Weekly Writing Challenge: My Funny Valentine?

Her eyes slowly opened as the sun shun down exactly upon them. She gave a comfortable yawn and placed her hand above her forehead just to shield her eyes from the glowing sun yet be able to see the beautiful day that had lay upon her. She stood there for a minute soaking in every inch of the start of the day and couldn’t get enough of it.

Alas, she walked away from the window and walked across her kitchen. Got herself a cup of coffee and smelled the great aroma behind it all and took a sip. She made some toast and some sunny side up. Took a warm shower, used her favorite sunday dress and hat. And off she went outside on that lovely day.

She skipped a bit when she knew no one was looking and gave a small satisfactory smile for her little successful act. She greeted and gave the most beautiful smile whenever she came across someone.

Then she passed by a flower kiosk. She looked at the colorful flowers and smelt them one by one. Oh, she beamed with joy. The vendor was so infective by her cheeriness and excitement that he gave her a bouquet of flowers.

“For the lovely lady. May you enjoy tonight!” He said.

I guess, when one is exuberant, it just infects people around you. And she did. But for some reason she radiated today. Why of all days?

Ah, yes! It was tonight! She knew it. She felt it!

Time passed by and soon the sun has set. She was now in front of the restaurant. The waiter took her to the table he reserved.

‘Just for the two of us.’ She remembered each word he said the other day. And she couldn’t help but smile to the thought.

Then, she saw him. He was walking slowly towards him just like those romantic movies or was it? She saw one of his hands shaking, his head facing the floor.

‘It’s really today.’ She exclaimed inside her head.

He did knelt down in one knee. People were now looking. Their eyes full of joy and excitement just as she did. He at the other hand was fidgety and full brim of nervousness engulfed him as he looked at the crowd. He was lost, he didn’t know where to begin. What words to use on this exact moment. And so he decided to look at her in the eye.

The next few things that happened came like a blur. As she looked at him, as he kept talking and explaining the only thing her head was repeating were the words… “I’m sorry, but I don’t love you anymore.”

Was this some kind of funny valentine joke that life just threw at her? She was motionless like a statue frozen in time.

He finally stood up and before he left her there in that restaurant gave a small kiss in the cheek. “Goodbye, Amy.” He couldn’t muster the words but she heard it alright, loud and clear.

She was devastated and lost for words. She suddenly felt her chest turn so cold and solid. It felt warm cement began to solidify right in heart and slowly but effectively was getting heavier by the minute. Was this what they call heart break? It was just too much!

‘They say it will pass…she though… ‘But… to feel this every single day…every single hour and every minute… I may not be able to bare it, let alone live with it.’ She said with tears streaming along her hot cheeks. She realized she had been crying for so long.

‘I do not one to live another day with this! Let me go out if this misery.” She pleaded. “Let me go!”

And for some reason a bright beam of light shun upon her until her eyes couldn’t open wide. She closed her eyes and darkness came upon her.

Her eyes slowly opened as the sun shun down exactly upon them. She gave a comfortable yawn and placed her hand above her forehead just to shield her eyes from the glowing sun yet be able to see the beautiful day that had lay upon her. She stood there for a minute soaking in every inch of the start of the day and couldn’t get enough of it.ย She didn’t care what day it was. Never glanced on the calendar near her window. And to think the glaring sun covered it out of her sight.

Alas, dear Amy has been living the same day never waking up to the next morning. She never wanted to taste the bitter truth that comes that day or the following days. And kept the sweet aroma of the joy of that day… the anticipation and the excitement that the eve of Valentine’s Day brings.

Her life now repeats and repeats and repeats on that same day. Would you like some of this bittersweet sensation this Valentine’s Day?

So, I saw this post Weekly Writing Challenge and it got me thinking about it! ๐Ÿ™‚ It isn’t really my experience (obviously, one cannot repeat exactly a day) but I was quite inspired by the topic. I know usually people would put up some of their experiences and that is totally fine. ๐Ÿ™‚ That is lovely. However, I wanted to challenge, think outside the box , push the envelope and test the water for this one.

