Istoryan Writers

[Von!-x]

---

galenostiel, thank you for your comment. I read an internet article about flash fiction and it says something about "let the reader fill in some of the gaps". I guess that was all i remembered. Then there's the fast drop after the climax. Maybe I'm just obsessed about hanging-endings.

Or maybe, it's just my lame excuse for not making a better ending. he he.

diem, my next story is not about love. promise.

[team Pura]

wrote this over a piece of paper with a 35/70 last summer. And just like the grade, the composition is below mediocre...

Seeing couples walk hand in hand brings a smack smile on my face. I could only refer the intimate warmth of one's touch against another committed to memory and the incessant rain these days helps reckon it. Still, I am grateful to the least.

I reside on the thought that most of us spend their lives contemplating on what most homo sapiens refer to as the "the One". The significant other that complements our life. Some have journeyed through their youthful years with this in mind. This is what's seated and deeply lodged in one's subconscious. Reasons kept people going.

They say one of the most beautiful coastlines stretch in your image. And I haven't disagreed on this yet.And for the untiring moment, it is but a single resonating ripple...smooth flowing...finite. The mere sight of you continuously seize the day.

[diem]

Midnight came and announced itself to Coleen on the tiny low right corner of her computer monitor. Coleen saw the time but it took several moments for her to understand what she saw.

Suddenly, she was tired and she felt dry. Coleen rubbed her dry eyes, felt the dryness in her throat and brushed a hand through her hair, feeling the dry rub of her hair and scalp against her fingers and palm.

She took a sip of her cold coffee, tasting the wetness rather the flavor of it.

Another paragraph to go, she thought, and this is finished. She placed down her cup and reached for mouse, holding her breath in numb anticipation. Just one more paragraph to go, then bed--

The ache in her groin grew strong; from a dull "Hey" to a loud "I got to go-- NOW!"

Coleen groaned, now?

Now!

Later?

No, right now! Now NOW!

One more paragraph...

Damn the paragraph! NOW! NOW! NOW!

Cursing the cups and cups of coffee and coke soda she drank for the caffeine, Coleen rose from her computer chair and strode out of her bedroom.

There was a sound, scratching and shuffling, from the ceiling above. Coleen thought, must be the vermin tenants playing around or fighting or whatever. An image of a cat, a rat and a gecko playing poker came to her mind, the rat accused the cat of cheating but it was the lizard who had the extra cards all along, hidden under its wide long tongue.

Of course there would be a fight. The rat and the gecko would team up on the bigger cat but maybe the cat would still prove to be the strongest.

The ache raised a protest, bathroom! Toilet! Pee! NOW!

Coleen obeyed to the need and was about to reach for the bathroom doorknob when something... something... though Coleen sensed nothing... it might have been a deeper instinct, or just a casual reflex... still, Coleen turned her head and looked to the windows.

Earlier the day, Coleen removed the wire-mesh screens from the windows to wash and scrub off the wind-riding dirt of the passing months. It was a long chore that took all afternoon. By evening, Coleen was too tired to re-screw the screens back so she closed the windows shut--

There was a face floating outside the shut windows. It was a pale face, with wide wild eyes. Those eyes peered into the glass, searching and searching.

Coleen's breath choked. There was a face floating outside the shut windows. It was a pale face-- a stranger's face with strange eyes searching, searching...

Until these found what they're searching for-- Her.

The Face's mouth became large as it opened and a shout came out. The window glass muffled the shout but the volume was forceful, if punched the air out of Coleen's lungs, leaving her cold and stunned. The girl slowly drew back.

More shouts came out of the large mouth, ever forceful, insistent to come in. Coleen step backward, soon she was out of sight from the windows back inside her bedroom.

Coleen realized that she was alone in the house. All alone. She was a technical writer, in between jobs, just working from home on a few free-lance assignments. But she was alone, all alone.

She heard the front door being tested, it was locked. The doorknob rattled like a threat but it was locked. Coleen closed her own bedroom door, then locked it.

She stepped back away from the door-- somehow it seemed to grow bigger and bigger while the rest of the room and her inside grew smaller. Even the ache left her, alone. Alone she was in her tiny room. She was trapped inside her own house with a Face floating outside. Coleen was trapped though she was safe-- wasn't she?

The scratching on the ceiling stirred her mind. The cat, rat and lizard were still at it, not giving up nor giving in, a natural survivor each damned little one of them!

