Archive for the ‘Short Stories’ Category

The Healing

Miranda opened her eyes and gazed up at the heavens, as if facing the sky for the first time. She breathed in the cool breeze that played about and kissed her delicate face. A soft chill enveloped her being. As she exhaled, a sense of peace glowed inside her. Miranda closed her eyes once again. Her lips formed into a smile.

“It is a new day” she whispered to herself.


Miranda opened her eyes gently at the sound of the affirmation. Of course, her eyes perceived no one. She came up the hill alone, but she was not really just by herself.

“You’re here,” she whispered again.

“I am.”

Miranda shivered as cool air swept about her. Instinctively, she turned her head to her right and spoke.

“I am ready…” she uttered.


The wind blew forth once more and Miranda listened as the nearby trees swayed in answer to the music of nature.

“I am ready…” she repeated.

“Patience, Miranda” the voice said.

Miranda felt the sun’s warmth cascade over her, like velvet it caressed her skin and gave her strength. She willingly absorbed the gift of the sun, the energy it provided. She imagined  her body filling up with the yellow glow of power, until she felt her essence tingle. She almost shone.

“Now, you are ready.”

Miranda smiled again. Opening her eyes, she stood firmly and opened her arms wide, as if to embrace the sky. She willed the fresh energy from her being  to push forth, and recharge her soul with the energy of the sun, the wind, the universe. She felt light yet strong. She felt grateful, she felt alive. She felt beautiful. She felt power.

“Accept the gift, Miranda…” the voice said warmly.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

A light breeze touched her cheek and then it was gone. Miranda smiled to herself. Her energy has been replenished. She can heal again. Nothing gave her more satisfaction than knowing this.

On impulse, she let her fingers touch the area over her heart. Though a broken heart heals, scars stay. Yet, when healing takes place, the scars only remind you that there is always a way to stand up again.

Miranda turned her eyes to the west, down the hill, to the village and the people that need her healing touch. Slowly, she made her way towards it, completely healed and broken no more.

All healing is first a healing of the heart.

I have loved to the point of madness,
That which is called madness,
That which to me,
Is the only sensible way to love.


Letting Go is Love…

It really hurts to love someone who doesn’t give you the time of day but what hurts more is when you realize that someone that you don’t give the time of day loved you and gave it up coz you loved someone else.

Letting go is love…

The sun shone on Paula’s hair and her swaying body caused shadows to dance about her as she walked on the cemented pavement. Although her face was expressionless, something softened when at the corner of her eye, she saw that Luke was already at the place she expected him to be at this time. She noticed that he was not alone… a long haired girl was smiling at him across the small table outside the coffee shop. Paula’s face registered sadness. Yet in her mind she heard her friend Drew’s voice telling her “refuse to be a victim, Paula.” Her face stiffened again as the distance between them almost closed.

“Paula…” Luke was the first to greet her, obviously surprised to see her.

Paula pretended not to notice him at first.

“Oh fancy seeing you here, Luke. It’s been so long…” she smiled sweetly at him and at the girl Luke introduced as his friend Jenny.

How do you get over a person you loved so much, deeply, with all your heart, the one who promised you the moon and the stars and even forever, and then suddenly, disappears from your life?

Paula continued walking aimlessly but Luke followed her. She wished Drew was there to help her through this.

“Paula… I’m sorry…”


The Day Tears Fell

They say you don’t know what you got until it’s gone.
Truth: You knew exactly what you had, you just never thought you’d lose it.

The Day Tears Fell

I watched the clouds roll by as the motor of his speeding car hummed and scratched the pavement towards the highway and away from me.  Just like that, I knew I would never see James again. I waited for the tears to fall… but there were none. I still could not cry. Not for James, for Craig, for Brent and for countless others before him. My heart had either turned into a rock or I have learned to master the art of painless break-ups.

“He’s gone?” my friend Susie crept slowly behind me.

“Yeah…” I answered back.

“You ok?”

“Sure…” I even managed to smile.

“Bree… really. You have to stop taking all these men for a ride…” Susie sat beside me on the lone bench by the lake.

I knew she was right. But somehow, in my mind,  I wasn’t just taking them for a ride.

“Well its probably the best ride of their life, anyway, Sue,” I joked.

