Tag Archives: stories

Invisible Bicycle

Ever since university started I have been learning how to ride a bicycle. Falling down. Getting up. Slow and steady.


I haven’t had much time to spare some words in this rusty old blog. (It’s a 100 posts old!) It’s either all over my academia or lacking sleep. And it’s been quite difficult for me to recollect and put into literature whatever I have come across to, may it be a new experience or emotion. But whatever.

Every written word is a garden. It starts as a seed, and it blossoms its way through time. As a writer, I can’t manipulate the growth of my words. I can only wait for it. But when it reaches it’s point of ripeness and I don’t harvest it, it will rot. And for a writer, such is the struggle. It’s all about the timing.

My thoughts remained preserved even during my absence. But then again, I do not know for how long. So I will write until my mind is exhausted and my fingers are numb. Because as person who talks to a virtual wind, I have been silent for quite too long.

I have gathered different stories and silly little theories; found enlightenment in the lonely gutters of introspect. I have experienced moments of happiness but is constantly eluded by joy. And I can’t wait to take it all out of me again.

Make me.


SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Real Talk by Bloc Party

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Red Ribbon

There’s a girl with short hair. Shorter than an average girl’s crown; trimmed to an utter masculine appearance. She isn’t a rebel disapproving society and all it feminine biases. All she was, is a girl.

A girl with long silky hair; highlights of red streaming through her fibers. Her hair was youth itself, one adorned by a young lady. A red bow that laced a beautiful face like a gift tied with a ribbon.

But she was unwrapped.

Because boys like toys they can play with. Blind kids open presents which are not meant for them. This not a case of childish thievery but more, for hearts are mangled by boys with roughest hands but most deceitful minds. So when a shrewd little liar took form of a ruthless boy. The girl loved like gullible under the puppetry of his words.

Emotions flared, everything burned.

When her mother had found out of what happened to her precious daughter. She saw scars similar to hers. A bitter and broken older-self took over and hard discipline came down. Hard to imagine, but all in motive of love.

They chopped her hair. Every strand decapitated with sheer contempt. The scissors clipped the crest that validated the young woman and they ripped that ribbon that sat on her head until all she had to show for was her shameful face. As she look upon her fallen locks, she bawled at the foolishness of the girl who once wore that crown.

But there comes a day for every damsel in distress. Fortunately, her’s came sooner.

And so that girl with the short hair. Yeah, she’s alright now. Under repair but she’s getting there. Maybe next time I sit next to her, I’d ask her about the hair. In which she’d wittily reply, “It’s a summer thing.”



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About Considering On Owning An Otter..

Today I almost lost my phone.


Stupidly careless, as I usually am. I left my cellphone on the counter top where seated iPads lay while I try out a neat little stylus. (Which will soon provide this blog with interesting artwork) As I lost myself for tad moment It slipped off my ever-forgetful mind that I have placed my phone by the demos. Excited for a great purchase I darted towards the cashier but on the way I managed to lose my way into an aisle of mobile phones..

“Nice phone..”

“I want that phone..”


*gropes pockets frantically*


*cold sweat*

My uncle with me, helped scour the place for a Blackberry Curve of lesser value. I searched every nook and cranny of of parking lot thinking I dropped it along the way. While, my uncle turned over the whole store with the help of the management.

And there was this sly fox of a dad about to his last step out of the store when my uncle unknowingly asked him if he has been able to spot a phone by the demos. He rattled and immediately pulled out the phone from his pocket.

Returning from a vain search at the parking lot I sighed a great deal of relief at the sight of my phone and without any suspicion, I thanked the keeping stranger almost automatically.

A good few seconds after he headed out the exit, It dawned on me that sly fox of a dad is bastard scoundrel who had every intention of stealing my phone. I was beside that man at the demos and he knew I was desperately looking for it but he didn’t budge. No, not even when we called the phone. And he said ‘Yeah, there was someone calling..’

Shame on you and your baby daughter, sir.


And that is why I’m deliberately considering getting an Otter right now..

(You didn’t think of an actual otter, did you? It’s not a domestic type pet. Or else I would get one.)

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: When You Say (Nine) by Gabe Bondoc

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Drop, Drivel, Distance

I’ll tell you a funny story.. One that happened on this same night. It was set under a windy evening; cold and crisp. Two people unknown to each other and separated by over 3000 miles were brought closer together by a modern miracle for the first time. So close they can stare at each other. Face to face.

A blank stare to the face is million things but never a word. And I shouldn’t have done anything to upset the balance of things yet I just had to open the open my stupid mouth..

Me: Hello! *sheepish smile*

Her: Hallo! *humble waves*

Me: ………………..

Her: ………………..

(10 seconds later..)

Conscience: Stop looking, start talking. Be funny!

Me: Um, you’re face is shaped like a mango..

Conscience: Idiot. *facepalm*

Her: Ah-um, okaaaaaayy?? *recessively laughs*

(20 seconds later of utter embarrassment)

Her: You sound funny, I think your mic is messed up.

Conscience: Play the same card. It should be ace this time.

Me: Oh yeah, my mic is acting up I usually sound like Kanye West..

Her: *shakes her head* Um, Who’s Kanye?

Conscience: Does she live under a rock? *face-to-desk*

(After a detailed explanation of the scandalous MTV awards)

Conscience: Get out of there. Or die.

Me: I think I best go now, I have stuff to do..

Her: Yeah, My mum’s telling me off too.

Me: Bye. Catch you some other time, hey?

Her; Alright, speak soon.

A quagmire of epic proportions.

I breathed awkwardness to the other dimension of cyberspace. And it reeked like a deceased mind. Hence, complete and sheer humiliation.

But there’s good news after the bad; she still talked to me after that. But not anymore though.

I wish we still talk. Because I feel like I waved the flag too early at the sight of distance. Difficult as it was, I felt the need to discontinue. Because the friendship we had is profound but virtually fictional.

I wanted to be a friend. But subconsciously, I think I want to be something more.

And until I meet her personally, I’ll hold on to this apology of a bad conversation and an early surrender. Only then will I consider our friendly attachment to be real..

SONGOFTHEMOMENT: Heartlines (Acoustic) By Florence And The Machine

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