It’s a nice experience, being creative and sharing it to a community who is interested on what you do or have the same passion as you. (Hopefully they do. hehe ๐Ÿ™‚ ) So I am quite satisfied for this entry.ย 

If you stumble upon this entry or this link, hello and thank you for stopping by! ๐Ÿ™‚

The Collector: Today 1

Wouldn’t it just be perfect if you can leave everything behind and just be another person? Start a fresh? Leave everything behind? And maybe just disappear into space.

Those thoughts have been consuming me for some time now. Yes, most people would say its part of life. Or youโ€™d get past that or itโ€™s just a phase and youโ€™d get back to your feet. I do agree with them and that is why you see me here, standing and carrying this humongous bags around me.

However it dawned on me today I am not most people. I am the collector.

You see I’ve been traveling for so long as I can remember. I don’t know why or rather I do not remember why. I look at myself and I see this large haystack of a hat too large for me. A scarf that has wrapped around my neck and its size is from half of my face to my knees. A Huge brown cloak that surrounds my whole thin body. With all this clothes on me, I can hardly see myself. I slowly made my way to my hands and there it was two large luggage hanging between my fingers. As I shifted the weight of the luggage for me to get its balance, I felt an even heavier weight hugging against my back and there it was another enormous baggage enveloping my back like it was clinging to its life.

Why do I have these things?

Why do I keep doing this?

Who am I?

As long as I remembered, I thought it was natural for people to have baggages. I see them all the time, in trains, airplanes, going to work, going home they have something to hold on to. However as years go by, I learned they didn’t have my kind of baggage. Mine was specifically different. ย  I mean you do see people, carrying bags all day. However in the past few years, I learned I am not carrying any ordinary bag like the rest of the world. It somewhat special. As I tend to get whatever I need and place it into one of these things I tend to forget what they are and I just remember I must keep on moving. There are times I have instances or memories putting something on it but everything turns blurry and white that I don’t remember anything at all. Next thing I knew I am sitting on a train and a ticket on my hand.

But today is different.

I looked at the glass across me. And I see I am growing tired each and everyday. Despite not seeing my whole face I can feel my eyes cringing from the pain. My hands are shaking from all the weight. My arms and back strained, hands shaking as the luggage hung on them. I can feel all the tension around my back from all the bag hugging and tightening its hold on to it. ย I cannot possibly bare it. Another step and I might collapse from the unbalanced weight that is lunging towards me. ย The weight is slowly killing me.

And so today, on a congested and busy train station somewhere on earth, I decided to bend my knees, slowly ease down my arms until I feel the luggages have landed on the ground; released my my hands from their clasp, got a hand on the bag at my back and slowly ease it down beside the two luggages. I checked if the ticket was still on my coat pocket and checked if the coast was clear.

I’d be lying to you if I said I hated the traveling part. I love new places, I love meeting new people and learning different cultures. And so I’ll continue with my travels. I slowly walked away from them.

For the first time in years, I felt relieved and relaxed.

.~.

Hello guys! ๐Ÿ™‚ Sorry, for not being able to post anything for some time now. I’ve been quite busy with things and for the spitwriting? Well, as much as I wanted to post for that category I can’t cause the people in the group stopped giving topics. ๐Ÿ˜ฆ Quite sad really.ย 

Anyway, this is a short story-ish kind of thing. I got inspired recently! If you’d see carefully I’ve indicated a number in zeee title…so if you’d like to know what happens next just be up to date with things and wait for the next story. I’m trying to kinda make short stories but have that connection just like the book REVENGE by Yoko Ogawa.(BTW, loved that book! ๐Ÿ™‚ Maybe if I got zeee time, I’ll make a book thought on it!) ย So stay tuned! ๐Ÿ™‚

The Magic Box

Did you feel that?

… It happened again.

I don’t quite know how to describe it. They say it has a name. I don’t know what it is.

I felt it as I looked on the monitor. I have been staring at it for a long time in my dark pitch black of a room. It is filled with lots of things. Things, I personally created. Some great, some not-so great, some I adore, some I feel disgusted with, some I wonder how it came to be.

My gaze is still affix on the box. In some ways, it is a magical box. ย It emits a huge beam of light and beautiful images. Some people would argue it is the devil sucking you in and ever so slowly killing you inside without your knowledge. The others, say that it is like paradise. Everything in once desires can truly be granted.ย A world were everything is in a click of a button.

