The Bucket List (A Short Story)

So, it has been quite sometime since I last posted a short story. I have been writing, but somehow I find myself not confident enough to share some of my stories. But since I miss seeing what you think of the stories, I suppose that I can do with this one.

Her name was Lucy. She lived in the hospital I believe, or I just so happen to see her there, in Room 614 every day when I pass by. You see, my friend Clyde had an accident and had to go on surgery because his back got all deformed. I’m not really sure about it all, but yeah, Clyde didn’t like being alone in the hospital. His girl, Lois, broke up with him after the accident... Damn, that must’ve hurt, with the surgery and all. Anyway, he needed a friend, and being an awesome friend I am, I volunteered my ass off to help him recover at the hospital. 

It’s been almost a week since I gave away my freedom to entertain Clyde while he talked about Lois and how great she was at making cookies and laughing. I got sick of Clyde, so one day, I decided to stroll around the halls of the hospital. There wasn’t much, you know, “fun” stuff. It was like, I can’t touch anything or I’d break them. I sat at one of the staircases, just to relax, when I heard hurrying feet. A group of nurses, went on running to Room 614. That was the first time I saw Lucy.

To Die In A Summer Dress

(It's been 2 months since I last updated my Story Board page, but I have made a few stories, it's just that I've been busy with other posts. Damn, I am killing myself. I hope that you like this one, and please, don't murder me! Thanks Misfits!)

I hate people. The touch, the feel, the sound, I hate it all. If I can confine my senses and bottle them up, I would. I would walk past people, cross the street and think that God must hate me for putting me in a place so horrid where people would only look at their phones, slobber each other up and laugh at the most trivial and useless things. Where has the complexity of the world drifted? Everyone thinks that they are living in future, but they are a bunch of idiots if they think that since they can’t even do something easeful for the world. If everyone would just be intelligent enough, we’d all have flying cars and free passes to movies. I hate people. They make me sick.

THEM: A Short Story (HER, Part 3 FINALE)

(So recently I decided to pursue this story in my head. It will be in parts... THIS IS ITS END... or it depends on what you think. But I will apologize for stalling for so looooong! I always blame school Here it is. LE FINALE...)

(Photo Credits to Sheryl of WeHeartIT)

Try as they can, they could not bring themselves to talk to each other. he would only stare, she would only worry. But the strength in their feelings grew each day as he would sit on the counter, punching numbers, constantly thinking of what to say to her and she would stand there growing curious of his features and personality.

HIM: A Short Story (HER, Part 2)

(So recently I decided to pursue this story in my head. It will be in parts until I think that the story could end or even not end but I feel like it did... I'm sorry! I'm complicated! Anyway, here it is. Please enjoy!)

Photo Credits to Advanced Scribes

The order of things should always be the same. I liked it that way. My movements would be frozen by any changes in how I've always lived. 

I am blind. For 10 years, the world has been dark and cold, shapeless and indefinite...

But the order of things around me has depleted. The daily routine I forever would've lived with, has now been invaded by eyes I felt were looking at me.

You stood by the counter, waiting for the basket of things Anthony (if you would like to know is my chauffeur), carried for me. I felt every your every gaze, somehow piercing towards my skin and the blankness of my eyes.  Did you find me disgusting? Am I an eyesore? 

HER: A Short Story (Part 1)

(So recently I decided to pursue this story in my head. It will be in parts until I think that the story could end or even not end but I feel like it did... I'm sorry! I'm complicated! Anyway, here it is. Please enjoy!)

Photo Credits to IPickMyNose of DevianArt

I've always wondered about that existence of yours, whether you were real or just a fragment in my eyes, playing with my heart. It seems that I am playing with my own, hurting the very veins by the thought of you.

I've marveled at your beauty when we first met. I could not take my eyes off of your eyes. There was distance in them but they were never dead. You never did notice, didn't you? How I looked at you? You come by the shop almost everyday, with a man by your side. I envied him. He was near you, while I was in the counter, looking at you profusely, with all the intent in my heart to love you.

