7 Things About Me


Hip hip hooray for 2,400 subscribers!

I just want to thank all of you, both old and new, for your readership. I can’t say it enough, and at the same time I’ve probably over said it. But you know what, there’s no overdose with gratitude. So thanks guys!

Recently I’ve been getting a few blog award nominations, and since my last ‘get-to-know-me’ post was when I hit 1,111 subscribers, I thought I should do another.

So here are 7 things about me (none repeated, of course):

#1 I have a brother, he’s 5 years younger than me. I’m glad that our age gap made us close. I’m also glad he has outgrown his angst-y years, cause we don’t fight anymore, yay!

#2 I secretly wish I could draw. Then I could paint my fictional characters and worlds as close to my imagination as possible. I also wouldn’t need to ask for favours all the time.

#3 I recently discovered Running Man and I love it. HaHa is my favourite! Now I want to learn Korean 🙂

#4 Apparently I’m allergic to a particular sunblock. And here I was thinking I’m not allergic to anything.

#5 I hate horror films; horror in terms of ghostly women with long hair and white robes that either crawl or contort. Let’s not forget their faces… after all, that’s the mission of horror films; horror at first sight.

#6 That being said, I don’t believe in ghosts. Demons yes, ghosts no.

#7 I love coffee and tea. I love them differently and I can’t choose one over the other. Don’t make me!

There you have it! Now you know me a little better 🙂

If you would like to support me further, check out the bookshop, follow me on twitter and like me on facebook! I would thoroughly appreciate it!

Thanks once again guys, I hope you have been enjoying my stories as much as I have been writing them 🙂

*Current blog post schedule: A post every Thursday alternating between an original short story and a Harry Potter fan fiction. On a side note, my picture storybook is almost done! Free download soon enough.

Original Works

The Fearless

The Fearless

(Play THIS before reading. When you reach the gap in the music and story, briefly stop before continuing.)

My name is Hwa-Jae. I have lived over 20 years motherless, and now I’ve become fatherless too. My father was known as the Black Dragon. People feared him, as he was not only the ruler of my clan but a warrior. I would often hear of how he rode dragons into the battlefield and destroyed our enemies, but I never had the chance to hear those stories from his own lips. He was my father second, and my king first.

Growing up, I was raised to be an heir. I learned the art of war and was taught to let go of human emotions. Like one of our dragons, I was trained to kill and it was no surprise I excelled at it. But, despite my upbringing, I still feared my king. I feared him like everyone else, and I feared him so much that it surprised me when a stranger did not.

He was not from my clan, but a traveller or a lost soul as he often called himself. The first time I saw his dark eyes I felt a warm sensation in my stone cold heart. I thought I was only imagining it, but when I found myself sneaking out of the palace to meet him, I knew something was not right.

Why was I stooping down to the level of a commoner to befriend this foreigner? I was a princess, a warrior, and a ruler. If my king knew… I wouldn’t be alive.

It is strange how feelings work. It is unpredictable and inseparable from the soul. I thought I didn’t have any, but his smile, his laugh and his voice would make butterflies flutter in my stomach. Yes, I liked him.

I started to realize that I was willing to give up anything just for an hour with him. Heck, I might just give up my destiny. But those daydreams were shattered the day we ran into a couple of soldiers.

No, they weren’t coming for me; they did not even recognize me. These soldiers were after him. When he told me to run as he drew them away from me, I wanted to be by his side and protect him. But instead of doing just that, I did as I was told.

Safe behind palace gates, I found myself aimlessly walking to wherever my feet led me. It was until I heard his voice echoing down a hallway, did my heart stop.

I watched as soldiers dragged him into the throne room and knelt him before my king. They called him a spy and a warrior from the country behind the mountains. And when I heard it all, I stood at the back of the room unable to hear my king’s call.

