Category: Story

5 Days of Love: Day Two

Day 2

The time is ticking
We have one day left
Time is ticking
As we speak

One confession left
Do I have the courage to speak it?
Do I not want to be

If I speak,
Will I regret for a year?
Or will it
Set the feelings free?

Do I want to keep it shut
and regret it
for a year
or maybe more

Do I not want to be free?

5 Days of Love: Day Three

Day 3

Two days left on our way
You’ll love this part
It’s the part for
Aching heart

Will they ever understand?
Soaring bird don’t know how to stop
Don’t know how
to not be free

Little bird
With big dreams of endless sky
And guts to conquer
All the world

Look at it face when it flies
What makes them think
They can stop its will?
Let it fly, let it fly

5 Days of Love: Day Four

Day 4

A good luck candy,
and a small gratitude
We have three days
on our way

Who knew time
would go this fast
Who knew hearts
would skip a bit or two

We have three days on our way

We will see
What tomorrow brings
Let’s laugh it out
Spread the love

At the end of the day
Summer fling is just a fling
Let’s laugh it out
Spread the love

5 Days of Love: Day Five


Day 5 – Morning

White shirt, a smile, and the start of something new
Will it ever happen now?
We’ve got four days left,
And it’s all only silence

Will it ever happen now?

Or will it,
be a memory
and stay locked up
inside my heart?

It’s all smiles and not a word
longing stares
and empty hopes
Will it ever happen now?

Day 5 – Night

Still four days to go and the heart’s torn apart
How silly I have been
Of course it’s all empty hopes
Never more than glance and whisper

How silly I have been

It’s not me
Never me
How silly
I have been

Look at his face when he spoke
When he asked her
For her number
How silly I have been

When I Found Out It’s Not Our Job as Women to Dream


Living today in this era where women are glorified honestly hallucinates me into thinking that women actually has the chance to go as big as men do. It’s all out there, with Emma Watson demanding for equality with He for She campaign, and take a look at Ellen DeGeneres! She’s a strong, working woman who has it all. So I thought, what makes women different with men in terms of dreaming big to be on top?

Inside this hallucination I lived in, I damn well forgot one crucial thing.

I wouldn’t have remembered what it was if my mother didn’t sit me down after dinner last night. Like always, I expected a normal chit chat about homework, friends, boys, and et cetera, and it was a nice conversation for a while.

She said, “So I looked up in the internet about the jobs that you can get if you want to take either International Law or International Relation in university later.”

I was a sophomore, this was a regular topic. She always reminded me that I need to decide early of what I want to do in the future once I graduated High School.

I nodded, telling her to keep going.

She continued, “You see, you can’t be a major player in the business since you’re not going to be able to travel around.”

I processed the sentence.

So she was assuming I wasn’t planning to spend my youth helping people around the world and make difference.  That wasn’t the plan. I honestly did plan on traveling my ass off, go wherever I was needed, and leave my family behind for good causes. Once I’m done with helping the hungry children, I’ll come back home to my awaiting family and husband and spend time with them until I’m assigned to go to other place.

So I asked her, “What if I choose to become a major player?”

She considered it. “I thought you said you wanted to settle down early?”

That was when it hit me.

I didn’t need her to explain how it won’t work out between raising children and chasing my dream. It was apparent I had to choose either one. It was like two different path laid out ahead of me, and I felt so angry so suddenly at once. I didn’t want to get to the point where I feel absolute hate to the fate that was chosen for me, but it was still irritating nonetheless.

I have always wanted to raise children early. Hell, my timeline says I need to get married at twenty if I wanted to have a child by twenty one. What I forgot was, I also had a different timeline that says I was to graduate university with top marks at twenty, have a job contract with a big organization that works for good cause right after, and then I wait for the next term to start my Master degree.

So I didn’t need her to tell me how overwhelming things can get if I was so determined on having it all, except…

“Well, why don’t I marry a guy who works for the same cause as I do? That way, I get to be in the same region as him if we were to be assigned outside the country. A diplomat once came into my school and told me about this, he said married couples would be arranged in places that are not very far from one another,” I informed her. That’s must be a good plan.

