A Purple Dream

Streaks of gold bid an intimate farewell to the cotton-candy clouds. The fiery sun gracefully sank behind the green hills and stained the sky above with a soft, copper glow. The remaining traces of light flickered through the dense trees and evaporated like spilled champagne.

A young woman kicked off her strappy heels, grabbed a fistful of her long, tulle skirt and made her way barefoot across the sea of emerald-green grass.

With a pensive expression on her face, she hummed a familiar tune; a tune she fell in love with as a child, and slowly walked towards a lonely pergola.

It stood amidst the evergreen field.

Lush strands of Wisteria cascaded down from its wooden ceiling while its roots snaked down the pillars and dove deep into the ground below.

Underneath the sea of fuchsia, lavender and white flowers hung an old, wooden swing.

The young woman carefully sat on it.

Her long fingers wrapped around the ropes and with a light kick of her foot, she pushed off the ground and swung back. Then forward, and then back again.

Memories of childhood waltzed through her mind, and with every high swing she had forgotten her worries.

Suddenly, a young man appeared on the horizon.

The sight of his face sparked a sweet, cashmere-soft feeling in her heart. Even though the evening was warm and inviting, a ripple of shivers ran down her spine. Her insides twisted into a cherry-knot at the thought of them being alone, at last.

He walked inside the pergola and with him brought a dark, starry night.

The darkness, however, was speared with hundreds of fireflies. They fluttered above the blanket of green grass and illuminated the pergola, and those inside of it.

He quietly stood by one of the pillars, with a slow, mischievous smile on his lips, and his hands thrust into the pockets of his meticulously pressed slacks, and watched her swing back and forth.

Their stares were aligned and their eyes burned with desire, but neither one spoke nor found the strength to close the intimate distance between their bodies.

The two lovers remained apart, yet their hearts were as one.

A Purple Dream

The Fog

A ghostly mist rose out of the river, shrouding the campsite in a blanket of grey, and muffled the clumsy footsteps that echoed in the deathly silence. Marley was running, stumbling over loose rocks, cutting her arms and legs on the tree branches that appeared in her path, and blindly searched for her family.

The air was humid, laced with a strong earthy smell, and it weigh heavily – like an old, itchy blanket – on her skin. Her dirty clothes, a mass of tattered grey fabric, clung tightly to her body.

MarleyMarley…” a ghostly whisper drifted from the distance.

She stopped.

A sudden chill ran down her spine, erecting the hair on the back of her neck, but she mustered the courage to take a cautious step forward. She stretched out her trembling hand, sweeping her long fingers through the plume of translucent grey, and peered into the dense mist.

Her eyes widen in shock when she uncovered a body – shrouded in rags – lying on the cold, damp ground.

The face was buried in one of the ragged sleeves and hidden by a mane of frizzy, tangled knots. Marley took slow and hesitant step forward.

Suddenly, the body stirred.

Marley pierced the spooky silence with a high-pitched scream, took a terrified step back and tripped on a rock. She fell into the nearby bushes and scraped her sweaty palms against the prickly tree branches.

She quickly sprung to her feet, balled up her fists and cast a nervous glance around the deserted patch of land.

The body was gone.

MarleyMarley…” a voice, as sweet as honey, poured out from the eerie mist.

Marley broke out in cold sweat, and when a skeletal hand touched her shoulder she let out a deafening scream and leapt forward. She whirled around, her heart thrashing inside of her ribcage, and stared into a pair of wild, green eyes.

The woman was pale, her face drawn and sickly, but her eyes burned with the ferocity of a caged tiger. She twisted her bluish-purple lips into a manic grin and spat out, “Beware of the light, Marley. Beware.”

Marley swallowed a thorny lump that suddenly spawned in her dry throat.

The woman shoved her back and screeched, “BEWARE OF THE LIGHT!”

Marley scrambled to her feet and took off into the mist. Her chest burned, her sides ached and tears spilled down her cheeks, but she didn’t dare to stop. A wave of guilt washed over Marley and her insides twisted into a cherry knot as she thought about her lost family.

