Beyond the horizon

Martina always dreamt of being a travel writer. She felt that this was the one profession that truly encompassed her two greatest passions and for this her job would never mean work. “Choose a job that you love and you will never have to work a day in your life”. The motto she lived by. Confucius was a smart man.

But eight years after graduation she was stuck in a job far from this. Addicted to high quality results and striving for the best she can be, she was often caught in an inextricable loop of exploitation, un-appreciation, and low pay. And worst of all, she was simply locked in an office.

Yet one day, she took the chance. After hitting the ‘send’ button and hearing her resignation email swish to its recipient, she packed up a bag and drove to the airport. Brazil sounded enticing this time of year. And it was as good a time as ever to go exploring…

Never before had she witnessed a culture, a mentality, and a way of life so different to hers. Taking a leap to change everything seemed so scary every time she thought about it. Yet when she finally took the chance, when she decided to break down the walls that were holding her back, she felt liberated. And the sights she witnessed before her – the azure gushing waterfalls, the jade-green of wilderness, the rhythm of life that appeared as if music was playing in the streets – it all made her heart melt at the thought that this was the life she longed for.

And now, this was it. For the first time in her life she was doing what she wanted. Living by her own rules, her own schedule, and making a living out of her own work and accomplishments.

I am not going to continue the story by saying that suddenly everything disappeared and Martina woke up in her office again after returning to reality, because I don’t know if that is true. I leave it up to you to imagine what is real and what is not. For it is true that when you do take a chance to change your life in an instant, you will be rewarded simply for taking the plunge into the unknown…

 

Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was melt (transitive verb):
3:  to make tender or gentle :  soften

Also part of Daily Prompt: If You Leave              

Advertisement

The language of hello

Sébastien met Lucia in a café in Paris. Their eyes met and it was as if they clicked instantly. Sébastien didn’t know Spanish. Nor did Lucia know French.

“¡Hola!” he said timidly as he approached her table. The Parisian café was half-full this afternoon, so there was no need to shout to be heard. Sébastien could feel his cheeks firing up. He was shy after all, and it didn’t take much for him to blush.

“¡Hola! Eres español?” chirped Lucia, her eyes gleaming with excitement at the sound of her native language in a foreign place.

“Eeehh…” Sébastien stuttered, lost for words. “What do I say now?”, he thought to himself.

Lucia was the type of beauty that fit the stereotype of “being Spanish” – long brown hair, a smile that mesmerized you, and crystal brown eyes that pierced right through you.

On the other hand, Sébastien was a tall, blond timid French boy. One that was raised in a mentality of nationalism that prevented him from properly learning a foreign language.

“Em,” he continued, “moi…sit…ici?” he asked pointing at the empty chair facing Lucia.

“¡Claro!” she replied, with a welcoming gesture.

So he sat there facing her smile. And she gazed in his almond eyes that sunk in his blushing red cheeks. It made her smile even more. But he was not going to give up that easily. If you spotted them from across the room, you would think they were playing pantomime with all the hand gestures going on. But to them, it was a simple effort to communicate.

She knew one-two basic French words. He knew “hello” in Spanish. They both knew very few English.

But three years later, they were still together.

And when they returned to that same Parisian café, Lucia told her friends “this is where he had me at hello!” and they broke into laughter.

Sandrine, their daughter, can speak French, Spanish and English fluently, at 8. They call her “smart-ass” but she knows…it was true love.

 

Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was: ass

3. (adverb/adjective) often vulgar—often used as a postpositive intensive especially with words of derogatory implication <fancy-ass>

At the start of the millennium

 

 

 

 

 

Left alone she once again let her mind wander

back in time,

when her sky was still clear

with no clouds

no rain

no tears.

When she was still optimistic

for the future…

 

Also part of Trifextra Weekend Writing Challenge: a time travel story

Chasing rainbows

It is said that in order to enjoy the rainbow you must endure the rain.

Yet, one of the often most idealistic images that springs to mind when people use the word “romantic” or “dreamer” is that of a small animal – usually a kitten or puppy – chasing butterflies in a green, flowery field. It’s the image of someone intent on chasing a target, even if they may never catch it. The personification of going after a dream, no matter how hopeless it may seem, or how futile it may appear.

It’s like going after the pot of gold at the end of a rainbow.

It means having the persistence, the insistence and the energy to strive for what you want. Given that you know what that is, of course. Because “if you don’t know where you’re going, you may miss it when you get there” (Kathleen Long).

Being a rainbow-chaser is fun. Because it means you can do what you love, because it will bring you closer to your dreams. To your goals. To exactly what you want from life. Or at least as close as possible to it as you can get.

It means living life to its fullest. Taking advantage and seizing every opportunity you can get.

It means experiencing the world, learning, viewing and thinking. It’s about pondering about everything around you and having the patience and the passion to go after what you’ve imagined to be ‘ideal’, ‘idyllic’, or simply wonderful.