“Oh Bree,” she sighed.

“I know. I am certainly trying, Sue… but…” I couldn’t bring myself to finish the sentence. I felt something as heavy as a brick sliced through my chest at that very moment.

“Still him.” Susie finished the sentence for me. Instead of replying, I threw a stone into the lake and looked at it skip on the water before it disappeared in the middle of the deep.  I watched as Susie finally stood up and got on her rackety bicycle and rode towards the direction of the village.


My Tagalog Novel

In 2009 I wrote a Tagalog novel “Ikaw Lang Sa Aking Bukas” (You are my Tomorrow) a romance novel about a seemingly unrequited love between a hardworking and passionate executive assistant and her handsome bachelor boss who himself is caught between a past love and an arranged marriage. Amidst a mystical visit to a psychic, intrigue, mystery and office politics, the love story between Misty and Jake grew from rejection, to realization, to heartbreak, to true love. Breaking convention of what a typical woman should be, my heroine’s character is a go-getter and innocently spontaneous at expressing herself, including her passion.

I accidentally dug up the novel and re-read it today. Still brought tears to my eyes, for reasons beyond just the story itself. I’m sharing the novel to the world today so feel free to download the pdf file. The novel is written in tagalog/filipino with a sprinkling of english.  I might write another one in the coming days 🙂 but that’s just a plan for now. Click here to download the novel or read it online.

Closing this post, let me just write here what I told a heartbroken friend the other day:  “Its better to break your heart than do nothing with it…”

Don’t be scared to tell someone you love them even though they may break your heart, you may break theirs if you don’t. And if you get your heart broken by doing so… at least you know its time to move on. 🙂


The Painting

The Painting

With a sigh and an upward glance at the deep blue velvet sky, Therese gathered her emotions and continued on with her journey, as rock upon rock of earth and sand kissed her bare feet. The cottage looked luminous in the distance. The air was filled with the fragrance of evening roses. She has arrived. With steady feet and quivering lips, she hugged her single wrap tightly over her body, and pressed forward towards the cottage’s door, her eyes never once lifting its gaze away from her destination.

Grandma Cassey was half asleep beside the makeshift firepit, oblivious to her surroundings despite the bicker backer of the crackling wood. “Granny, I’m here”, Therese said as she ran the back of her hand against granny’s cheek. The old woman shivered at the touch, nevertheless, she smiled upon seeing her beloved grandchild. “Therese dearest, what took you so long?” she half-said and yawned at the same time, beckoning the young woman to sit at her feet.

“Granny, are you sure?” “Yes, Therese, I am. You don’t think I changed my mind?” Her grey eyes looked deeply into Therese’s hazel ones. “But you loved those paintings very much,” Therese complained. “And it loved me back, all these years. Now I want you to take it, and do as I tell you now, child. Take it, and give it to Ross Aubrey. It should belong to him now. You understand me, Therese?”

“Yes granny” Therese answered. She knew those paintings were precious to granny, those were gifts of love given by her lover, Jonathan Aubrey. Standing now, Therese once more gazed at the beautiful paintings. Sunflowers, daffodils, roses and summer, moonlight, trees and joyful scenes of Lucerna Beach spoke to her.

Cassey was a beautiful woman, every man adored her. In the summer of her thirty-fifth year, her husband died, leaving her with a young daughter to raise, right there on the town of Lucerna Beach. She mourned her husband like any proper woman should. But not long after, she met Jonathan, the man who brought color back into her life, the man whose love gave Cassandra both heaven and hell at the same time, the man whose hands painted the beautiful paintings her granny now wanted to give away. Jonathan was married. They lived their life as secret lovers for twenty two sweet years, there, in their rendezvous cottage in Lucerna Beach. And the paintings. He left her those paintings when once more nature replayed the cruel game of existence and took him away from life.

Ever since she was little, she admired those beautiful paintings. Whenever she saw them she felt the deep love and passion this man must have felt for her granny. To have loved her so and yet not have the world acknowledge the depths of his love.

“Therese? You had better get back now. The night is deep. You don’t want to keep Ross waiting.”