Yes, truly those people were both right. For an artist like me, it is a dream come true. The box has become a helper to my needs. Instead of paper, pencil, easels and paint, I can all do it in this magical creature. Anything that I need, it answers my prayers like for example inspirations. Lot, and lots of them are found every minute, every hour and every day.

It has been my constant little friend, this enchanting little box. I’ve found friends in the same community as mine, artists like me who can understand perfectly well my doubts, fears and joys. We get together, with the use of my little friend, the box. We show within ourselves our worries, triumphs and most of all our works.

However, every creature has it’s flaws. This creature, has one too. You see, even though I have attain my so called friends, this creature of a magical box doesn’t let me see them. Yes, I’ve seen them, but in the form of an image. You can say I have never interacted with them physically. And so here I am, back in the pain numbing sensation.

I’ve been staring at the box, the light beam has been consuming my eyes for a long time yet I don’t feel the pain on them. I feel it on my chest. It is burning like a fire ready cook meat. My eyes cringe but not because of the light beam but because the burning sensation has been consuming my heart for so long.

What is this? I want it to go away!

Then for a small amount of time, my senses are back. Slowly, I can see clearly what my eyes were staring at. It wasn’t the box itself. I was looking beyond it and the light beam. It was an image. And boy, was I drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

I wondered. ‘Why do I feel this burning sensation? This monstrous feeling inside me when I see this magnificent image? This beautifully painted picturesque of a painting. WHY?’

Ugh! There it is again. Now it is becoming unbearable. It has eventually reach a point in my chest so devastatingly painful my brain shouts of pure agony. I want it out of my way.

And there it was… below the beautiful painting. It was quite small, you see. Didn’t notice at first glance.

Or did I? And I just didn’t want to remember. Did not want the horrible truth.

It was a name. A lovely name actually. And indeed said that to her.

I typed. “You’ve got a lovely name, Alana. Do you know it means beautiful?”

“No, but thank you.” She replied back in an instant.

I formed a smile.

But what has that got to do with this aching and unbearable sensation. It just got worse when I saw her name. I do not understand and so I suddenly closed the image. Hoping the feeling will go away.

I slowly breathed, to calm myself down. Then I looked up.

It was a painting. Not just any painting, a current painting I am working on. My eyes cringed at the sight of it. It was horrible. Just utterly displeasing to the eyes, my eyes. I suddenly felt the pain jolting right back in my chest.

It was more painful than before. My eyes suddenly watered and tears came down in an instant.

I want this feeling…this unbearable feeling to go away.

‘Juuhh…” I muttered something. It was a faint sound but I knew I was saying something.

“Juuuh…loou” My mouth kept stuttering. The pain in my chest was overpowering my voice.

At that moment, it went completely dark. My poor lit room didn’t help. Sometimes, the poor little box cease it’s beam of a light and rests for a bit especially when I am not using it.

I turned my head to the box and there in some ways I saw myself…staring back at me. I didn’t know why I could see my self so clear in this darkness. I guess, my eyes adjusted so fast that I can see transparently.

I was panting hard, my hand clutched on my chest. I can clearly see how much I was clutching it so tightly. My vision slowly came above. My mouth slightly opened trying to get air as much as I can. I can perfectly hear my hard breathing. Then I saw my eyes and I saw my whole self.

‘Jealousy’ My mouth uttered. It was faint, just like a whisper. But in this dense dark place I call my room, I can perfectly hear it.

And soon the tears turned to long streams of water…pouring in just like a waterfall. But it wasn’t any kind of waterfall, it wasn’t beautiful, it was destructive and aggressive.

The hand that was clutching my shirt suddenly shifted on my face. I placed it right in front of my tightly sealed eyes. I kept it there, hoping to hide my shame, my being, my self. I was so embarrassed, guilty and sorry for myself.

Alana’s work was magnificent and lovely. I was proud of her, I was really happy but why? Why, this hideous feeling? Why do I feel Jealously creeping and actually infesting my very being? Why? Why?

I loathed myself. But equally felt sorry for myself. I hated myself becauseย not only I felt this hideous feeling but I was angry I couldn’t produce and create something as beautiful as Alana’s work. It was just horrible! An ugliness I will never learn to love and accept.

