warmth of the spring sun ever again. The young man kicked the corpses and jammed them in between the others, finally fitting them all in. He was about to slid into the driver’s seat when a snap echoed through the trees. “Looks like a...

The Beast

The wind blew from every corner towards Joey. The young girl winced as each puff brushed past her cold and trembling skin. The forest was dead silent except for the quiet mockery of the wind. “Turn back,” the wind hissed as it blew past her ear. “Before its too late.” The cold wind cackled as it released Joey from its grip and faded into the darkness of trees. Joey walked on with quickened steps. “You cant escape…” The wind laughed. Joey’s small quick steps turned into quick long steps. Her brown hair trailed after her as she dashed through the forest. Each shadow seemed to jump at her, trying to drag her into the darkness. The trees covered all sources of light. The moon hidden by the mass of leaves. The silence that shrouded Joey was cut by the sound of a deafening roar. Joey skidded to a stop, eyes wide as she peered behind her. A beast, as black...

when The Ice Melts

Poki ran across the small chunks of ice. He huffed as he pursued his prey, a seal. The black swimmer saw the Polar Bear’s white fur against the brown of the ground. With a startled yelp, it disappeared down its breathing hole, back into the depths of the sea.  Poki came to a stop, seeing his target escaped, sides heaving. Poki sighed. He hadn’t caught anything for days, the seals saw him before he even started to get a few meters close. His snowy pelt simply stood out from the brownish black dirt. With the ice melting, Poki no longer had the cover of camouflage.  The plump arctic bear was now a skinny thing with pitiful eyes. Why had the sun gotten hotter? Why had the ice melted so much? The young two-year-old polar bear did not know the answer to these questions, but he suffered so much. Not long after leaving his mother and sister, the ice had started...