Archive for the ‘Short Stories’ Category
Sunday, March 23rd, 2008 | 4,264 Views
In the bright lights of the restaurant, he eyed couples with contempt as they smiled, held hands, flirted, or just had dinner. He was getting tired of watching these people. He had been sitting in the L’Enoteca Fuori Porta for a little over an hour, waiting for the blind date that his friend setup for him.
He had already absorbed the posh bedecking in the Italian restaurant where they were to meet. It was located near the upper class wharf, just five minutes away from the Palm Villas. There was a light, blowing breeze as he looked around the place. He could taste the salt in the air as he eyed the little round tables covered with simple white table cloths, napkin, plate, glass and silverware neatly arranged on top. The tables were set as if only couples favored the place. In fact, as he looked around, he only saw couples seated close to each other whispering as if the wind carried their conversations about. He stared at the floor, richly decorated with paintings of Dryads, and Naiads, some frolicking about, some bathing in the stream, while others were just looking up to the sky. “The owner must be a fanatic of nymphs,” he muttered to himself, and shoved the thought away.
It was nearing dusk. He looked straight at the entrance of the restaurant and saw the sun setting in the horizon. He instantly forgot that he was losing his patience and looking stupid in his soliloquy. The sky had a reddish glow in it, with the sun just a few inches from the ocean as it seemed. He was clearly dazzled by the beauty of it when a curvaceous figure suddenly marred his view.
The tall slender figure slowly made his way to him. He could not see her face because of the bright sunlight still behind her. She wore a billowy dress as she strutted with an allure that would have made fresh dough grow hard. As the sun set completely, the lights on the venue illuminated her face. She looked at him directly, eyelashes curled to its fullest, lips slightly puckered, besmirched red.
As she continued to walk towards him, all sound was muted, except for that clicking sound emanating from her heels. All movement was instantly blurred, except that of hers, slowly approaching him.
Was she the girl that Marvin setup with him? He hated blind dates. Not even a picture or a description was given to him. He was just told to wait somewhere and that the girl would know him right away.
So there she was, a tall, slender, curvaceous, woman, ultimately a bombshell that guys would normally clamor for, walking straight towards him!
His heart beat faster and faster with each click that her shoes made. He felt his throat tighten. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead. His hands started shaking. His foot uncontrollably tapped the pavement. He could feel himself getting jittery with each second.
When she was only a few feet shy of him, she smiled and waved her hand. He was about to wave back when a deep voice behind him said, “Honey, I ordered the chicken, let’s go find an expert rhinoplasty specialist”
Popularity: 52%
Posted in Short Stories, Blogging | No Comments »
Sunday, March 23rd, 2008 | 456 Views
Cold beer. That’s what it was. Nothing like a cold beer to end a long day. Back in the old days, he was a record holder for downing the most bottles of beer in 10 minutes! When it came to drinking marathons, he was always the last man standing. When they went out clubbing, his tab always had the most number of digits because he drank too much. It was just his fourth bottle and he was starting to feel a bit full.
He started drinking when he was sixteen. By the time he turned nineteen, he was a Beer Drinking Title Holder. He found it weird that at 26, he was having difficulty handling his drink. He laughed. Maybe I peaked to early, he thought as he drank the entire contents of the bottle in just one swig. He signaled the bartender for another bottle while chewing thoughtfully on some peanuts.
He looked around and found that the bar was almost full. Tonight is ladies night Bub, the bartender said with a haughty grin. Aye mate, chided the balding guy two seats away from him.
He smiled. He didn’t want to be around women. He was looking forward to a night of man-talk and several beers. It wasn’t because he was one of them pathetic losers who couldn’t get any girlfriends or get laid. On the contrary, he was a handsome fellow, slightly tanned, tall at five feet eleven inches, and sported shoulder length wavy hair. He wore baggy corduroy cargo pants and a tight shirt to show off his fully-tattooed arms. He swiveled on his seat and handed a 20-dollar bill to the bartender.
Just as he was standing up, he caught sight of a petite, young lady sitting at the end of the bar. She was absentmindedly stirring her drink. She looked lost in thought and lonely.
