Category: Student essays

The Neatly Dug Life

The suburban town of Hollow Hils was the ultimate utopia—residents lived neatly dug lives, with each blade of grass in place. Everything was just so—perfect in the eyes of all who visited it.

As the town’s status quo coordinator, Ivy Lin marketed the sameness lifestyle with finesse. She was the go-to person for anyone who found it difficult to keep up with the Joneses. “I sell the perfect life.” was her slogan. Even her dinners were curated and carefully photographed for social media.

But keeping up would prove a challenge—especially when Geoff Gopher arrived. He made surreptitious appearances, poking his nose out of the soil in backyards. Appearing near garden hoses.Shoving his knowing nose through picket fences.

It seemed he wanted something from Ivy that she couldn’t give—her silence. He popped up next to the dandelions that Ivy grew and gnawed her toe to get her attention.

“You can’t bury what everyone needs to know,” he cautioned.

“I sell dreams, not dirt,” was her wry response.
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But the gopher just wouldn’t let up. And he went after Ivy like a—gopher after soil-covered groundnuts.

“Everyone here smiles like there’s not a single crack in their China. That simply can’t be,” It thought, gnawing at the edges of her idealism.

He flashed Ivy visions of the perfect life gone wrong—-holes in white picket fences. Stains on too-perfect dresses. Perfect hair that simply couldn’t be combed.

“Your memory’s got claws, Ivy. Be careful they don’t scratch you.”
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The visions grew in intensity, sending Ivy—too deeply rooted in perfection—round the bend. So she decided to follow the scent of the gopher—she dug.

And she unearthed a cover up so toxic it sent her reeling.

The gopher? He wasn’t a pest. He was there to deliver a reckoning.

“You’ve sold Perfection like prime real estate. Your contracts are stacked like an ivory tower—but that’s about to topple. And I’m here to remind you. If you will listen.”
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The town of Hollow Hills began started to cumble under the need for being just so. Everyone had been masking their emotions—afraid to show sadness, anger or failure, afraid to be the weak link in a perfect chain.

The truth knocked softly on Ivy’s door. Then in started to tunnel its way in. She realised she couldn’t build a paradise on a false stone.

Ivy took to the podium in Hollow Hills Square. She bore it all—told the people that they were living manufactured lies.

“You deserve to understand what you’d been sold, ” she intoned, her voice sombre.

“Thank goodness she told us. We don’t have to do what everyone tells us to anymore,” A young college student cried.

“You mean we’ve been living a lie all this time?” A young, bespectacled doctor hollered, his arms flailing.
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And day by day, Hollow Hills filled out, becoming less—empty. Ivy started a new career—she became the town’s motivational guide. Hollow Hills reinvented itself, becoming Sunrise Peaks.

A small nose poked on of the soil near the old Hollow Hills signpost one morning, just as the sun crested over the town. It perked up as Ivy took to the podium, speaking about the authentic self.

Goeff Gopher sniffed the breeze one last time, squinted at the light pouring over the sign. And with a satisfied sniff, he clamboured out of the soil.

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Please check out today’s horror, The Secret of a Man by Veralyn Keach!

The Willow Egg

April is the time for renewal and rebirth. —Michelle Liew

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She found it underneath the willow tree

A chocolate egg, wrapped in colored thread and moss—

No one had come by here; it wasn’t free;

But left with care, like a gift left ‘neath a cross.

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She cracked its shell, to find a folded note

“Forgive, though chills may sometimes linger.”

Handwritten script, in broad, red strokes of hope

“Renewal waits, though the doubtful heart will shiver.”

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This text is entirely original. AI tags are coincidental.

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Check these books out on Amazon! Today’s book–Then Came You by Veralyn Keach

The Teenage Mutant Ninja Squirrels – Rodents in a Nutshell

Rodents in a nutshell. Squirrel Power. –Michelle Liew

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“Quick, the little squirt’s catching up!” Pip the bold mind behind the squirrels’ operations, darted ahead. Behind the group of four buffoning rodents was a hapless toddler, wailing and stumbling after his stolen PB and J sandwich.

