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Going… Going… Gone!

I’m here to announce my absence this week and the next. If you’ve been around for awhile, you probably know why. You see, I don’t skip a post unless I have to. And by have to, it’s usually when I’m not around – when I’ve fled from reality. So, where did I go after a sprint through Platform 9 3/4? Whose land am I traversing inside the antique cupboard? What’s worth breaking the space-time continuum to put life on hold? Well… head on to instagram to find out!

In the meantime, while I’m frolicking in the land of the rising sun, feel free to catch up on the posts you’ve bookmarked for rainy days. But if you’ve been a dedicated reader – God bless your lovely soul – you can find my other passions on my personal/travel blog and fitness blog. Yes, I have other passions aside from writing. Which reminds me… I need to write book 2 of the Raindrops trilogy when I get back! Busy times ahead.

So, back to my holiday, I’m going to stop write here – no, not a typo. Oh, and before you click away, like me on Facebook and follow me on Twitter! Because, you know, this is the only time I’m brazen enough to self-promote. *insert grinning emoji*

Here’s a cute kitten GIF to keep you entertained for two weeks. D’awww!

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6 Comments

Posted by on May 18, 2017 in Others

 

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The Gift of Life

thegiftoflife

It started with a white speck in the blue sky, guided by the cool breeze as it tumbled to the ground. It was the first sign that the season of cheer, laughter, and joy was just around the corner. It was the day of the first snowflake; the day I was lying in bed feeling sick. There was nothing physically wrong with me, but somehow my head was hurting and my stomach was rejecting whatever I put in it. In the end, I gave up trying altogether.

The year had been a rough one on me. It started off great with no worries, but then halfway through, everything turned sour. The man I planned to see the world with, build a family with, become grandparents with, became ill. His sickness was the one with no cure; the one where upon discovery, there was no more hope.

It was so sudden and so shocking that at first, I was certain the doctors were wrong. But then reality hit, and the fantasy that I had created in my head shattered; David was going to die, David is dead. There will no longer be anymore Christmases to share, no more plans to see through, no more love. A few weeks before the first snowflake, David faded away.

Everyone I knew tried to comfort me. They sent me cards, called to check in, and even offered to come over and keep me company, but I soon grew tired of it all. I appreciated their efforts, but there was nothing they could do to make me feel better. So I stopped answering the phone, the doorbell, and logged out of life completely… for as long as reality permitted.

When I finally decided it was time to return to the world, it took me a lot of effort. Even though I was in no mood to celebrate Christmas or the New Year, I was going to try and be human again. It was not easy but within a few days, I managed to get into a routine.

I would get out of bed every morning, eat something for breakfast, read a book, clean the house, try to eat something for lunch, answer my parents’ calls, watch the children across the street play in the snow, force myself to eat something for dinner, read some more, before heading to bed. Leaving the house was not part of my routine, not even to check the mail. One day, however, I heard an unexpected ding dong.

Dreading the thought of having to speak to someone, I dragged myself to the door only to find a parcel on the ground. Taking a quick look around, I hesitated to bring it in when there was no one around. Who was it from? The parcel was wrapped like a gift with a red bow on top, and the card that sat with it was addressed to me. I assumed it was a gift from a friend or a family member.

Bringing the parcel in, I briefly contemplated on waiting for Christmas day, but then I recalled not wanting to even think about Christmas and proceeded with opening it. Inside, I found an instruction card and a little pot filled with soil.

“Place the plant near a window and water it everyday. Not too much though, or it’ll drown,” I read.

That is morbid, I thought. Is this a joke?

David did not drown, but death was still a sensitive topic for me. Strangely, I decided to keep the plant despite the tasteless instruction and the lack of information on the sender.

The following day, I heard it again; the doorbell. When I went to my door, I found no one outside but a mini watering can. There was an instruction card attached to it as well, telling me to use it when watering the plant. The day after that was surprisingly the same, I found a bag of fertilizer instead of a person. It was not hard to come to a conclusion that someone was trying to help me feel better, or at least fill my day with a new activity. Honestly, it was rather fun.