Normally, he didn’t approach girls. The girls always do the approaching, but this time, he felt as if he was being pulled to her. He could see the radiance of her white skin, the pouty lips, the dreamy eyes, the curves of her face. He felt himself being sucked in by her beauty. He let his eyes devour her image.
She was wearing a red silk dress, revealing her cleavage. The dress itself seemed to have a life of its own. It had small sequined black flowers with their leaves and stalk in a darker shade of red. When she moved, the flowers seemed like they were blowing in the wind. Her hair was cut short in order to reveal her pretty face. Although fixed to her drink, her eyes seemed to sparkle, even in sadness.
He sighed. She was the girl of her dreams! Physically, she satisfied his taste and ideal. Like a hot babe who just had a San Francisco plastic surgery. In a moment, he would know if she also had the brains to match her beauty. He wanted to talk to her, argue with her, mindfuck her just to see if she was as smart as he was. When he was done raping her image with his mind, he gulped his beer and sucked on his cigarette.
He boldly made his way to her, his eyes fixed on her face. She didn’t notice him, or pretended not to. He slid on the seat beside her, his eyes still glued to her. Up close, he marveled at the smoothness and whiteness of her skin. He also saw that she had several piercings on her ear, and a tattoo on her left shoulder - blue and red stars. He felt himself getting weak as he continued to absorb all her details. He felt himself getting aroused as the image of him coveting her played on and on in his mind.
He looked at her eyes and was about to offer her a drink when he heard a deep, crass voice say, what the fuck are you staring at? He instinctively turned sideways to confront the arrogant ass who dared to disturb his line when he realized that the girl was looking at him, and she had this questioning look on her face. Holy motherfucker!, he shouted and ran to his car.
Popularity: 51%
Posted in Short Stories, Blogging | 1 Comment »
Sunday, March 23rd, 2008 | 435 Views
So the quest for cooking gourmet food continues. I managed to create my very own recipe for yellow fin tuna. Everyone who tasted it loved it. It even made it’s way several hundred kilometers to Bicol. LOL.
I’ll post the recipe as soon as it gains the approval of my chef-friend, who’s currently in the States.
I actually have a ton of recipes waiting to be posted. It’s just that I’m busier than that guy who manages Neil Crespi .com. LOL.
Moving forward, since we’re on the topic of food, here’s a repost of a popular story that I wrote about a year ago.
At that time of the day, it was as if the shadows were playing with it. It had certain angles when it looked threatening and eerie, and iIf you changed positions, it would look hilarious.
A view from the top right corner would make it look solitary and sad, as if it were left by it’s mess. The angle at which I view it makes the shadows long and narrow, as if it were standing on a lone desert dune watching the sun, its only companion in its soliloquy, set in the horizon.
The sadness which the shadows project on it makes me want to shed tears, but again shifting positions draws out terror in my heart for when I bring it at eye-level, it is suddenly looks imposing and dominating, as if Genghis Khan were standing right in front of me, waving his sword about.
The crushing jolt of my imagination startles me and forces me to take a few steps backward. I behold a new view from where I stand. It’s shadows fall to it’s left side, as if it were standing on a podium, forcing its audience to listen as it makes it voice heard.
The shadows work its magic on the table and makes the roughness of its surface look as if there were a sea of people shouting their support at the top of their lungs. I am instantly awed by this display of power and furtherance.
I hesitantly take a few steps closer and observe the smooth white surface of it, the rounded white surface that’s making it quite enticing. I reach into my bag and finger the meager sachet, containing the brown liquid that would amplify its smack to a fullness that would satisfy even the burliest, paunchiest of individuals.
My great craving enslaves me once again, as I grab it with a savageness that peons experience during meal time. I brutally force the flimsy sachet open and ruthlessly force the liquid onto it. I wolf down on it in less than a couple of minutes and flush it down with a glass of Gatorade.
So much for that siopao.
