Finding Juliet

“I lost her, I can’t believe that I lost her” He muttered under his breath, weaving his way through the crowd of the busy mall. Half of him wanted to call out her name like he usually did but thought better of it. Wouldn’t want to draw attention to myself. He thought. The young man then continued his quest of searching for his girlfriend. He looked in the shops that they have been to, thinking that she might be in one of them. After about 30 minutes in each, he came out more worried than ever before.

“Where in the name of William Shakespeare is she?” He muttered, his eyes scanning the part of the mall that he was in, hoping to catch a glimpse of his lady love in the sea of people. Just then, he caught a glimpse of dark brown hair from the corner of his eye. He whirled around seconds after, thinking that he finally found her. Picking up his pace, he all but ran toward it, hope and happiness running through his veins. When he caught up, he touched her on the shoulder while calling out her name. Though his smile quickly faded when the person that turned around isn’t the one that he was looking for. Mumbling a quick apology, he decided to get help instead of wandering around the mall like a deranged person.

“Hi, excuse me, Mr. Security Guard! Can you help me please?” He called out when he saw a uniformed guard walking past on his hourly patrol. “What do you need help with, son?” The guard asked. “I was shopping with my girlfriend and she said that she had to go to another store to get something and said she’ll be right back,” The young man explained. “I waited for her outside the store but she never came. I looked for her everywhere but couldn’t find her.” He finished, on the verge of tears.

“Okay, tell me her name and I’ll see if any of my co-workers have seen her.” Relieved, the young man told the security guard the name of his girlfriend and the guard froze for a second. “Wait, your girlfriend’s name is Juliet Capulet? As in THE Juliet Capulet?” The young man nodded, confused as to why the security guard is so shocked to hear his girlfriend’s name. “Does that make you Romeo Montague?” Romeo blinked owlishly at the guard before nodding in the affirmative.

Still overcome with shock, the security guard reached for his walkie-talkie and got in touch with his co-worker, telling him to keep an eye out for a young woman with dark brown hair by the name of Juliet Capulet. He then told Romeo to wait where he is in case Juliet shows up. Romeo thanked the guard as the latter went on his way. “Oh, Juliet, Juliet,” Romeo muttered. “Wherefore art thou, Juliet?”

Advertisements

The Price of Love

“Come over tonight.” Three words had never brought him so much joy. It was a simple message but he knew the meaning behind them. He loved her for so long, he was more than certain that he could be the one that makes her happy. Certainly more than any other man ever could. There was a moment where he had given up hope, but when he got the message on his phone, that hope returned tenfold. After all this time, they could finally be together.

He quickly grabbed his jacket from the coatrack and all but speed-walked out of his office to the parking structure across the street. He got into his car and drove with reasonable speed (there’s no need to turn this into a tragedy) and got to her house. It was a small but beautiful home, one that practically screamed her name the first time that he saw it. Parking his car a block down from the house, he got out and jogged back towards it. Raising a hand to knock on the door, he caught a glimpse of her from the living room window and saw that she was cuddling with another man on the couch. Her eyes shone with love and tenderness that he had not seen before when they were having their late-night liaisons.

Feeling a sense of dejection and heartache, he lowered his hand and walked away from the house and back to his car. He then drove aimlessly through the streets as he made his way back to his studio apartment on the other side of the city. He had imagined the perfect scene. He would knock on the door and she would open it and throw herself into his arms. They would then confess their love for each other and then he would kiss those soft lips of hers, letting her know that he would always be with her until death did them part. Now that perfect scene will never play out because she had moved on, leaving him to pick up the pieces of his shattered heart.

Stopping at a red light,  he took out his phone from his jacket pocket and looked at the message that had sent him to Cloud Nine. A feeling of sadness came over him as he re-read those three simple words. If the age-old saying about love holds any truth, then he will have to let her go. It took him a couple of attempts to type out an adequate response and once he finished, he read it over and over to make sure that he said all that he needed to say. He then pressed “send” like ripping off a band-aid and put his phone back in his jacket pocket. When the light turned green, he stepped on the accelerator and drove away from the person that held his heart in her hands.

Tattoo Taboo

The loud, buzzing sound of the alarm was like a jackhammer to her mind. She reached out a hand searching for the off button while through blurry, hungover eyes she saw the blinking light of the red digits: 7 AM. Groaning, she turned onto her back. She had a flight to catch in a few hours and given her current state, she’s in no shape to get up much less get on a plane.

So much for making the reservation at that restaurant, I wanted to try tonight. She thought as she pressed her palms in her tired eyes. The events of last night rushed to the forefront of her foggy mind. She went with a few friends to a club where they downed martinis beneath the reflective circles and squares of the disco ball that hung above the dimly lit dance floor. There were a couple of squares who tried to hit on them with cheesy pick-up lines, but they did not work as they flat out ignored them, rolling their eyes when they eventually gave up and left.

“When will I ever learn that too much alcohol is too much?” She grumbled as she managed to drag herself out of bed. Making her way to the kitchen, she opened the refrigerator to see if there’s anything that can help her get rid of the massive headache that’s pounding her like sucker punches. Spotting some tomato juice and some parsley, she took them out and blended the two together along with some other ingredients one would use in a hangover cure. Pouring the contents into a glass, she took a sip, grimacing at the odd taste.

After downing the drink, she felt a little bit better. She trudged to the bathroom to clean herself up when she saw her reflection in the mirror. There, on her left shoulder, is a tattoo of what looked like an intricate butterfly. She rubbed a finger over it, thinking that it’s one of those fake tattoos that washes off with soap and water. When the design wouldn’t come off, a sense of dread came over her. “How am I going to explain this to the boss when I get back home?”