She nodded, but I knew I was fighting a losing battle against my mother. She always has a rebuttal prepared. “That’s only works if you get a good guy from that department who wants to marry you under that condition. But what if he’s an architect or some big company’s manager?”

What she said was the truth. I didn’t like it, but I know what is right when I hear it. It irked me so much to the point I could’ve cried that night. I am a woman. I was to be a mother one day, and looking for income would not be my main responsibility. My children would be what I have to focus on 24/7.

So where’s my dream going to go with that knowledge in mind?

It pained me so much. I’ve always wanted to get out there, help the suffering people, make speeches, and inspire people with my words. Despite what I am capable of, I’ve always wanted to work for the people and not sitting flat on my bum in front of a computer in some company.

How am I supposed to do that if I want to have children?

I considered waiting, but even that only lasted for five minutes. Who in their right mind would want to marry an old lady in their thirties? No, cross that thought.

At the end of the day, I didn’t reach any conclusion. I wasn’t willing to throw my dreams away and look for some other job that I won’t be interested with. The thought of not doing anything and completely depending on my husband in the favor of looking after my children was unfavorable in every way, but I wasn’t also going to have my children and husband move to different places every three or four years.

“Be realistic,” is what my mother told me. “Your responsibility is not to work, you have a husband for that. Your job as a woman is to look after the children you’re going to have one day.”

I understood that, but what I also hear from the sentence was, “You have a whole life written out for you. It’s not your job as a woman to dream.”

I understood that alright.

Still, I didn’t like it one bit.

To all working mothers out there, raise your glass. I aspire to be you.


Demon in Me

It all began with a once upon a time in a soulless land. In the dead silence of the night, two hooded people walked together crossing an empty, dim-lighted street and entered the only diner that was still open. The misty smelling diner was half-empty, and most tables were filled with just one hooded man or woman drinking until the sun rises. It was a place to forget, a place to pause, and a place to stop.

The diner was a destination for guests who wished for a rewind.

The two ordered coffee, black, and murmured to the cashier for table number  three. The girl behind the counter raised her brows and cocked her head to a table in the left corner near the glass wall. There sat a man in grey hood. The man gave an aura of mystery as he raised his cider to the two, a silent invitation to join him in the midst of the hollow night.

The two made their way to the table and made themselves comfortable. They shrugged off their robes, one black and one maroon, and leaned into the couch. The man who just folded his black robe into a neat pile stared far into the glistening road through the glass wall. He seemed to be rather too  focused in his own world.

A few moment of tense silence filled the table.

“Name?” the man in grey robe asked indifferently after a while. His eyes showed coolness that almost came off as empty and emotionless.

“They named me Selfish,” the young woman who had just shrugged off her maroon coat said, “I’m Selfish.”

The other answered curtly, “Individualist.” Then his stare diverted from the window to the asker. “You?”

“They call me Apathetic,” the asker answered as he rolled his shirt to the elbow. Along his arm was a quote that said Is it ignorance or apathy? Hey, I don’t know and I don’t care.’ The man studied the two teenage intently and placed his cider gently on the table. The name the two had gotten from them was proven to be accurate. He could easily identify what made them who they were just by one look. “You will revert to me with that name.”

They both shared an uninterested glance and gave a nod.

“I was assigned with the two of you tonight, and we’ll start from the basic,” Apathetic said. “You two were sent here to discuss what the title you were named with meant, to make the two of you understand how little it means compared to who we really are inside. You can see people around here,” he waved around the room. “they were all just the same as you. They were named a title and this is the place where you can be that person without judgment.”

“Get to the point,” Selfish snapped.

Apathetic was unfazed, unaffected. “This place here, it’s a place for people to choose whether to embrace the person they call us as or change the person accordingly to fit society. I, for one, chose to embrace it for my own goodness.”

He took a gulp of his drink.

“Who’s this they, exactly?” Selfish asked with a frown. “How do you people know who’s called what?”

“What, they didn’t explain that in the e-mail they sent you? No wonder only so little people came these days.”

Selfish raised her eyebrows, clearly saying they didn’t get whatsoever information as to why they were to be there that night.

