Showing posts with label prose. Show all posts
Showing posts with label prose. Show all posts

Saturday, June 30, 2018

Untimely


I met Death once.

We were in another dimension, almost dreamlike, surrounded by the cosmos and supernovas the size of one’s palm. Miles underneath us was a ball of molten lava resembling that of the sun’s core. Below it, a dark pit of nothingness. Drifting stars paved way to a dark and inscrutable matter that appeared before me in a reversed, smoky dispersion manner: it was Death.

“Here we are.” Death spoke.

“Here we are.” I mimicked with a shrug and half a smile.

“Do you know why you’re here?” Death asked. I shook my head. “You are in the realm of choices. You choose where you’ll stay for all eternity. “

I pondered for a bit. “Realm of choices? I thought that when I die, I die. No choices whatsoever.”

“Dying is a choice.”

“No it isn’t.”

“Yes, it is. At least for mortals like you.” Death said and continued, “Everyday, humans roam the Earth…going about their daily routines, breathing….the Earth has so much to offer and each sunrise promises a discovery, as each sunset promises the stars and the glow of the moon. A human’s life is sufficient enough and yet, they chose to die. They end their lives too early and some found themselves buried a few feet underground. Many others, however, wander the Earth as marionettes whose movements are driven by routine, not by their choice to live.”

“But I don’t want to die.” I answered and realized my mistake. “Not yet anyway.” I added.

Comets collided with the heavenly bodies that fenced us. Specks of yellow, orange, and red light engulfed my vision.

“You are a funny mortal.” Death exclaimed. “You are a nobody. You left no mark on Earth. Your name is not known to many and many do not care. You are no one and yet, you want to live.”

“Not everyone who is a no one wants to die.” I said in a nonchalant manner.

It was silent for a moment until Death made everything disappear into a black space with just a snap of a finger. Voices spouting various verses slowly upped its volume until noise consumed my ears.

Useless.

I should just die.

There is no meaning to life.

Why do I keep on existing?

Why am I even alive?

“Sounds familiar?” Death asked. “These were your thoughts while you still had all the time in the world. You wanted to die. You found no meaning to life.”

I was silent.

“That is another reason why you are a funny mortal. You are a nobody and you, yourself, knew it. Why would you want to go on living when you have no reason for doing so?”

I let out the sigh I was holding in before I gave my honest reply. “At that time, yes…I didn’t have a reason for living. Life was just a cycle of waking up in the morning and going to sleep at night. Every day was just another day. But…I don’t think that way anymore.”

“And why is that?”

I gave a lopsided grin. “Guess I’ve found a reason. Reasons, actually.”

It was Death’s turn to be silent and, upon doing so, the noises vanished. It was just Death and me in this dark emptiness.

“When you were alive, you were just another lifeless being roaming around. When you were in the path to dying, you slowly found reasons...and it wasn’t because you were dying that you found them. These reasons, miniscule as they were, opened your eyes and made you want to live. These reasons were enough to keep your heart beating for a few more times before you heeded my call. You are indeed a funny mortal.”

“Indeed I am.” I replied cheekily.

Contrary to popular belief, Death wasn’t as unkind as others would portray.

Perhaps it was just a matter of how one welcomed Death.

“There are many humans more accomplished than you yet they fear me and will do anything to avoid me. Others with power bring their fellowmen to me even if it wasn’t their due time. I am despised by many, more so since I am inevitable. I have seen eyes which loathed me, eyes which bargained for more time, and eyes which showed a deep emptiness and apathy. Yet you…you looked at me as if you had long expected me…as if I were a guest when in fact I am a stranger. You want to live, but your eyes do not shun me.”

Death looked at me, amused. “What a pleasure it is to meet someone like you.”



The once dark place flashed a blinding white.

I opened my eyes, and I have woken up.




Saturday, March 31, 2018

Of Death and Flowers



I received a bouquet of flowers yesterday and here’s what I heard from a colleague:
“Flowers’ll just die anyway!”

Yes – I am well aware that flowers will eventually wilt and die, but nevertheless I accepted it. There are many things in this world that will perish over time, and not just flowers. Death is inevitable but it should not be something one has to despair over, because despairing over death is like despairing over life. One cannot stop death for it is a fate sealed from the moment life was born. Death cannot be stopped, but it can be delayed. The same goes for life. It goes on, and only you have the ability to make the ride worthwhile.

Say you were a flower of your liking: if you knew what your fate will be – and that is to be picked, arranged, then to wilt in the end – will you stop yourself from growing and blooming into what you were destined to be? Will you allow yourself to wallow in fear and reject the opportunities stored after sunrise?

My point is to stop numbering your days. Convert the inevitable into inspiration. Smile more and live each day to the fullest. Plant a seed of hope and happiness in the hearts of millions, the way flowers cause a smile, even if it’s only for the moment. Don’t let the vines of death hinder you from blossoming.

I placed the flowers in a delicate vase I found. A petal fell off.
Yes – flowers will die, and so will us humans.
But we bloom anyway.

Thursday, February 1, 2018

Adults and Carnival Rides



I went to a carnival once 

It has all the amazing rides

From ferris wheels to rollercoasters, 
It was such a sight 

I toured myself around, 
Past the faces of blurred identities 
Television noises surrounding the area and excited screams were heard 
As the coaster went down and up, when the ferris wheel took them to the highest point 

Children gleefully riding 
The smiling horses of a merry-go-round 
Which resembled a music box I used to dream of having, back when I was younger

Everything was bliss 
Cotton candy was stuffed inside mouths and popcorn was served 
Endless amusement surged through every border 
Magic tricks performed at the corner of my eye

I walked along with a ticket in one hand 
Until I reached the exit 
I went out disappointed

Monday, January 1, 2018

The Theorist



The Theorist

Silence befell the room as two figures stood in contemplation.

"I'm sorry." He began.
"No, no, don't be!" She said and continued, "You see, I have this theory that the people I love will someday leave and will always hurt me."

She turned to face him and smiled. "So thank you for proving me right."

A Writer's Fear

"There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed." - Ernest Hemingway


The other day, I was strolling around the bookstore and  saw the ever-growing amount of poetry and prose-filled books. I picked one up and scanned its contents.

'Not bad.' I thought and proceeded to skim through another.

Before long, I had already picked several books, all of which contained various emotions poured out by its respective writer. Every page turned felt like a story connecting the previous entry.

All books I've scanned were great, yet I didn't purchase any.

Perhaps it's a matter of pride or even of selfishness but I exited the bookstore empty-handed, which was rare since I always stocked up on notebooks and mechanical pencil refills or, in some occasions, a good book to read during bedtime. The only item the trip to the bookstore gave me was a river of thoughts, continuously flowing until I reached the door to my apartment.

'How will I reach out to the readers? Are my works even worth it? What can I do to make mine stand out?'

This kind of writing has become mainstream. I shouldn't bother publishing. I shouldn't bother even thinking about the decreased impact of words due to the influx of this writing style.

I shouldn't worry. I shouldn't, I shouldn't, I shouldn't.
I fell asleep sometime 2 o'clock in the morning just thinking about it.