Suddenly, she lost her footing and tumbled into a deep, murky river. She opened her mouth to scream and invited the water into her lungs. She tried to kick with her arms and legs but they felt like noodles.

The time was running out and the last ounce of oxygen was slipping away.

Marley knew she was drowning. Her body was slowly sinking into her grave at the bottom of the river when she saw the light. It gently kissed the surface of her pale cheeks and a soft, calming voice whispered, “Be brave, Marley.”

Marley woke up with a start, the sound of her heart ringing inside of her ears. She quickly sat up in bed and glanced around the dark room.

She heaved a deep sigh of relief when she realized that it was just a bad dream.

The Fog

The Tale of a Dubious Prince

Once upon a time, in a kingdom of darkness and pain,
Lived a dubious, little prince with a hollow heart.
He sat on a skeletal throne and butchered souls.
And his favorite pastime was to conquer and burn.

He enjoyed torture, blood and impalement most of all.
Hence why his foes called him a bloody monster, a tyrant and a wild boar.

Those who lived in the kingdom were very afraid,
For the prince was volatile and simply deranged.

He ruled his homeland with an iron fist,
Hence why the people called him a beast.
Those who opposed him were beheaded and flayed,
For the prince lacked a heart – mercy was not in his veins.

He was ugly, repulsive, scarred and insane.
And although he was small,
He was fearless and strong.

He mounted warhorses – ponies were given to slaves.
And he’d charge into battle, yell out, “Ye shall fall to your knees!”
Before slaying his prey.

After battling foes, burning temples to ash,
Disembodying the innocent, ripping hearts from their chests,
The dubious prince dove into raping his conquest.

Virginal maidens only lasted a night,
Early next morning, their bodies were trashed,
Into the gutter, with the rest of the quarry;
Damaged, deflowered and ready to bury.

The tale is woeful, morose and dreadful,
But the reign of the prince did not last forever.
He was finally slain by a raven-haired maiden.

She beheaded the tyrant, placed the crown on her head,
Settled into the skeletal throne and assumed his place.

The tale of the raven-haired princess has yet to be told,
No one knows if her kingdom will flourish or fall.
But beware she will not be a puppet, a fool or a dolt.

She will rule as she pleases,
And if protests arise, then the sword that she used to butcher the tyrant
Will once again be ready to strike.

The Tale of a Dubious Prince

The Beginning of a Sinister Love Affair

You are not Prince Charming.

Your heart is the shade of charcoal, and it is filled with hatred against the world that has never taken the time to recognize the ingenious thoughts inside of your sinister mind.

No, not sinister – your brilliant mind.

Once upon a time, under a starry night, our lips touched for the first time and the poison you harbored in your black, little heart infested mine.

Slowly and quietly, I have fallen in love with the Dark Knight.

He has good intentions, even though he is riddled with insecurities, pain and sorrow. He is not perfect – in fact, he is ugly and far from the picture perfect guys that the modern society fantasizes about.

He fears intimacy.

Past love affairs have left him vulnerable, cold and guarded. He fears unknown – especially if it’s in a form of a fiercely independent woman.

But, whenever our gazes align, I can smell the lustful thoughts that brew in his head.

He is intrigued by the cloak of mystery I wear and although he cannot decipher the nonchalance in the tone of my voice, he tries. To him, a puzzle needs to be solved and a riddle needs be answered; uncertainty is not an option.

And, although he fears love, he will have to learn to accept it.

For the Dark Knight needs the Queen of Hearts.

It is simply inevitable.

The Beginning of a Sinister Love Affair

Bullies, Be Gone

Once upon a time, in a green kingdom by the endless sea, lived a child that learned to escape bullying by imagining a beautiful world inside of her young and innocent mind. She drew inspiration from tattered books, Disney movies and the cotton-candy clouds that used to glide across the blue sky outside of her window.