Because once you reach that rainbow, you will see the colours pouring down upon your head. And just maybe, at the bottom you will find your pot of gold too!

 

Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was rainbow (noun):

3. [from the impossibility of reaching the rainbow, at whose foot a pot of gold is said to be buried] :  an illusory goal or hope

Demonstrating out of line

“Quick, put this on!”

Jessica grabbed the gas mask Edward was forcing into her hand and struggled to place it over her nose and mouth as the air around them filled with thick smoke and tear gas.

She never thought a peaceful demonstration could lead to this.

People were panicking, running disorderly, in every direction possible. Bumping into each other violently. And coughing. There was lots of coughing and shouting and screaming!

“Move! We have to get over to Place Liberté – it’ll be safer there! Come on this way!”

Edward was more assertive than her. He always had been. And he always knew how to maintain his calm in the face of panic and transmit it to her. She on the other hand simply felt lost. It was as if she had entered a trance and was not fully aware of what was going on. Edward had to pull her across the tram lines and over to the other side of the street.

Place Liberté was peaceful and quiet. They could take the masks off now. It was as if this was a different part of town. Untouched by the incidents and episodes that had suddenly broken out just across the street.

“Come, let’s go have a juice to calm down, shall we?”

Jessica nodded and followed sheepishly as they sat at a café which was overflowing with customers extending their necks out in order to get a better view of the ‘action’.

This wasn’t frequent in Townville.

Peaceful demonstrations occurred only recently with the change of government and radical reforms that were announced.

But to have tear gas, clashes with police, and petrol bombs being thrown during a protest over the closing down of illegal pet salons, well, that was an extraordinary thing in itself!

 

Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge, with the prompt word: Mask (noun):

a : a protective covering for the face
b : gas mask
c : a device covering the mouth and nose to facilitate inhalation
d : a comparable device to prevent exhalation of infective material
e : a cosmetic preparation for the skin of the face that produces a tightening effect as it dries

Searching for gold

I was climbing up this tall wooden wall. It seemed like forever until I reached the top. But uncle Crump had said it was definitely worth it. There would be gold at the top.

So I climbed and I climbed. Tip and Tat and many others also followed. But I was the only one moving with haste, yet with grace at the same time. Not to appear vain or anything, but that was what I was known for. Excelling…with style!

The top was indeed filled with gold. It was spread around as if scattered from a raincloud. Untouched and so pure. Everyone just stopped and admired the sight before digging in. Greed is universal, you see.

But the problem wasn’t getting up to the top to find the gold. The problem was carrying it back down.

So, just like all these other companions of mine, I loaded up a few pieces and set on the way down. The storage rooms where down there so we had to make the trip a few times. But that was ok. We were used to it. That was part of our life anyway. We were hard workers. Why everyone treats us so badly, I don’t understand. Coz’ the worst part is when the screaming and swearing and bashing begin…

Suddenly my companions were being swept away, flicked off the top, blown off, washed away, and it was everyone for himself now. We had to let go of many of our pieces and only hold on to the most vital ones so as not to jeopardise our own survival. There was no real place to hide…It was open air out there. And then it happened…

I was hit…

Flying into the air…

The screaming was deafening…Hers, not mine. Because I really don’t understand why Mrs Peterson keeps shrieking every time she sees us trying to help get rid of the crumbs left on her counter. We’re actually doing her a favour.

It’s tough being an ant…

 

Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge; the prompt word was GRACE (noun):

3 a : a charming or attractive trait or characteristic
b : a pleasing appearance or effect : charm <all the grace of youth — John Buchan>
c : ease and suppleness of movement or bearing

A unique azure blanket

Norah was standing out on the balcony looking at the view. The sea was spread before her like a tranquil azure blanket diffusing into the sandy coast. She let her mind wander into the horizon, beyond the ships anchored outside the harbour. It was amazing how something as simple as water, billions of tonnes of water, could calm her so soothingly.

“Norah, let’s go!”, Diane called out to her.

It didn’t take long for her to grasp the excitement in that prompt. She cleared the clouds from her mind and let the sun diffuse its rays onto every inch of her body. Besides, she could use a tan!

The guys were already playing volleyball on the beach and the girls quickly grabbed a towel, sun lotion and their hats and rushed to join them.

Summer was about having fun. About swimming in the sea, playing on the beach with friends, relaxing and enjoying yourself. Letting your mind wander away from the painful reality of everyday life.

It’s up to you whether you let it wander back though…

 

Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was grasp:

GRASP (verb)

1: to take or seize eagerly
2: to clasp or embrace especially with the fingers or arms
3: to lay hold of with the mind : comprehend

Luke-warm but not frozen

Luke was broken-hearted. Not because of love lost, but because of love not found. He felt alone, fighting against the waves in a boundless ocean during a storm. There were days when he even felt his heart stop and his lungs as heavy as a rock, obstructing him from taking the slightest of breaths.

