The nice folks at StudioPlus 30, inspired by the new season, gave FALLING as one of the writing prompts for this week.  Meanwhile, Trifecta has BLIND as the  word prompt this week.  The combination of the two prompts inspired me to write something that has not Autumn-y at all.   If you are inspired to write anything about the prompts, feel free to link-up and have fun.  🙂  Do visit their respective pages for lovely posts.   Thank you for  being here as always.  🙂


Andrew stopped midway as he was opening the driver’s door of the car and stared at me. I blushed, of course! “He just had to stop and admire me. Will he say that I am especially beautiful today?” My heart was jumping out of my chest.
“Ahem. Ahh, Marla,…” He began.
I looked at him with coquettish eyes.
“… your hair kinda looks funny.”
“Ah. Oh! Must be the way I brushed it earlier.” I stammered and changed the subject before he could say another word about my hair.

“So, how did your date go?” My friend Lora asked me when we met over coffee.
“Pffttt! He saw through my hair…”
Lora raised her brows…
“..well, sun passed through it, let me just say. I kept my hair down. I used to look good that way. I forgot how thin it’s become” My hand gathered my hair of its own volition.
“You’re just too paranoid. You’re pretty.”
“Maybe, as long as no one notices the hair. Hah!” I said trying to keep my tone light.
“Oh well.” Lora said. “There are more prospects.”
“A blind one would be great.”

That night, in my room, my eyes fell on the bottle of Rogain and hair regrowth and half used aloe-vera leaves on my dressing table.

“Useless!” I yelled and with one swoop, they all tumbled on the floor. The breaking glass soothed the blind fury  welling inside me.

I looked at the crucifix on the wall. “Why?” I asked, tears rimming my lids. “ You DO know each hair on my head – you gave me only so very few.  And most of them end up on the bathroom drain.” For how long I stood before the Crucifix, sniffing, complaining, lips quivering, I did’nt know.
Worn out at last by my outburst, I went to bed hoping there’s somebody who was blind to my shiny pate, err, defects, even if only in my dreams.



“Rose for you, Mommy.”
Edith’s dismay at another wasted tissue turned to smile when she saw Margarette’s rolled up paper. Inside, “I love you” was scrawled by six year old hands.


This post is a response to Trifecta’s weekend challenge :

“You already know where we’re going with this.  We want you to give it back to us in your own words, using your own subject matter.  Describe something that is three different things at the same time.  Oh, and do it in 33 words.  Structure your response however you want; it doesn’t have to mirror Mr. Gaiman’s form.  Feel free to leave us guessing.  Just make it your own, and make it good.”
Head on over to Trifecta’s page for great links and responses. 🙂

Have a great weekend everyone. 🙂


I have danced all that I can
until my limbs got tired
and the music faded
with the last echoes of the wind
’til nothing was left but the pregnant stillness
the quiet of waiting.

I have sung all the songs
I can sing with the whistling of the wind
and the voices of the birds
as my accompaniments
until my own voice faded into whispers
and quiet reigned.

I have sheltered all I can shelter
under my canopy
given them shade from the burning sun
kept them dry under the pouring rain
until my shelter was no longer enough
and they all fled
leaving me in the quiet, waiting.

I have listened to young lovers’
whispered pledges of forever
to the silent sighs of weary elders
leaning on my ample pillar for rest
til my own strength ebbs
and flows to their tired limbs
helping them wait for their silent rest.

I have exalted in the sun
and gloried with the wind
cavorted with the rain
I have raised my palms to the sky
and let my bowers quiver
and move in the breeze.

I have done all I can
and all that I should
and yet still give until the very end
when in the colorful blaze
of the last farewell
I plunge into that quiet rest
that will make me new.


I had Bloggy Moms’ In mind when I wrote this piece. The prompt is as follows –

“For this week’s prompt, I want you to write about your favorite thing about the season. The only catch is, you must not tell the reader what it is. You must describe it. Become your favorite thing, just long enough to give us 250 words. You can write more, but not less.”

Unfortunately, I ran out of words to meet the 250 word count.

I also tried to meet Trifecta: Week Forty-Three ‘s word  prompt:  AMPLE, i.e.,

Thanks for dropping by and reading.  I appreciate your visit and comments even when I do not get to reply as quickly as I should.
Bloggy Moms


He was approaching.

She swooned.

He passed her by.

She followed, discreetly.

He saw her,  and smiled then laughed.

She exalted, swooned some more, then blushed –

a hanger dangled from her schoolbag.


Except for just one event, this story is true.  🙂

Years ago, when I was much younger, I had a flaming infatuation with a young college boy who passed by our apartment each day.  I fell in love with his red sperry topsiders first.  When I looked  a little higher up, I noticed his dark  hair, the fair face, the black eyes.  Oh my! He looked just like my idol – Robi Rosa of the  Menudo fame. (CAUTION:  Clicking Robi Rosa will lead you to a video of him singing ‘If You’re Not Here’.  Live.).

Each day, I would be waiting by the window or a nearby bench to see him go to school or go home – or wherever he went when he was walking away from school.   Somehow, I managed to work my school schedule and activities around his coming and going.  My friends at school knew that I could not stay for longer than a certain time on certain days because I needed to rush home to  see this guy.  My housemates would call me whenever they see him  too.  Watching him and giggling after having a sight of him became a daily ritual for us.

My infatuation and the thrill of being infatuated were so that I began following him, at a respectable distance, of course, when he walked to the bus stop.  To conceal myself, I would carry with me a paperback which I read while I was walking.  How I managed not to step into traffic, only Providence knew. But one morning, when I was  getting ready for school and  knew that he would be passing by on his way home from an early class,   I  dressed quickly.  I tossed  things here and there and everywhere, then left when I had all that I needed for the  day.   I caught up with  him at the bus stop and waited for him to get on his bus.  Afterwards, I took the bus that would bring me to school.   When I got my wallet from my bag to pay my fare, I saw the hanger hooked on a bag strap.  I surreptitiously put it inside.