Whenever she closed her eyes, her mind would travel to places that rivaled those of the middle-earth kingdoms; places of enchanted beauty and ethereal grace.

There, she discovered inner peace; a sliver of herself that no bully could ever take away, and there she gained strength to battle endless jeers, malicious torment and pain.

This child got bullied.

A pack of young girls – angelic on the outside but rotten on the inside – found pleasure in tormenting her and sought out sadistic ways of bringing tears to her eyes. Traveling in a pack of five, they’d stalk her after school, throw dirt in her face, call her nasty names and even accuse her of theft.

Once, the leader of the pack hit her on the back of her head because she refused to share her ice cream.

The child fell in love for the first time in second grade. His name was Vanya; he had blonde, cherub-like curls, cornflower-blue eyes and full, pouty lips.

She presented him with a handmade card as a token of her admiration for him, but he ripped it in half and spit in her face. Then, he called her ugly and ran away.

Years passed by and the child became a teenage girl.

With physical changes came hormonal outbursts and bouts of insecurities. The teenage girl gained weight and with extra pounds came insults and self-hate. Every sliver of her body was disgusting in her eyes, especially when compared to the slim and tanned models in the glossy pages of the prestigious fashion magazines.

Fitting room sessions would often end in tears, complaints and angry shouting. The reflection in the mirror was an undesirable, grotesque monster that the teenage girl couldn’t stomach.

She cried herself to sleep every night; she wanted to be thin, pretty and popular.

But, with every attempt to change her appearance, she lost a sliver of her true self. She became obsessed with opinions of those who were never her friends, she sought out ways to impress boys whose hearts drowned in vanity and conceit, and while she tried to fit in with the popular crowd in school, she lost her own identity.

And worse, she became a bully herself.

Her heart became infested with hatred, venom and pride. She spread malicious rumors, wreaked havoc and spawned heartache. The outcome of the cruel game she enjoyed to play trickled into an ocean of tears, agony and pain.

Those years of selfishness, conceit and arrogance had barred the entrance to the enchanted world she had imagined as a child to escape the torment and pain. She never thought she’d find her way back there again until one day.

More years drifted by and the teenage girl became a young woman.

Karma had taught her important lessons: honesty, respect and confidence. After years of wandering aimlessly through a fog of confusion, her heart no longer ached to be accepted by society. Instead, she yearned to travel down the road that no one else had dared to take.

The young woman embarked on a journey to regain her inner peace, but once again she faced harsh criticism. Bitter tongues deemed her originality as blasphemy and instead of showing support, spread malicious rumors and wished her pain.

This time however, the young woman finally found her way back to the enchanted kingdom she had imagined as a child. There, awaiting her safe return was the inner peace that fueled her strength.

The young woman sailed through the hatred, bitterness and criticism with grace. For she learned that she was invincible because she believed in herself and no one but her had the power to tear down her dreams.

The moral of the story is simple, my friends. Remain true to yourself despite the constant jeers, insults and criticism that might get thrown in your face. Remember, bullies thrive on weakness, uncertainty and fear, but have the strength to stand up to those pathetic jerks and fight for your beliefs.

But, remember to speak words of kindness and your heart will always be at peace.

Bullies, Be Gone

Close My Eyes


Sometimes I get overwhelmed with a heavy tide of painful emotions and in order to escape depression and insomnia, I escape into the darkness of my imaginative mind and breathe life into a world of my own.

When painting pictures with words does not sate my anxiety, anger and sorrow, then I submerge my frantic mind into a world of music.

If the above fail, then I resort to stock media.

I search Shutterstock.com for footages that would liberate my mind of haunting thoughts and piece my newly uncovered treasures with an appropriate song. Sometimes, the song would weasel into the core of my being and dwell inside of my chest until I either match it with a short story or a carefully arranged media collage.

One way or another, these methods guarantee a peaceful slumber.

Close My Eyes by Mariah Carey
Close My Eyes