More than anything, I want to get pass this. I want this feelings to go away because it’s wrong. It was terribly wrong! I shouldn’t have those feelings. To be a great artist one must not feel this. One must be strong to survive!

I shouldn’t be jealous, I shouldn’t compare myself to my dear friend, Alana. She is a sweet and talented woman. I am different from her. Yet, here I am feeling these annoying and pestering feelings. I know in the end what is right but why do I have to go through this agony! WHY?!?! The tears came running down my tired eyes and my breathing became rapid.

“Bear it.” A voice inside my head replied. “Bear it my dear child.”

My breathing became slow.

“Because the only way you’d understand what you know, is through going through it.”

Slowly, the aching stopped, my eyes couldn’t drop one more tear, my nose was ready to blow the sniffles away, my hands wiped away my tears and left a huge crease on my shirt.

The voice inside my head was right, I know very well I shouldn’t compare my self to dear Alana. I know I am not her. I know my skills aren’t yet up to par but with perseverance I can, I know, I know, I know. However, I have to feel these, to understand what I must do, why I must know these things. I must endure and pass these challenge to be a better artist…to be a stronger artist! That is what makes a great artist.

It is easy to say, we must rise up after we fall. But I think it is important to learn and understand why we must fall and not only to look forward to the ending. There is a saying ‘It is not the destination we must remember but the journey’. Okay maybe not the exact words but you do get the idea.

And so, I finally lit up the tiny box and looked once more in Alana’s work. I smiled and was glad the horrible feeling was gone. I immediately put the image aside and went back to my painting.

Yes, it was utterly displeasing to the eye but I can make it better. I can create something amazing. I shall persevere and work hard to attain a great skill and create an amazing work.

So, you see… we will never know if the little box is a devil or a door to paradise. It actually depends on the person. For me, it is neither but I can assure you it is a companion you must have.

That was a tad bit long, sorry about that. Just was in the moment there. ๐Ÿ˜› Hehe BTW, it’s a story just to clarify with a part of me included. I have no friend called Alana, but I did experience this…millions of times as an artist. Well, budding artist…I am not quite the artist I hope to be yet. So much to learn, so much to understand, so much to be put into practice.

But I am learning everyday. It is amazing how much an artist can gain. Not only new skills but things that aren’t easy to obtain and are not tangible. Well aside from creativity like patient and perseverance.ย 

I do not know if other artists out there have experienced this. Maybe you guys haven’t and found this extremely odd. Though, if ever someone has experience this and stumbled upon my blog, here is a comforting note, ‘you are not alone’. ๐Ÿ™‚ You’ll make it through! Just keep working hard! ๐Ÿ™‚ I know there is that doubt and questions inside your head like “Ya, I keep working hard but when will it end? When will I know I should stop digging and finally find the sweet treasure I’ve been working hard for?” Well, just keep being busy drawing, painting, practicing and you would be surprise you have dug the treasure out. ๐Ÿ™‚ย 

It’s weird saying this because I am not one of those artist who found success yet, like having my own gallery, working in the company I dream about, sold so many painting or work, have a fan base who loves my work and follows me and more. I am just like you, trying to get in in the industry of my dreams. But I confidently say these comforting words because I too am experiencing this. We are artists, who feel the same way. We should help and comfort each other. ๐Ÿ™‚ย 

So, do not forget this! ๐Ÿ˜€ We can do this! ๐Ÿ™‚ And for those people who just stumbled upon, thank you for reading and even reaching to this part ๐Ÿ™‚ I know it may be a bit of a drag…too long to read but I appreciate you reading until this bit. You might not be an artist, but I hope I’ve sparked something within you. ๐Ÿ™‚ Maybe in some ways you are struggling, don’t give up. Hang in there!ย 

Spitwriting: Cruelty Ver.02

Post #08.2

Topic: Cruelty

Time Limit: 30 seconds

Wake the monster within and you shall face the greatest cruelty in mankind.

I couldn’t resist! >.< Sorry! ๐Ÿ˜› Made a smaller version… yes, I did place this as well in the group just to satisfy them and me that MAAAN! I did it in the 30 second mark! ๐Ÿ˜› hehe Wohooo! ๐Ÿ™‚