Big Day

Something crashed outside loudly and the hefty wind rattled her window as well. It lit up with flashes and the sound of thunder rolled in a few seconds later. This was followed by a scream that was soon lost in the patter of rain.

She cracked one eye open.

It sounds like the world’s ending, she thought.

She was already cozy in bed and half-asleep. She had a big day tomorrow.

Little did she know there would be no tomorrow.


The lipstick stain on the coffee mug

The chocolate chip cookie crumbs on the counter

The half-empty bottle of moisturizer

The crumpled sheets with lumpy pillow

The smudgy top book shelf 

The pile of dogeared notebooks in the corner

The drawer, this frame, that crook of the room

The heart, this life, that memory

Everything, everything is yours

Except my love! 

The Queen

The young Queen surveyed her guests contentedly. The ball was well underway. The musicians had struck up a faster tune and the dancing party had increased. She could hear the tinkling laughter and the clinking chalices. Feet shuffled  daintily as their owners twirled their partners.

The Queen

Occasionally, they would look over at her and give a small bow. At this, she would smile back graciously and give a small nod in acknowledgement.

The merriment wouldn’t end until dinner was served and it was almost time for the feast to begin. She was waiting for the gong to sound to descend and take her place at the head of the table. Her guests would then follow suit according to their positions.

She suddenly noticed a movement in the far corner. Sir Alex! He was cutting through the throng and seemed to be headed straight towards her. Her heart skipped a beat. He was too handsome and the Queen was very fond of him.

“Now, what did we talk about, Quinn?” he asked her.

“Oh, but daddy. I want to join the party. Please?” she tried to plead with him once more.

“My princess, you may, but when you’re a bit older,” said he, while kissing the top of her forehead.

With that, he scooped Quinn in her arms and carried her upstairs to her room to put the Queen to bed.


Image Source: “Little Girl Looking Downstairs at Christmas Party”

McCall’s, December 1964; oil on board, 10 x 10 ½ in.; Collection of George Lucas


“And I’m sure you’re on your way,

Yes, I’m sure you’re on the road,

And I’m sure you’re faster than before,

Yes, I know you’re somewhere on the road.”

Nowhere Warm by Kate Havnevik

I am hopeful. I am content. I’m waiting. I’m here. Where are you?

Because there will be a time when I won’t be hopeful. I won’t be content. I won’t be waiting. I won’t be here.

Not forever.

“If you look for where I am, I won’t be there!”

King Julian in Madagascar 3: Europe’s Most Wanted

Just get here, will you?

Try Again

Today, my tea bag told me Try Again.

Sure, sure. I should try again. I think you’re ri- wait a minute!

Aren’t you overly-optimistic, Mr.Tea-Bag? You are going to be used, just once, and then thrown in the bin. You can’t even try again yourself. Even if you wanted to. And you’re telling me to do so?

Or wait. Is that why are you telling me to do so?

You know, I wouldn’t be here, albeit barely hanging on, if I had already given up. So I am trying it. Let’s just keep it between you, me and the bin.