Thursday, September 27, 2012

Horner Little Lady

Full size harmonica next to the Little Lady
I knew I had to buy it when I first saw the little pendant harmonica at the mall years ago. How could I resist? It plays just like a regular sized pocket harmonica with only a limited range of notes. I took it out today when I was looking for the tabs for Oh Susanna. I have forgotten how to play it. That happens. Have a listen

Tuesday, September 18, 2012

Confidently So

When I decided to skip detention and sneak away when I did, I was wrong to assume there would be no consequences. I was in the second grade after all; I thought I could do anything.

What I did that day was bold. I have never did anything like that again. It was perhaps bolder than walking into the boys' washroom, to use their toilets, when the ones in the girls' washroom were out of order. What I did bordered on disobedience in a big way. It alone was a punishable act, but it was better than being disciplined for something so harmless as handing in a poorly written calligraphy script.

I would never have did when I was six years old, when I was in the first grade. I had not really developed the good sense to think independently then. Since I already had the strap, I did not really care to relive the experience all over again.

Getting a slap on the hand wasn't so bad. It is the least severe form of punishment any parent could inflict on a child. But at school, though rare, it is the worst thing... next to getting too much homework, of course.

What made it worst... I did not deserve it. It wasn't entirely my fault that the boy I was sitting next to bumped my elbow and threw off my stroke.

I did not feel at ease until I finally arrived home at our tiny apartment. There was no need to tell anyone about what had happened. I had succeeded in escaping the teacher's ruler as well as the vice principal's metre stick. The only thing left to do is to go back to class the next day and face the full consequences of my actions.

I sat quietly in my seat, when Miss Wong arrived to teach the math lesson. I tried my best not to make eye contact with her, hoping she would not notice me. Her most intimidating feature was a lack of a smile; this made her even more unattractive than she actually looked.

As much as I tried to remain invisible, however my efforts proved fruitless, for Miss Wong did notice. Not only did she notice me, she wasn't going to let me off that easy. She instructed me to remain after class. Fortunately, it was just the one ruler, but it did hurt nonetheless.

Tuesday, September 11, 2012

First Winter

What is it?
So smooth and cool
to the touch.
You say it is dirty.
Yet when I feel it,
my hands do not soil.
You say it is slippery.
I did not understand,
until I fell on my bum.
All because I had never seen
this... ice.

Thursday, September 6, 2012

The Living Bride Returns - Story

It has been months since I started writing this. I got stuck obviously. Unable to come up with a hook, I started to think about motivations for all the characters in my story. To that end, I have an outline of sorts.

Meifeng has been haunted, during the day and at night. She feared it has to do with failure to fulfill her part of in a marriage contract she consented to when she was young. She is certain to find a resolution in going back to the ancestral home in China.

While Lili, her old friend may welcome her home, it would be a painful reminder for Chen Fu, the younger illegitimate Chen son and father of her child. It would be an uncomfortable reunion, especially since an accident left Chen Fu mentally unstable.

After staying the night in her old room, Meifeng goes into town to look for a hotel room and notify her friend Leo where to find her.

Before Meifeng can make the call though, she is involved in a terrible accident, fate unknown.

Waking up in some sort of underworld, Meifeng encounters the spirit of Chen Yuan, her husband in name only. He is an immortal and is as young as the day he died. He has spent the years since his own mother's death learning about his destiny with Meifeng.

Shanghai Interlude

I write like
Margaret Atwood

I Write Like by Mémoires, journal software. Analyze your writing!