In my Primary Five class was a boy named Boon. Who stored goodbyes In a box.
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He brought it to school — Glass — And filled it with coloured notes When someone left.
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We found it strange. I laughed with others At him Louder than needed. But I once asked –“Why glass?”
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“Because cardboard tears. Forgets. Glass recalls. Even when it cracks.”
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When our teacher died He filled the box So full it made His desk Sink.
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When Jia Le transferred schools, He wrote “See you soon” And sealed it — it meant something to him. He wanted to recall people And their steps.
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Their voices. Their hugs.
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But one day, He left too.
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No box. No note Just his empty seat And blank coloured paper.
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Time went on. My father passed. I stood by his bed With a swallowed goodbye.
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Then I thought of Boon And how he gave Sorrow A proper seat The way we do For people.
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He wasn’t odd. He just knew what it meant To remember.
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If you like this story, do join me on Patreon! Buy this blog a coffee — it keeps the words flowing and the lights on! ☕Your kind donation via Paypal would be greatly appreciated!
Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.
I brew four cups of coffee in the morning. We finish three– And the fourth cools. In front of a chair No one sits on.
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They say I am forgetful But I remember to brew it– For you.
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You– Who would sit, Stoic, Silent Never said why you stayed out late– Who she was Or who I am.
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And I– Who smiled, hugged, Muted questions.
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Silence won. The coffee– Cold.
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No sorries. No quarrels. Just coffee. Cold. Acidic.
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This morning, I drank the fourth cup. It stung the tongue– Sour acid That burned, Never washed Away.
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If you like this story, do join me on Patreon! Buy this blog a coffee — it keeps the words flowing and the lights on! ☕Your kind donation via Paypal would be greatly appreciated!
Please find a book of my horror microfiction, Echoes in the Dark, free for download here.
Unbroken by Jennifer Neugin is a poignant fiction novel that delves into the life of Astrid Clarke, a young woman enduring severe abuse at the hands of her father, Richard Clarke. The narrative unfolds her courageous journey as she decides to break free from her toxic family environment, seeking a path toward healing and self-discovery.
The book has garnered an impressive average rating of 4.91 out of 5 on Goodreads, based on 23 ratings and 19 reviews. Readers have praised its emotional depth and the resilience of its protagonist.
The book is available on Amazon in both paperback and Kindle formats, with Kindle editions priced at $4.99.
Jennifer Neugin’s Unbroken offers a compelling exploration of personal strength and the quest for freedom from an abusive past. Its high ratings on Goodreads suggest a positive reception among readers, making it a noteworthy choice for those interested in stories of resilience and transformation.
If you would like to buy this blog a coffee, your kind donation via paypal would be greatly appreciated!
Evelyn Kong’s smile was too wide; she could barely contain her triumph. And her good cheer was understandable–Eterna, the newest nanomedical treatment in her scientific arsenal, didn’t just extend life–it restructured existence as humans knew it.
The controversial scientist had earned her self-assurance—for discovering the elusive key to immortality, one that she had originally designed to repair defective genetic flaws.
But only the elites could pay the price. Evelyn’s birthchild had thrived and given the Eternals a lift, physically and socially. But the rift between them and the naturally aging population had only widened, in more ways than one.
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TV cameras. Newspaper reviews. Media appearances. Eterna graced the world stage to much fanfare, with KongCorp and Evelyn Kong at the helm.
Eternal youthfulness was the perfect succubus. She lured, manipulated and charmed; Eterna topped the scientific charts, with everyone wanting immortality as a tangible offering.
But every succubus eventually unveiled herself. The society she had in her fingers stopped advancing; the forever notion negated progress. The elites she charmed hoarded the power of Eterna; “haves” and “have nots” had new meanings.
Evelyn Kong reveled in the revolutionary treatment’s glory; she remained the young scientist every company had to employ. But she was a mere scientist; with Eterna reserved by the gilded set, she became outclassed by the very system she built, unable to afford the treatment she created. The mirror cruelly reminded her—crow’s feet, age lines, and white hair.
They had returned.