I might have been deaf, but he surely wasn’t. When he turned to face me, we stared at each other for what seemed like the longest time. Neither of us said anything, and when the world around us could not wait any longer, he swiftly stood up and painted the room red.

My head was screaming to do something as the soldiers tried to fight him off. The shouts of my inner voice to stop him and to help him were useless when my body refused to move. I just found myself watching it all go down, and only when he planted the blade in my king’s stomach did I utter a cry.

When my king inhaled his last breath, it was as though he had done his work. Pulling the blade out, he slowly turned to face me. He said nothing as he let the blade slip from his fingers. It hit the ground with a loud clank, and crimson blood began to wrap around its edges.

Even as the world around me recovered from the chaos, all I did was wait. I was waiting for him to say something; something that made sense in a situation that did not.



… I…


                                     … I really…


                                                                                   … loved her… 



The soldiers that were still breathing immediately seized him, and sent him to his knees. None did anything as they waited for my orders. Then, as if my body was programmed to react, I pulled a blade from a dead soldier’s sheath and walked up to him.

I don’t think I have ever been that conflicted emotionally and mentally. And yet, I found myself gripping onto the blade tighter. When I was a few feet away from him, I pulled the blade back and sent it through his chest.

Nothing made sense then, and I didn’t know why I did it. As his body slumped to the ground, I silently asked myself, why Jeong-Sa, why?

But I never had an answer.

He never gave me one… because I didn’t give him the chance.

I guess my heart has to accept that. There isn’t much of a choice now. All I have is a heart broken… with never ending questions.


While you wait for my 20th ‘Thank You’ post, here is a special Sunday short story! Who says there is no post on Sundays, huh?

This is actually another experimental music accompanied short story. I previously did this with one of my fan fictions, ‘She’s Not My Daughter’ and it turned out pretty well.

Unfortunately for this, I could not find a -1 or another violin cover of the song. But hopefully, you guys read and hit the mark… or not, I would have failed. Haha! (Btw, you should visit the violinist’s YouTube channel.)

Anyways, if you have not figured it out, this is actually the answer to Jeong-Sa’s fate. If you have been wondering, you can wonder no more. He’s dead 😦 But if you are still lost and wondering who is Jeong-Sa, read The Root.

As always, let me know what you think of this story and if my experiment was a success. I don’t think this is one of my best short stories so far, but ah… what can I say.

© 2013 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)

Original Works

The Root

The Root

Ever since I was a child, I knew I was different. I could see further, hear sharper, run faster, and I had a sixth sense that made me clairvoyant. When the other children knew I was different, they treated me like a freak. They never included me in their games and they always teased me for my abilities. But when I got older, I did not have to face them anymore as I was sent off to a special school.

This school was high up in the mountains, and it ran along the borders of my country. I could see the vast green world beyond the wall, and the grand city behind it. There were suspension bridges that swayed gently with the breeze, and wooden houses with floorboards that never creaked.

This special school gave me the opportunity to be accepted, because everyone was like me. Since the day of my arrival, I’ve made more friends that I would have ever imagined. I was also trained in all areas of combat and weaponry. The mentors in that school told us that we were extraordinary and destined for greatness.

Despite it sounding cool, our training was not easy. There was blood, sweat and tears, but we all knew that those made us who we were. We were warriors and defenders of our country; an elite force that swore to protect at all cost. It only took me a few classes to grasps the importance of my talents and skills. And my destiny drove me to excellence.

After a few years of moving up the ranks and closing in on my graduation, I became so certain of my future. I was secretly planning to become a leader and to win countless battles, but my plans became no longer relevant at the sight of death.

It was a sunny morning. I was with a friend at a garden on one of the mountain peaks. This was my favourite training ground as the clouds were only a few feet above my head, and the air was light and thin. The two of us had decided to use our free time to train on our sword work, and we swore not to spare each other any bruises or cuts.