Everyday was the same, with a new gift at the doorstep for the little plant. I soon became dedicated in caring for the plant, that when I saw the first leaf I jumped with joy. I was also very curious as to the person that planned the whole thing. Someone knew I was struggling and someone wanted to help me through. Their approach was so unique, but it was almost impossible to catch the ‘angel’. Then one day, it stopped.

It was a few days before Christmas and I was honestly upset. Why did this person decide to stop just before my favourite day of the year? Yes, despite not wanting to celebrate Christmas this year, it had been my favourite holiday since I was a child. If this person did it on purpose, the whole thing was a cruel joke. Angry, I decided to pretend it never happened. I still watered the plant though, because it was finally in my routine.

Little did expect, on Christmas night the doorbell rang again. Thinking it was the neighbourhood carolers, I was prepared to ask them to leave. This time however, I found my answer. Once again, there was no one at the door except for a red envelope. It seemed to me the sender was finally revealing his or her identity and I excitedly tore it open. What I found inside was a polaroid and a letter.

The polaroid was a picture of me and David from three years ago. At the base was the caption, ‘Our first Christmas together’. Reading those words, I immediately felt a lump in my throat. My hands began to tremble as I silently told myself to breathe. The picture was indeed our first Christmas together. I could remember the day so clearly, as David wanted to decorate the tree with polaroids instead of ornaments. He insisted on it and I gave in. That memory made me laugh as a tear rolled down my cheek.

Turning my attention to the letter, I began to wonder if I should give it a read. I was afraid of its contents, afraid of the memories it would bring up, but I needed to know who planned it all. Slowly unfolding it, I took a deep breath and started from the date.

25th September, 2014.

Three more months before Christmas! Are you excited? I hope you are. It won’t be an easy time, but it’s your favourite holiday of the year so you better be smiling. Smile for me right now, do it!

I forced a smile.

Good girl, I saw you.

I chuckled.

Emma, I know you’re hurting and probably still grieving, but I want you to know you’re not alone. You are never alone. Yes, I made a promise to hold your hand when you turn eighty and I’m sorry for breaking it so early, but I want you to know that I’m still with you. That’s why I prepared your gift before I left.

I don’t want your Christmas to be about my death. I want it to be about our life together. What we had was amazing! How we met over an argument on who saw the last turkey first, to the day we took a hundred polaroids to hang on our first Christmas tree as a married couple… we had a great life together, don’t you think? And yes, even though it was only a short one, it was the best years of my life. You were my best friend, my supporter, and my own personal doctor… you were everything. Your life gave ME life!

If you have not guessed by now, it’s me, David. Yes, goofy David who gave you a plant for Christmas. That plant is the last gift I can give to you and I hope it will keep you company for many years. I hope it would be there to hold your hand when you turn eighty and remind you that even though I’m not by your side, you are not alone. Provided you take good care of the plant like how you’ve taken good care of me these few years. Don’t let it die, or drown! Too soon?

I love you Emma, I always will. Promise me you’ll put up a Christmas tree next year, promise me you’ll wrap horrible gifts and sing the cheesy Christmas songs. I want you to be happy and that’s the only gift I’m asking for. Don’t let me down!

Merry Christmas, love.

Your one and only, David.

Are letters capable of making you laugh and cry at the same time? For the first time since his death, I could hear his voice; a voice that always lifted my spirit up in dark times. David did it again and it was all I needed to get back on my feet.

“Don’t worry, I won’t let the plant drown,” I whispered.

Merry Christmas, love. Thank you for the gift of life.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Let me first start by saying this is fiction. It’s not a true story. But, I believe it’s a story we can all relate to.

We have all experienced loss in our lives, whether a person, a job, a pet, or a sentimental object. You might have even lost something this year. But in this season, don’t let that stop you from looking forward. Life is a roller coaster with highs and low, with us dwelling in the lows more than the highs. So let’s change that!.

Let’s celebrate life and reflect on the good this year. And whatever bad we’ve faced, let’s have hope that the coming year would be better. Keep your head up high and aim to end the year on a positive note. You can do it! I know you can.

Anyway, it has been awhile since I’ve posted short stories on my blog. So I’m not sure how this fairs, but I do hope you like it 🙂 Do let me know what you think in the comments below and happy holidays!

