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First blog post

How this blog came to be.

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Hello, whoever you are! My name is Ashley Hyun, and I am a writer-to-be, which is a fancy word for a blog writer with ambitions. I’ve had this ambition to make my own writing blog since I was a junior in high school, and after few not-so-successful-attempts, here I am! I want to share my ideas, stories, reviews, and basically my life with you because everyone has their story to tell, and although it is very possible that no one will end up reading my writings, I still want to try. I’ve realized that if I don’t post my stories and reviews, the number of people reading them will always remain as zero. So, go on! Tell your friends, share the word, and watch me suffer.

The stories I will write will have different genres and lengths. It may be a poem, a short story, or even a series. The stories might be about love, horror, murder, and anything else that I can put into words. I want to explore not only different methods of writing, but also the content. So, whatever your favorite genre of a story is, I will have it all, hopefully. I mean, whatever tickles your pickle.

 

 

Trial from the Sea

The sea has given you a trial, and it is now your call. What would you do? What do you hold true to your heart?

The sun gently rose above the horizon, a blazing ball of warmth indicating that the

morning had finally engulfed the darkness. Noticing the brilliant light, but not wanting to

move out of her bed, Annie idly rolled over to her husband who was still sound asleep.

Slowly opening her eyes, the first thing she saw was his gentle face, oblivious and deep in his

own unconscious world. In that moment, she could not help but be awestruck by his beauty

and she swore she fell in love with him all over again. As her eyes carefully explored Roger’s

sleeping face, she could not help but to wonder how lucky she was to have married the love

of her life so easily. Who knew that true love was actually possible?

Their love was accidental. As funny as it sounds, they met because of a wrong

number. On Easter Sunday, Roger called Annie’s phone number, mistaking it for the Edible

Arrangements he was to provide for his church. After the awkward silence of realizing that

she was, indeed, not a staff of the fruit company, they ended up talking for a few minutes, and

at the end of their conversation, he asked if he could call again. Soon, he was calling her

every day. To her, nothing felt more romantic; she never felt that he had bad intentions, and

she could feel deep in her soul that he desperately needed someone to talk to. He would tell

her every little detail about his day. Those phone calls from Roger were the highlight of her

days, and she would soon find herself constantly checking her phone, even though she knew

that no such notifications came from him. Eventually, the two strangers planned a date and

finally met each other in person. Anxiously waiting in the café, Annie had no idea what to

expect, but when Roger came in, she could recognize him in an instant. It was as if they had

known each other for years; as if their souls had already known each other, though their

brains did not.

Annie slowly woke up her husband with a gentle kiss on the forehead, while Roger

sluggishly squirmed under the touch. While Annie was fixing breakfast for the family, she

could hear Roger going upstairs to wake up the kids, and she could not help but to smile.

After Roger dropped off the kids at school and wove them goodbye, he hurriedly went back

home to change into his work clothes and kiss his dear wife goodbye. As Roger was changing

into his angler clothes, Annie felt unusually uneasy about her husband’s safety and the power

of ocean tides. Shrugging her worries off, Roger went out the door and into the deep waters

to provide for and serve his family. As Annie was eternally grateful for her husband’s

endeavors and work, she could not help but to compare herself to him, knowing that the

family income was halved because she was fired from her job as the member of the global

maritime distress system.

During the midday, while Annie was listening radio signals for maritime distress

calls, she heard a desperate signal calling out for help. After carefully analyzing the calls, she

was determined there was an explosion in a yacht, where it left a dozens of imbibed victims

in the ocean without lifeboats. As Annie immediately set a course for them, knowing very

well that her boat was one of only a few that regularly sailed the water, she heard another

distress call. Roger’s fishing boat was sinking and he desperately needed her help, as well.

With the weather turning bad as each second ticked by, and no other vessels responding to the

distress calls, Annie knew deep in her heart that whomever she went to second would

probably be dead by the time she reached their destination.

“Tick tock, tick tock…,” there was not much time left to waste on pondering who to

save. On one hand, the people on the first ship were drunk and it was their own responsibility

to have behaved better; to not save her husband felt like a betrayal of their love and trust.

How will she be able to raise their young children without a husband to rely on emotionally

and financially, too? On the other hand, she knew that Roger would see the sense in saving

twelve people instead of just one. The drunk passengers must have families and friends who

love them just as much as she loves Roger. Imagine the guilt she would have to live with if

she were to save her husband out of selfish motives. “Tick tock, tick tock…,” what does she

value more? Her family or the lives of others? Annie knew whom she wanted to save, but not

whom she should.

