MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “relationship”

The box office event

©Ted Strutz

She had been waiting for the show for weeks. It set a box office record wherever it performed. She had told him and he had excitedly agreed to go. After all, he couldn’t refuse something that got her so happy that she couldn’t stop blabbing while bouncing around happily.

A few days earlier, she awoke by a nightmare. He consoled her, wrapping her in his arms until she fell back asleep.

But then, a peculiar thing happened. Her fear had diffused into him. Unjustifiably and inexplicably.

It was when they were already seated that it happened. And it was life-changing.

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

Road Trip

©MCD

It was still dark outside when the suitcase was pulled out from under the bed. A change of clothes and some basic toiletries were thrown hastily inside and the zip closed.

The dream had woken him almost in shock. It was as if something was calling him there.

In his sleep he had seen a puppy, a months-old dog that had found him by chance when he was staying for a while at his uncle’s farm. They bonded in a way that seemed karmic. And then, just two days before his rural stay ended, his four-legged friend disappeared. The sadness that had overwhelmed him made him not want to return to that farm since.

Until today. Now something was pulling him there.

There was no time to dwell on the thought. The impulse was enough to get him going.

It was a drive that lasted almost all through sunrise to sunset.

It was a lonely road trip, dominated by scenic valley views, week-old snow and lots of fog. Driving through the mist, he arrived at the farmhouse with his heart pounding. He hadn’t told his uncle he arrived. He was ecstatic with the surprise.

But someone else was even happier. Jumping up and down next to the horses and wagging its tail rapidly with joy.

It was a grown dog now. And he remembered. Because when it’s meant to be, it lasts a lifetime.

The fortune-teller’s prediction

venice-fatima

©Fatima Fakier

When you meet the one, you’ll see her in Venice”. It was a silly prompt from a fortune-teller at a fair when they were kids. They were not even teenagers then and not even thinking about love. Life was so much easier. Careless and stress-free. But then, both Michael and Lilly grew up. And they lost touch throughout the years. She went abroad to study and he was hired at a local company, working day and night. Life passed them by.

Until chance – or maybe karma – reunited them on a plane to Venice. It was time to fulfil the prediction.

 

Also part of Friday Fictioneers

The Spring Swallow

https://fr.123rf.com/photo_71470708_premi%C3%A8re-hirondelle-assise-sur-une-branche-l%C3%A8ve-t%C3%B4t-printemps-premi%C3%A8res-fleurs-fleur-de-pommier-fleur-de-ceri.htmlWhen he opened the window that morning, he was greeted by a swallow speedily flying by. It was the first of this year’s spring and it was busily gathering material to build its nest. A new generation was coming. And for him, it was a sign that better days were near.

He woke her up with a kiss on the forehead and led her to the window. Eyes still half shut, she was excited to see the small bird. It was now sitting across their window on a wire, chirping happily.

The day began cloudy. It was not the sunny morning all meteorologists were talking about the day before.  But that didn’t ruin their mood.

They decided to go for a walk. Something carefree and unrushed. That was what weekends are for – to be able to decompress from the daily stress we all experience during the week.

Yet the day turned out to be an adventure. They discovered a rescue park for sea animals, something which fascinated them so much, they promised to return. And then, there was that small, cosy restaurant they went to, where everyone was – unexpectedly and contrary to the norm – friendly, kind and helpful. For the first day in a long while, they managed to enjoy their lunch and even made new acquaintances.

It is nice to feel loved, especially when it comes from the most unexpected and unlikely of sources. But what is even better, is when you discover those little gems of life in places you never thought to look.

“There are only two ways to live your life. One is though nothing is a miracle. The other as though everything is a miracle”.  – Albert Einstein

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Swallow

When things go wrong

cat-tigerThings are bound to get rough. It’s a fact of life. Nothing is perfect all the time. There comes a moment when things will go wrong. And sometimes, too many things go wrong for too long. But like Charles R. Swindoll said, “life is 10% what happens to you and 90% of how you react to it”.

There are days when you won’t want to get out of bed, out of fear that something (even more) terrible will happen. Days when you’re overcome by negative thoughts, when you’re convinced that someone cast a spell on you – the neighbour, the person who competes with you for a parking spot, those others who are always jealous of you but hypocritically act as if they’re happy for you. And somehow, your mood drops, you don’t feel like doing anything, seeing anyone or even getting out of the house. Because you know that when one thing goes wrong, a whole lot of others will follow. And they usually do. Something breaks that you can’t fix; your computer gives up on you; you lose your lucky charm that you’ve had for years.