And this was the mere cusp of her troubles. Eternals cornered her, their faces filled with confrontational ire. Their once-perfect lives had crumbled; in their place were lives marked by hollow pride and eternal resentment.
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Evelyn’s attempt to defy mortality had torn open Pandora’s box. Her inbox filled up with irate Emails, threats and desperate demands from Eterna’s corporate backers.
“Eternal youth in exchange for the self? Who’d want the second if they have forever?”
The lure of eternal youth hadn’t touched all. The force of non-Eternals built, headed by a renowned maverick, Daniel Bong.
“I’d rather sacrifice my life than lose myself completely,” were his words to her as he deactivated the nanites he once purchased.
The Mortality Conundrum ensnared Evelyn. The unfair divide stoked the ire of the non-Eternals, who demanded the treatment be banned The Eternals, as expected, clung to their immortality for dear life. Groups assembled outside their houses, their slogans growing louder, more hostile.
The chaos became a monstrosity. In its grasp, many Eternals fled, the non-Eternals in hot pursuit. But integrity had touched a few—they deactivated their nanites, willingly accepting the fragile gift of mortality Providence had given—knowing that there was more than living forever.
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The Clash of the Titans peaked—-with Evelyn an integral part of the drama. The non-Eternals and Eternals hurled insults, staged kidnappings, perpetrated murders—-“turmoil” was an understatement to describe global society. Earth’s people stood at the precipice of a new societal order—one where immortality and mortality were no longer theoretical debates, but a visceral struggle.
Evelyn found herself so caught up in the conundrum that she did the only thing she could—she cut the web.
The only solution—seclusion. She vanished into oblivion, but not without a project—she worked on a way to reverse Eterna, forever.
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Years of self-imposed exile gave Evelyn what she sorely needed—time for instrospection. She developed a habit that she never thought she would have.
She started a dairy. And on its pages, she found HERSELF.
“I never thought that Earth would descend to such an abyss. This divide, so sharp, so absolute. I wanted to correct what I thought was society’s worst flaw–mortality. I never once asked whether it was appropriate, something we should change. We feared death; but we feared the consequences even more. Eterna was supposed to be a cure-all, a go-to solution of our dreams—but with the great chasm she created in society, she became a nightmare.
In my pursuit of defying mortality, I created a fractured world.
I understand now; immortality is not the answer, but an Alcatraz. For all its promises of eternity on Earth and consummate power, its truth lies in the very thing we try to break free from; a bitter end.
I have failed. I did give them what they wanted, but it wasn’t what they needed. I ignored the truth. They needed the truth; that life embraces fragility. The Eternals may live in a gilded cage, but resentment, pride and forever anger locks them in. The rest of humanity? It struggles, unable to open the gift that was meant for all.
Now, I walk away from it all. Not because of shame, but because I accept what cannot be changed. I choose peace. Not for myself—I now understand—but for everyone who has been caught in Eterna’s web.
I thought that I could fix this world. Make it a little better for everyone. But creating Eterna taught me a lesson—the pursuit of perfection is the most imperfect quest we could ever have embarked on. We cannot escape who we are–mortal.
Tomorrow, I will rise, just as I did today, and face this same world. An imperfect world. One that isn’t eternal. But it IS worth living for. I will grace it as I am. Fragile. Old. Fleeting. Dying. Human.
The number of sunrises I will see is not uncountable. But for now, I am content to witness what light there is. While I still can.”
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Twenty years later….
The mansions of those who once sought the solution to Death stood empty. The streets were quiet, save for those who sought to make it come alive–with a new quest.
The world began to stir, resonating with the hum of former Eternals. They had obtained Forever Life—with no meaning. No joy. A future of emptiness. One without glory.
And they wanted Life. Not forever. But one filled with happiness. Glorious, memorable moments. A future of worth. One where they could share meaningful moments.
Evelyn returned, with a solution. An antidote that would erase forever, returning a life of worth to the world.
But would the world take it?
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This story is entirely original. Any AI tags is coincidental.
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Laura Kong relished university life. The 19-year-old undergraduate’s fixation on accents and imitating them had been a constant feature of her childhood. So interested was the young college goer on accents that she decided on being an interpreter as a career.