“Tick tock, tick tock…,” after what felt like an eternity, Annie slowly stood up from

her seat and gathered her necessary kits. Every fiber of her being told her to stop and rethink

her decision, but her mind was already determined, and she would not turn back now. With an

anguished look on her face, Annie quietly whispered a prayer of repentance as she firmly

turned the door handle. She knew that she would eventually regret her decision, but she knew

that her choice was the correct one. As if a miracle had sparked inside of her, Annie’s eyes lit

up with determination, and it was evident nothing could stop her now. She ran to her ship,

and turned the engine on. From there, the ocean embraced her and her decision as she

gradually drifted away into the horizon.

Colors over People’s Heads

There are vibrant colors that fly over people’s heads, each one different, and I am the only one who doesn’t have it.

There are colors that fly over people’s head. When a person is born, they have a chosen color that God has chosen for them. For each individual, the colors are all different; or at least, in the beginning. As one starts to sin, the hue of the color gets darker and darker until, the color is no longer a color but a pitch-black darkness looming over their head. With every sin, and every stone they throw at others, their soul cannot help but to darken. I pity those who lost their colors to the darkness, for they don’t value life enough; but I also abhor them, for their darkness is slowly effecting the colors of the people around them. I am the only one who can see these colors, and I am the only one who never had one.

I admire those with the color yellow the most. They are the innocent ones. The kind of people who would never want anyone to feel like an outcast, often being the ones who were the last child to leave the playground because they didn’t want the friend to play alone. They are always filled with joy no matter what situation they are in. They like to laugh, but more importantly, they like to make the others laugh. They are the ones whose color rarely fade, their color seeming to be the brightest. Like a sunflower, they keep on caring for others even after the same people betrayed them. They are so innocent. However, they are also the most unnoticed ones.

The ones with the color red are the most passionate. They never look back on their regrets, but rather, charge straight without a single doubt or hesitation. They are the leaders, being the ones who were always on top of their class, and be labeled as an “overachiever” to those who don’t try. However, all of the people with the color red have a common trait that is deadly to their souls: they fall in love easily. As passionate as they are, they become even more passionate when they fall in love. Half of the times, it’s because they never received enough love that they are desperate for it, but the other half of the times, it’s because they are so filled with love, that they cannot help but to share their emotions. However, this same love can be their redemption or destruction. In the name of love, they are driven with passion, and hence, blinded because of it. They are the bold ones, who cannot help but to stand out.

Those born with the hue, green, are the most aware. They are filled with wisdom, which they strived to receive. They are the ones who are willing to trade materialistic goods for experience, not caring if their comfort has been taken away by this trade. These people, hence, care deeply about the planet. They are aware of the impact that they have on earth, and endeavor to make the earth more like them: green. They are filled with peace. With this peace that they are gifted with, they share it with the people of different colors around them, wanting everyone to feel this sense of peace in the world.

Orange is the liveliest. Oftentimes, they are athletically talented, and trusts in their physical body. God has especially given them health as an additional gift, and these people, as if they have a knowledge of it, use it to the very maximum. They are always doing something, anything; whether it be playing basketball in the near park, or learning how to play the ballet. What is particular about these people, however, is that they are filled with self-control. Unlike people with red, these people have a tight rein on themselves, and logically think about the actions that they are about to commit. However, because of their tight self-control on themselves, they fail to realize that they are missing out on the very best experiences that life has to offer.

Blue is the word I would use to describe this color. Quiet and calming, but demands to be noticed. They are the ones who are the most liked and always in the crowd, but they are also the loneliest. Even in the midst of people, they are lonely, always aloof, having this general feeling that they don’t belong there. Always having their noses stuck in a book because that’s where they feel loved and acknowledged. However, they have patience. They are willing to wait for what is to come, and with that hope of waiting, they eventually receive only the best. Although their patience might be annoying to others, their ability to wait is, in my perspective, one of the best gifts.

The people who have the color white are the ones who needs the most protection from the darkness. Often, people who have this color are diagnosed with sickness, or a handicap because they are so pure. They are only temporary here to show the people with different colors to have faith. After a while, when their time has come, they do not want to leave because they don’t want to leave their loved ones behind, but once the color already done what it was supposed to do, they are called back home because not even God wants their pureness, the faithfulness, to be affected by the darkness of this world.

The last color I looming over people’s heads was purple. They are regal and often mysterious. No one can know for sure of what they are thinking, and that makes them even more interesting than the other colors. However, one thing is sure about people with this color, and that is that these people have gentleness. They are gentle to not only the people around them, but also to the ones that they don’t know of. They may be stubborn and prideful, but no one can dare to take their gentleness away from them.

These are all the colors that I saw on my time on earth. I know with certainty that there were two more colors, the colors that represent kindness and goodness. However, after the Fall, these colors were rarely seen. I want to see what these colors are; I want to admire their beauty and analyze the personality trait; I want to be able to see more colors on the earth. The colors that I will never be able to have.

