LEAVING CITY LIGHTS

Posted on December 4, 2015 by hafong

It’s Friday and time for another story for Friday Fictioneers. We like to tell our stories in 100 words or so. We are hosted by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. You can join in the fun if you are so inclined. It’s very therapeutic for letting off steam. Here is my story according to the photo prompt below.

PHOTO PROMPT © Roger Bultot

He turned his back to the city. Straightening his head and shoulders, he zipped up his jacket. There! He was done.

He had enough of the city lights. Enough of the glaring and angry eyes. Who did they think they were anyways? Treated him like shit. Kicked and spat on. Worse than a dog. Thought he hadn’t noticed. Well, he HAD.

Now it was their turn. See how they like that. He chuckled under his breath. He turned the key in the ignition and drove off into the desert. Behind him angry eyes exploded into shards of glass. Payback time.

LADY LUNA

Posted on December 3, 2015 by hafong

It is Day 3 of Kat McNally’s Reverb. The prompt: Lady Luna.
When was the last time you stopped to look up at the moon?

What did she have to say to you?

Living in the city, I seldom stop to look up at the moon. My mind is so preoccupied with thoughts coming at me in continuous live-stream. It is as if there is no sky and I’ve forgotten how to look up. There is no need. There’s street lights. Why would I look up? Talk about being unconscious!

However, because of social media, I was alerted to the full blood moon in September and witnessed it in all its glory. She did not really speak to me that night. I was too busy trying to capture the image on camera. Too busy trying not to miss the event. I lost the magic of the moon that night.

I do remember another night of waiting for the moon in August at the lake. We were sitting around the campfire with neighbours. The air was cool. The night dark. I wrapped the blanket around me and looked up into the sky. Oh, how vast and deep it was! The stars twinkled and winked. The moon had not yet appeared. But I felt the Universe wrap its arms around me. They were so warm and comforting. The fire crackled and flickered. There was no need for human speech. We all understood one another. We were with each another.

It got late and we could not wait for the moon. We walked home as it was not far. Our neighbours lit our path with headlights from their vehicle. It was as if we were guided by moonbeams. Thank you Lady Luna. Till next time.

SURPRISES

Posted on December 2, 2015 by hafong

It’s day 2 of Kat McNally’s Reverb. The prompt today is:

What surprised you this year?

What a loaded question! Everything surprised me this year. It was as if I had landed from outer space and Earth was foreign terrain. It was no longer the friendly place I once knew. I started unravelling like an old worn sweater at the strangeness of it all. The unravelling sped up as the days passed – like the end roll of toilet paper. Finally I was limp and helpless like a puddle on the bathroom floor.

Being helpless, I gave up fighting this strangeness. When there was no more struggle, no more sparring in the dark, I was surprised by my own strength and resources. Somehow I was able to pick up the stitches and knit myself back together.

It was not an overnight job. I sat through a month of instructions, listening every day to a new instructor. It was a most pleasant October as I spent each morning sipping tea with Melli of the Mindfulness Summit and learning what it is to be in the present moment, accepting what is.

It was a hard lesson and difficult knitting. No double I will forget and unravel again. But then that is how life is, isn’t it? Ups and downs. Flux and flow. All of life’s surprises, big and small. Have no worry for me. I am a muse and as muses go, sometimes I tend to be melancholy in my words. But I am ever a hopeful muse. As I end may I say a prayer for us.

May you find peace. May you find joy. May you find strength to carry you. May you find the gift in surprises that bring tears or joy. And may God be with you always.

LISTS AND PRAYERS

Posted on December 1, 2015 by hafong

It’s December and time for Kat McNally’s Reverb. What an opportunity for me to take time to reflect on the past year. What has happened, why and wherefores? What have I gained or learned in the process? How will it all help me in the coming year? Let the reverberation begin.

Day 1: lists and prayers

Welcome to Reverb15! Without further ado, let’s dive in.

In her seventh ever blog post, all the way back in March 2003(!), the inimitable Andrea Scher wrote: “Maybe lists are like prayers.”

What sorts of lists do you have on the go at the moment?