Poppy: A Short Story

(NOTE: First of all, I changed my Photo Junkie page into this Story Board Page!)

This is the first story I ever posted here. Please don't hate me for it! It's a typical story, so please don't hate me.. :')

Photo Credit to Fine Art America

There were times when Poppy would just pop up from our window and climb in to our house. She was a bottle of sunshine to everyone in the village. I loved how Poppy smiled and would take my toys and rip them apart like it was hers. She lived a few houses away from mine, but she became my friend instantly after a few bullies at the park ganged up on me.

“OI! Leave the kid alone!!! I think he’s had enough!”, she said to the other kids who were then, pushing sand to my face .

Since Poppy taller and bigger than most of the kids, they ran away and left me alone. She pulled me up, patted my clothes clean of sand and flashed me a smile. I think that was also the time that I knew that Poppy would mean more than a friend. She would be my strength.

Poppy was never the type to talk about herself. She just liked living for the day; play as much as she could, laugh as much as she could, but she never sat down to tell me secrets of her life. She never invited me to her house but she was always welcome in mine. I got curious.

One day, I decided to secretly follow her. The way she walked was much calmer and slower. She then stopped at one house that look shambled and distressed. I stared at her as she quickly rushed inside the house. She held her small, tattered coat as she went in, with her head down and a face that I have never seen. I heard incessant screams afterwards. They pierced through both my ears and heart. I wanted to go to the house but my legs won’t move. In a heartbeat, they moved the opposite direction, headed home.

If I Share My Stories

HELLO MISFITS! I have something that I have been worrying to ask about ever since by I don't know how to confront you of it or what, but please tell me, ARE YOU NOT REAL? NAH!!! JUST KIDDING!

What I meant to say was, that I have been, as much as possible, honest with you guys with a few things about me, through my page, THE MISFIT DIARY. And though some of my friends find it incredibly stupid to rant about CHEESE maybe or finding a FUTURE BOYFRIEND to people whom I'm not sure actually read my blog, I just find surrender and release to just type in things on my computer with sadness, hate or happiness. There's contentment to them. And it's the same with writing stories!

I love writing stories ever since I was a kid. Probably around 5 years old when my stories revolved on cats and dogs or why the Gingerbread Man did not allow poor Susie to keep warm at night. Yeah. I was 5. Cut me some slack. But through the years, I was subjected to more interesting concepts and have been writing more complex, hopeful or tragic stories (I think tragic is an understatement..LOL! KIDDING).

And recently, I have tried to find portals where I can share my stories. Yeah, Wattpad is safer, but I feel like my stories would be up against romantic sad-saps or teenagers meeting their prince charmings and they all live happily ever after. No offense to Wattpad writers, yeah. I have read a few stories there that I might say, worth my time. It's just that they aren't as known or understood basically coz we've been fandomized. Again, sorry but not entirely sorry.

And as much as I do condemn romantics, I do write a bit about them but let's say it's more like Looking For Alaska-ish than The City of Bones-ish. Get it?

So, I wanna share them with you! I really do! But then, the thing is. I am scared! I am blunt, I believe so, but with my stories, I just can't seem to get them out to public! I do want to but the idea that it could be plagiarized is scary. I plan to share my stories here in my blog but yeah, copyright issues could happen and I don't want that. But I want to share them really! I'm split by my own self! UGH! So frustrating!

So, it could either work my way or not but it would be so much comforting if you could tweet me about it or leave a comment if I should continue with putting up my stories here on my blog! It will give me such a confidence boost if you can give me words of ENCOURAGEMENT MISFITS! :')

Soon, I'll find a publisher but before that, I need a portal. So. HELP ME?



That's it for this crappy blog post! I'm sorry about this. I just needed to let it all out. I'll hear from you, yes? Thank you MISFITS! <3