On my first day of being alive, I could not help but to be mesmerized by the beauty of the vibrant color looming over people’s head. Then, I looked over my own head to realize that there’s nothing there. I didn’t have a color. In envy, I reached out for the nearest person’s color, but the moment that my hands touched the color, the color slowly faded, and the person’s heartbeat stopped dead. In surprise, I took back my hands back from the color, and gradually, the heartbeat recovered from the possibly fatal attack. In that moment, I realized two things. First, that I never had, do not, and will never have a color for myself; that there will always be nothing over my head. Second, I realized who, no, what I am. I am death.

Monsters in the Closet

A poem tribute to the LGBT+ community. This is my first poem, so it might not make much sense, but I did my best and hence, should not be criticized😂

Shush, shush. Be quiet.

Don’t you know that there’s monsters in the closet?

Hush now, my love.

The monsters in the closet might come for us.

These monsters lurk in daytime and nighttime

Nowhere is safe from their angry hatred

You can’t even accuse them of their crime

They won’t stop til they see our blood run red

All these years we stayed hidden

Trying our best to not get caught.

 It is only now that we realize

That we were the ones in the closet.

The Old Worker

The story of an old worker who has worked for you countless days, as you deem him as “useless”, it’s finally his time to go. This is his last goodbye.

I can tell that no one loves me anymore. They used to treat me with kindness, but now, they treat me as if I were nothing but a waste of space. Maybe, it’s because I am growing older. Oh, what a cruel life it is. How could people be so cruel to abandon you because you can’t work as well as you used to? Now, whenever I work, they frustrated at me for every little thing I do. But like everyone grows old, so do I. I can’t help it.

The other day, I went to work, but I saw that a new, young worker came to replace my place. She was so filled with youth that even when I tried to hate her for replacing me, I just couldn’t. Then began the whispers pointed at me. The other workers talked about how I am about to be thrown out, and how I’m useless now. They know very well that I can hear them, but they don’t care anymore. Why would they? All the things that they’re saying is true.

At last, my time has come. It is time for me to go. As I looked around for the last time of the place I called home, my boss picked me up. After pondering for a while, he began making his way to the dumpster. I knew that this would happen, but I still wasn’t prepared for it. After all those years we spent together, this is how it ends. As he laid me down into the garbage, I could hear his last words as clear as crystal.

“Goodbye, old charger,” he muttered.

“Goodbye, old friend,” I said as the lid of the trash can slowly closed until I could see nothing but darkness.

Today is the Day

Today is the day. Nothing is impossible. What can possibly go wrong on such a beautiful, fateful day? This story may include an unexpected twist.

(The story may include an unexpected twist)

It was a bright, sunny day. Brooke opened her window to welcome the warm atmosphere into her room. Today is the day. The only thing standing in her way is herself. Today is the day where she’ll finally be able to do what she’s been telling herself to do. Brooke has been trying for months now, but could never muster the courage to really commit herself to it. No one believed that she would be able do it, either. Not even her own family. Well, maybe except one.

Brooke stepped outside her room to look for her youngest sister, Emilia. When Emilia saw Brooke, she immediately dropped her dolls and approached her with a questioning look on her face. “Are you going to do it?” Brooke replied with a careful nod. Emilia was the one who gave Brooke this idea and encouraged her to keep on trying. Her sister excitedly nodded back to her and flashed Brooke an almost insane smile, then went back to her dolls to resume her playing. Brooke wanted to tell her how much she loves her, but the words felt unnecessary.

Brooke went back to her room, but was stopped by a mirror in the hallway. She looked at her reflection with fascination. Her brown eyes always looked tired, but today, they shined with eagerness, and from looking at them, her mouth slowly formed a grin on her face. “Goodbye, my old self,” muttered Brooke to herself, “but today, my new life will begin. I won’t be the old me, ever again.”

When Brooke went back inside her room, another reflection on the mirror caught her attention again as if it was trying to distract her. Looking at this, Brooke couldn’t help but to laugh at how in the end, she is the only thing standing in her way. She wanted to take another careful look in the mirror, but her stomach churned with anticipation of what she was about to do. She couldn’t wait any longer. Brooke finally got it out of her hidden box, raised it up to her head, and pulled the trigger.

Dancing in the Dark

How love is so beautiful but has so much potential to be so twisted. A lovely dance between two people. This story may include an unexpected twist.

(The story may include an unexpected twist)
Oh, my beloved, I love dancing with you. Whenever we dance, it feels as if we are meant to be. How can I not love dancing with you? Our dance further proves that we are mean to be; the way your head rests on my shoulder, the way my hand are tightly intertwined with yours, the way our steps sync perfectly to the slow music. With you, my love, I never have to dance alone.

Now, let us dance in the dark. We can turn the light on if you want, but with it off, our love feels more real. I want to look into your deep hazel eyes, but not today. Although you are beautiful and you are with me now, I want to be with the idea of you. It may sound cruel, my love, but don’t get your feelings hurt. I still love you, but I want to be with the old you, my idea of you, with whom I fell in love with.