They say there is a reason things happen. You just never find out what it is.

But what you need to force yourself to do is to abandon the negative thoughts. Being negative attracts negativity. And in the same sense, being positive will turn things around. Try to smile and the sun will shine a little brighter. But most of all, surround yourself people who offer more than sympathy. People who will embrace you, look out for you and persuade you that there are things in life worth being grateful for. And if something goes wrong now, it’s because something even better is on its way.

You just have to believe.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Sympathy

Find that one

heartFind someone who makes your heart smile

Someone who makes you love the weekends

Who lets you know that you’re constantly on their mind

Who will make distance seem trivial because they’ll drive from the other edge of town at any moment if necessary simply because they missed your smile

That one with whom you can joke and laugh even during your most intimate moments

Who makes you feel like the special person you are

Who chooses you each and every time and doesn’t expect a reward for it

Who surprises you and isn’t afraid to show how much they love you

Who isn’t ashamed of certain public displays of affection

Who makes plans with you and shares their dreams with you

Who loves you despite your faults and even because of them

That one with whom you can talk all night about anything and nothing

Who makes time even when there seems to be none

Who gives you all the attention you deserve even when you don’t want it

Who can read your mind before you speak it

That one who makes a sunset seem like the most majestic thing on earth, simply because you’re watching it together

Who tells you they’re on their way and you find yourself counting the minutes for their arrival with a racing heartbeat

Who makes any place you’re together a home

Who can admit their at fault and say their sorry; who won’t allow you to stay mad at each other when you fight

That one in whose hugs you fit perfectly and in whose eyes you get lost

Who kisses you and you can feel their smile on your lips

That one who clicks with you in every instant

And who makes your heart grow stronger every day simply by being there and sharing their life with you

Find that one who makes you fall in love deeper with every breath you take.

The scooter and the car

https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/f/f8/Red_scooter_rider_Avenida_Do_Mar,_Funchal,_Madeira_Island.jpgJonathan’s eyes lit up the moment he saw it. He knew this was exactly the change he needed in his life and it would certainly get him to places much faster and easier than what he already owned.

Exchanging a car for a motorcycle, and particularly a scooter, was a huge step for him. Especially since everyone saw him as too conservative to do anything of the sort.

He was tall and slim, always well dressed and often bearing round, black-rimmed glasses that matched his wide dark-coloured eyes. He was the person you could count on for everything: to do exactly what he said he would, at precisely the time he had committed to.

But Jonathan grew tired of being so predictable. He wanted to do something different for a change. He wanted to surprise even himself.

Fed up of everyday traffic and the constant stress of worrying that he would be late for his meetings, he decided to get a scooter. And he never regretted it. Well, apart from some winter nights when the cold air penetrated his skin and smacked his face like an ice bucket.

Being able to swish through the traffic and overtake literally everyone else was what he enjoyed most. Plus it was more convenient economically too, as it cost less for petrol and he didn’t need to waste a lot of time searching for parking spaces either.

Sometimes, it takes the smallest things to bring about a pleasant change in your life. One that you so long for.

But then, Jonathan met a stunning, elegant woman whom he took on a scooter ride one afternoon for coffee. He could tell she was freezing by the time he returned her home that night, as he felt her body trembling against his back.

He decided that some other times, being prudent had nothing to do with being daring or unpredictable. And he decided to rent a car for those few times when it was really necessary.

The tunnel

TunnelShe first saw him on a sunny day, in a field strewn with golden hay. He gazed into her eyes with a smile imprinted on his face. She blushed and smiled back, eyes sparkling like diamonds in the sun. He came closer and let his fingertips brush against her arm. She chuckled and lowered her gaze.

Ahead was a tunnel. It mystified and intrigued them at the same time. It was one none had traversed before and it conveyed a sense of foreboding inside them, of exploring the unknown. It made them feel excited, sending shivers down both their spines and rapidly increasing the beats of their hearts. Their hands locked and they entered. Together.

The tunnel was as mysterious and unnerving inside, as it appeared from the outside. It smelled of roses and lilies and offered them food and drink and luxuries to fill their heart’s desire. At first. For later, no-one was to expect what would ensue.