“It’s a wonder the two of you still thought about coming, considering the lack of information.” He scratched his head and leaned into the couch. “Well, long story short, we found who you are through the forum we created for kids like you. Ring a bell?”

Selfish’s eyes widened and she immediately checked her phone.

“So that forum was created by your people?” Individualist asked, leaning forward in interest.

Apathetic laughed, “My people, yeah, sure, we’ll call them that. But yes, the forum was originally created by Leader for misfits like us.” His eyes shone a shade brighter that showed sincerity for the first time. “You see, he was determined to save us from our own demon. He and his wife took me and five other people here this one night six years ago and convinced us that the name we bear is the reason we’re different in a good way.

“Which part of being apathetic is good?” Individualist asked. His eyes narrowed in manner that showed he was clearly unamused.

“Which part of that is bad?” Apathetic threw back with slight smirk. He drank from his glass and took his time. “I was called Apathetic because I couldn’t care less of other people’s pain. Too much homework and they whine. Too much exams and they gave up completely on life. I refused to be reduced into their level. I chose to go along with whatever was assigned to me a long time ago. Whining won’t make any difference in life.”

Selfish snorted as she slipped her phone back into her pocket. “People must have loved you.”

“If they wanted to get left behind and regret it all at the last minute, that’s their choice. How could I be sympathetic with their bad scores when the reason it happened was because of their own laziness and ignorance?” Apathetic chuckled humorlessly. “I was heartless like that. I didn’t and still don’t have the time to bullshit with their self-made pain. To be completely honest, I don’t even care about the two of you. I’m just here so that I don’t have to be here again for another three months.”

Selfish snorted.

Individualist studied him carefully. He sipped his coffee as silence came upon the table. He lingered for a moment until he finally spoke, “They call me Individualist because I refuse to work in a group of ignorant fools. I don’t ask for help or even feel the need to ask any. I’m fine doing things on my own.”

“I see,” Apathetic cocked his head to the side in interest. “Go on.”

“I don’t feel the need to ask for people to accompany me to the locker or to lunch. I am capable of doing things myself and defend myself. Is that wrong?” he asked, eyes showing emotion for once. It was the same confused look Apathetic once wore when he first came into the diner. “Solidarity, is what they told me. They pushed me hard to be solid, to be united. For a while I grilled that into my head, until I soon decided being solid with people who couldn’t decide for themselves was not worth it.”

Individualist lost his composure and calamity that he walked in with as he told more about himself. His gaze became unfocused in a struggle in accepting his name. He sipped more of his coffee and regained some of his cool. He took a few breaths, and tried to speak again. “Since I was born, I’ve always prefered to be on top on my own. Even if I was to be all alone up there, I’ve always  believed there must be other people who shared the same fate as I do.”

Apathetic watched the young man came into his own solution. Ah, how he loved the days when he was assigned with smart people who can figure out for themselves about who they are and what they want to be.

“What’s your priority in life, kid?” Apathetic asked.

“To be on top.”

Silence, then a rumble of laughter filled the bar around table number three. Individualist glared around the table and flushed.

“Isn’t that why we’re all here, cutie?” the cashier girl winked as she leaned into the counter. She swirled a finger in her drink and smirked, “We’re all sent here because we have sick ways up our sleeves to get on top. She rolled her neck to the side, and there it showed a sentence inked on her neck. The sentence read, ‘A liar knows that he is a liar, but one who speaks mere portions of truth in order to deceive is a craftsman of destruction.’

Individualist had to concentrate under the dim light to get every portion of her sentence. He took the words in and guessed, “They called you a Liar?”

The girl snorted, “That would be the jerk in table number sixteen. Read aloud the second clause.”

Selfish beat him to it. “One who speaks mere portions of truth in order to deceive is a craftsman of–Oh, you’re a Deceiver then?”

“Close. They call me Manipulator. I was brought here by Lady five years ago and have been working for her ever since.” With that, Manipulator finished her drink and turned back to her magazine.

Individualist and Selfish both turned back to Apathetic.

“She’s pretty,” Selfish noted.

“Hence the Manipulator. Right, so we’ll go to you, Selfish. What’s up?” Apathetic nodded.