Pink Flowers

The pink flowers reminded her of her mother’s warm and abrasive tongue. Kyra often wondered what had become of her dear mother. The Siberian Grey cat missed her dearly but she tried not to dwell on it, hoping that her Mom has found herself a nice, loving home somewhere just like she did. She dared not think of the worst because it wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

“Kyra! Breakfast!” A female voice called out. The cat quickly bolted upright from her spot on the windowsill and all but ran toward the dining room where her owner presented her with a bowl of the finest cat food that money can buy. Kyra started to wolf down the contents while her owner watched on, rolling her eyes at the scene before her. “That cat will never learn,” the woman with cat ears and Pegasus wings muttered as she went to sit down at the table to have her own breakfast.

Moments later, Kyra licked her plate clean and drank some water from her water dish to wash everything down. She then strolled back into the living room and resumed her regularly scheduled lounging activities. Stretching herself, Kyra felt every joint in her body pop slightly before it relaxed again. Sighing, she laid on the windowsill, letting the warm rays of the sun envelope her like a blanket.

A scratching sound from the window brought Kyra out of her zen-like state. She opened her eyes as she squinted at the figure outside the window. It was another Siberian Grey cat except that it had brown eyes rather than an icy blue. Kyra sat up a little bit to get a better look and she almost fell off the windowsill from the shock. A million questions raced through her mind like racecars on a racetrack. Though one thing seemed to stick out to her: How is this possible? Kyra went closer to the window and examined the cat outside as best she could. She certainly looks real and she didn’t disappear like a mirage would once you get close enough to it. That would only leave one single conclusion: the cat outside her window is none other than her mother.

Endure

When levees are kept in the water for a long period of time, they will begin to lose their shape and the rain becomes more of a nuisance than a welcome friend in the dry season. I had returned home from years of fighting a war that we could not win. My mother was crouched near the hibachi, muttering incoherent words to herself. I could make out a few here and there, but not enough to discern what she was saying.

“Hello, Mother,” I greeted as I entered the house. “I have come home.” She didn’t respond nor did she turn and look me in the eye. I guess the unfortunate death of my father still haunts her to this day. I was the only child born into a lower middle-class family. My parents were not able to give me much, but I never complained and appreciated everything that they were able to provide. When I became older, it was my duty to serve in the military and soon, I was heading off to war.

“Rinse the rice,” she said as she got up from her crouched position. I snapped out of my thoughts as I put down my bag, placing it against the wall near the door. “Then separate it from the chaff and then rinse the rice again.” Obeying my mother, I went over to the sink to rinse the rice while she looked over my shoulder as best she could given her petite height.

“Did you rinse it properly?” She asked when I drained the grains, letting the milky white water trickle down the drain. “Yes, I did, just like you told me,” I said. My mother let out a huff and said, “No you didn’t. You never do anything right, just like your father.” She then shoved me out of the way as she took over the task of washing the rice. “Nothing I do is good enough for you,” I muttered under my breath.

A hand then shot out as a loud slap echoed through the air. I could feel the stinging sensation of the slap as a large red handprint appeared on my cheek. “You ungrateful child!” My mother seethed. “I should have abandoned you when I had the chance! So I wouldn’t be burdened with having to raise you!” I felt tears gathering in the corners of my eyes as I tried to reign in my own anger, my eyes narrowed to slits. A part of me wanted to storm out and never return but another part of me feels sorry for my mother. She’s all alone with no one to care for her since my father died. As much as I hate to admit it, I’m all she has left in this world. Letting out a sigh, I decided to endure instead of breaking free.

The Price of Peace

There were bodies everywhere, scattered about like leaves on the road. I have fought in battle alongside them, in serving our beloved country. Their lifeless eyes staring back at me as if it could still gaze into my very soul. I could feel the anguish emitting from their empty orbs, frustrated that they couldn’t do more on the field of battle. I want to say something to them, to let them know that they have done all that they could before their lives were taken away. Yet I could not, for they cannot hear me.

We were supposed to infiltrate the enemy’s defences undetected. We even used the cover of darkness like they do in the movies, but even that wasn’t enough. Someone had tipped them off that we were coming and we were ambushed as soon as we got there. It went from a stealthy takedown into an all-out bloodbath with bullets flying in every direction. A few of my closest friends were gunned down and I was busy killing as many of the opposing forces as I could. There would be plenty of time for mourning when we get back home. At least, that’s what you keep telling yourself to keep your head in the game and not channel one’s inner Rambo.

When the sound of gunfire finally died down, we managed to kill every single one of the enemy soldiers that were stationed here. This victory came at a cost and it’s one I will never let myself forget. I left with the remaining members of the team and headed to a rendezvous point where a helicopter will take us back to base. Just as we were boarding the aircraft, a missile came out of nowhere and hit the chopper dead on. Bodies were sent flying as the explosion blew the helicopter to pieces. The force of the blast sent me back a few feet, causing me to land hard on my back. I could hear something in me snap, making me scream out in excruciating pain. This is the price. The price we pay for peace.

10 Things I Like About Me

Books are my life,

So is my writing.

TV shows are my first love,

Especially dramas and comedies.

Basketball is my fave,

Though I’m not a professional athlete.

I’m fiercely loyal,

You’d be lucky to call me a friend.

Alone time is preferred,

For one that is an introvert.

I’d list all ten things,

But I can’t think of anymore.