Popularity: 52%
Posted in Food, Short Stories, Blogging | No Comments »
Tuesday, March 6th, 2007 | 3,398 Views
Cold beer. That’s what it was. Nothing like a cold beer to end a long day. Back in the old days, he was a record holder for downing the most bottles of beer in 10 minutes! When it came to drinking marathons, he was always the last man standing. When they went out clubbing, his tab always had the most number of digits because he drank too much. It was just his fourth bottle and he was starting to feel a bit full.
He started drinking when he was sixteen. By the time he turned nineteen, he was a Beer Drinking Title Holder. He found it weird that at 26, he was having difficulty handling his drink. He laughed. Maybe I peaked to early, he thought as he drank the entire contents of the bottle in just one swig. He signalled the bartender for another bottle while chewing thoughtfully on some peanuts. (more…)
Popularity: 10%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories | 11 Comments »
Friday, February 23rd, 2007 | 484 Views
Beep beepbeep beep beepbeep beepbeep!
I blinked my drowsy eyes as I switched off the alarm clock. I shifted my gaze to the window and beheld the sun rising between Rockwell buildings, shedding light onto the darkened sky. I sighed. New day, same old shit.
It was only 5:30. I had enough time for a few cups of coffee and maybe watch an episode or two of my favorite anime. I slowly made my way to the kitchen, careful not to bump into shit, to make coffee.
I head back to my room, switched on the computer and waited for it to boot. I glanced at the girl sleeping soundly on my bed. She looked so tranquil curled like a child, even snoring lightly. I smiled. At least someone’s getting enough sleep. (more…)
Popularity: 3%
Posted in Short Stories | 8 Comments »
Sunday, October 15th, 2006 | 484 Views
He woke up in a room he did not recognize. His head was throbbing with pain from his hangover.
Did I drink that much, he asked himself.
Slowly, he took in the details of the room. The wall adjacent to him was full of posters and photographs. Floor to ceiling windows were to his left, white curtains billowing, the cold morning breeze bringing goose bumps to his skin. The concave ceiling was painted with a scene from Dante’s Inferno. He had read that book. He found it kind of disturbing, but the way it was depicted in the painting wasn’t so bad. It was probably because the painting was faded. He imagined it in full color and detail and shuddered. He shifted to his right side. He noticed that there was a big mirror flanking the windows. It encompassed the whole wall, including the door. In the corner close to the bed was a bar, filled with different kinds of liquor. (more…)
Popularity: 9%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories, Inspiration | No Comments »
Sunday, October 1st, 2006 | 694 Views
It was a race against time as he rushed to the mall to meet her. The sweltering heat did not bother him. It was the moment he had been waiting for.
It all began on September 21. That was the date when he first met her. It had been in a bar along the highway. One of her favorite bands were playing that night. To him, it was the night of all nights. From the moment he met her, up until this very moment, he couldn’t get her off his mind. He wanted more of her, to get to know her better, to spend time with her. He wanted yet again to catch a glimpse of her sweet, sweet smile, enough to take away all the weariness of the past few days, enough to take away all the physical pain brought about by war games, enough to satiate even the greatest of all yearnings. That was the magic of it. The sparks, almost all of it, packaged in a neat, alluring, sumptuous smile. (more…)
Popularity: 11%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories | 9 Comments »
Saturday, September 23rd, 2006 | 739 Views
Droplets of rain were beginning to spatter on the streets as he made his way to the agreed meeting place. He was reluctant to go primarily because he wasn’t crazy about the band that was playing that night, but, he wanted to meet her. He had waited two long weeks just to be able to meet her.