I never knew his name.  My friends  gave me a theme song – “Tell Me Your Name”  by a Filipino artist.  But I never really wanted to know  his name.  Neither was I interested in meeting him.  I was afraid – afraid to hear a less than pleasant voice, afraid to see a speck of dirt on his nail, afraid of any random thing that could deflate my illusions.

In time, I moved to a different city.  That ended my trysts with this young man.  I have almost forgotten about this time in my life.  Yet now that I remembered it, I felt giddy and silly and young once again. 🙂

Thank you for dropping by and sharing a bit of silly.

Thank you Studio30+ for prompting me about a favorite childhood memory. You gave me an idea about how to  respond to Trifextra’s 33-word challenge this week, i.e. The Rule of Three is a writing principle that asserts that, in writing, groups of three have the most impact. This week’s challenge is to write 33 words using the Rule of Three somewhere among them.  It is up to you to interpret the rule, just make sure to use exactly 33 words.


The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.  She gazed at that beloved face, its eyes closed, a smile tugging at the lips. “Wake up!” Her mind screamed. The click of the lid pulled her back. And her tears fell.


The challenge posed by Trifextra:Week 32 is to add  our own 33 words to the following:

“The last strains of sunlight lingered in the corners, grasping every available point of refraction.  She slid her fingertips along the glass wondering if this was all there ever was. Or could be.”


Amanda woke up with a start. Shaking off her sleep, she listened. “Odd,” she thought. The home was quiet.  The silence, in fact,  woke her up. She looked around the living room, walked to the kitchen, listening. She suppressed the worry that was worming into her head. She went up the steps and checked the rooms upstairs.  Quiet.  Everything was  quiet. Her heart started to thump on her chest. This absence of activity in her house was disconcerting her.



Her voice echoed in the house as she called her little children.

“Where are you kids?”

Nobody answered.



She cried louder. By now she was back downstairs and at the door. It was unlocked. She went out to the backyard. There was nothing outside but the scattered toys from the children’s morning play and the roar of cars speeding on the road.

Panic was surging inside her. Her stomach was knotted. She ran into the house and  grabbed the phone from the counter.  With shaking hands, she  punched 911. Her thumb was just about to press “talk” when she heard a crash from somewhere in the house. The sound brought her to the pantry. As quiet as a mouse, she opened the door. Two pairs of startled brown eyes peeking from crumby faces stared at her. On the floor were the remains of the cookie jar and chocolate chip cookies that she baked the other day.

Soon, two messy faces were washed and cleaned and marched down to their beds for a very long nap.


I wrote this piece for Trifecta: Week Forty-One.  The word is ‘Absence, i.e., want, lack.

I am glad to be able to play this time.  After I finished a writing assignment for Studio30+ (I am sorry for the shameless plug),  some ideas for the prompt flowed and I was able to follow through with one.


I have been meaning to continue the story that began with this post and continued here and here but my family and I  have been mostly in and out this summer that I could not focus on the story.  That I discovered Grimm did not help because I found myself watching its entire season in Hulu.  Now that I’ve caught up with the latest episode and have nothing more to watch, so far, I was able to push the story a bit.  At least, I hope so. 🙂  I do want to see where this little project goes.

Thanks to  Trifecta  for the prompt:  “heart, i.e.,   personality, disposition”.  I got an anchor for the installment.   

Let me just give this brief background.  The story is set in a place called Valetta an island which is essentially a garbage dump.  Darion, a scavenger boy,  found a carousel to which he instantly got attached to.   Instead of showing the find to his friends, Bandar, et. al., he ran home.  There, Abuelo told him to return the carousel to where he found it because it would bring them bad luck.  However, Abuelo relented and instead helped Darion keep it in a secure place.    Bandar and company soon arrived demanding that they be shown the carousel.  Darion, upon Abuelo’s advice, showed them an old glass lamp.  This angered Bandar and a quarrel between him  and Darion followed.  The quarrel ended with Bandar threatening harm upon Darion.  

Thank you for coming by and reading. 🙂


“I’m going for a walk. Would you like to come with me?” Abuelo asked as he put the saw back to its nail.

“No, Abuelo,” Darion mumbled as he shook his head while keeping his eyes fixed in the distance.

“Bar the door behind me then.” Abuelo glanced at Darion as he stepped out of the threshold pulling the door behind him.

Darion watched the old man, the wood he was working on tucked under his arm and a bolo dangling from his belt – disappear in the path towards the cove as the folks called it. Ordinarily, he would have gone with Abuelo. He loved to listen to the latter’s stories that get so fantastic that he could not tell whether Abuelo was teasing or not. One time, Abuelo told the story about big fire trees, palatial homes, horses, nobility. Even a king. In Valetta! Abuelo even told him not to tell anyone. He often found the tales so wild that sometimes, he wanted to believe the things people say about Abuelo when they think that he or Abuelo were not listening.

“Crazy old man,” the nastier folks said.

Trees. Horses. Blue waters. Green grass.” He smiled at the remembrance but he did not have the heart to listen to Abuelo’s silly stories this day.

And yet…. “ Darion lifted his head with a start, realization dawning upon him.

He rushed towards the spot where they buried the carousel. He was lifting the top box when he heard a thud on the roof. Before he could take a step, however, dozens of pebbles rained upon the tiny hut. He saw no one from the window but heard the scamper of feet and laughter.

He ran towards the door and opened it only to see Valerio coming down the path to the house. Immediately, he bolted the door, shut the window and curled in a shadowy corner of the house.