Selfish took a good time thinking over it. She eventually spoke up.

“Right, so you see, I don’t give a damn of what other people think if that means I can get what I need for the best of my future. I do my homework and I leave them behind, I remind teachers if they forgot about an exam, and I sure don’t do people’s notes just for the sake of it,” she rolled her eyes and huffed. “What makes people think they can run away from exams and homeworks, anyway? That’s supposed to be what school’s all about. You’re graded for your success. You can’t just avoid them, you’re supposed to need the scores for your report to apply for university! I don’t understand how people think these days when they clearly don’t give a damn of what education can get them into. And cheating! God, I refuse to share my answers during exams and somehow I’m the biggest selfish bitch. I’m being fair, I’m supposed to get rewarded for the hard work I did compared to the lazies who just couldn’t be motivated to actually do something for their own life once in a while. This frustrates me so much.”

The bar was filled with silence.

Manipulator and Apathetic shared an amused glance.

“What’s even worse is the fact that the girls I hang out with are bunch of morons who care too much for beauties, popularity, and status. It’s all about ‘Ew, what is that thing she’s wearing?’ or ‘Why would he date her, she’s not even pretty’. It’s all bunch of shallow words and bullying juniors and living the mean girls life. I bet every penny I got the reason they keep me around is because they need a last minute back up plan for when their grades go downhill.”

She exhaled a large amount of breath. That felt satisfying.

“Why don’t you hang out with other people then?” Individualist snickered.

His question brought Apathetic and Manipulator’s eyebrows to their hairline. It was indeed the best question to ask. They expected she would say they were their childhood friend, or that she was using them back for something. What they didn’t expect was;

Selfish’s clenched her jaw and looked away to the glass wall. Her sullen expression said it all. She hugged herself, “They accept the demon in me. Not many people do.”

Manipulator was suddenly sitting beside Apathetic and studied Selfish intently.

Feeling the stare she was under, Selfish turned her attention and rudely glared back. “What?”

“What are you going to do with this pain of yours?”

“Well, what choices do I have?” Selfish grumbled.

“You can accept it, that’s the first, or you can choose to throw it.” Judging by the way Apathetic and Manipulator wrinkled their noses in disgust, it was clear that they didn’t choose the second option.

“Is there a third option?” Individualist asked.

“You can be it. Be who you are, like how we’ve come to term with who we are ,” she answered easily.

“That’s big coming from you,” Apathetic snorted.

Manipulator rolled her eyes, “Oh shut up, I’ve always loved who I am.”

Selfish and Individualist shared a look as they kept on arguing. The misty atmosphere at the diner has lifted as the sun started to rise. It was a good time to think about what they had said. Be who they are, could they do it? Who would want to live different, shone out from the world? What advantages could they bring to the world full of hate with their inner demon? There must be not much they could do by being who they are. Look at the people around the diner. They didn’t seem like the happiest people on earth. Intelligent individuals and successful, maybe, but they seemed to be too in pain. Besides, why do they need to be just one person? There must be other traits they can be.

“I don’t know if I could embrace the demon in me,” said Selfish softly, interrupting the two bickering adults.

That took the whole table’s attention.

Manipulator’s eyes narrowed into dangerous slits, “What, because you don’t have the guts to not be accepted by society?”

“Easy for you to say,” Selfish shot back, “You’re practically having fun rotting yourself up in here.”

“Excuse you, kid, you don’t know who I am behind the name I bear with pride,” Manipulator tone turned ice cold.

“You said it yourself, I get to choose who I want to be. This is my life.”

Manipulator scoffed, “Yes, and from they way I look at it, you’re choosing to be the shallow bitches you said you hate so much. Guess what, you’re no different than the rest of them. You’re no grander or better, you’re just this coward who’s too scared to face the truth.”

“That is not fair! I am in highschool, these things matter, if I can’t be on top, it’s a done in!”

“Psh, what a suckass dream,” Manipulator bluntly said with venom in her voice. “To be on top of the foodchain? Here I thought you were aiming for success in life. I’ll say it again. Don’t go act like you’re better. You’re not.”

Tense filled the table.