Of course, the said sandwich was already ‘mysteriously’ disappearing as the toddler sobbed his way through the branches, his hassled mother behind him: “Let it go, Tom.”

🐿️🐿️🐿️🐿️ It was four tails, one task. Nutty, Hazel, Chipper and Pip were to pull off the snack theft of their lives. Their mission—to steal an unsuspecting human’s lunch and vanish. They had trained for this—in alleys, parks, in the shadows of sandwich shops. They simply couldn’t fail.

And it seemed that operation PB and J was a go—they had struck before the poor child’s lunch even hit the grass.

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I call it, “The Last lunchwich!” Chipper had whispered, just seconds before the drama unfolded.

Just as Chipper, the renaissance squirrel of the group, hung painting from a branch with his prize, the sandwich in his cheek like a bomb about to go off, a blinding ray of light surged from a nearby laboratory.

A sonic BOOM.

A throbbing pulse.

The earth started shaking.

The sky gave a loud hiccup, and the trees bowed inward, as if reminiscing on something old and forgotten.

Their world contorted. Time fractured. Something suspended the rodents midair—then drops them like ripe acorns. A ripple hit them like solidified thoughts. They fell inward—not down.
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The squirrels rose, relieved to be alive.

But they were—-different.

In essence, their bodies were the same. But their thoughts
were far from the usual.

They spoke. They reasoned. But they recalled things that were strange—-not their own. Even the trees in their park seemed—off. Too bent. Too tall.

Hazel calculated wind vectors—but had cut every class in Squirrel School she could. Chipper, of course, became the carver of tree trunks. Pip—well—he whispered coordinates that made sense to himself and noone else.

And the Teenage Mutant Ninja Squirrels were born.

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Nutty, the sensible voice of the group, declared their next mission.

“We must defend the park.”

The other squirrels shot thoughtful looks at each other, nodding in agreement.

Defense, however, meant sabotage. Something—-or someone—sliced the power lines. Garbage trucks had to reroute, and the air became dense with their suffocating stench. Cell towers sizzled, their signals swallowed in static.

To the squirrels, human tech were trespassers. Parasites. They needed to purge it. Misson parameters shifted: control, contain, cleanse.

The battle cries? Lines of nutshells, ready for a seige.

Hazel disarmed a CCTV with a satisfied smirk.

The rodents’ actions seemed like harmless mammalian play to the passersby in the park. But to the squirrels? It was DEAD serious.

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Then, even stranger things happened. The mission shifted—again.

Chipper glitched, sculpting trunks with binary, not pictures. Pip’s codes twisted into circuit diagrams. Nutty’s sentences fractured like corrupted data.

The squrrels hadn’t mutated—they were rogue AI implanted in organic hosts.

They took off, awakened.

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This story is entirely original. AI tags are coincidental. The number of words between the quote and disclaimer is 500.

If you like what you’ve read, do join me on Patreon!

Find other great books on Amazon! Today’s great book:

Power Games by David Applegate

The Beetle and the Bloom

You don’t need to do a lot to start something new.

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A beetle pranced on a crocus flower with glee

Not aware of Spring’s desire to wake.

His thought, “I spread it, look at me!”

While the cold rains undid the gold dust he’d made.

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He sulked below a leaf, his heart ached—

Until the bloom, renewed, began its song.

“You need not rush the world along—

Your hands, though small, usher the spring

They start the Dance of Everything.”

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Check out other amazing reads on Amazon! Today’s is Unbroken by Jennifer Neugin

Face Value

Our baggage holds surprises. – Michelle Liew.
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Mr Goh moved into the old boarding house in Kong AIk road without much fanfare, quiet man that he was. The impeccably dressed accountant always had his trusty briefcase with him; though a little worn, its leather sheen never dulled, and it was always at his side, as if it contained something indispensable. He was just a stranger, a face in the crowd.

