phantom of qualm

My shadow is following me, haunting me. I hurry. Rush, rush, rush. Hustle, hustle, hustle. “What are you looking for?” A voice startles me, and I pause. “I think I’m looking for results … maybe, validation.” “You think you’ll find it here?” “No, probably not.” “Why are you here?” “…I know I’ve been here before….

two kids

Once upon a time, there lived a boy and his younger sister. One night, their evil parents left them in a forest, and the boy and sister wandered about hand in hand because they were just kids and didn’t know how to get back home. They came upon a house made of chocolate and candy…

a rare smile

They say to smile when you are feeling low. It’s supposed to help. For The Daily Post’s weekly photo challenge,  Rare, and daily prompt, Eyes.   他人の痛みの分かる人間になりなさいと言われ続けた。 他人の痛みなど、分かるものなのだろうか。 とりあえず、他人の痛みを察して思いやれる人間になりたい。 人間は、他人の役に立っていると思えるのが一番幸せらしい。  


Can you see them? Yes. Where are they? Over there, in the dark. They are there now? Yes. Do they scare you? No. What do they do? They make me laugh. They do? They think I’m scared of them. But, I’m not. You are not? No. Do you know them? Yes … my grandfather, dad……

a bud

“Brace yourself.” Grandmother pulled and tightened the obi just above my hip. The motion jerked me, but I was able to hold back. “If it’s not tight enough, the whole thing will fall apart.” She made me turn around, scrutinizing everything. The smoke from the mosquito coil rolled upwards and swayed with the evening breeze….

organized chaos

Don’t ask. Just accept. You’ll find what you seek.       For Three Line Tales, Week 28 photo by Ashim D’Silva    

one August day, 1945

A siren pierces my ears. Planes zip above my head. I run, zigzagging, hiding behind trees. A loud explosion stops me. I turn around and see a bright ray penetrate the sky. Then, I hear the sound of rumble. Houses, buildings, and poles crumble down onto earth, leaving me in darkness. Without being able to…

luscious fruit

Mom said that I am the fruit of their love. “Having you is the greatest thing ever,” she pinched my cheeks. “Even though you are a bottomless pit and always hungry!” For Three Line Tales, Week Twenty-Seven  

art and booze

Her hand rests on her lap, and a single line of perspiration leisurely descends along her neck. Melting ice clinks in the glass next to an empty bottle and tubes of colors dissolving with heat. Red turns into black, gold into amber, cyan into Bordeaux. She lifts her arm and strokes the canvas with her…


I am losing the battle. I struggle to attain small happiness and end up feeling lost. I keep telling myself that I am okay, that everything is okay, and that I am strong. The bow is stretched as far as it can go, and I aim at nothing. I am fighting against the invisible enemy….