What do they suggest you are praying for?

******************

The list I have right now is the the one for Susannah Conway’s December Reflections. It’s a list of photo prompts for each day of December. The prompts give me pause to rest, to feel. Who am I? What do I want? Where am I going? Am I doing anything worthy?

In this month of dark mornings and short days a little help and guidance goes a long way. It is like a cup of steaming hot chocolate, the smell of cinnamon buns baking, warm hugs, sweet kisses and a warm blanket to cuddle up in. The thought of these makes me feel as if I’m wrapped in a prayer – soft, warm and secure.

What am I praying for? I’m praying for the right words, hope, peace, love and compassion for myself first of all. I am praying that it would spread out to my family, friends, neighbours and so on and on. Like a ripple in the oceans until it touches all shores. I am praying for respect and kindness toward all living things. I am praying for survival of our planet. I am praying for myself. Amen.

THE SLIPPERY SLOPE

Posted on November 26, 2015 by hafong

It’s Thursday. I had a day of rest yesterday from writing but I’m back today with Friday Fictioneers. We make up stories of 100 words or so to a photo prompt. As you must know by now, we are hosted by the gracious Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. Here’s my 100 words. I hope they are worthy of your attention.

PHOTO PROMPT © Sandra Crook

She was at crossroads. She surveyed the situation. She had tried. Even read Brene Brown’s Daring Greatly. It was a steep climb and a slippery slope. If she fell….

Oh, the pain! She shuddered and shook her head. Not going there, she muttered under her breath. She paced. Back and forth. Back and forth. Yes! No! Yes again.

Did she have what it takes? Was she a coward, hiding behind her nonchalence? Why take risks? She could hurt herself. She could be humiliated.

Exhausted, she sat down. She had to do it. She had to write even if she fails.

from brenebrown.com

STORYTELLING OVER A CUPPA

Posted on November 23, 2015 by hafong

Drawbridges save lives, especially those of damsels in distress. Knights in shiny amours, princes, Sleeping Beauty and Cinderella do exist. They live in and amidst us every day. Look carefully and you will see them. I believe in fairy godmothers and fairytales. I believe they give meaning to our existence. I’m a girl who loves to fly to the moon and play among the stars. Wouldn’t you like to see what spring is like on Jupiter and Mars?

The woman who fills me with the best tales is my mother. They are the best because they are all true. They are the history of her family, my father’s family and our country. She has an ease with the storytelling. It is in with the conversation over tea and a visit when there is usually just the two of us. It is the way I was brought up and learned about life and morals – with family stories and Chinese tradition.

Then there are the Chinese fables. My favourite ones being the Legend of the White Snake and the Cowherd and Weaving Girl. They are love stories between a human being and something other – a snake and a fairy. You will have to click on the links highlighted to know more. I do not have my mother’s knack of telling a story. I will ruin it for sure. My mother told from memory. There was no book or DVD. Just her voice.

We still do our cuppas, my mother and I. The stories are still coming though a bit different. Not so many fables now that I’m all grown up. Pity! I might have to write my own.

LOWER THE DRAWBRIDGE FOR ME

Posted on November 22, 2015 by hafong

Sunday morning. I am baking baquettes and trying to write. I am distracted by dog hair on the floor, thoughts, feelings and excuses of all sorts. I would just like to sit here in the warmth of the morning sun and do sweet tweet. I would regret it later so I must trudge on. Maybe a cup of tea would soothe the words out of me.

So I’ve had my cup of tea. The baquettes are done and eaten. The dishes are dealt with. The dog is walked and her hair are gone. The thoughts and feelings linger. It is evening, supper done and I’m sipping my wine, feeling melancholy. I am sure it has to do with the state of the world today. We are, or should I just speak for myself, so adrift in this moment.

We want so desperately to connect, don’t we? If not, why fore all the social media? I know I am guilty of being on Facebook and Instagram. I have a Twitter account. I would tweet more if I understand it more and if I have more followers. Yet, despite all this, I feel more disconnected and lonely than ever. Do I have any real friends?