Damn it! The thought came out like a slap and Coleen realized the sting of it. She began to breathe, with that breath came a word, phone!

She went a table where her cell phone waited. She reached-- a hard knock pulled her eyes to the window, the Face was there!

Floating high above the hedge of curtains, the Face glared inside and down at Coleen. The teeth of its large mouth bore, it shouted again and again, knocking harshly and repeatedly on the glass with the knuckles of a floating hand!

Coleen screamed as she drew back away. The terror too much to bear, she fell down and closed into herself, locking into a deeper inner smaller room than the bedroom; where no one... no thing can come in.

Soon the hard sounds faded away, and Coleen still remained where she was, tight and curled-- eyes shut closed, mind shut closed, away from the fear, from the coming pain. Down into the place where no one... no thing... could reach her-- not even him. Him. Him.

Even in the silence of her inner darkness, the echoes remained to exist.

"You promised... you promised you won't do "it" again--"
"Are we going through this again? Leave me alone."
"I can't go through this again. I think we have to end this."
"You're leaving me? Go ahead, go go go. Where would you think you would go? Think you go far? Don't turn away--I'm not finished!"
"Let me go!"
SLAP! SLAP!
"Agh-- Please Stop! Please! Agh- agh!"
SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
....
"....Baby? Baby... I'm sorry... I... ahh... I...
"..... you said you... you promised...me"
"I'm sorry okay? I just got so mad... it's just that... I get so mad... I'm so sorry...”
"..."
"Baby...?"
"...."
"Come on, say something... don't be like that. I said I'm sorry."
"..."
"Baby--"
"...let go of me...”
"Baby? I was...”
"Let go of me! Let go! Let go! Let me go!"

Coleen's screams pushed her out from the darkness and she rose on her feet. She felt hot, she felt the heat of her blood-- it burned her skin, it burned her eyes dry-- she everything clearly now. She remembered everything. "Never again!"

The scratching on the ceiling became louder, survivors each damned one of us!

Coleen went to her closet and pulled out the aluminum bat that her brother left her for protection. He taught her how to swing and where to swing at--"Aim for the ball," her brother instructed her, indicating his head. "You couldn't miss."

No she couldn't miss. She wouldn't miss. Gripping the handle, she felt the hard weight of the steel bat. It was light enough of her to carry but it was dense, it was resolute. It couldn't easily be broken but it can break things. It can break people.

Hard and resolute as the bat weapon in her hands, Coleen came out of the bedroom door and she rushed to the front door, unlocking it and flinging it open.

She came out of her house, her voice loud and angry. She shouted, "Come on! Come on! Come on!"

Coleen stared around, alert. She held the bat tight and raised it ready. She shouted again, "Come on! Come on! Come on!"

No one was outside, except for her and the shadows born from the passing night and cold lamplight.

Coleen waited; alert and ready, then she allowed herself to breathe once more.

Something strong and swift grabbed her from behind, pulling her off the ground and carrying her away.

Coleen wasn't afraid... much but she was furious! Unfair! Not fair! She struggled free the bat swung wildly but only made swishing sounds against the still air. She screamed, foul!

"Miss! Miss!" the voice came hot and loud in her ear. "Miss miss its okay!Okay- I called the police, they're on their way!"

The words, though excited, sounded sane. It reached Coleen and she became still. She became still and found herself placed down just outside her house, into the street.

She realized her surroundings. One or two sleep-weary but curious neighbors came out of their short gates to watch what was going on.

Steps pounded from Coleen's left and she saw man-sized shadows rushing out the dark end of the street coming into the light as the blue-jacketed tanods, wary and concerned.

"What's happening here ha?" one of them asked.

The Face, who was really a man fair and tall, opened his mouth with something to say but whatever it was, it got cut off with the approaching sound of an engine.

They all turned to be blinded by the high headlights of a coming vehicle, swirling blue and red lanterns atop the roof.

Two police officers stepped out of their white vehicle. The Face approached them almost in relieved welcome. Coleen remained with the tanods.

Quick words came out from the Face punctuated by quick gestures to the house with his hands. He pointed to Coleen for the policemen. They went to her.

"Miss," one of the officers asked. "Are you alone in that house?"

Tired, Coleen just nodded three times in haste. The police officer turned to his partner as he relayed a silent message. He went off ahead while the partner told everyone to step back and requested the aide of two tanods to follow him.