As he approached the entrance of the venue, he saw that the place wasn’t really that big. He had an impression that the place was spacious since he’d pass by it once a day when he lived in the north. He stood in front of the entrance and assessed the place. It was in an odd location, situated beside a river, right under a gigantic billboard space for advertisements. There wasn’t enough space for a parking area since it was right beside the highway. The place was mostly made of wood and glass, but it was air-conditioned to protect the occupants from the dust and the pollution of everyday traffic. He gingerly stepped in line so that he could purchase tickets for the event. (more…)
Popularity: 10%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories | 11 Comments »
Tuesday, August 29th, 2006 | 632 Views
As the remnants of the night fade away, as the stars give off their last twinkle, as the moon bids farewell to yet another eventful night, I hold your hand and let out a sigh. I feel it’s warmth both physically and emotionally. My heart beats faster as I turn my gaze on you, eyes glistening, staring at the sky. I will the sun to sink back down, for in darkness we had our moment, our kairos so defty planned and reheased in my mind, while you think that everything was a coincidence. A small smile breaks my lips as I smooth the tangles on your hair. You look at me and smile back, gently squeezing my hand to acknowledge the affection. You lay your head on my shoulder and point at the morning star, stubbornly twinkling and battling the sunrise. I put my arms around you as we get comfy, sitting on the grass, leaning on the lone tree. I look at you again as you stare at sunrise, spilling its glow over the darkened sky, and feel, for the first time in my life, satisfied.
Popularity: 11%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories, Inspiration | 14 Comments »
Sunday, August 27th, 2006 | 1,049 Views
The air reeked of body odor, the floor littered with cigarette butts and crumpled beer cans. In the semi-darkness of the corners in the place, lovers were talking, kissing, groping each other, oblivious to the masses of the stinking, sweaty crowd uncontrollably banging their heads to the incessant beat of the dark, Goth song “Lost Souls in the Hallway.?
In the far end of the room, to his left, a discernible queue of teenagers were slowly moving towards a small bathroom. Their faces held the look of delusion, while some had the look of contempt, and then some had the look of apathy. The faint yellow light coming from the bathroom cast an eerie glow on the faces of the people. From where he was standing, the whole scene looked like a shtick from George Romero’s Night of the Living Dead. It gave him goose bumps just thinking about it.
(more…)
Popularity: 8%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories | 16 Comments »
Monday, August 14th, 2006 | 1,397 Views
At that time of the day, it was as if the shadows were playing with it. It had certain angles when it looked threatening and eerie, and iIf you changed positions, it would look hilarious.
A view from the top right corner would make it look solitary and sad, as if it were left by it’s mess. The angle at which I view it makes the shadows long and narrow, as if it were standing on a lone desert dune watching the sun, its only companion in its soliloquy, set in the horizon.
The sadness which the shadows project on it makes me want to shed tears, but again shifting positions draws out terror in my heart for when I bring it at eye-level, it is suddenly looks imposing and dominating, as if Genghis Khan were standing right in front of me, waving his sword about.
(more…)
Popularity: 11%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories, Blogging | 26 Comments »
Sunday, August 13th, 2006 | 1,789 Views
In the bright lights of the restaurant, he eyed couples with contempt as they smiled, held hands, flirted, or just had dinner. He was getting tired of watching these people. He had been sitting in the L’Enoteca Fuori Porta for a little over an hour, waiting for the blind date that his friend setup for him.
He had already absorbed the posh bedecking in the Italian restaurant where they were to meet. It was located near the upper class wharf, just five minutes away from the Palm Villas. There was a light, blowing breeze as he looked around the place. He could taste the salt in the air as he eyed the little round tables covered with simple white table cloths, napkin, plate, glass and silverware neatly arranged on top. The tables were set as if only couples favored the place. In fact, as he looked around, he only saw couples seated close to each other whispering as if the wind carried their conversations about. He stared at the floor, richly decorated with paintings of Dryads, and Naiads, some frolicking about, some bathing in the stream, while others were just looking up to the sky. “The owner must be a fanatic of nymphs,” he muttered to himself, and shoved the thought away.
|inline
Popularity: 11%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories, Blogging | 18 Comments »
Tuesday, July 25th, 2006 | 513 Views
He was on the brink of losing consiousness as he looked at her with affectionate eyes. In the faint gleam of the night, he beheld her simple yet attractive beauty. Her lustrous hair was long and straight, almost luminous in the gloomy night. Her expressive eyes sparkled the same way it did whenever she thought of an idea. Her pale skin was soft and sweet smelling. He shivered as he felt their skin make contact as he handed over his lighter. She blushed when she observed that he was studying her hands. She had beautiful hands, he noticed. Her fingers were long and delicate. Her nails were of the perfect shape. Above all, he loved the texture of her hands. They were soft and silky to the touch, and most of the time, cold, due to the temperature in the office. He didn’t mind since he felt himself drawn to her with each minute they were together, each moment his eyes wandered to her, each conversation they had, and each cigarette break they shared. To him, being with her was just pure bliss!