Traveling was another of Laura’s undying interests. So when the Professor of Linguistics offered the opportunity for some students to travel to a remote town to research an ancient dialect that would disappear if no one taught it to future generations, the young student jumped on the bandwagon.
This dialect, in particular, intrigued the inquisitive and free-spirited 19-year-old. Linguists deemed it to have unique mimicking abilities. Mimicking abilities associated with the mystery that would intrigue every 19-year-old.
Part 2
The young lady arrived in the remote, ancient town of Mi (Secret), a part of a remote Southern Chinese Province. She and an attractive, boyish classmate Michael Sim received directions that took them to a tiny, white-walled cottage on the outskirts of the town. Its arched windows and trimmed vines suggested care and maintenance, which was unusual for such a remote area.
“Hey, this doesn’t look abandoned,” Laura started at its Hansel-and-Gretel-like facade.
She turned to Mike, who had been at the wheel of an old, grey, and somewhat cantankerous Mazda the entire time. “Are you sure we’re at the right address?”
Mike stared at the map in front of him rather sheepishly. “I think I took a wrong turn earlier,” Eager to placate a fellow student he was eager to date, he tried to make light of the situation. “At least it looks liveable, right? Perhaps we can spend the night here. The nearest hotel’s some way away,” He consulted the map, then gazed at the attractive Chinese girl-next-door before him. “You know, just the two of us.”
“Alright, just until we have enough energy to find our feet,” Laura acquiesed, then gave Mike a hard look. “In separate rooms. I still have a mother to account to, you know.”
“Okay, okay,” Mike threw up his hands in playful surrender. “Let’s just get in there.”
The two of them gathered their rucksacks and threw the front door open. The cottage was somewhat dark – Laura fumbled for a switch by the main door. To her amazement, it actually connected to an electrical source.
With the lights on, the two took a few tentative steps into the living room. The small space was historic, yet cozy, with rosewood, antique chairs that were strangely inviting. Similarly, the bedrooms revealed comfortable rosewood beds, all made, complete with soft pillows and blankets.
“Strange. The door was unlocked, as if the place is welcoming us,” Mike uttered thoughtfully, “I say we accept the invitation, don’t you?’
Laura was nonchalant. She just wanted to get on with the research. “Why not. The place is liveable enough, and we can save on hotel rooms.” She gazed outside the window. “The town square may be some way away, but I think we can get there within a couple of hours if we leave early tomorrow. Alright, let’s spend the night here,” she carefully placed her rucksack on an oldish bedside table, still in good condition.
Mike looked at her hopefully.
“Take the next room please,” her voice rose assertively. Mike again threw up his hands. “Ok madam, whatever you say,” he carried his own to the adjoining room and left Laura to survey her surroundings.
Laura’s eyes swept over the room. It was old, for sure, but not decrepit, and there WAS electricity. It would suffice for the next few days.
Part 3
“Laura…Laura…” Laura woke with a start to the urgent tone of a female voice. Why would anyone use her name in a town where no one knew her?
She got out of bed and turned on the lights in the rest of the house. A quick walk-through of the premises revealed no one.
Ah well. Perhaps it was just her tiredness or the acoustics of an older home. Either way, she threw herself back into bed.
Part 4
The next day saw Laura and Mike driving their beat-up Mazda into the centre of town, where they sought for directions to its library.
“Le Hou Mou?” She spoke in Cantonese to an elderly man
The local seemed friendly enough. He nodded enthusiastically and pointed the two to a little building that housed a surprising wealth of research material. Mike helped by gathering clippings and other information about the townsfolk and various accents. Laura dutifully photographed the information and kept it in a folder on her laptop.
Laura made it her business to speak to the townsfolk after their library visit. She saw the elderly man she had spoken to earlier and approached him, eager for some insights about the local dialect, accents and perhaps a historical perspective of the house that served as their temporary abode.
Oddly enough, he brushed her aside. She went after him and tapped on his shoulder. He turned to her, somewhat aggressively. “Look, if you know what’s good for you, you’ll get out of there as fast as you can.”
“But why?” Laura egged him on. “It seems comfortable enough.”