The two police officers and baranggay men approach the front door as the partner mumbled to the tanods.

The police already had their guns pulled out and stood against the sides of the open door, pausing-- using their eyes and other senses to determine something. Then they went inside, the baranggay men waited outside the door.

With the bat still in her hands, Coleen waited outside the gate, along with the others. There was a certain tension that can be noticed in how the people around her stood but Coleen did not share it, she was spent. Several moments passed.

Shouts erupted from of the house. Everyone heard the police bark out commands with severe authority. Soon, the cops came out of the house... with someone walking between them hands cuffed behind.

Coleen did not know the small, dirty looking man who half-walked half-dragged himself between the police officers. He wasn't the type of person Coleen would associate with closely; he was more like the street man or peddler that she would ignore passing by.

When he was brought upon her, she saw the police men held a strong grip on their captive. "You know him?" she was asked.

She looked at him carefully. Closer, he was dirtier with dark, oily bushy hair on his face and he stank sour.

Under dark oily thick eyebrows, wild eyes stared and moved in all directions as if he was watching a housefly zip around in front of him, which was all he saw, he didn't saw them... he saw a fly that no one else saw.

Spent for words, Coleen mutely shook her head thrice.

The Face, pale and strange, spoke to Coleen, "I saw him climbing into the air vent of your house roof. After calling the police, I came to your door and tried to get you out of there."

Coleen did not know what to say, she just stared at the Face.

"Good thing you did get out," one of the police officers continued as his partner assisted by the tanods led the invader towards the police car. "We found him in your bathroom, he came through a hole from the ceiling. He was sitting on the toilet, waiting... with this."

The officer held up something wrapped in a cloth, he opened it to reveal a large knife, blunt, black and evil-looking. Coleen looked at the knife--

"... he was smiling when we found him. He was waiting in the bathroom, waiting for you..."

[Galadriel]

nice work you've got guys.

about me:
i love to write, mostly poems though. these days I haven't been into writing lately. it seems that writing has left me. sometimes it comes like a thief in the night but most often times i am a blank slate. i used to join online poetry contests (submitted my works at poetry.com).one of my poems got chosen to be part of their coffee table book, did not know if it was really published or not because i did not have the dollars to purchase myself a copy (sob)

i do enjoy reading this thread. keep it up. :mrgreen:

maybe one of these days... i will write again

[Von!-x]

The Red Car

Maggie’s cell phone rang. She picked it up and saw that it’s her best friend Trina calling.

“Hey, where are you, Maggie dear?�

“I’m in a client’s meeting.�

“I have something to show you� Trina's voice is clearly excited at the other end.

“A new boyfriend? I wouldn’t be surprised.�

“It’s better than a boyfriend. Let’s say, let’s meet up tonight at BTC. 7pm�

“Sure. See you then. This better be good� said a thrilled Maggie.

“And dinner is on me�. Then Maggie hung up.

Maggie hurriedly wrapped up her meeting with her audit client. She immediately packed her bag and left. It was still 5 pm and she thought it was best that she just go straight to BTC, shop and wait for Trina there. She walked past the gate and to the main road

ML Quezon Street in Maguikay, Mandaue was unusually not busy at this Friday afternoon. Very few tricycles passed the road. She had not seen a vacant taxi pass by in her five minutes of waiting. She became agitated and sweat began to roll on her forehead. She wiped them with her hankie.

There across the street, an old woman was waiting for a tricycle ride. She must probably be heading towards the city market as evidenced by the basket she carried. A tricycle passed by but only the backseat was vacant. The old woman refused. No other passengers gave up their seats. “Don’t let an old woman ride take the back seat�. She grumbled and just snubbed everyone.

The driver just smiled and then went his way. Maggie just shook her head. “Poor woman� she thought.

Another 2 minutes later, a Holiday taxi passed by but it had a passenger in it. She wondered why it slowed down near her. Then she saw a fast moving red car that swerved a little to its right, opposite the taxi. It hit the old woman, throwing her three meters away. Her head hit the cement pavement and blood flowed all over her face. But the driver of the red car did not stop, as if nothing happened.

Maggie eyes immediately focused on the car’s plate but she only saw the first letter and the last number: X and 3. The Holiday taxi driver quickly got down from his cab and ran towards the old woman. Maggie could not bear look at the bloodied lady. She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds, and turned pale.

