Oct 14

Beyond The Point

                             Beyond the Point

I am crying my heart out, clenching the border of Frog Pond, the skating rink in the Central Park of Boston. Bronze frogs with frozen glee casted on their metal faces have no compassion to me; they've seen it all many times. The cold, icy wind blows into my face and tangles my hair, pulling it out in all directions. I cannot force myself to leave the board. If anyone would have shown me a picture of myself in five year later on the same spot, I would have thought they are making fun of me.

My confidence grew with every season, as well as love for skating. Learning by myself is my style, so I mastered some basic essentials on my own. At Plymouth State University skating arena, a young woman observed my awkward attempts at imitating toe loops, which often ended up with me flopping onto the ice, and showed me how to succeed in my endeavors. I tried her way, and a thrill of victory was my reward.
Oct 07
fiction 0 comments challenge: Scary

Gráinne Ní Mháille


                        Gráinne Ní Mháille

On that black night, a threatening blanket of clouds sealed the sky. The seaside village winked with lights and plunged into the shrouding darkness.

Grace O’Malley wiped her hands on her apron and looked at her husband, whose features seemed to be slipping away out of focus. Margaret, Grace’s youngest daughter, was fighting over something with Owen. “Where is Murrough?” thought Grace. “Time to bed!” She yelled and went out.

A chilling wind blew through the pines, shaking off cones. The well oiled lantern threw off ebony shadows. Following its flickering beam, Grace stepped into the dark barn. A smell of sweet hay tickled her nostrils.

She walked along the stalls and pens, feeling being intently watched. The horses were unusually nervous, stomping and snorting. To calm her creeping fear, Grace stroked the velvety muzzles of the gallant steeds.
Sep 30

I Never Saw It Coming

                                       I Never Saw It Coming
I never wanted a cellphone, though all my friends were eagerly showing off the cool amenities of their cells. Cellular live was beyond me, and consequently I had more time for homework, books, writing and drawing.
One day, as I was walking with my friend, her phone “didgeridooed”.

“Oh!” she cried, and jerked for her bag. She giggled reading the text, then her fingers bounced across the screen a reply.  Suddenly I felt pangs of jealousy.
Sep 23

I Was Waiting For You

                                 I Was Waiting For You

The shop was full of sweet-smelling sawdust and wood chips. On the elaborately-carved table lay a stringed recurve. Sunlight filtering through the window illuminated its graceful lines and new, taut bowstring.

Warm summer air swept into the room as the Craftsman entered, invitingly holding the door open. “I was waiting for you,” he addressed to the young lad who followed behind him. The Artisan crossed the room passing racks of bows to the table where the recurve lay. The young man uttered a gasp of awe when his eyes fell on the bow. The reserved smile betrayed the pride of the master. “Give it a try.”
Sep 16

Meteor Shower

Meteor Shower

The night was hot and stifling,and the screened windows didn’t help. I could see the looming black silhouettes of pines outside. There wasn’t a sound, except for the rustling of a cat on the upper porch outside. The stale air of the room was so suffocating that I could not sleep.

I sat up on the bed and looked out of the window. A flickering star invitingly peeped out from behind a tree’s wide limb and winked at me. I cautiously stood up and grabbed a flashlight. For a moment, its ghostly beam lit up the ticking clock, throwing shadows. In a few seconds, the flashlight blinked and died. I put it down on the table and crept across the room towards the porch door, avoiding the trap of the hammock, suspended from the ceiling in the middle of the room.