The silver-haired senior stared at her incredulously and pointed to the library. “You must’ve found something out there. Don’t you know about the people who’ve disappeared? And there’s something else -“
Laura tapped her foot impatiently. Mike, ever the dutiful sidekick, pointed a recorder in front of the old man, who simply stared back at them with equal impatience. “You’ll know if you stay there longer.” He stormed away quickly.
“Well, that was rough,” Laura shrugged her shoulders. “Better luck tomorrow, hopefully.” She and Mike headed off to a nearby teahouse for lunch and hopefully more information from its chef.
Part 5
“Laura! Quick, I need your help,” Laura heard Mike’s voice and shot up like a lightning bolt in bed. She scrambled over to Mike’s room and heard loud snores. She wrung him, hard.
“What is it?” He looked at her, sleepy eyes not quite registering. “Since you won’t keep me company, I’m trying to sleep on my own here.” He yawned. ‘
“No jokes now. Didn’t you just call me and ask for my help?”
Mike looked at her, nonplussed. “No, I didn’t. Why?”
“I clearly heard you. It was you speaking!!” Laura felt her anxiety rise. She looked about, feeling increasingly awkward and tense.
“I was sleeping, Laura, never said anything.” Mike held her shoulders and tried to be reassuring. “Go back to sleep.”
Reluctantly, she headed back to her bedroom but could not get to bed for the rest of the night.
Part Six
“Laura, come home quick, your dad needs you,”
Laura once again woke up, startled. Why was her mother’s voice so clear when she was safe, at home, in another COUNTRY?
The next day, she and Mike went about the centre of town. The young student was determined to get to the bottom, not only of the peoples’ accents, but also of the mystery of the house they were temporary occupants of.
She saw the old man she had met the day before. Strangely enough, he smiled and replied. “This is your home.”
Laura was stunned. “Thank you,” with no other response from him, she approached another elderly lady, who gave her the same odd grin. “This is your home,” she smiled, looked at her, and strolled away.
Mike approached a young boy next. He gave them a similar, affable yet sinister grin. “This is your home.”
The duo looked at each other wordlessly. The responses made no sense. They made their way back to the abandoned house.
That night, Mike came knocking at her bedroom door. “What is it,” Laura grumbled. “Can’t you hear that?” The laughter of children seemed to come from the kitchen.
Laura grimaced. She needed to get to the bottom of this.
Part 7
Laura scoured the bookshelves of the library, scanning the books frantically for some information about the town’s dialect or their temporal abode. There had to be something…
Finally, she came across a little red book hidden in the recesses of one of the shelves. She’d not seen it earlier – it was small. She eagerly opened it and turned its yellowed pages.
“Look Mike,” Mike came over and gazed at the pages over her shoulder. “Sorry, can’t help you, madam, ” He turned to his laptop. “My Chinese isn’t so great.”
“This is a diary written by an ancient Chinese Linguist,” she pointed to the paragraph she was reading. “Says here that the dialect that was spoken by the locals some decades ago was used to summon an unseen entity that mimicked others’ voices.” She looked up at MIke. “I think you can sense that it’s still here.
“Ok, ” Mike, ever the pragmatist, looked at her squarely. So how do we stop it? I can see you becoming more tense each night we’re here.”
“We’ll have to leave here eventually, of course, ” She intoned resolutely. “But before doing that, the diary advises that we perform this ritual to stop the entity. Or it’ll follow us wherever we go.”
Mike nodded. The carefree young adonis was just as determined to give them, and the townsfolk, some reprieve.
Part 8
Laura steeled herself for an eventful night in their “home.” Mike darkened the room and lit a few candles.
“Alright, I know you can hear me. We want you to leave and not disturb us.”
After a few minutes, she clearly heard herself. “Alright, I know you can hear me. We want you to leave and not disturb us.”
Laura gritted her teeth. “Okay, that’s enough. COME HERE NOW.”
A dark shadow of herself appeared at the door frame.
Laura stood up and raised her hands. The figure did the same.
An abrupt confidence overcame her. Following the directions in the diary, she spoke in the town’s ancient language.