As our thin swords clashed, the training was starting on perfect ground. It was only until midway through that I saw a glimpse of something frightfully real. It was so quick, yet I found myself gasping for air on all fours after it was over. My friend asked me what my sixth sense had shown me, but it was impossible to speak as I could still feel the cold pain in my chest.

That night, I could not sleep. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw it and felt it again. The dark cold blade sliding into my chest and draining my soul made me sweat at the memory of it. It was impossible to rest my body when my mind was racing for answers. And it was then that I decided to seek the counsel of my mentor the following day.

My mentor was an old warrior. The scars on his body told you that he had fought more battles than the salt you have eaten. He was very wise, and often times he left me dumbfounded. That day was no different.

When I told my mentor my vision, he said, “The branch does not support the root, Jeon-Sa, but the root supports the branch.”

I had no idea what he meant. I left with hidden anger as the pomegranate tea began drying up my mouth. Seeking his counsel did nothing to calm my nerves, instead it just confused me even more.

As the rest of the day carried on, it did not get any better for me. I ended up with more bruises than before because my mind was not with my body. I was so disastrous that my teachers sent me to my room for meditation. Of course, I didn’t do any.

Alone in my room, I laid on my rattan and stared at the lantern hanging from the ceiling. The flame and the frame were so still that I longed to have such peace. I tried to pace my breathing to the flickering of the flame, but it did not silence the voices in my head.

Soon, my body became so stiff that I felt too tired to even raise a finger. When the bell signalling for dinner echoed down the hallway, I did not even bother to get up. I stayed completely still as my classmates entered their own rooms and blew out their lanterns. Mine was the only one still alive.

I thought I was going to lay like that the whole night through, but something happened. Hours after silence swept through the hallway, there was a tremor. The ground shook so hard that the lantern swayed madly and the fire went out in a puff. That was when I snapped out of my paralyzed state.

Shooting up into a sitting position, I heard people scrambling out their rooms. Finally, an external chaos matched the one inside of me. As I reached for my blades by the side of my mat, my room door slid open and a friend shouted, “We’re under attack!”

His words ended with the loud ringing of a bell that sent me straight to my feet. At that very moment, I knew this was it. My vision was about to become reality, and today was my last day. Fear crawled up my spine and my body refused to move. When the hallways became silence once more, I forced myself out the door.

Slowly slinging my blades across my shoulders, my legs took the lead. At the far end of the hallway, the double wooden doors were flung wide open, and I could see what was coming our way.

Black dragon banners were raised among the army in black. Their horses took the lead with their riders shouting their battle cry. Then, rising from behind the army were dragons, big black fiery dragons that screeched deafeningly in the early morning sky.

My throat had dried up by then and my head was screaming for me to turn back, but my legs kept walking forward. I could not fight my own body, and by the time I reached the doors something clicked.

As the sky started to change into streaks of orange, I began to understand my mentor’s philosophical words. All these time I trusted my skills to increase my talents, when I should be trusting my talents to boost my skills.

I was in fear because I doubted my skill, and I did not understand that my real abilities lied within my talent. I should be trusting what was in me instead of what I could see in front of me.

When the root and the branch finally made sense, I was ready. No, I was not ready to die but I was ready to live to see another day. As I pulled my blades from their sheaths, I have never been more ready to live my destiny.


We all have talents, despite what we think. Some of us can draw, some of us can sing, and some of us can write. Whatever our talents are, we have to remember not to judge ourselves based on our skill and our performance.

Indeed, being able to perform and do well is a good way to gage your level and skill. But, if we constantly judge ourselves based on our skill we would find ourselves disappointed. When we are disappointed in our lacking, we tend to shrink back in fear of failure and rejection. That is quick sand to loosing your passion, dreams, and never uncovering your hidden gifting.

So, wherever you are in skill, always believe in yourself and the talent your were born with. We are all created for greatness, don’t be your own downfall when you face the dragons!

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed my short story. As always, let me know what you think in the comment box below!

© 2013 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)