“Call ERUF� the taxi driver shouted at her. She just stood there motionless. She doesn’t have ERUF’s number either. The taxi passenger got down and volunteered to call ERUF.

An empty cab passed by just as her senses returned to her. She immediately boarded. “BTC� she ordered the driver.

“Is the victim still alive?� the driver asked.

She just kept silent but took a quick glance at where the motionless victim was. A small crowd began to gather.

“Who bumped her? That taxi?�

“No� was her brief reply.

“Or was it that red car traveling opposite our direction? Its driver seemed not to be bothered at all. �

Maggie just closed her eyes, trying to forget what she had just witnessed. She shivered at the sight of blood. The driver stopped talking too when he noticed that she was not interested in the conversation. He increased the volume of his stereo.

At BTC, Maggie stepped down from the taxi still nervous. She walked aimlessly at the malls and at the grocery store. It was 6:30 when she decided that she must stop walking. She ordered and paid for a hot cappuccino at Bo’s coffee and sat down at one of the outside tables facing the parking lot. She still had not gotten over the event that transpired in the afternoon. She could still picture the old woman’s bloodied face.

Her head began to ache. “I should call Trina and tell that I couldn’t meet her.� she thought. But before she picked up the phone, it rang. It’s Trina.

“Hey, Trina! Where are you? I’m not really feeling well today. I thought I’ll just go straight home and we’ll just meet tomorrow night.� She said with a voice still trembling and unsettled.

“I’m a stoplight away from BTC, Maggie. Are you in BTC?�

Maggie couldn’t seem to understand what Trina was saying. The stereo in her car was booming loud. “I’m here at Bo’s. I can’t hear you well.�

“Ok� Trina lowered the stereo’s volume. “Just wait for me. I’ll be there in a minute. Just one more turn. I’ll drive you home, baby.� Then she hung up.

Maggie gulped the last of her coffee. She felt nauseated and her temperature rising. Then a shining red car stopped in front of her. She glanced at its side bumper. There was a dent and a few dark spots. It’s probably blood. “This must be that bastard who hit the old woman and ran away� she thought.

The side window opened. “Hop in Maggie. This is my new car, the one I wanted to show you.�

The words were not audible to Maggie anymore, but the face she saw belonged to Trina. There’s the booming stereo sound again. She was speechless as she resurveyed the car and viewed its front plate number: XCH 253. She couldn’t believe it was Trina on the wheels when the accident happened. Then she felt her knees trembling, and her hands numbing. The world seemed to swirl around here. She felt her forehead then fainted in front of the red car.

[diem]

[color=navy]@Galadriel, I too had my poem be a part of poetry.com's published annual anthology. I was tempted to ask my relatives in the States to buy me a copy but I guess knowing that it's been published was enough for me

You might be interested in the following information.

******

Join Hands On Manila's Writing Contest!

Hands On Manila Foundation Inc., a non-profit organization that gives individuals and groups opportunities to contribute to community development through volunteer efforts, is celebrating the spirit of volunteerism in the Philippines with a writing competition through a writing competition, entitled "Volunteer Chronicles."

"Volunteer Chronicles" is open to all non-professional Filipino writers, 18 years old and above, who wish to write about his or her experience in volunteer work. Interested participants may write about their significant experience in community and social development, educational programs, and initiatives for the protection of the
environment.

Twenty write-ups will be selected for publication. The top three winners of the writing competition will receive awards and their articles will be published in the Philippine Daily Inquirer. The articles will be judged based on the following criteria: relevance (50 percent); writing style (25 percent); and compliance with contest mechanics (25 percent).

Interested participants may join the competition by submitting the following items in a sealed brown envelope: a duly accomplished official entry form and authorization form inside a sealed letter-size envelope, a printout of the write-up, and a soft of the entry on CD or floppy disk. The title of the entry and the author's pen name should be handwritten or typewritten on the letter envelope.

The official entry form and authorization form may be obtained from any Powerbooks branch. You may also download the forms here:

http://www.powerboo ks.com.ph/pages/happeningsfull.aspx?hfid=122

Entries may be submitted to any Powerbooks branch or mailed to the Powerbooks head office at 25 Brixton Street, Capitol Subdivision, Pasig City. Deadline of submission of entries is August 31, 2007 at 9 P.M.