Then, strange disappearances. Mysterious coincidences—until they weren’t anymore.

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Coincidences they were, but they didn’t get past Detective MIra Chong. Her trained instincts spotted them the minute she got Mr. Goh for a quiet sit-down.

He was polite. Too polished. As if he had rehearsed every word.

“Detective,” he cautioned with a practiced look of smugness. “Some people aren’t meant to be found.”

“What do you mean?” She sat back in her chair, tilted her head, and caught his eye. He simply placed his briefcase on the table . When it snapped open, it was absolutely–

Different.

She expected documents. But instead saw–movement.

She staggered back, breath hitching.
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Inside the briefcase were….faces. Eyes blinking, mouths frozen mid-scream. Features distorted, as if pressed against glass.

“You see, Miss,” Mr. Goh murmured, smug and assured, “I don’t kill them. I collect them.”

Seasoned detective though she was, bile burned her throat. She swallowed hard, keeping the nausea down. These were the people who had vanished. Their souls—stored.

She reached for her gun. Old Man Goh sighed, eyeing her too calmly.

“Careful, Miss Chong.” His smile was too knowing. “You don’t want to be with them–too.”
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Mira pulled the trigger. The briefcase moved, though Mr. Goh remained stoic. He merely chuckled, seeing the bullet hole in it seal itself.

“It doesn’t work like that, ” he fixed her with a condescending gaze. “Didn’t you know?” You can’t kill the dead.”

He opened the case with a flick of his fingers and tilted it towards her. The faces shrieked. Mira felt a tug. Pain razed her skull. Something was pulling her very essence, dragging her towards the case.

The briefcase wasn’t Mr. Goh’s storage box. It was a doorway. And it was STARVING.

Her fingers slackened, and her gun drifted to the floor. Her vision doubled. Her body gave way. She stepped back, but it no longer listened to her.
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No.

She gritted her teeth and banged the table with all the energy she could muster. The sharp sting in her head kept her grounded, keeping her soul anchored in her body, where it was meant to be.

“You’re stronger than most women,” Mr. Goh’s eyes glimmered with faint surprise. He quickly masked it with a sinister grin, his voice dripping with both admiration and something—-dark. “But you’re too late.”

Mira returned his grin—with a diabolical snicker. “You’re not the only one who collects, you know.”

She stood tall, eyes locked on his. She reached for the torn rucksack slung across her shoulder. Inside, pairs of eyes. They flicked about constantly, searching for an exit.

Mr. Goh’s grin faltered. And he knew.

This story is entirely original. Any AI tags are coincidental. It 500 words between the quote and disclaimer.

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if you like what you read, do join me on Patreon!

Check out today’s amazing book on Amazon:

The Pangean Chronicles by JP McDougall

I Thought The Rain Knew

Blessings can be disguised, indeed. Michelle Liew

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Gold against my skin,

Its touch cool, assuring,

Bringing fortune as it dropped.

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Then came silver,

Wrapping, a shawl,

Comfort around my head.

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Then-rust fell.

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The sky turned sour.

Petals turned black.

I had thought the rain knew my heart.

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If you like what you read, do follow me on Patreon!

Grab these great books on Amazon! Today’s book by Ralph Halse:

THE LORE GIVER

The Rain That Remembers

The Past is Never Truly Gone.

🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂

April comes calling with wet hands,

Palms pressed on roofs, fingers swiping windows-

A ghost tapping, tapping.

🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂

The sky cries, though not for flowers.

Not for what stirs within the soil.

It sobs for the old tales buried,

The names lost in her flash floods,

For the echoes that rise with gurgling gutters.

🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂

You think Spring has come

You herald Renewal’s arrival.

But the rain remembers.

She brings with her old voices, softens their sound,

Pushing them into parched roots,

Cajoling them into new blooms.

🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂

Walk outside.

Touch your skin, feel the cold.

April showers yield May’s flowers—

They will surely come.

But the Past lingers in each.

🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂

Do you want Her to stay?

🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂🕰️📜🏺⏳🖋️🎥📚💭🎩🚂

If you like what you read, do join me on Patreon!

Also, check out other books on Amazon! Today’s book is Under the Horn of Hearth:Northland Frail by S.P. Rowe

The Patient Part 1

Trust the doctor. -Michelle Liew

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Liam tossed and turned in his hospital bed, the medicinal odour of antiseptic burning his nose—and underneath it, something else—sharp. The walls were too white, too—sanitized, as thought they had something to hide.He couldn’t remember how he got there.

A doctor stood at the foot of his bed, combing through his charts. “Mr. Loong,”he said, his voice professionally polished but his eyes—distant. Can you remember anything from your accident?”

******************************************

Liam’s mind swam with fractured memories. Flashes of dark roads. A loud crash. A garbled, static-filled voice. Headlights, but they didn’t belong to his car. He gripped the armrest, his knuckles white.

“Your car–took the worst of it. But your injuries are…odd.”

She pulled back his blanket. No cuts. No bruises. Not even a scratch.

The way she said “odd” unsettled- as if he knew more than she let on.

Liam’s throat dried up. “That’s impossible.”

******************************************

The doctor set his chart on her desk grabbed a package marked “radiology”. “Your scans came back. They’re clear…but we need to treat… something else.”

He held up a small mirror. Liam took it from him, his hands shaking. He held it up.

He wasn’t looking at himself.

At least, not the self he knew. His color was wrong. The shape—looked odd. His lips moved in the way his didn’t. A stranger returned his gaze. Watching from within.

Then, the reflection lagged, a breath behind reality.

************************************************

Liam’s chest moved up and down. “Doctor…why do I look like this?”

He didn’t respond. Instead, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe filled with a viscose, black liquid. It wasn’t medicine. It pulsed, alive.

“Liam,” he cajoled, “You need to stay calm.” His smile was too professional. As if he’d done this before.

Liam’s heart pounded. His instincts told him —RUN.

************************************************

Liam’s fingers clenched into fists. The mirror slipped from his grip, shattering on the floor.

The second it broke, his mind wrenched open, and a flood of memories rushed in. Ones that didn’t belong to him.

He ran for the door.

The doctor lunged, too late.

Darkness won.

***************************************

If you like what you read, please join me on Patreon!

Check out other books on Amazon. Today’s book: The Pangean Chronicles by JP McDougall

As the Willow Grows

Your purpose should be undeterred. -Michelle Liew

As the young willow grows
Roots winding, finding their place,
The earth hums a rhythm only they understand.
They dance in the breeze
Casting off the weight of time
As if the morning told them something only they could hear.

By day,
Dew touches the edges of each leaf
With vows still to be formed.
The sun peaks, stretching across the sky,
Shadows reaching where she does not fall
For something just out of grasp.

By dusk,
The leaves are still
The moon now rises, takes the sun’s place
The night now singing her rightful tune.
Here, time neither waits, nor runs.

The willow remains
Though the force of seasons,
Unchanged
She listens to the Earth’s steady pulse
And knows her purpose is to grow,
Firm, undeterred.

This work is entirely original. AI tags are coincidental.

If you like what you read, follow me on Patreon! And check out other books on Amazon

Today’s book: The Hunger Games by Suzanne Collins

Can You Hear Me?

Listen. Michelle Liew

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“Quit the drama, doc, I hear really well.” Susan scoffed, about to head out of the door. “No need to worry.”

Dr. Nisham wrung her hands. “If you ignore your tinnitus, it will—“

“Yes, yes, cost me my hearing. Scare tactics.The usual, coming from you.” She shook her head and walked out.

Weeks later, Susan laughed as she sped down the highway, blissfully unaware of the sound of the truck.

Then—harsh, and bleeding together.

Brakes screeched. Metal grated. Gas ignited. Smoke billowed.

Susan sat in the wreckage, her heart slowly coming to a stop.

The ringing was all that remained.

*********************************************

If you like what you read, do join me on Patreon!