“Qing Le Na Shang Tou,” The words, nothing she or Mike had ever heard, flowed out of her effortlessly.
The shadow at the doorframe froze, its hands mid air. After a while, it vaporized.
Part 9
Laura and Mike spent a last, peaceful night in their dubious host home. They had to pass the centre of town to reach the exit of the province, where they paused for lunch.
They saw the familiar old man, who looked up at them and nodded with a friendly greeting. “Hi, weren’t you the ones who asked for directions to the library a few days ago?”
“Yes, we were.”
“Well, it’s there,” He pointed to the library building, seemingly oblivious of the entity that had overcome him some two days earlier.
“We know sir, ” Laura smiled and patted him on the shoulder. “Glad that you’re ok now.”
The old man looked puzzled. He walked on.
Laura and Mike got into their beat up Mazda and made their way out of town.
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Bank Teller John Low dragged his feet as he made his way home on the Mass Rapid Transit. He prepared himself for the long train ride, leaning lamely on the grab bars to avoid inertia. The crowded carriage he was on gained ground.
The 30-year-old’s head dropped. He was exhausted. Work had become drudgery, something one did to fill financial gaps or pass the time.
John wanted ever so badly to improve his lot in life. He was tired of the rut he was in. He gazed at the crowd filling the carriage at each station the would train went to. A comfortable luxury BMW would allow him to avoid the rush hour crowd and offer him some respite from mundanity.
John, still single, lived with his father in a small, two-room public housing apartment. The old man cleaned food court tables for a living, a fact that made John cringe.
Part 2
As the train pulled away from the station,the stations, John pulled out a copy of the daily newspaper. A full-page advertisement caught his eye.
It was for Chez Lawrence, a pricey restaurant John wished he could afford. It’s speciality? Caviar.
John wanted to taste the eggs of the sturgeon at least once in his life but it was something that would stretch his meagre salary beyond its limits. Sighing, he stuffed the offending paper in his bag and got off at his destination.
Part 3
John’s father, Low Kian Pheng, waited eagerly for his son’s return. The humble, older man had finished work for the day and laid out the simple ingredients for a family meal – eggs, a small chicken and leafy vegetables that he had bought from the market the previous day. His wife used to do the housework and shopping, but had sadly passed away from breast cancer that the family could not afford to treat.
Saliva frothed at the sides of his mouth as he smelled the chicken soup he prepared. It was simple – he didn’t have the money to add abalone or ginseng. But it was still aromatic and hearty. For sure, John would appreciate his efforts.
The younger man opened the door to the humble abode. He glanced at his father and gave him a cursory nod.
“Boy, I prepared dinner,” he announced. John’s response was curt. “I’m going out.” With that, he ignored his father and donned the only pair of Levi’s jeans he owned. He threw on a tee-shirt and banged the front door shut.
The older Mr. Low sighed and sat in front of the television with a bowl of his simple but heartwarming soup. The reaction was an expected one; his son hadn’t had a meal with him since his wife passed six months earlier. The young man resented his poor social standing and inability to fund his mom’s treatment. Still, he hoped the boy would come around one day.
Part 3
As luxury-loving as John was, he was diligent. His supervisor nudged him one day.
“Hey, I’ve got some news you’d like,”
Disinterestedly, John looked up from counting the bills in his hand. “So what is it – you finally asked Sally out on a date.”
“Hey, my love life’s not your concern! But the news I have does concern you, though. You’re soon going to be minding people like I am – the bank’s hired a few new tellers, and it selected you as their supervisor!”
John nearly flew out of his seat. Finally, a promotion after 4 years at the bank. Maybe – just maybe – he could afford a meal at Chez Lawrence. He quickly sent a text to his girlfriend, Mindy, with the good news. Caviar didn’t seem so far away.
Part 4
John and Mindy show up at Chez Lawrence where a long line of foodies greet them.
“Hey, I’m hungry. We’ll have to wait an hour at least,” Mindy petulantly crosses her arms and presses her Gucci bag tightly to her side. “Not to mention that I’ll have to watch my valuables.”
“Hey, it’s Chez Lawrence. What could you expect?” John’s eyes train the long line. “We can only hope it’ll move faster.” The young man was determined to taste caviar at least once.