It was surprisingly brightly lit for a tunnel. They realized only too late that it was their own glow that provided the light.

When the first storm came they had nowhere to hide. The tunnel had only one exit and that lay straight ahead. There were no sidesteps, no alcoves, to shade them from the wrath of a suppressed storm. Yet they never let go of each other’s hand. Even if they held on by a finger, they still held on.

After the storm, peace and calm soon followed. And everything seemed to return to the bright, tranquil path in which they had commenced their journey.

“I thought we’d never come back from that one.” This was the first thought both had, grateful they still had each other.

But they soon grew tired. Of walking. Of waiting. Of expecting. It seemed that they were looking for a way out that never came. It was not yet even in sight. And the storm returned. Heavier and more forceful than the first. Everyone told them to be aware of storms and the lightening, but no-one ever warned them of the thunder that came along. For the bangs were deafening and shuddered the very center of their hearts.

They survived yet again, but it was not the same. Something had been broken inside and they could no longer enjoy the tranquilities after the rain, as they first did. Yet they still held hands. Even as the tunnel darkened more and more.

Three years, seven months and 19 days they spent in the tunnel.

When they finally found the exit at the other end, they felt the last winter snowflakes splash onto their nose. It was a pleasant coolness from the humidity from which they emerged. They smiled, but it was a crooked smile. One almost forced. The melancholy released from their prolonged sigh wafted in the air around them. And in the second blink of an eye, the sun appeared from behind the clouds, restoring its light on their darkened eyes. But it could no longer retain the glow of their souls.

They had surfaced from the tunnel seemingly unscathed, but inside, they would never be the same again. They were not the same people they were when they entered. He looked in her eyes and searched for that initial sparkle, but it was gone. And she could no longer fix a smile upon his face. They could not recognize each other anymore.

And that is when it happened.

Their hands unlocked and drifted to their respective sides.

The pain in their heart was more than they could ever bear, but all they could do was struggle to go on.

Yet they always vividly remembered their tunnel journey with its memory forever engraved in their souls.

The tunnel experience made them stronger, for it too made them wiser in the ways of this world.

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Use It or Lose It

Can you read this?

Every writer should have an editor. And I am lucky to say that I too have my editor. A person who I can ask for advice and to whom I can look to for ideas. A person who will be honest about what they think and who will help me improve. A person who I value in every way. The relationship between a writer and an editor should be one of utmost respect and absolute communication, for both need each other in order to produce their best work and to thrive professionally. An editor becomes a writer’s best friend. The person to turn to at any time. The person who you end up calling in the middle of the night with the most frequent question an editor hears “can you read this?” – usually followed by a “please” or an “if you would be as kind” or something of the sort that would indicated courtesy – at least if you’re going to disturb them at the most unusual hours and all the time, you might as well be polite!

An editor becomes an essential tool to writers because, as it is not easy to write, it is not easy to edit either. Writers are often attached to their piece that they often cannot see what to leave out, change or rewrite. That is why editors are needed. They are the external eye, the one that will place all the pieces together. But that is why it is important to have an editor that can enter the writer’s mind at times. That can understand what you are writing and what you mean to say by it. That can even read between the lines and if needed above and beyond them! Jarod Kintz had said that “there are two types of people in this world: those who can edit, and those who can’t”. Editing isn’t an easy job. But with the right kind of collaboration and a descent raw material to start with, it can lead to an excellent result. I used to think writing was easy. But early in my years I found out that not everyone can do it. Indeed some things seem easy, because for us they feel natural. But perhaps that is why writing and editing, just like drawing and painting, are considered talents. Not everyone has them.

Nonetheless, editors have perhaps one of the most criticized jobs. For intruding into the author’s mind, meddling with their thoughts, their creativity, their ideas. And interfering with a product that is simply not their own. But like Henry James said, “in art, economy is always beauty” and in these fast-paced times it seems valid that less is indeed more. I believe a good editor reveals himself from the relationship maintained with the author and the understanding that ensues from this. Like the saying ‘behind every great man is a strong woman’, well, I think this is also true for writing: behind every great author is a really good editor. Even though the latter is left in the shadows. At least they can have the appreciation of being acknowledged once in a while. And I doubt if there is any author who has not learnt at least something constructive from their editor and vice versa.

[An editor] Rides the whirlwind and directs the storm – Joseph Addison

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Second Opinion

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