Let us keep dancing in the dark, darling. I do not want this moment to end. Even when my legs get tired, and my arms sore, I still want to keep on dancing with you. The world can keep on happening around us, but they can’t take you away from me. No, not if our love remains a secret. I still remember how you looked when I introduced myself to you, although you were polite, your actions made it very clear that you did not want anything to do with me. But here we are, dancing together in the dark like lovers. Isn’t that funny?

And now, my dear, our dance has come to an end. I know, I can feel that you are sad, but the song has now ended. But don’t worry, sweetheart, I will come back for you tomorrow night, and we can dance again. You will look beautiful in the new dress I’ll buy for you, and you will be sprayed with your favorite perfume. Every night shall be our night, and I am already excited for it.

I turn the light on, and look into your eyes. They look hollow and sad, but there’s nothing I can do about that. I sit you down on your favorite armchair, and I know that you will be waiting for me here until tomorrow night comes. I really love how you don’t call me a creep anymore, or tell me to go away like you used to. For that, I thank the stars and the moon. Before I leave, I kiss you slowly on the lips and tell you how much I love you. You don’t reply or do anything, but instead, your body slouches in the chair like usual. But that’s okay. I even love that about you. Even though you are dead, I still love you.

The Not-so-Secret Life of Cats

Ever wondered what your not-so-friendly feline thinks about you!? Well, let us explore the world of their mind!

Another day, another reason to complain. I can evidently see the sun rising up, and it’s obvious that the day has already begun, but my butler still did not wake up from his slumber. Hence, I have no other choice but to repeatedly meow at him and slap his cheek with my paws till he finally wakes up. Stupid humans, what can they possibly do without us acting as if we are their mothers? To be honest, look at those pathetic creatures, they are nothing but bald, awkward animals, and they at least deserve out pity. In fact, every other species that does not have the royal bloodline of cats are deserving of pity.

Being a cat is definitely not easy. First off, there is so much to do, and not enough time to do them. For example, naps. Time really flies when you take two naps a day, but it’s definitely not something I am willing to give up anytime soon. Then, there is the torment of the enemies. You might think it is easy to bully other animals and shriek at them, but even those actions take energy, and what do you think I am? A machine that produces renewable energy? Do I look like the sun to you? I mean, I am aware that I possess the beauty that might blind the small minded beings, but no, I am more of a passive container with very limited energy stored in me. Then, last but not least, one of the busiest works I have to do is to groom myself. Half of the time, it’s me making myself look the way I usually am: perfect; but the other half of the times, it’s me trying not to choke myself through the hairs that I somehow keep on swallowing. Hmm, what a mystery.

Anyways, the sun is risen, and I am to start one of my favorite chores: to start harassing my personal butler and to ruin other animals’ days. The butler, after groggily rising up from his bed, petted me on the head, an action I particularly not dislike, and filled up my bowl with disgusting cat food. I say it’s disgusting because honestly, who likes eating rabbit-poo-shaped things all day, every day? Definitely not me, and I shall have my revenge on him later. The butler then calls me by this strange name, Mr. Fluffypants, and I am to pretend as if I care that he will be leaving the house. Obviously, I ignore him as a way of showing that “Mr. Fluffypants” is, in fact, not my real name, and that I would rather be called the “Crimson Blade”, but does he care? No, and neither will I about him or whatever his name is.

I, then, notice the stupid bird just singing, or more like shrieking its heart out and all I have say is one word: annoying. Like, can’t they just stay quiet? I swear, if it did not live in a stupid cage, it would have eaten by now. “Hey,” I called out to the stupid bird, “do you ever just shut up?” The bird looked quite offended, but knowing that I can always slap the cage and drop him to the floor, it had the good sense to keep shut. My remark might have ruined his day, but it sure has made mine. I mean, one of things I do often is to ask myself, why let others ruin your day when you can ruin your own darn day? It’s quite an interesting way to live my life, and allows me to play the bad guy even in my own life.

The sun has finally set, and the stupid butler came back to my territory. Of course, like the decent animal I am, I took no notice of him simply because I don’t care. In my opinion, it was quite inconsiderate of him to come in at such an inconvenient time. How dare he come back home when I’m grooming myself? Now he’ll look at me weird when I’m desperately choking at my own hair to breathe. If there’s one thing I do not like other than actually dying while choking at my fur is my stupid butler looking all worried as if he cares about me. Maybe he does care about me a little bit, but I don’t care if he loves me or not. I don’t care if he rubs my ear, feed me food, scratches my cheeks, gives me kisses, or even give me milk. No, not at all; emotions and feelings are signs of weakness. However, if emotions are, indeed, signs of weakness, then I’m not sure if I want to be strong. I may not like my butler, but I do not dislike him either.