“You’re not being fair,” Selfish’s voice broke. “You’re different. Even they’re different!” She pointed at Apathetic and Individualist. “I’m Selfish. Straight out that. It’s not something I can bear with pride.”

Apathetic sat back, entertained. This made the job worth it sometimes.

“Stop going around thinking our life is any easier with the choice we made.” Manipulator’s look was hard, but it lost the hostile glint she had earlier.

Selfish shook her head. “And yet you still chose it. I don’t understand you.”

“I do,” Individualist said for the first time since the fight.

“Yeah?” Apathetic asked.

“You refuse to lose the battle. You’re brave enough to live that way.”

Apathetic nodded, feeling a surge of pride toward the new kid.

“It’s who we are. We don’t let the society define us,” Manipulator said in a thin, strained voice. “We’re proud. It’s not supposed to be something to be afraid of. Our demon makes us us, maybe not always in a good way, but the thought of adapting to this society where it’s all about shallow dreams disgust us.”

It was the truth. That was what Leader did all those years ago. He reminded people just how precious those traits were and made sure they live on with strong the principle they inked into themselves.

“I know what I want for my tattoo,” Individualist seemed excited for the first time of the night. “I will not rule nor be ruled. I will not be a master nor a slave. Is that fitting?”

Apathetic nodded in an approval, and Individualist broke into a half smile.

“You?” Individualist turned to Selfish.

Selfish clenched her mouth shut. She won’t be apart of this. She couldn’t. Oh, she could already imagine the words her friends would throw her way if she told them about this.

“It’s alright, kid,” Apathetic nodded when she gave no response. “There are many people who left the diner to just blend in with society, and if they’re happy that way, then who’re we to judge?”

Manipulator turned to Apathetic with a look that showed she was clearly against it. She scoffed and shook her head.

“See yourself out, I’m outta here.” She gathered all the empty glasses and made her way to the counter. She slammed the glasses and the cups into the sink and turned on the tap all the way to fill in the whole sink.

Selfish took her robe and and stood. She can do this, she can. Her life was fine before this, she can keep being the person she was. The more she convinced herself, the more she felt her heart crack into pieces.

“At least give me a time to think about it,” she whispered.

The sound of the running tap stopped.

“A week. If you’re not here by then, I pray for the best of your future.” Apathetic stood as well.

Selfish nodded. “What do you think your Leader would say?”

“Nothing, he’ll let you leave. He knows not to stop people whose heart are not strong enough to face the demon they drag.”

Selfish gave a dry chuckle. Yeah, that sounded just about right. She shook his hand, waved to Individualist, and sought herself out.

The air was misty once again as she walked on her own along the empty street of a soulless land. It was a place to forget, a place to pause, and a place to stop. With heavy heart, she turned around and watched the quiet interactions going on inside a diner just across the street.

The diner was a destination for guests who wished for a rewind.

As Years Pass By

She was 11 when she first dreamed of her prince charming, except her prince charming was more of a dark knight from a faraway kingdom than a handsome prince. In her dreams, nothing was imperfect. They met at a balcony in summer, and everything was sweet, wonderful, and naive. In the dream, they loved each other right away, and they shared their first kiss under the stars.

She turned 13, and her charming prince was no longer a charming prince. He was Allanneire Radgon from London. He had a twin sister, loving parents, two annoying cousins, and a step-brother he cherished completely. She loved his family as her own, and she would often attend family dinners, movie night, and laugh along side them. She became part of their lives, and she thanked God for the joy He gave.

15 hit, and things started to get rocky. Mama found out of her Allan. She tried everything she could to get rid of him. Mama told her he didn’t exist, that prince Allan is just a mere imagination. Mama said her obsession with Allan was unhealthy, and she couldn’t understand what she was thinking. Allan was waiting for me, she told Mama. Can I go to Allan, she asked Mama. She made an enemy out of Mama, but she didn’t care. Mama had her for 15 years, it’s Allan’s turn now.

The roughest was when she blew her candles of her 18th Birthday. It was harder for her to see her Allan. She didn’t know what it was, but Allan started to walk away, and it scared her to death. It was suffocating. It was painful. It’s hard to breath without Allan. It’s hard to smile. She realized it must be because a handsome, young guy was attracted to her. She turned him down in an instant, of course. She was Allan’s. She giggled, of course Allan was jealous. This was why she didn’t engage any relationship with anyone.