(more…)
Popularity: 7%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories, Blogging | 6 Comments »
Monday, July 3rd, 2006 | 812 Views
He couldn’t stop looking at her. There was something with the fluidity of her movements, the intensity of her gaze, the nada-care attiture the she exuded. He found her interesting and quite attractive. For some reason, her expressive eyes seemed to suck him into a state of dreamlike stasis that he couldn’t get out, or move, or hear, or feel. The graceful curve of her eyebrows intrigued him. Her lips looked as if they were beckoning him to kiss them. Her hands, oh God, her hands were the most beautiful hands he had ever seen. They were not doll-like, like he used to see in the malls, hands owned by rich socialites. They were hands that could do anything. Her nails were not too big and not too small, not too long and not too short. They were just right. Whenever his eyes wandered to her hands, he felt almost possessed enough to hold them in his, to feel the warmth emanating from it, to feel the roughness and the softness of it, to experience the sensation of holding an exquisite hand in his.
He imagined them, together, in a tub. Her back to him, her elbows on his knees, while he pours warm, bubbly water on her back. He could almost feel her soft skin against his hard lean body, while he gently soaps her back. His soft hands kneading the muscles on her back, while she sips some wine and listens to Bob Marley’s lithe voice sing the lines of Turn Your Lights Down Low. Ahhh! Perfect for the moment. The room was dimly lit with several beeswax candles, emitting a fragrance that could only mean desire. (more…)
Popularity: 5%
Posted in Prose and Poetry, Short Stories | 22 Comments »
Monday, April 17th, 2006 | 356 Views
He ran with all the speed he could muster, never attempting to look back. For some reason, he was baffled at how his friend betrayed him. We had a fcuking agreement, jezz, he angrily cursed aloud. The wind was whipping him from all directions. The soft white sand was slowing him down. He could feel his strength ebbing away as he ran and ran and ran.
Out of the corner of his eye, he spied a girl running as fast as he was. Her long white billowing skirt wild in the wind. She too was barefoot and she too was running fast. Why? He thought. In his half-drunk-half-lucid state, he saw that she had pearly white skin, long wavy hair, and a tattoo on her arm. It looked like a snake. He found it funny that he wasn’t appalled at the tattoo. In fact, he felt drawn to her, in fact, he felt that he knew the girl. What the hell is wrong with you? He quietly cursed at himself for letting his mind drift. I should concentrate on finding a hiding place, he thought.
Again, he felt his strength draining from running on the sand. God I hate this fcuking wind! He knew that the wind was also one factor why his strength was draining fast. Earlier that day, he heard on the local radio that a storm was brewing in the east. He just dismissed it as something unimportant. Now he realized the importance of active listening. (more…)
Popularity: 2%
Posted in Short Stories, Blogging | 1 Comment »
Tuesday, April 11th, 2006 | 640 Views
She was patiently waiting for the bus that day. The sun was out. Too much, she thought as she felt the ultraviolet light scalding her skin. Deftly, she rushed to the nearby shade, provided for public transportation waiting purposes. God, she groaned. She saw her ignorant land lady right across the street. She quickly wore her dark glasses, turned on her iPod to full blast, and pretended not to see her. Too late. There she was, the old lady, wearing a printed silk blouse with pedal pushers and ugly sandals, waving at her enthusiastically. I have no choice, she thought while removing the iPod earphones, and waved back at her.
Accordingly, her landlady began battering her with questions that she thought were too private to be talked about in public. The old fart started with, so you’re officemates with my nephew huh?, Why do you look rich?, Do you earn more than my nephew does? How much do you earn? Why do you take the bus when my nephew just walks to work? That boyfriend of yours, does he work in the same company as you do? How much does he earn? How long have you been together? (more…)
Popularity: 3%
Posted in Short Stories | 6 Comments »