“Granny, how can you…. How did you….” She could not bear to finish her words. Wise and discerning, Cassey nodded in understanding and turned to look at her beloved paintings one last time, and then answered her. “There are no reasons why you endure it. You only know that when a love so true has graced your life you can choose to take it or loose it. I chose to take it, and every single morsel of pain and sacrifice that went along with it. Its what kept me alive. I can part with these paintings now because all it ever stood for is already in my heart… it set me free. Now it is time that someone else be freed by it.”

She made her way back to the villa slowly. As she struggled up into the winding path a resolve formed in her mind. A tear fell from her eyes. She wiped it away, and upon entering the villa and into the arms of the man who now faced her, she hoped in her heart that she can bear what lay ahead.

“Darling….” Ross greeted her.

“Ross, we need to talk.” Therese placed the paintings on the floor and led him to look at it. As he knelt, the quizzical expression on his face turned into recognition, and then awe.

“These are my grandfather’s paintings! Look, its signed ‘Jonathan Aubrey’… I don’t understand, how did you find it?”

She faced him now. “They were my grandmothers’.”

“Your grandmother…was my grandfather’s mistress? Why didn’t you tell me? Why, why, why? How long have you known?” he demanded.

“After you…. you told me that your grandfather’s name was Jonathan, I knew. And I couldn’t tell you, I was afraid you would leave me, I knew you’d hate me just like your family hated my grandmother …”

“Oh darling……” he tried to embrace her but she didn’t let him. She continued “I told granny everything, I told her how you were on the quest of looking for those paintings and take it back from the woman who stole your grandfather…. I told her that its what brought you to here to Lucerna Beach, where we met.”

“And she just gave it to you?”


“Darling, I don’t know what to say…”

“You can say goodbye.”



“I Love you.” He held her and kissed her, the passion of owning her and loving her evident in every torrid stroke of his lips. Her heart loved him, wanted the kiss so much and have it go on forever, but with the last strength of her will she freed herself from his embrace…

“Ross this can’t go on between us. I’m sorry. I can’t, I just can’t. I love you, but I can’t.”

“Therese please…”

“No Ross. Its over. Please go. Go back to…to…your wife. Goodbye Ross.” She turned to look at him one last time through her tears. Ross picked up the paintings and slowly left. The silent thud of the closing door behind Ross signaled the torrent of tears to cascade from her heart. She wept like a grieving woman from night until dawn, washing herself in the sorrow of losing the man she loved so much.

Therese braved the jagged sand beneath her feet once more as dawn crept into the day. She went to the beach and faced the ocean, while red mixed with yellow in the lightening sky. In the distance, the seagulls cried and the cool crisp air joined their parade. She thought about her granny and marveled at her wisdom. “The paintings have set me free too, grandma. Thank you.” She whispered to herself. And as she marveled at the beauty emerging before her, she knew almost with certainty, that she too would have her own paintings someday…but it would be hers, and hers to keep alone. Of this she was sure, as sure as the morning came.

written by Vicky, 2001

Three Minutes

Three Minutes

She heard voices. That she heard voices was one thing, but that she thought she was hearing her angel was another.

“Three minutes.”

It spoke again. She listened. What was the significance of three minutes?

She turned to her left and right, and the wind brushed her face as she did so. Three minutes doesn’t ring a bell.

Atlantia busied her mind on other things and continued the walk to her apartment. She walked past a group of carolers in their red suits and cheery hats. Oh that time of year. She has to remember to get a tree for Christmas. It was just a few weeks away. Atlantia didn’t feel like Christmas though. There was a heaviness in her heart she could not shake. Tomorrow was not going to be an ordinary day.

“Hello Atlantia! Nice afternoon!” it was her landlady, Mrs. Jansey, walking past her as she turned the corner to her apartment building.

“Oh Hi Tina. Yes, nice.” She replied back.

“Three minutes.”

“Huh? You said something?” she asked.

“I said hello. I’m going now. Have a nice evening Atlantia!” and Mrs. Jansey walked away.

Just then Atlantia, was knocked off her feet. The force of the impact surprised her, especially when she looked up and saw that only a child had hit her. She was about 7, her hair was auburn and she had large brown eyes and a turned up nose. The child was shaking and was obviously afraid, leaning against the wall, staring back at her. Atlantia stood up, picked up her things and fixed her hair.