Her wedding bells was a cry of the devil she feared to hear, but alas, it rang, on her wedding day as she stared back into her reflection. Stood a young woman at the age of 22. Her make up was running down her face. She couldn’t do this. She begged for Mama to hear, but Mama was getting old and she wanted her to start producing children. Children from a man she didn’t love. Mama said they were perfect, and that if Allan really did loved her, he would be here by now. She hated Mama for being right, and she hated Allan for not being the groom in her wedding. She sobbed again, staining her white dress. The guest won’t appreciate it, but she didn’t care. She was betraying Allan. Her heart was breaking apart. She couldn’t care less of what they think.

30. She kissed her second offspring goodnight. Allan was back to the charming prince. No, scratch that. He’s just a prince now. Not charming at all.

50. The prince was long gone. Right now, she was crying because her first child just received his PhD. What would he be like if his father was a different man?

70. Her husband of 48 years passed. She shed no tears.

75. Strolling down at a park was one thing she did quite often these days when she was not with her grandchildren. It was relaxing to see all the children laugh so freely. Her wheelchair suddenly bumped into a boy. She was ready to apologize, but he stole her words. He bowed deep like a gentleman that one charming prince was.

She asked him of his name.

His smile took her breath away.

“Allan Radgon, Madame. Again, I apologize.”

She shook her head, feeling dazed. “You have nothing to apologize for, I was the one who bumped into you.”

The boy who called himself Allan pressed his lips together, like as if he was remembering, hard. He shook his head eventually and bowed again, excusing himself.

80. Her last breath was taken right how she hoped it would be. Allan was holding her cold, wrinkly hands in his. He was by her sickbed. He had been visiting her for five years, with new flowers to bring each week. He had been making up for the lost years, though he probably not have realized that that was what he had been doing for five years. He was 13 now, and she was 80.

“Tell me what you think,” she whispered to him.

He heard her. He kissed her hands. “I wish I had found you sooner, Madame. Much sooner.”

She gave a breathy chuckle. “Some things are not meant to be.”

Allan was close to tears. “Not in this lifetime.”

She felt hear heart give away.

“I will find you sooner in the next life,” he choked between tears, eyes staring deep into hers. It was all blurry, and she could see the dark coming her way. She smiled and caressed his hand with one thumb.

She exhaled one last breath.

Darkness took her sight.

She was back to 8, with dress and pigtails.

She was breathless from running away from her friends. They were playing hide and seek. She wasn’t good at hiding, she never liked hiding.

She felt a tap on her shoulder.

She turned to the person, expecting him to be the ‘it’, but her scowl didn’t make it. She recognized him, with all his glory. She recognized the same blue eyes, the same soft smile, and she suddenly remembered the smell of the hospital, the white gown, and the promise a boy made long ago.

“I found you.”

A teardrop fell. She remembered who he was.

You did.

This lifetime, their path crossed.

He’s Late, She’ll Wait

Kellan is everything a writer could hope to be.

While he is just a newbie in the fanfiction world, his writing lacked the typo and the basic mistakes of those who usually just stepped one foot into the world. His writings were straight up neat, to the point, and mature. He carefully planned the whole plot before he put the story into words, and he updated his story every morning with a chapter of around 6000 words. He was smart, committed, and democratic. If anything, he was very welcomed into the fandom and received a great support for his brilliant work.

So it wasn’t a surprise when Ace fell in love with his words. She made sure to read every single chapter before school once they were updated, and she made sure to leave nice comments to keep him going. Sometimes, she would put in her request for some romance idea, and she would happily click open his reply to her reviews.

Kellan was 18. Ace was 11.

It was too far age difference for any possible romance to happen, but a 10 year old can marry 60 year old and Ace would never bat her lashes at how wrong it is.

Nice work, Kellan, I really love your version of Dark!Hermione,
though I wish she could be a tad kinder to her housemates.
I hope I can get more romance between Harry and Tracey
next chapter. Keep up the good work!

