Short Stories

“I learned not to pursue a dream that may just as well be pure fantasy. I learned how to build and rebuild dreams holding on to nothing but the here and now. I learned to accept what can’t be and what is expected of me. I learned to make do but never quite ceased dreaming. I held on to one belief: everything can be adapted to.”

At the battle field, you play with death
kill or be killed without dread or regret
for cowardice will only be rewarded with dishonour and death!”

“Right now, God gave me a pen and I have a story to tell. I tell the story not to share, not to understand and not to reminisce. I write the story because it needs to be written. A chapter must be closed to begin the new one. We must empty our burden to make way for new memories, to forget our personal history to be able to move forward, to cease being ourselves to know who we truly are.

I tell the story because it must be told. I write neither in love nor in hate but because I need to move forward, to cut loose and to let certain things go. I tell the story as a testament that some things no longer fit anymore. Stop living in the past and make the best out of the present.”

“I wanted to forget all about him, but I can’t. Moment after unpredictable moment, day after each frustrating day, month after each lonely month, I was missing him even more. The urge of going back was so strong. And I was weak. After a year, I fell in love with another guy. Or, I thought I did.”

“I fell deeply inlove, once. The odd thing is, I didn’t realize it until she’s gone. And worst, at that time, I’m with a girl who is just name for me — nothing more.”

“Do not run away from the people who love you. They are the only hope any of us has. That is what he told you for what may have been lifetimes away. And stubbornly you held on to it. Stubbornly you refuse to let go. In how many lifetimes can you live and break before you give up? You told yourself it will always be one more than the times fate (or whatever it is) tries to break you.”

“Last night, I received a call that my mother had died and that today is her funeral. I didn’t want to come, but my wife told me I owe it to my mother to be here. I watched as Cheska prayed the Lord’s Prayer softly in Latin. Leslie was a history major and she made sure that Cheska learned the language early.”

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