Sunday, December 10, 2017


Forgotten City

At the strike of 1am, the majestic structure imploded neatly.
Perplexed eyes witnessed the destruction of the oldest building in town, home to wise men, advisors to many generations.
Suddenly, a voice asked “Why was this done at 1am? I need my beauty sleep.”
The crowd turned to see who had broken the sacred silence. 
An old man holding a crutch waved a crooked walking-stick.
“So, are we done? Lesson number one, life goes on. Get used to it.” And he walked away.The “Welcome” sign slid slowly to the ground, a shy cloud of dust lingering in the air.
100 Word Stories

Wednesday, December 6, 2017

2017 in a Nutshell

The more I write long fiction, the less visible my writing becomes. If you read my blog, it looks like I am writing less and less when, in fact, it's quite the opposite.

It seems that a lengthy learning path is still ahead of me. At the moment, I have great fun improving my writing and focusing on the process rather than on the end results.

A lot changed in my writing routine. Throughout the year, I had to remove myself from a few events. I didn't like some people's intellectual arrogance. It was sad because I did like most of the people. Others, not so much. But that's life. When we don't feel comfortable somewhere, we move away.

As to what was done, I:

* continued to take part in the Weekly Challenge

* tried my hand at plotting and writing an erotica thriller (unfinished) during Camp NaNoWriMo (April and July, 10k each)

* wrote a few bits and pieces about Second Life (published in this blog), among which A Merry Band of Losers

* wrote my Myasthenia Gravis story  (non-fiction) which was published in a book called Hope organized by Donna Whittaker

* and took part in the NaNoWriMo, writing an autobiography of sorts by using the stream-of-consciousness technique.

To the nay-sayers, the hypocrites, the self-centered know-it-alls, why don't you... No, I won't say it. They'll eventually choke on their own venom.

To those who supported me with their care, their attention and their love, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

More in 2018.

Sunday, December 3, 2017


Milk Wood

Love is such a complicated matter.
It all started back in Virginia. A few furtive meetings in someone's vine lead up to a number of wild hops, and the obligatory puff, Woodbine, in this case.
Woodbine was discontinued in the 1980s, but then again we are not placing a timestamp on this story, are we?
The problem with love is that it becomes a complete nightmare rather quickly.
As he fled Virginia, all he could recall was her rage. She screamed at him furiously while she held a branch of devil's darning needles that she had plucked in sheer fury.

Wednesday, November 29, 2017

NaNoWriMo 2017

And here we are, at the end of NaNoWriMo 2017.

This year, as I stated before, I did something different. I wrote a biography of sorts using the stream-of-consciousness technique.

Most of what was written will go directly to the garbage. However, there's a considerable chunk that turned out to be very interesting. I believe it has the potential to become a story in itself. I am not sure whether it'll be a novel or something shorter, but I like the main character a lot (and no, it's not me).

The tentative title of my work was The Darkest Corners. I think I did justice to that title, fortunately or unfortunately, I am not sure.

I still have to work on a cover. I'm hopeless, I know. My design skills are very basic, I'm afraid.

On a positive note, my word count is 52,182 at the moment with two more days to go. I will keep adding words till November 30. I want to complete the plan I drafted at the beginning of this race. The plan had 30 stops, and that's when I will stop, when the 30 stops are done.

I aimed for 1700 words per day, but I did manage an average of 1,799 words. I think this is very positive, considering I had to stop for a few days.

Despite the fact that I didn't write fiction, which is my comfort zone, I enjoyed remembering parts of my life and creating new pieces of this puzzle I have been trying to put together.

And I will do it my way.

Last but not least, thank you for your support. You know who you are. Without your gentle pushing for timed writing, your unconditional support through very difficult struggles, and your grounded comforting presence, I would have never completed this task.

 "In my end is my beginning."

Sunday, November 26, 2017


Collins Land

"The bicycle ride is too expensive, he said. He wanted it for free. The nerve! He even questioned my ability to make decisions about my own business. Who does he think he is? Never again! I will sell everything and go to the big city." And Ronnie continued to grumble until the client came back and smiled.
"I'll give you one million dollars for the bike business. Accept?"
"Hell, yeah!"
The next day, Ronnie saw on the news that an oil company had found oil in his old property. And Ronnie continued to grumble for the rest of his life.
(Prompt: PICK TWO: Shed, Sale, Rancor, Vellum, Slope, Zip, Kale, Bane)

Sunday, November 19, 2017



There used to be a place where cats roamed freely. It had lots of hidden corners where the sun shone in late afternoons. And they lingered lazily, stretching their lean furriness.

There used to be a place where the birds chirped a song and water was a magical backdrop.
There used to be a place with butterflies and pelicans, and lions and ferrets, dogs and roosters, chickens and bears.
And I used to go for a walk amongst the strangeness of the mixture of animals and the familiarity of their peacefulness.
There used to be a place I called home.

Sunday, November 12, 2017

Chasing Your Tail


The whole event became a disaster when a stubborn sponsor decided not to give the organization the agreed amount.
Nine of the models chose to leave while the other five were unsure.
The designer couldn't do the show with five models only.
Everyone was in a frenzy, debating the same issues over and over again when a woman came up from behind and laughed hysterically. She pulled out an automatic and took the money from the sponsor.
"No money. No show. No debate. There, solved. By the way, do you need a free model?" And she struck a pose, smiling.

Sunday, November 5, 2017



Mark and Ron placed their oil lanterns down and waited for a long time. The horizon was a flat line and the darkness extended as far as the eye could see. A few bright stars twinkled in the cloudy sky.
Mark traced an imaginary line from the tip of Ron's finger to its destiny over the water.
"Can you see it?"
Mark squinted his eyes.
"We'll have to go there."
Mark nodded.
By the end of that long night, they'd be richer, but not happier. There was a baby in the wreckage, and they couldn't do anything about it.

Sunday, October 29, 2017


Milk Wood

He put his glasses down. The letter had arrived. He half-expected it to be what it was. He didn't expect it to be that bitter though. What hurt him the most was when she wrote she felt like yelling to the world he was trafficking women into the colony. He was, true, but still... it hurt to see it written down on paper. The lawyer told him she was trouble. But he loved her so much, he didn't have the heart to kill her. He trafficked her to L-028. It cost him a fortune, because they don't like humans there.
(Prompt: PICK TWO: Meter, Bash, Yell, Iridescent, Goon, Opulent, Mango, Traffic)

Sunday, October 22, 2017


Salt Water

The idea of going back was unbearable. Summer had been wonderful. Work was a distant place. She had forgotten about David, the pervert, John, the sloth, and Lewis, the hippie who didn't bathe enough. She stared at a few seashells, tokens of moments she would cherish forever. David said she would get bored by herself. He was so wrong. John advised her not to get a sunburn, and Lewis just smiled, stoned. Everyone thought she was too fragile. Perhaps she was, yes. But she decided she wasn't going back. And she held that small rock in her hand and smiled.