Thanks, Ace, I’ll keep your request in mind, though I
already have something planned out for Harry and Tracey. 

Aw, come on, pretty please?

I’ll see what I can do. By the way, aren’t you supposed
to be sleeping, kid?

Kid, my ass. I’m 11 and that is two years away from
teenage life.

Sometimes they would even speak about something completely random through the PMs. Kellan would check her works once in a while, help her get into the mindset that she’s the one who own her character’s world, and would even encourage her when the haters from Ace’s story started to irk her too much. They became friends fast, and they spoke at least once a week through messages due to being in different city.

One day, an announcement came up.

Kellan wrote in his last chapter of his story that he was going to be away for a long time and the story will have to be put on HIATUS. He didn’t say anything about it to Ace, but then again, who was she to him? Of course he wasn’t obliged to tell her. That didn’t stop Ace from being the nosy and curious person that she is.

Hey, what’s going on?

I’m signing up for the army.

What about uni?

I’m leaving school.

What about your story? They aren’t finished yet.

I’m going to continue them, I promise,
no matter how long it takes.

No matter how long it takes?

I promise, Ace.

What about me? 


Okay, I’ll wait. 


They didn’t speak again after that. Ace assumed he was too busy preparing for the armies. That was until she searched for his story in the spirit of rereading them. His writings made her laugh and cry, and she loved his works. She hummed along with the song that was playing on her music player, until she took a sharp breath in surprise.

No result found matching your keyword(s)/phrase. Please expand your search.

Tip: If you want to search a phrase and not just individual words, use double quotes. Example: “Search this phrase”.

Ace tried again. Typing in his pen name this time.

The same result came up.

She checked her Favorite Author right away and found a name, an unrecognized name with zero stories written.

Ace slammed her laptop shut, fighting back the cry of disappointment that was threatening to fall. Bastard. He deleted them. The stories, their messages, and even changed his pen name too.

He was 19. She was 12. He left. She wept.

Hey, how’s life in the army?

It’s been a while since I last saw you online. If you’re thinking that the reason I’m sending you this message is because I want to persuade you to go back to the ffn world, you’re not wrong. But mostly, I’m here because one of my greatest inspiration in writing has gone never came back since 2011. It’s been three years, and I really thought you were going to be back by now. Where are you? I’m expecting news, you know. We all are. If you’re not going to continue your great stories, then we would’ve understood. I’m not even expecting great news. Any kind of news would’ve been fine. I truly miss you, Kellan. As a great author, and as a (hopefully) friend. Write back if you get the chance to. Just don’t walk away and not look back. Don’t be that person.

I took a placement test in a great boarding school, and I’m really hoping I would be accepted. If I didn’t get in, then I guess that’s sucks, but that’s life, right? How is it there wherever you are?

Will you ever come back? Reply soon, stay alive.

I don’t know what’s going on in the army, I have zero clue of what’s going on with your life. You are incredible writer, you know that? I remember how I used to get excited every single morning because I knew your story was already updated. You’re not just some kind of a random author passing by. You’re an author that I’ve always looked up to. Many authors gave up, the same can probably said about me. But you, I can’t stop waiting. I can’t stop hoping for you to continue what you love.

I will always hope this message goes to you.

How’s life in the army? I bet you’re either all muscular or got one arm or leg dysfunction. Kidding, that wasn’t nice, sorry. But tell me everything! How’s the food? How are the people? Are there females who signed up?

…Who am I kidding? Those aren’t the kind of questions I want to ask. My brain is all crammed up with, “When are you coming back?” or “Are you even still alive?”

Selfish, I know. That just kind of happens. Especially when someone hung someone’s hope too high up in the air. I try to tell myself that you will come back and all I need is patience. But with you, I never really had to wait. You always update your story on first time notice. I try to make myself understand that you are probably having a rough time and you’re just not ready to embrace the past that you’ve once left behind. But guess what? I don’t get it. I don’t understand even the slightest bit of it.