I am trudging through my thoughts and feelings. I’ve had a glass of wine. Don’t mind me and my words. I really want to write about storytelling today. Somehow I got lost and couldn’t find my way to it. How nice it would be to back to the days of The Friendly Giant. He would lower the drawbridge for us. We would enter the castle and he would have arranged some chairs around the fireplace . Wouldn’t it be nice to sit and listen to each others’ stories?

I miss those days. Missing is a useless feeling though. It does not help to connect us at all. Perhaps I can try again tomorrow for a story. In the meantime, here’s the Friendly Giant.

NO TWITCHING ALLOWED

Posted on November 18, 2015 by hafong

It’s Wednesday, the start of another week of Friday Fictioneers. We are led by Rochelle Wisoff-Fields of Addicted to Purple. Our assignment is to tell a story of 100 words according to a photo prompt. Here’s my 100 words of make belief. My mission here is to have fun and s-t-r-e-t-c-h my imagination and let the words flow.

Photo Prompt – C. E. Ayr

Samatha’s nose itched like the dickens. She wanted to twitch it so bad but she had promised Daren.

She could see into her neighbour’s kitchen window. Her heart ached for Cindy. Such a nice and hard working girl! That awful stepmother treated her like shit.

Wait! She could call up her aunt. Clara would be glad to help out. Samatha smiled as she folded her arms across her breast. With a brisk nod of the head and a blink of the eyes, Aunt Clara stumbled through the kitchen door.

“W-w-what happened?” She muttered, dazed, hair on end. “Where am I?”

********

The shoe brought up Cinderalla’s slipper and the ball. I like to believe in good witches. Thus my story.

ENTERTAINING THE WILLY NILLIES

Posted on November 17, 2015 by hafong

Another sunrise, another dawn. The colours blossom across the sky. I am awed. I am elated. I am soothed. I am happy to be in this moment, on this earth. I watch the light and the shadow dance, complementing, enhancing each other. What would one be without the other, without the contrast? What is ying without yang? Can you tell the sweet without the sour?

Silly questions, I know. I am like that. I like to entertain these willy nillies. Sometimes they lead to something profound – like a lightbulb, serendipitous moment. I would like to have such a moment so I can rush out onto Preston Avenue, shrieking Eureka! The traffic would stop, I am sure. Someone would call 911 and I would be taken in for assessment.

But it would be a grand moment. I smile at the deliciousness of it. Imagine! Discovering the answer to it all, whatever all is. Let me linger in this bliss for while. Life has been too serious lately. I’ve been caught between a rock and a hard place too many times. There is a softness and sweetness here. It is good to sing, sway and dance. Take it away…

PARIS AND IN MY LIFE

Posted on November 16, 2015 by hafong

It is another morning. Paris is a continent away but sorrow resides in the universe. How have we have come to this time when people knowingly open fire upon their fellow human beings? Surely they must know that they will be killed in return. What pushed them to give up their lives?

I ask these questions because I do not understand. I see that they are as much victims as as the ones they have killed. However their situations/lives may be, there will be no other chances after they are dead. But then, I am not in their shoes. Have not walked their mile. Have never want of the basics of life.

I’m asking these questions and seeing the words of Joni Mitchell:

I’ve looked at life from both sides now

From win and lose and still somehow

It’s life’s illusions I recall …

I’m listening to John Lennon’s In My Life sung by Johnny Cash’s quivering voice.

These songs and lyrics play in my head along with the questions that Paris stirs up. There is one thing I am sure of. Life is good. Life is sweet. Let me count the ways.

waking up in the morning to the aroma of coffee perking
the first sip of coffee/tea. What’s not to like about that
breathing, laughing, crying, feeling the tears down my cheeks
seeing my sunroom bathed in sunlight on a cool November day
Sheba coming in to wake us up. Time for breakfast she says
making breakfast, eating breakfast, doing dishes
writing my words, writing my happiness, writing my pain
and so on and on – the ordinary, the mundane, the fantastic, the sorrows

And so, life goes on – moment by moment in all its catastrophes. It is what we have. I am glad I am here – in my life.

onethousandandtwo

Looking at Infinity