*****

@Galadriel, thisbe.ara and all the iStoryan Writers, maybe we could write something about the outreach activities that iStorya.net has held through the years?

It'll be nice to spread the news of this wonderful online community coming together and extending help, volunteering time and efforts in helping the less fortunate, the environment of the real world.

@Von!-x, bro I am very very impressed with your latest iStoryan Writers entry, 'The Red Car'! I can a vast degree of improvement in your creative writing. I see you have taken care in pushing your efforts in producing this mature piece.

Great descriptions; you've clearly and vividly painted the scenario for me the reader. You've done a credible job, in making Maggie more than just a two-dimensional character. By letting me peek into the thoughts of Maggie, you've anchored me to her story.

And I really love that you used local places. This makes the story more relatable to a Cebuano readership and chance may be an interesting hook for those not familiar with Cebu. This is what I am really pushing for-- inspiring local writers such as you and me to use Cebu or the Visayas as a stand-out backdrop for great stories, essays and poetry!

You wrote a good beginning which is quick but it establishes. The middle is intense with visualizations. Good job! But... hehehe... But... the denoument or the ending needs a little work.

Its not that your ending is lacking, but its just that I find it excessive. If you care to read it with my eyes and my mind, I hope that you would agree that you put too much~ you're telling too much. You've already placed enough clues that you no longer need to write...

"She glanced at its side bumper.There was a dent and a few dark spots. It’s probably blood. “This must be that bastard who hit the old woman and ran away” she thought.

Also you don't need this sentence anymore...

She couldn’t believe it was Trina on the wheels when the accident happened.

Let's try to read your ending again this time without the sentences that I feel you don't need to write anymore.

Maggie gulped the last of her coffee. She felt nauseated and her temperature rising. Then a shining red car stopped in front of her. She glanced at its side bumper. There was a dent and a few dark spots.

The side window opened. “Hop in Maggie. This is my new car, the one I wanted to show you.”

The words were not audible to Maggie anymore, but the face she saw belonged to Trina. There’s the booming stereo sound again. She was speechless as she resurveyed the car and viewed its front plate number: XCH 253. Then she felt her knees trembling, and her hands numbing. The world seemed to swirl around here. She felt her forehead then fainted in front of the red car.

Could you see? With this, you've already placed enough clues to make your reader figure out the probable reason why Maggie fainted. It's fairly obvious. Just for me, a story is engrossing when it entertains me as much as it makes wonder

Help your readers read, help your readers think. The keys to great writing is not only what a writer puts in, but also what the writer must keep out. Write what is necessary~ write what Necessity dictates you to write.

Von!-x, bro it is a wonderful amazing great effort! You've clearly clearly improved! One could easily see, reading from your past contributions to this new one how much you've evolved as a writer! Keep writing, keep believing in yourself and others will soon believe in you and in your passion, just as I do!

[gareb]

@diem: very nice. i envy your patience and creativity with these pieces of jewels. the fast-paced circumlocutions had me skipping a few words at a time just to see what happens next.

@Von!-x: terrific piece! the vivid descriptions did me in.

[Galadriel]

This is the one that i submitted that they said was included in their coffee table book

Unrequited Love

I wanted to give You a gift,
to let You know I did not forget.
I went through a lot of choices.
But then ...
I remembered ...
You never showed Me,
how much You appreciated the things I gave You,
the efforts I've done ... went unnoticed.
Everything that I do seems to be,
not enough for you.
What do I have to do,
what do I have to give You,
to let You notice Me,
to let You know that I exist,
to let You know that I care,
to let You know that I do really love you,
from the very bottom of my heart.
Instead of a gift, I made You this ...
to let You know how I feel.
Hoping ... that You'll understand Me more.

[Von!-x]

Thanks Diem! I appreciate the effort you've placed on reviewing my piece. I really did not notice it until you pointed it out. My previous entries lacked some details, and this one had excess. Again, thank you!

Gareb, salamat pud.

Galadriel, I also had poems submitted to poetry.com, and likewise received a letter that my piece was to be included in their coffee table book. That was almost a decade ago. I can still see my piece in their site.

[galenostiel]

Hey, guys!

I also submitted a poem to poetry.com, and like you, got a similar letter. That was years ago as well.

@Von!-x -- you mean they still put up submitted poems on their site? Whoa, I'm suddenly curious. Gotta go check it out.