Mindy snorted and dragged her comb through her well-rebonded locks.
His eyes landed on someone familiar and he groaned. His father stood just before him in the line.
Please…please don’t let him turn back, he prayed fervently.
But Older Mr. Low did. “Boy, what’re you doing here? I had nothing to do, so I just wanted to try this place out.”
“Dad, why waste your effort? They’re not going to let you in anyway. Look at the way you’re dressed.” Mindy looked the older man up and down, taking in his bermudas and tattered tee-shirt. She sniggered quietly.
When they finally reached the front of the line, John locked eyes with the Maitre’d. “I think you can let us in first. He’s not dressed for this fine establishment.” He almost waved his father away.
The Maitre’d gave the line a professional smile and made an announcement. “Everyone, thanks for your patience, but the restaurant’s full. We can only take in one more person for now, ” He turned to Old Mr. Low and gently guided him into the establishment.
John stood, his jaw open, though it wasn’t to swallow caviar. Mindy, having grown impatient, had left him standing alone. She had gotten a friend, Bob, to pick her up in his new, red Porche.
Anyone who has lived life for a period of time will realise that it is a bundle of contradictions. We contradict ourselves most of the time, sometimes making a statement that supports one perspective while our actions reflect quite the opposite.
Reptilian oxymoron is thus how I would describe the Brachiosaurus. It is a bundle of contradictions, being the gentle giant that it is. Dinosaur lovers like myself acknowledge its strength and power, Yet, despite this, it is a picture of serenity. Many pictorial representations of this great beast are of it grazing idly by lakes.
And, like this magestic reptile, we too embrace diametric opposites quite a bit of the time. We can be calm one minute and explosive the next. We can party hard and be studious at once. We can be annoyed at our better halves and love them to no end as well.
That’s why understanding others, and even ourselves, can be a little tough. Enjoy these haiku verses, and the reptilian oxymoron that is the Brachiosaurus.
Since we’ve got a challenge to write a poem about a dinosaur, I thought of the quintessential reptilian beast, the Stegosaurus.
This Prince of Beasts may not roar like Rex, but is no pushover either. The gigantic herbivore, like all other dinosaurs, is a fount of ancient wisdom and mystery, with a deep connection to the distant past. What is more significant is what it stands for.
And that is holding its ground. With its plates and spiked tail, it probably wasn’t easy prey for Rex and the other carnivorous dinosaurs. And since it stood firm, it had much better chances than other diminutive dinosaurs of being left alone.
We learn from this gigantic herbivore to be resilient in adversity (yes, there are many Tyrannosauruses out there) and to stand firm when challenged or overwhelmed.
Yes, Snow White was one of my favourite Disney cartootlns growing up. We didn’t have Pixar or CGI back then. But I enjoyed the heigh hos, appreciating the positivity of the dwarfs despite their small size.
The most striking element of the cartoon was the way Snow White’s evil stepmother would ask her mirror “Who’s the fairest one of all?” She compared herself to her stepdaughter, and clearly did not like the result of the comparison.
Humans have a knack for comparing themselves with others. We wish that we earned enough to buy a car like our neighbour’s. We wonder why our grades are not like our siblings’. And, we wonder why we can never be as slim as X, Y or Z.
When we realise that each person is unique, we come to celebrate our individuality, and realise that there’s no need to make unnecessary comparisons. A little self-compassion, a little pride in what we have achieved, and recognition of our strengths will help.
Conflicts and drama in relationships are sadly too common. Although we interact with people every day, and would have boundless experience with them, they are the most difficult mazes in the world to navigate. I’m finding this maze quite insurmountable,
Why? Diverse perspectives, communication hurdles, emotional complexity, and mismatched expectations make them a veritable matrix.
Moving through the human labryith of relationships is definitely Keanu-worthy, if one manage to do it well. Navigating takes honest communication, a lot of empathy, compromise and a lot of trust. Not to mention that we need to put up boundaries when necessary.
With these tools in hand, let’s enjoy these senryus. They’re at least a little easier!
The Getting Literal Writing Alcove 