Luke was alone. And every so often he felt a void in his soul, like that little crack on the sill under the window he used to stare out of. Wind would gush in through it and stir a chill in an otherwise tepid room. It was strange. But yet refreshing. Sometimes even exhilarating.

He had to move on though. Staying still was not an option. And it would simply make that crack inside of him grow larger.

Luke decided he would try to mend that gap. And he would start by that crack at the window that was bugging him for years now.

He got up, put on his hat and strode off to the market down the street.

He knew everyone in the neighbourhood. Maybe that was the problem, though. There was nothing new. Nothing seemed to evolve. It was a repetition of the day all over, every day. And it was simply…boring. To him it was a sign of stagnation, a lack of progress. And something needed to change. Radically.

He bought some stock to mend the crack and some plaster, in case that didn’t work.

In less than an hour, the crack was gone. Or so it seemed. At least it was no longer visible. Not entirely. As to how long it would last…that was a different tale. But Luke had made the effort. And he was determined to now fix the part inside of him that was broken.

He was going to leave. No matter what that old fortune-teller had told him. He was going to take that step. After all, he would never know unless he tried.

 

Also part of the Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was CRACK:
3a : a narrow break : fissure <a crack in the ice>
b : a narrow opening <leave the door open a crack><cracks between floorboards> —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out <a player who fell through the cracks in the college draft> <children slipping through the cracks of available youth services>

Murder on the rocks

She noticed him as soon as he came into the clubhouse. He was dressed in a sleek Armani suit (or was it Hugo Boss?) from top to bottom, with shoes so shiny he could see his reflection in them. His fedora with a silver star gleaming on the rim seemed brand new, as if he had worn it simply to make an impression that night. And the smoke emitted from his Cuban cigar made him fit right in to the foggy atmosphere at the club.

“Hey Al, how ya doin’?”

“What’s up Al? How’s the missus or should I say who’s the new one?”

Everybody knew Al.

He was a frequent patron at the clubhouse and one of the founding members of the club. He was responsible for screening new entries and evaluating existing ones. His word was law. Everyone respected him out of fear of being on the receiving end of his rage or displeasure. And everyone knew you should never anger Al. Not that anyone ever saw him angry. But Al was like a silent river; you never hear it coming. And the way he acted in order to clear his anger was unexpected. That is why it was so efficient. And why he (still) had never been caught.

“Hey doll. Gimme a whiskey, will ya?”

Even his voice was charming. At least that is what Lola thought, as she went behind the bar to prepare his drink. The usual, on the rocks. Because that too was one of his trademarks.

Al could draw all eyes on him the minute he walked into a place. Let alone a club he partly owned.

But tonight was different. Tonight he wanted to pass unnoticed. Because what people couldn’t see was the revolver hidden in his left inside pocket. It was fully loaded and ready to take revenge on Anthony. He had betrayed Al. And no-one betrays Al. That was a lesson he was about to learn.

 
Also part of the Trifecta Writing Challenge. The prompt word was CLUB:

3a : an association of persons for some common object usually jointly supported and meeting periodically; also : a group identified by some common characteristic <nations in the nuclear club>
b : the meeting place of a club <lunch at the club>
c : an association of persons participating in a plan by which they agree to make regular payments or purchases in order to secure some advantage
d : nightclub
e : an athletic association or team

Life is an ocean

100 is a milestone. In every respect. And this is my 100^th post. So to celebrate, here’s a life-embracing, heart-warming, hopefully-inspiring (!) story…

Tina had just finished braiding her pigtails. She loved the feeling of innocence, carefreeness and childhood that these emitted, and in these hard times for her, she so longed for something lighter to lift off the weight of the world that had rested on her shoulders.

She was stuck at a job she did not like, in a city she despised, living in a neighbourhood with people she didn’t even talk to. Her only true friend was her Maltese dog, Polly. And today, it seemed she was the only one who remembered. The one who rushed into the room this morning slapping a big, juicy slurp on her as she prepared to get out of bed.

Tina wasn’t looking forward to a day at work today. She didn’t really think her presence even mattered there. And her colleagues…they were nice, but…really? Just “nice”? She was hoping that all those kitchen conversations would lead to something more. That she would find friends in that group who demonstrated they cared.

She arrived at the office, looking brighter than usual. It was her day after all. And she tried to embrace it. As she opened the door, certain it was going to be “another day at the office”, she heard a loud tooting of party horns accompanied by enthusiastic cheers wishing her a happy birthday. She walked in and found her colleagues in party-wear, the room decorated joyfully, and a large mouthwatering cake waiting for its candles to be blown out.

What a surprise! Tina was enthralled. Just when you least expect it a light appears in your darkness.

Life is like an adventure. And there is always a party waiting for you at the end! There is always land across a boundless ocean. You just have to be patient and bold enough to weather the storm to get there. After all, the only way to see the rainbow is to endure the rain.

Also part of Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was LIGHT (noun)

3: a source of light: as
a : a celestial body
b : candle
c : an electric light

 

Also part of Daily Prompt: Exhale