© 2014 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)

 
26 Comments

Posted by on December 24, 2014 in Original Works

 

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The Family Guy

The Family Guy

“I’m Monica Rivers from Channel 4, wishing you a happy holiday!”

The news ended with the typical credit roll while Monica Rivers sat at the desk trying to look busy. Little did she know that she would soon be reporting her first, of the mass holiday murders, in her news-casting career. She didn’t have to worry though, it was not happening in her country this year.

As he switched off the television, he smiled to himself. He was ready to leave his chilly home and move to somewhere warmer, just for a couple of weeks. It was sort of a ritual, that every year, he would pack his bags and go on a little trip; a little trip that wouldn’t end so well for many.

Being that he looked innocent with his chubby face, he got away with almost every crime he committed. No one knew he was wanted in countries all over the world, because no one suspected him at all. How could this sweet, quiet, fat man, be the evil of such heinous crimes? Oh, no, it couldn’t be him alright, and that was what everyone said.

The FBI had announced that they were looking for a middle aged man, who expressed a special fondness for families. They suspected him not to have any family, which would suggest that he traveled alone, and met his followers only at the site of the crime. On top of that, they knew he only acted on one special season of the year, and they never failed to caution the general public when the holidays came around. To his surprise, these profilers were right about him, proving that TV shows never over exaggerated their skills.

Since he was especially fond of families, his favorite holiday of the year was Christmas. He loved how families would come together, and celebrate a day which had no significance to some of them. He also loved the presents and he loved the food. That explained why he was growing more side ways than upwards as the years went by.

This year, he decided to pay special visits to the families in a little town called Oakwood. He was going to slip into their brightly decorated houses at night, steal the children from their beds, and drained the parents dry. He would then bag the children and keep them for the rest of the year. What he would do with them, well, I won’t tell you just yet.

Being that he was a very organized man, he entered Oakwood as a traveler, friendly and harmless. He made a small inn his stay for the coming weeks and worked out his ‘visitation’ plans; who to visit first and who to visit last. The order never really mattered though, as long as the entire town was covered.

One would wonder how one man could murder and kidnap everyone in a town. They suspected he worked in a team of course, but they were wrong. There was one thing they did not know about him, one thing they would not even believe.

You see, this cute chubby man was no man at all. The misconception of vampires being tall, dark and handsome, has even made the supernatural believers debunk the idea all together. Instead, they have chosen to believe he was a pedophilia murderer leading a group of mad men. Though he was slightly disappointed with their assumptions, he could only blame the media for painting such false impressions. No, vampires weren’t all tall, dark and handsome, in fact, most of them looked fairly ordinary, and they never even attempted to lead a normal life.

Once again, how does he manage to wipe out an entire town? That question is answered.

But what did he do with the children? After killing the parents and washing down his dinner with the glass of milk they had provided, he would take the children, tell them they have been naughty this year and convince them that they can make up for it and get the toys they wanted. He would then pack them in red sacks and bring them home.

Since he lived in the North pole, humans were a rare sight. Hence, some of the children would be his food for the rest of the year, before he went to collect more next Christmas. He also made use of them, turning some to be his little slaves. Most of them would help around the house, while others made toys to lure in the new prey.

Unfortunately for him, he had to feed some of the useless ones to them as well. It may seem rather cruel, but if elves wouldn’t work on an empty stomach, what more these little monsters.

Over the years, this chubby vampire has been doing the same routine of gathering slaves and building an army, and no one knew how to stop him. Maybe this is because the children of the world constantly called him Santa, thinking he was the man who could make all their dreams come true.

Well, who could blame them, it was another common misconception after all. And who knew blood stained clothes could become a seasonal costume.

____________________________________________________________________________________________

Wait, what? Vampire Santa?

My friends and I were talking about how ‘Vampire Santa’ could end up becoming a film when the cinema runs out of cheesy stuff. I bet we are not the first to come up with such a ridiculous notion, especially when the conversation started over a Facebook picture of me under a chimney.

I hope this story isn’t as cliche as the idea though. Do let me know what you think!

And, happy holidays!

© 2012 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)

 
6 Comments

Posted by on December 6, 2012 in Original Works

 

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