But really, how am I supposed to understand, damnit? How am I supposed to feel okay? It’s been three years. I know I shouldn’t be complaining, I know I should be more considerate since, hey, I don’t know anything about you at all! But I just can’t just let this go, you know? You probably won’t even appreciate all this letters. Hell, you might even block my account for this. But I can’t let go. You make me happy. What you do makes me happy. Is it wrong as a human to not want that happiness to go away? Tell me one good reason why I should give up. No wait, scratch that, I dare you to make me give up. Because I won’t. I’m not giving up on you, no matter how weird that sounded. Just… stay alive, okay? Wherever you are, I hope you’re worrying about us just as much as we are worrying about you.

Come back soon.

He’s 22. She’s 14.

Kellan might be late, but Ace will wait.

A Curious Man

The following post is written on 6th October 2014.

Today, Muslims around the world wake up early in the morning and head to the Mosque to perform Eid prayer. I was one of those Muslims. I headed to the mosque with my two brothers and prayed Eid beside a woman who brought a toddler with her. Everything went perfectly fine. After the prayer was done, I took my phone and went into Omegle with only one interest; Islam. Once I was connected, the stranger immediately typed away a question.

There was no hello, no greetings, and no the usual ‘asl’. He straight away asked me, ‘What is the proof of God’s existance?’

And I typed away the only answer that came into my head. ‘He created the universe,’ I typed, ‘He’s the creator of us humans.’

‘Yeah,’ he answered. ‘But has it been scientifically proven?’

And just like that, we talked about his belief and my belief, which is Islam. I told him what I know and my point of view as a teenager, and he spoke his opinion. While what I speak of was based on faith, he spoke based on logical and rational thinking that I couldn’t argue with.

‘What do you believe in?’ I ask him out of curiosity.

‘Scientifically proven theories,’ he answered, like as though it was the simplest thing ever.

He spoke about how human did evoluted from chimpanzees (or was it monkeys?) and it was scientifically proven, while I firmly believe that God created Adam and Eve. It was like Clash of Titans. We spoke so much in Omegle, and so much of his questions astounds me. Finally, we decided to speak on Skype. He was a 20 year old guy living in Belgium, Europe. The first thing that he did was apologize because he didn’t know I was a female. He asked me why I was okay with Islam being sexist towards women, with being oppressed. And I told him I don’t feel that way. He asked me why it was okay to not have equality? How does Islam views the homosexuals? Why is it okay for Prophet Muhammad (PBUH) to marry a nine year old girl?

He also said things like how he didn’t want to go to hell just because he refuse to believe on what is not scientifically proven. He said why did God have to create bad people in the first place if as a God he could have just ‘poofed’ everyone into a great human beings. There was so many doubts in him, and I couldn’t help but understand. I asked him why Islam, why not ask Jews or Christians. Why not go to Church and ask a Priest or head to a Mosque and find someone who can help. He said no one is really that much of a help. He’s been looking for answers for about two years now, and he hasn’t found a single answer that could convince him of God existance. Rather, he just didn’t understand why God has to be worshipped in the first place. To him, it was very egocentrical of God. We spoke for an hour discussing the topic, with him being the more passionate one.

And I tried to stand my ground as much as I could. I told him God doesn’t decide everything for us. We have a choise to live our life the way we want to. He didn’t choose our path for us. In a way, we choose it ourself with God’s encouragement. I told him there is the remaining of Noah’s ark. It was found somewhere. And there is a proof of the parted sea from Moses’ story. I told him Muslim can live peacefully side by side with those who have different faith. We are not ordered to murder anyone whose intention is just to live peacefully. I told him we all can co-exist.

He wasn’t convinced.

He and I, it’s safe to say that we’re not very much different. The only difference is that I decided to play it safe and just believe in what was handed to me. It might be naive, it might be stupid and moronic, but the truth is, I do feel comfortable with who I am today, and isn’t that okay as long as I’m not harming anyone with my choices?

Eventually both of us came into a common ground and spoke something else, such as Youtube, and we watched some funny viral Shrek videos and laughed about it. After a while, I had to end the call to study for an upcoming mid-term. In the end, all I want is for him to find the answer he need. As a human being, I truly respect him for choosing to not be ignorant about this world, especially with him being at the young age of 20.

To him, I wish him all the best luck.

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