“Hey you’re just a wee babe. How come you can hit me so forcefully?” she smiled. The child continued to stare. Atlantia noticed that she was a street child. Her skin was ashen from dirt, and her clothes were made up of rags, on a dress that didn’t fit anymore. She was barefoot.

“Where’s your mommy? Is anyone with you? Where do you live?” Atlantia wanted to know.

The child just looked at her, and then raised her tiny hand and held it over Atlantia’s heart. It suddenly occurred to Atlantia that the child could not speak. She held out her hand to the child and led her to a small candy store across the street. “Do you want anything?” Atlantia asked. The child picked an orange heart shaped lollipop. The child smiled at her as they walked out again into the street. Atlantia was pleased.

“Three minutes”

She heard it again. Before Atlantia could say anything, the child squeezed her hand softly and held out three fingers in front of her face. Three fingers. Three. “You heard that? Atlantia asked. The child didn’t say anything. She just smiled and then hugged her. Atlantia hugged her back. As quickly as she came, like a child of the wind, the child ran towards the curb and was gone.

Atlantia had a difficult sleep. The morning came and like all mornings, she had coffee, set her answering machine, readied herself and got on a taxi. She gave the address to the driver and then heaved a sigh. No voices today. No not yet. No, hope not.

“Good morning. May I help you?”

“My… my name is Atlantia Evers. Ummm Dr Kramer?” she hesitated. She was still in a daze after she dozed off in the taxi. The driver had to wake her up. “Kramer Clinic, Miss” he said.

“Miss? Would you wait for a while. Dr. Kramer will be with you shortly.”

Atlantia sat down on the white sofa, in front of a small table with magazines scattered on top of it. She realized that she was shaking. Could she really do this?

Silence. She thumbed through the magazines in front of her. Something fell and hit her leg. She bent over to pick it up…

“Miss? Miss Evers?”

Atlantia was still staring at a half eaten orange heart-shaped lollipop when the nurse called.

“Miss Evers, Dr. Kramer is ready. Why don’t you sign this form and I’ll go get you a glass of water and then we can go inside. I’ll be back in three minutes.”

Three minutes.

Suddenly it all made sense. The child, the voices. The lollipop. The child. Three minutes. One decision. One lifetime. One life. Her child’s life… her precious child’s life. Tears ran down her eyes as she realized she could not go through the abortion.

Three minutes.

It took her less than a minute to get out of there. And in two more, she had formed a strong resolve that she would give life to the child that she was carrying inside her.

She walked past busy carolers and for the first time in days, she noticed smiles on people’s faces as they went in and out of shops buying Christmas gifts.

Faintly, she listened. She could hear children laughing, bells chiming. Christmas music from a diner. From cars passing by. No more voices.

But when they stopped speaking, she finally believed.
There were angels, and they walked among us.

written by Vicky, 2005

My Stranger Beloved

My Stranger Beloved
by vicky eleen

When she left home for Venice, her grandmother said, “….don’t ever think that you could love strangers, Catriana. When you leave home they are everywhere.” She never understood why her grandmother would say a thing like that, but knowing that her granny was well advanced in years and had known the world better, she kept that reminder with her as she went.

One day after she had studied a year in Venice, she graced the Masquerade Carnival in the city, the only one she would be able to see, for she was leaving soon. She looked radiant in a beautiful debutante costume and a mardi-gras mask. It was the last day of the carnival, and the hour had just signaled midnight. The fireworks had just began their display, amidst the rustling voices of the crowd. She wandered through the carnival alone, her eyes illuminated by the sparkling sky. She didn’t know how far she walked, gazing at the heavens and traipsing through the carnival, looking for a quiet space to enjoy the remains of the night. Suddenly, she found herself across a lovely garden in a deserted square. Barely noticing that it had been quiet now, she heard music that seemed to come from afar. A waltz. Smiling softly to herself, she closed her eyes and began to dance in the moonlight. Just as she had done so, she noticed a man looking at her, right in the middle of the square. He was also fully disguised, wearing a beautiful mask of silver and pale blue and donning elegant evening clothes. He didn’t say a word but he approached her, and with a bow, invited her for a dance.


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